#the button mashing part broke me...

[stellaspectral]

Okay I have two requests but I’m going to write them separately like you asked in the rules! This one is a 2012 Raph x Reader.

Reader is April's best friend and met the turtles at the same time as her. Reader had immediately established a close friendship with Raph thanks to the fact that, despite being shy, sensitive and a nerd/bookworm, she has always had a lot of physical strength and has never been afraid to kick Raph's ass. Raph has always had a little crush on her but she has always been romantically interested in Leonardo (unrequited) and Raph knew that because she has always confided in him and April (Raph is part of the girls club idc ahah). Later Raph fell in love at first sight and began his relationship with Mona Lisa, just when Reader was forgetting Leo and had started to fall in love with him (Reader can’t catch a break she’s just like me fr). Fast forward a few years: Raph broke up with Mona a few months ago (you decide why) and just when he decides that maybe romantic relationships aren't for him and he's better off single, he finds out (while accidentally overhearing a conversation between Reader and April) that she had feelings for him in the past that she had put aside only because he had found someone else and she's not a homewrecker (being a girls girl is important), but that now she's getting her hopes up that maybe something could happen between them but she doesn't know if it's actually possible because maybe they just weren’t mean to be. Raph is completely at a loss as to how to take this information and for now he decides to ignore it and pretend he never heard that. But now his old feelings for Reader resurface😈. I'll let you decide how the story ends! (Sorry if my English is bad, it’s my second language. I hope everything is understandable!)

A/N: 2012 Raph needs more love, and I’m here to deliver. 🫡

Enjoy! 💖

Worth the Mess (angst)

❤️ 2012 Raphael/Female Reader ❤️

CWs: Angst, discussion of past relationships/breakups, mutual pining, eavesdropping scene, confessions, first kiss. All characters are aged-up.

The green couch in the lair protests as you shift, folding your legs beneath you.

The familiar sounds of Mikey mashing buttons on a video game controller and Donnie tapping away at a keyboard form the usual background noise. Your best friend April is beside you, scrolling through something on her phone, occasionally showing you a meme that earns a quiet chuckle. Across the room, Leo practices katas, his movements fluid and focused.

And then there’s Raph.

He’s in the dojo, punching a training dummy with a ferocity that makes the worn canvas groan. You think of him for a moment and grin; it’s been a while since the two of you properly sparred. Even though you’re happiest curled up with a book, you’ve always been deceptively strong. And you were never, ever intimidated by Raph’s bluster.

It’s been years since that first chaotic night you and April tumbled into their lives. And the first time Raph tried his usual tough-guy routine on you, you’d instinctively blocked his mock-lunge and used his momentum to flip him onto his shell. The stunned silence, followed by Donnie and Mikey’s howling laughter, had cemented your place in the group.

You and Raph clicked in a way that surprised everyone. He saw past the quiet bookworm facade, and you saw past his anger to the fiercely loyal, protective turtle underneath. You became his go-to sparring partner, someone who could actually give him a challenge without him having to hold back too much.

He also, surprisingly, became a confidant. Like April, you told him things. Which was why he knew, almost from day one, about your massive, hopeless crush on Leo. You’d spilled your guts to them countless times, dissecting every fleeting glance and interaction. Hoping for something that wasn’t there.

Raph listened patiently, offering gruff but surprisingly insightful advice and occasionally threatening to smack Leo upside the head for being oblivious—even as a brief flicker of something else resided in his own eyes when he looked at you. You noticed it sometimes but always brushed it off, your heart stubbornly set on the blue-masked leader.

Then came Mona Lisa. Y’Gythgba. Fierce, strong—and Raph fell hard. One glance at the Salamandrian warrior, and he was utterly smitten. You saw the way he looked at her, the genuine, unguarded joy in his eyes. You watched him navigate the giddy highs and awkward lows of his first proper relationship. And wouldn’t you know it? That was exactly when the fog around your Leo obsession finally lifted.

You began to see Leo clearly: a dedicated leader, a good friend. But not the romantic hero you’d built up in your head. And as those feelings faded, you started noticing Raph differently. The way he’d check if you were okay after a rough patrol, the low rumble of his chuckle when you made a dry joke, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes that wasn’t just for his brothers anymore. A new, tentative warmth bloomed in your chest, aimed squarely at the red-masked turtle.

Timing, you thought bitterly back then, was decidedly not on your side.

But you were nothing if not loyal. Seeing Raph happy was paramount. So you buried those burgeoning feelings deep, plastered on a supportive smile, and became Mona’s friend, too. You championed their happiness. Compartmentalized. It hurt, a dull ache behind your ribs, but it was the right thing to do.

Years pass. Things change. Raph and Mona called it quits a few months back. The official story was amicable. Different worlds, different paths, the usual long-distance relationship struggles amplified by intergalactic distances. You suspect it was more complicated, but Raph hasn’t elaborated, and you haven’t pushed.

Raph’s been quieter, withdrawn, throwing himself into training more. He’d muttered something to Donnie last week about being done with relationships altogether, that maybe he was just better off alone. He sounded so cynical, so bruised. Your heart had clenched at that. Because, inconveniently, those feelings you buried years ago? They’re still there, stirring beneath the surface now that he’s single again.

Which brings you to now.

It’s late. Leo, Donnie, and Mikey have retired to their rooms for the night. April returns from the kitchen and hands you a mug of tea before sitting back down next to you.

“Seriously,” you say, keeping your voice low. “I just feel like an idiot. All that time pining over Leo, and then when I finally see sense, Raph’s head over heels for Mona.”

“Hey now, you’re not an idiot,” April says sympathetically, squeezing your shoulder. “You couldn’t help when your feelings shifted.”

“And now … now he’s single, and I’m thinking maybe—just maybe …” You trail off, shaking your head. “Part of me, this stupid hopeful part, is wondering if there could be a chance now. But then he says stuff like he’s better off alone, and I just … I don’t know. Maybe it’s not meant to be.”

Neither of you notices the figure frozen just outside the main living area, near the entrance to the dojo. Raph was heading towards the kitchen for water when your lowered voices caught his attention. He’d stopped, hidden by the archway, not meaning to eavesdrop, but then the words hit him.

“I was so hung up on his brother that maybe I missed the window entirely. And then he found someone else. I stepped back because he was happy.” You sigh, tracing a pattern on the couch fabric. “It all felt like bad timing.”

His breath catches in his throat. You had feelings for him? Back then? After Leo? The friend he confided in, the one he’d had that stupid, persistent crush on before Mona swept him off his feet?

He remembers how you were always there, pushing him in the dojo, listening to his rants, never flinching from his temper. Remembers the pang he felt sometimes when you talked about Leo, a pang he’d initially dismissed as protective friendship. How supportive you were of him and Mona, never showing a hint of anything else.

Because you were being a good friend.

Because you had feelings you were hiding for his sake.

And now, you’re hoping again—while he’s busy convincing himself he’s destined to be alone?

His mind reels. This changes … everything. And nothing. He can’t process it. It’s too much, too complicated, layered over years of history and missed signals and bad timing. His first instinct is to run, pretend he heard nothing. Shove it away.

He forces his feet to move, backing away from the archway and retreating towards the dojo, his thirst forgotten. He needs to hit something. Hard.

“You don’t know unless you …” April starts, but trails off as she spots a shadow in the corner of her eye. “Raph?”

Your heart pounds, a heat rising to your cheeks as you see him. He’s frozen mid-step, eyes wide, fixed somewhere between you and the opposite wall. Did he hear everything?! April gives you an ‘oh crap’ look. And you—you just want the floor to swallow you whole.

Raph’s expression shifts. He replaces the shock with a carefully constructed neutrality, maybe a little too quickly. He clears his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room. “Uh … I was just getting some water,” he mumbles, turning abruptly without looking at either of you.

“O-oh, okay,” you manage, your voice barely a squeak as he disappears back into the dojo.

He didn’t hear. He couldn’t have. You try to convince yourself, clinging to the desperate hope that maybe he only caught the tail end. You stare at the entrance to the dojo, your face burning. Your mug of tea feels suddenly heavy in your trembling hands.

“Okay,” April says, “deep breaths. Maybe he didn’t hear.”

“Maybe?” you echo, the word strangled. “April, he was standing right there. How long was he there? Did you see when he stopped?”

“No, I just caught the movement when he turned to leave,” she admits, chewing on her lower lip. “But he looked … startled?”

“Right,” you say, clinging to that shred of hope even though your stomach is doing backflips. “Maybe he just heard us talking and didn’t want to interrupt. Or maybe he heard the last part, about bad timing, and thought we were talking about … I don’t know, a TV show?” The rationalization sounds weak even to your own ears.

“Exactly!” She tries to sound convincing. “He probably zoned out after training, anyway. You know how he gets.”

You nod numbly, wanting desperately to believe her. But the way Raph’s expression had instantly changed, that too-quick shift to neutrality—it felt like a defense mechanism kicking in. The kind he used when he was blindsided or feeling vulnerable. You know that look. You’ve seen it countless times over the years.

Meanwhile, in the dojo, Raph slams his fist into the training dummy. The canvas rips slightly under the force, sand trickling onto the mat. He ignores it, hitting it again and again.

You had feelings for him?

The thought bounces around his skull, colliding with years of memories re-contextualized in a blinding flash.

Because you were being a good friend.

Because you were hiding feelings.

He’d been so wrapped up in his own perceived heartbreak over Mona, so quick to wallow in self-pity and declare himself doomed to solitude, that he hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t even considered the possibility. He thought he was the one nursing a secret, hopeless crush back then, before Mona. He thought he’d successfully buried it, moved on. And now …

Now she’s hoping again.

Just as he’d convinced himself romance was off the table for good. Just as he was starting to genuinely believe he was better off alone, that he wasn’t cut out for it.

He stops punching, leaning his forehead against the battered dummy, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His knuckles ache. His head aches. He feels like an idiot. A colossal, shell-plated idiot. For missing it back then. For being oblivious now.

You were always loyal. To a fault. Loyal enough to bury your own feelings for his sake. The realization hits him with the force of another punch, this one internal. He’d confided in you about Mona, leaned on you, oblivious to the cost.

And that flicker he used to see in his own eyes when he looked at you? He hadn’t imagined it. It had been real. An ember he’d deliberately snuffed out when Mona arrived, convinced you only saw him as a friend, a surrogate brother.

He straightens up, rubbing his temples. What now? Keep pretending he didn’t hear? That would be the easiest thing. The cowardly thing. Maintain the status quo. But could he? Knowing what he knows now?

He glances towards the dojo entrance, towards the common area where you still sit with April. He’s not sure what to do. His instinct is still to retreat, to protect himself from more potential hurt. But another part of him, a part he thought had died down with his cynicism, feels a flicker of something else.

Trepidation?

Hope?

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost,” you murmur, setting the mug down before you spill it. Then you bury your face in your hands. “Oh god, this is a nightmare. How can I even look at him now?”

“Whatever he heard,” April says softly, rubbing your back, “Raph won’t think anything less of you. Don’t worry.”

“I know he won’t,” you sigh, lifting your head from your hands as you hear the rhythmic thudding sound starting up in the dojo again. “But knowing he might know—it changes things. And how can it be the same if he knows I’m sitting here, hoping for …” You can’t even finish the sentence.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be the same?” April suggests gently. “Maybe it could be … different?”

You shake your head, a fresh wave of self-deprecation washing over you. “Right. Different like ‘awkward and painful’. He just broke up with Mona. He’s talking about being alone forever. The last thing he needs is me suddenly looking at him with heart eyes.” You sigh. “Best-case scenario, he didn’t hear. Second best, he heard, and he’ll pretend he didn’t. For both our sakes.”

“And worst case?” she prompts.

“Worst case he heard, and now everything’s going to be weird, and I’ve just piled more emotional baggage onto him when he’s already dealing with his own stuff.” You close your eyes, trying to calm yourself. “I should probably just go home. Pretend this conversation never happened.”

But even as you say it, you know you can’t. You can’t just leave him in there, potentially reeling from what he overheard, beating up a sack of canvas because he doesn’t know how else to process it. He retreated there, just like he always does when things get too complicated. And you—

—you always follow.

“No,” you say after a few moments, surprising yourself with the sudden firmness in your voice as you stand. “I can’t just hide. That’s not fair to him.” You glance at April, trying to project a confidence you definitely don’t feel. “I’m going to go check on him.”

April raises an eyebrow but nods slowly. “Okay. You sure? Want me to come?”

“No,” you blurt. “This is … this is something I need to do. Alone.” You take a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. “Wish me luck?”

“Always,” she says, giving you an encouraging squeeze on the arm.

With leaden feet, you walk towards the dojo. The rhythmic impacts grow louder, punctuated by Raph’s harsh exhales. You hesitate at the entrance, the same spot where he’d been standing just minutes before. Peeking around the corner, you see him.

He’s attacking the dummy with renewed, almost desperate, intensity. His shell is turned slightly towards you, but he hasn’t registered your presence yet. Tightly coiled muscles strain beneath his gleaming skin in the dim light. Each punch, each kick, lands with a force that seems less like training and more like punishment—directed either at the dummy or himself.

You step fully into the dojo, the soft padding beneath your feet silencing your approach until you’re only a few yards away. “Hey,” you breathe, your voice barely carrying over the sound of his next blow.

Raph freezes mid-strike, his fist hovering inches from the dummy. He stays like that for a beat, shoulders hunched, head down, before slowly lowering his arm. He doesn’t turn around immediately. “Thought you left,” he finally rumbles, his voice rough, still facing away from you.

“Not yet,” you reply, keeping your tone even. Neutral. You try to ignore the frantic fluttering in your chest. “Heard you … uh … training.”

He finally turns, but he doesn’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixing somewhere over your shoulder. His expression is carefully blank, that neutral mask back in place, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the slight flicker in his eyes that betrays the turmoil underneath. He looks cornered.

“Yeah,” he says curtly. “Just blowin’ off steam.”

There’s a strained silence. The training dummy stands between you like a silent, battered witness. You shift your weight, clasping your hands behind your back.

“That dummy looks like it owes you money,” you attempt, trying for a light tone, the kind you used to tease him out of a mood. It falls flat.

He grunts, finally flicking his gaze towards you, then away again. “Somethin’ like that.”

His curtness isn’t unusual when he’s brooding, but this feels different. Sharper. More defensive. He’s deliberately keeping distance, putting up walls you haven’t seen directed at you in a long time. The knot of anxiety in your stomach tightens.

He definitely heard.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, taking a hesitant step closer. “You seemed upset earlier. And you’ve been hitting this thing pretty hard.”

Raph’s hands fall to his sides, clenching into fists as his gaze drops to the floor. “I’m fine.”

“Is it about Mona?” you press gently, unable to stop yourself. “Or just … things?”

He flinches almost imperceptibly at the mention of her name. His head snaps up, and this time, his gaze meets yours directly. There’s a storm in his eyes—confusion, hurt, maybe even a flicker of anger, though not aimed at you. It’s the look of someone completely blindsided, trying desperately to regain control.

“It’s nothin’,” he bites out, the words clipped. “Just… stuff. Don’t worry about it.” He turns back towards the dummy, presenting you with his shell again. A clear dismissal.

“Raph.” Your voice is firmer now, imbued with years of refusing to be shut out by this exact maneuver. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is.” You pause, your heart hammering against your ribs. Do you dare continue? “I heard what you said to Donnie the other day—about being better off alone.”

He stiffens. He doesn’t turn, but you see his hand grip the edge of the dummy’s stand, his knuckles white. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “Maybe I am.”

The finality in his tone, the sheer weariness, hits you harder than any punch he could throw. Your heart breaks for him. “You don’t really believe that,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. But he hears it.

He whips around, his carefully constructed neutrality finally cracking. “And what if I do?” he challenges, his voice rising slightly, frustration and something raw lacing his tone. “Maybe some people just ain’t cut out for all that stuff. Maybe trying just makes everything messier!”

He locks his eyes on yours now, searching, demanding. It feels like he’s not just talking about himself anymore. Is he asking you? Accusing you? Warning you off? Your breath hitches. The confession hangs unspoken between you, a tangible thing in the air. He knows.

He has to know.

You stare back at him, unable to look away, caught in the intensity of his gaze. All your carefully planned words, your gentle probing, evaporate. There’s only the raw truth simmering just below the surface, threatening to boil over. The years of friendship, the hidden feelings—it’s all right here, compressed into this single, loaded moment.

“Maybe,” you manage, your voice trembling slightly, “maybe sometimes the timing is just … really, really bad.”

His expression flickers again. The anger drains away, replaced by something harder to read. Resignation? Regret? He holds your gaze for another long moment, the silence stretching taut. Then he breaks eye contact, scrubbing a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. “You, uh, wanna go a few rounds?”

You nod, trying to keep your expression neutral, trying to pretend your stomach isn’t doing terrified flip-flops. He didn’t hear, you tell yourself again, even as the way he’s looking at you screams otherwise as he settles into his stance.

You take your usual sparring position opposite him, feet planted, hands ready. Normally, the friendly challenge would override any lingering awkwardness. But today, the air hangs heavy. The fight is about to begin—and neither of you knows who’s going to win.

“Ready?” he grunts, flexing his fingers. His voice is carefully neutral, maybe too neutral.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Ready.”

You circle each other, years of practice guiding your muscles. You feint left, jab right. Standard opening. Raph blocks easily, but there’s a hesitation you rarely see, a split-second delay before his forearm comes up. Odd. And your own blocks feel clumsy, your usual confidence slightly shaken.

His gaze keeps finding yours, not in the assessing way of a sparring partner looking for tells. But in a searching, almost vulnerable way that makes your breath catch. You see the conflict warring behind his pupils. He lunges, and you parry, twisting away, using the momentum to attempt a leg sweep. Though he anticipates it, his eyes never leaving yours.

The rhythm picks up. Blocks become sharper, strikes land with more force, though neither of you is aiming to truly hurt the other. Sweat beads on your forehead, mirroring the sheen on his skin. Your breaths come faster, mingling in the space between you.

He breaks through your guard, hand darting out not with a weapon, but to grab your wrist. The contact sends a jolt straight through you. You react instantly, using his grip for leverage, twisting your body to throw him off balance. You expect him to resist, to counter with his usual brute force. Instead, he lets his balance shift, pulling you down with him.

You land awkwardly, your hand splayed on his plastron, his on your back holding you momentarily close. The world narrows to the space between your faces, mere inches apart. His breathing is heavy, rough. You can feel the steady thud of his heart beneath your palm, faster than it should be from exertion alone.

His eyes lock onto yours, fierce and vulnerable all at once. The guarded expression cracks. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he rasps, the question rough, torn from him.

Your breath catches. “Say anything about what?” You try to wiggle away. But his grip tightens. Not painfully, but firmly, keeping you there.

“About before,” he clarifies, his voice low, strained. “When I was with Mona. You … you felt something for me then?”

Ice floods your veins, followed immediately by a burning wave of embarrassment. He heard. Your stomach plummets. “Raph … I …”

“Overheard you talking to April,” he admits bluntly, the muscle in his jaw tightening. He looks away for a second, a flicker of his own discomfort showing before his gaze snaps back to yours, demanding. “Is it true? You were into me? After Leo?”

There’s no point denying it. Trapped in his intense gaze, pinned beneath him on the dojo floor, the truth feels like the only option. You swallow hard, nodding mutely at first. Then, finding your voice, you whisper, “Yes.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, processing. When he opens them again, something else mixes within his gaze—something suspiciously like pain. “And you didn’t say anything? You just let me fall for Mona? Watched us?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Your voice gains a little strength, fueled by a surge of defensiveness. “Burst in and say, ‘Hey, sorry to interrupt your newfound happiness, but I just got over your brother and realized I like you now’? You were happy, Raph. Happier than I’d ever seen you. I wasn’t going to ruin that. I couldn’t.”

His expression softens. He understands putting others first, even when it hurts. He loosens his grip slightly, though he doesn’t let you go entirely. “And now?” he asks. “You’re … hopin’ again?”

The question hangs heavy between you. This is it. The point of no return.

You meet his gaze steadily, refusing to look away now. “Maybe,” you admit. “Yeah. A little. But then you were talking about being done with relationships, and I figured … maybe it’s just bad timing. Maybe we’re just not meant to be.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound of pure frustration. “Bad timing,” he repeats, bitterness lacing the words. “Story of my life.” He shifts, pushing himself up slightly, so he’s leaning over you, his hands now bracketing your shoulders. “You think I haven’t been thinkin’?” he demands, his voice regaining some of its usual force, but edged with an emotion you can’t quite place. “You think hearing that didn’t screw with my head?”

He leans closer, the intensity radiating from him making your heart pound against your ribs. “All those years ago,” he says, his voice dropping again, rough and intimate. “Before Mona. I … I liked you, y’know? But always thought you were too busy moonin’ over Leo.” He shakes his head, a self-deprecating huff escaping him. “Then Mona came along, and I thought … well, that was that.”

He pauses, his gaze searching yours, deep and unwavering. “Turns out,” he murmurs, his voice thick with resurfacing emotion, “maybe it wasn’t.”

His gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. The air crackles, thick with years of unspoken feelings, missed chances, and the sudden, terrifying possibility of a future you’d both given up on. He reaches out, his hand hovering near your arm, hesitating.

“I’m still messed up from Mona,” he admits, his voice raw. “And I swore I wasn’t doing this again.” He looks lost, conflicted, but the way he’s looking at you— “But hearing what I heard, I can’t just ignore it. I can’t pretend things are the same.” He finally lets his fingers brush against your arm, a feather-light touch that sends sparks racing up your skin.

“Me neither,” you whisper.

His touch, tentative at first, grounds you even as it sends shockwaves through your system. The air around you practically vibrates. “I meant it when I said about being done. About not wanting the mess. But you … you’re makin’ things complicated.”

You manage a shaky laugh. “You think I’m making things complicated? Try being in my head for the past few years.”

He closes his eyes for a brief second, as if fighting a war within himself. When he opens them again, his other hand comes up, grasping your jaw. His touch is careful, reverent almost, despite the intensity burning in his eyes. You lean into it instinctively, your own hand rising to rest hesitantly against his plastron.

“Maybe …” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on your mouth. “Maybe some messes are worth making.”

And then there’s no more space between you.

He closes the distance, his mouth crashing down onto yours. It’s not gentle. Or tentative. It’s years of pent-up frustration, missed opportunities, unspoken longing, and overwhelming emotion pouring out. His grip tightens on your jaw, tilting your head back slightly as he deepens the kiss.

You gasp against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him closer, meeting his fervor with your own stored-up ache. It’s clumsy and raw, fueled by adrenaline and the shock of this finally happening. You feel the slight roughness of his skin, the solid muscle beneath your hands, the power he holds carefully in check.

It’s everything you secretly wondered about, everything you pushed down and denied yourself. It’s Raph, not just the friend, not just the sparring partner—but the turtle you fell for, the one whose happiness you prioritized over your own feelings.

And he’s kissing you like you’re the only thing that matters, like he’s been wanting to do this forever.

He groans, a low, guttural sound, pulling you tighter against him, molding your body to his. The world narrows to this single point of contact, the roar of blood in your ears, the frantic beat of two hearts hammering against each other. The entire world outside this moment fades away.

Finally, gasping for air, you break apart, though he keeps you close, his forehead pressed against yours. His breathing is ragged, and you can feel the tremors running through him. You’re trembling too, breathless and overwhelmed, your lips tingling, your mind reeling.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his own wide and searching, mirroring the storm of emotions you feel swirling inside you. “Okay,” he breathes out. His gaze flicks down to your lips again, then back up. “So … that happened.”

“Yeah,” you manage. “It did.” You lift a hand tentatively, your fingers tracing the edge of his mask near his temple, a touch you wouldn’t have dared to initiate minutes ago. He doesn’t flinch; if anything, he leans infinitesimally closer.

“I, uh …” he starts, then stops, scrubbing a hand over his face again, clearly struggling for words. “Look, I meant what I said. I’m messed up. This is … complicated.”

“I know,” you whisper.

He slowly pushes himself up further, helping you sit up properly before rising to his feet and extending a hand down to you. You take it, his grip strong and warm, pulling you easily to your feet. You stand facing each other.

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “This ain’t gonna be easy to navigate. People are gonna notice somethin’s different.”

“Let them,” you say, surprising yourself with the firmness in your voice. You meet his gaze, holding it. The fear is still there, fluttering beneath the surface, but it’s overshadowed by something else—a fierce, fragile hope you thought you’d buried for good. “Raph, we’ve spent years tiptoeing. Hiding things. For each other. Maybe …” You trail off, taking a breath. “Maybe it’s time we stopped.”

Raph’s grip tightens on your hand as he exhales slowly, a long breath that seems to carry years of frustration with it. “Yeah,” he finally agrees, his voice low and gravelly as he smiles. “It’s about time we did.”

The confession, the kiss—it’s all out in the open now, impossible to ignore or stuff back into neat boxes. And whatever happens next, you know one thing for sure: ignoring this is no longer an option for either of you.

[kathlare]

accidental introductions

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: A simple evening takes an unexpected turn when a FaceTime call leads to an unplanned introduction between Amelie and someone very important in Lando’s life.

Wordcount: 2.3 k

Warnings: use of substances

full masterlist // request over here!

April 25th, 2020 - London, United Kingdom

The kitchen smelled like rosemary and garlic and something else that was probably burning, but neither Lando nor his mum seemed all that bothered.

—You’re supposed to stir it, not mash it,— Cisca teased, elbowing her son gently as she took the wooden spoon from his hand. —You’re ruining the risotto, chef boyardee.—

—I'm doing my best,— Lando whined, dramatically wiping invisible sweat from his brow. —You didn’t tell me this was gonna be so intense. I feel like I’m on MasterChef—

—And you’d be the first one kicked out,— she smirked.

Lando grinned, rolled his eyes, and turned to wash his hands. —Be right back. I need the bathroom.—

He disappeared upstairs, leaving his phone on the counter beside the stove, unlocked.

Not even thirty seconds later, the screen lit up with a familiar contact photo: Amelie’s name, with a tiny Mexican flag and a cherry emoji, danced across the screen as the FaceTime call came through.

Cisca glanced at it, then at the stairs.

Rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

—Oh for heaven’s sake,— she muttered, wiping her hands on a tea towel before tapping the green button and holding the phone up. —Hello?—

The image that appeared made her blink.

A girl, beautiful, messy-haired, wearing a black hoodie way too big for her, squinted at the screen, clearly not expecting this face. Her brows furrowed before her mouth parted slightly.

—Oh… oh shit.—

—You must be Amelie,— Cisca said with a warm smile, already amused. —Hi, love. I’m Lando’s mum. I think he ran away from the kitchen before he could burn anything else.—

Amelie blinked, frozen in place like someone had hit pause on her entire existence.

—You’re… you’re his mum?— she repeated, eyes wide. Her voice jumped half an octave. —Oh my god, hi! I didn’t... I didn’t mean to... shit. I mean. Sorry. Hi. I didn’t know he wasn’t gonna answer.—

Cisca laughed, the kind of laugh that made you want to be friends with her immediately. —It’s alright, darling. I’ve heard your voice coming out of that phone so many times, I feel like I already know you.—

Amelie looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a very charming British Range Rover.

—He talks about me?— she asked before she could stop herself, her voice too hopeful, too curious. Her brain immediately screamed at her to shut the fuck up, but it was too late. Words were out. The damage was done.

Cisca raised an eyebrow, clearly clocking that exact tone. —Not in so many words,— she teased, stirring the risotto again with one hand, —but he smiles at his phone like an idiot when he’s talking to you, so I’ve put the pieces together.—

Amelie groaned and let her head drop into her hands. —Okay, I’m logging off forever. Tell Lando he can find another gaming buddy. Or a funeral livestream.—

—Oh, don’t be silly,— Cisca chuckled. —I like hearing him laugh. There aren’t many people who get him out of that little brooding cloud he likes to live in. You’re good for him.—

Amelie peeked up through her fingers, cheeks fully pink now. —I’m not… I mean, I just... we’re just friends.—

Cisca gave a sly smile. Uh huh. Sure.

The camera shifted a bit as she walked over to the stove and gave the risotto a final stir. Amelie could now see the cozy kitchen in full—warm wood cabinets, vintage tea tins stacked by the window, a spice rack that clearly got used—it all felt like a real home. The kind you actually missed when you were away.

The sound of feet bounding down the stairs broke the moment.

—Did I miss something?— Lando called, and then paused as he stepped into the kitchen. His eyes landed on his mum holding his phone, then on the screen.

He blinked. —Wait, are you... did you answer my FaceTime?!—

—She’s lovely, by the way,— Cisca said, completely ignoring him as she handed over the phone like nothing had happened.

Lando looked from her to the screen and back. —Mum! You can’t just... Jesus.—

Amelie was still recovering, trying very hard to look casual as if she hadn’t just been mid–existential crisis. —Hey, chef boyardee. Your mum’s iconic.—

He groaned and covered his face with one hand. —I’m never leaving my phone unattended again.—

—Probably smart,— Amelie teased, regaining her usual confidence now that the shock had passed. —Your mum just called me “good for you.” What are you gonna do about that, huh?—

Lando turned roughly the shade of a strawberry. —I’m gonna pretend that didn’t happen and continue burning dinner. Cool? Cool.—

Cisca, of course, wasn’t done. —You know, Amelie, if you ever fancy some actual food and not whatever abomination he microwaves for himself most days, you’re welcome here anytime.—

—Mum!— Lando hissed, completely scandalized. —You're literally inviting a girl I game with across the ocean in the middle of a pandemic.—

—Well, if she ever does end up in London, don’t be an idiot and make her stay in a hotel,— Cisca said, winking at the screen. —She can have the guest room. The good one, not the one that smells like damp towels.—

—Is this a British mum thing?— Amelie deadpanned. —Because my mum would interrogate anyone who so much as looked at me too long.—

—Oh, don’t worry, darling. That’s just the second meeting.—

Lando practically faceplanted against the counter. —This is a nightmare.—

—You’re welcome, sweetheart,— Cisca sang, and then turned away like she hadn't just completely rearranged her son’s emotional equilibrium.

Amelie bit her lip, trying hard not to grin too much. Her heart was hammering way harder than it should have been. She met his mum. By accident. And his mum liked her. That shouldn’t have meant anything. They were just friends. Just friends.

So why did it feel like a door had been kicked wide open?

She watched Lando glance at her again, his cheeks still flushed, but his eyes soft. He looked completely knocked off balance.

And for a second—just a second—Amelie wondered what it would be like to not run from that idea.

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

liked by charleslemonade, lanmelieupdates, and others

twitchquintetdaily: 🚨 THEY’RE LIVE 🚨 Amelie, Charles & Lando just went live playing Fortnite and the chaos is already off the charts 😭 catch them third-wheeling each other in real time rn 🕹️🍿 twitch.tv/landonorris 🎧💅

View all 22,009 comments

f1streamshenanigans: Lando yelling “BABE REVIVE ME” and Charles just watching him die is cinema → daymaniac4life: @f1streamshenanigans I SWEAR he forgets we can hear him 😭 → lanmeliecore: @f1streamshenanigans “babe” ??? be serious rn → fraudnando: @f1streamshenanigans that was a jump scare and a proposal in one breath

charleslemonade: Charles trying to build and just spinning in a circle is the reason I believe in God → amelieonscreen: @charleslemonade he really plays like someone’s dad at an arcade → quintetchaos: @charleslemonade Amelie: carrying the whole team

lanmelieupdates: the way Lando keeps asking if she’s “got heals” like he’s not fully blushing → maxiewrld: @lanmelieupdates mans is down BAD on main and on twitch

fortnitelando: Charles saying “I feel like a chaperone” is the most accurate commentary of the night → camillesburner: @fortnitelando he’s the only thing keeping this from becoming a romcom speedrun → streammama: @fortnitelando and he’s failing. they’re one flirting session away from eloping on mic.

lanmeliefan72: Lando pretending he’s not obsessed with her while missing every shot is SO FUNNY → fortnitegf: @lanmelifan72 bro’s aim gets worse the closer Amelie’s avatar gets 😭😭

charleslemonade: Charles is 100% third-wheeling and knows it

ameliesbangs: why does Amelie trash talk like she’s in a 2004 CoD lobby 😭 → vroomygirlie: @ameliesbangs she called Lando a “pink helmeted liability” and I haven’t recovered

twitchgirly999: Charles every 2 seconds: “GUYS? where are you?” → scuderiacore: @twitchgirly999 literally the forgotten middle child of the squad rn 💀 → chilis4lyf: @twitchgirly999 justice for charles but also this is hilarious

ameliesburnbook: they’ve been live for 10 mins and Lando’s already offered her a medkit and all his dignity → charleslemonade: @ameliesburnbook he’s practically on one knee with a chug jug

lanmelieupdates: Lando: “wait don’t push yet, Amelie’s still looting” …she’s got him TRAINED → ghostedbygasly: @lanmelieupdates soft launch speedrun

alexisbored: she made fun of his aim and he giggled. i’m gonna go lie down → fernsandfriends: @alexisbored why is he BLUSHING through a headset

gaslysrevenge: charles third wheeling with grace, like a true gentleman → tifosithotwife: @gaslyrevenge he’s been through it before. he knows the signs 💀

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

After two hours of failing spectacularly at Fortnite, Amelie was certain the universe was punishing her. The stream had been chaos: Charles kept blowing himself up with rockets, Lando was giggling more than shooting, and Amelie, well… she’d mostly been too distracted. The chat had loved it—clips were already going viral of her mock-raging at Charles in dramatic Spanish while Lando wheezed in the background—but the moment she clicked end stream, the silence in her house returned like a tide.

She sighed, pushing back from her desk chair. The light from her dual monitors flickered once, then dimmed into standby as she stretched, spine cracking from hours of bad posture. Her hair was a mess, her hoodie half-on, and her knees were cold. Classic gaming aftermath.

In the bathroom, the shower hissed to life, and she let herself stand under the hot water longer than usual. Let it sting a little. Let it soak through the ache in her chest—the kind that never fully left. Not since him. Not since Cameron.

But this wasn’t a bad day, not really. Just… a soft one. A quiet kind of ache. She could feel it in her bones, and apparently, so could Björn.

When she stepped back into the living room wrapped in a towel and her old Mariah Carey shirt, she found the usually aloof cat curled on her blanket nest, tail flicking softly, yellow eyes watching her with more attention than usual.

—Okay, now you want to hang out?— she asked, padding barefoot across the hardwood and collapsing onto the couch beside him. He didn’t bolt. Instead, Björn stretched—long and lazy—and allowed her to scratch behind his ears.

It was strange. He’d been distant all week. Moody, almost. And now here he was, purring like an old car engine.

She settled into the cushions, tugging the blanket around her legs and reaching for her phone to order food. Thai, maybe. Or sushi. Or both. Screw it—she was hungry, and emotionally delicate enough to justify a feast.

As she scrolled through delivery apps, Björn shifted again, pressing the full weight of his body into her thigh like a little heater. His purring deepened. She raised an eyebrow at him.

—You okay, buddy? You’re not usually this clingy.—

He blinked slowly up at her and bumped his head against her arm. She sighed, her chest tightening for no good reason, and kissed the top of his head.

—Yeah. Me neither.—

She placed the order—pad see ew, tuna nigiri, spring rolls—and set the phone aside. A movie would help. Something easy. Familiar. Howl’s Moving Castle was already in her continue-watching queue, so she hit play and pulled Björn closer. The opening credits rolled, music soft and glittering through the speakers, and for a while, she let it wash over her. No pressure. No expectations. Just her, a weirdly affectionate cat, and Studio Ghibli.

Her phone buzzed once. Then again.

She blinked, leaned forward, and saw the name lighting up the screen.

Lan

She didn’t hesitate this time. She swiped to answer and lifted the phone to her ear, voice still a little soft from the mood.

—Hey.—

His voice came back warm and easy. —Hey, Ames. You okay?—

Her eyes flicked to the TV, then to Björn still purring against her side. She hesitated a second too long.

—Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.—

A pause.

—Bad day?— he asked gently.

She smiled a little, eyes dropping to the blanket tangled around her legs. —Not bad. Just… you know. Soft. Missing people. That kind of thing.—

He didn’t fill the silence right away, and she was glad. Sometimes the right kind of company was the kind that didn’t rush in with solutions. Just let it sit.

—My mum thinks you're lovely, by the way,— he said finally, and she could hear the tiny grin in his voice.

Amelie groaned, flopping back against the cushions. —Oh my god. Are we still talking about that? I’ve never been more humiliated in my life.—

—You were humiliated? She called me Chef Boyardee in front of you. I’ll never recover.—

She laughed. The first real one of the day. —You kind of deserved it, though. That risotto looked like baby food.—

—Excuse me. That was a brave artistic take on Italian cuisine.—

—That was a war crime.—

He chuckled. Then, a beat later, —I’m glad you called. Even if you ended up talking to my mum.—

Amelie traced a finger through Björn’s fur. Her chest didn’t feel quite as tight anymore. —I didn’t mean to. I just… wanted to hear your voice, I guess. That sounds lame. Never mind.—

—It’s not lame. I like when you call. Even when you’re yelling at Charles in three languages.—

Her heart did that annoying thing where it squeezed and fluttered and pulled all at once. She swallowed, the quiet of the living room somehow louder than it had been.

—You always call at the right time,— she murmured.

—Yeah?—

—Yeah.—

Another pause, but this one felt warm. Intentional.

Then Lando’s voice, soft and low and maybe a little shy: —Do you want to fall asleep on the phone again tonight? I can stay on while you eat, if you want. Or just… be there.—

She blinked, surprised by the sudden sting behind her eyes.

—Yeah,— she whispered. —I’d like that.—

—Okay. Good. I’ll stay.—

Björn shifted again, curling even closer.

On the screen, Howl floated down from the sky, Sophie’s hand in his.

And for the first time all day, Amelie didn’t feel quite so alone.

[beenbaanbuun]

petals for amour - choi hansol

words - 4.1k

genre - hurt/comfort

warnings - florist!reader, barista!vernon, serial dater!vernon, reader cries… a lot, readfer is hopelessly in love with vernon, jealousy (from both parties), vernon is clueless

The flower display in the window of the shop needed rearranging. It had for a while, but you just hadn't had the time. It's not like the shop was ever-bustling, but still. You were too busy doing other things. Procrastinating, for example, or daydreaming about an alternate reality in which you actually had a well-paying job and a relationship outside of your never-ending daydreams.

But your coworker had made a display using a mish-mash of ugly purple and yellow flowers. Not the pretty pastel type either. No, the type that made you gag every time you saw it out of the corner of your eye. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that she’d completely ignored the meaning of the flowers she’d put in the display. Sure, the language of flowers wasn't exactly common knowledge, but for a florist, it was kind of the bare minimum.

You started from scratch, disposing of the rest of the flowers in the window in the bin behind the counter. Instead of the garish display that was there a few moments prior, you decided to take a softer, more calculated approach. Soon enough, the table in front of you was littered with a selection of wild roses, red carnations and white lilies, the meaning of each of them intermingling perfectly. It was a display that represented love; an emotion that you were familiar with.

A small, bitter smile rested on your face as a certain someone came to mind. You were a friend to him, but he was so much more to you. You felt silly thinking about him in that way, especially when the feelings were anything but reciprocated, but you couldn't help it.

It was hard for you to admit that you loved him, especially when it was clear as day to see that he didn’t love you in the same way. It broke your heart to hear him tell you that every day before he left through the door of your shop to go on yet another date with yet another girl who was much prettier than you. That was the issue with loving a serial dater; you had to watch every day as he fell in love with seemingly every girl other than you.

“What's got you thinking?” Speak of the devil. The bell above the door gave you little to no warning that Vernon had walked in, his loud voice cutting through the gentle chime. “I was stood outside the window for like five minutes. You were just zoned out.”

“Hey, Vernon,” you muttered, straightening up the last few snowdrops before spinning around to face your friend. As usual, he was dressed in his work uniform, a brown apron tied around his waist with a cute little bow at the front. “Did you bring me my drink?”

“Of course,” he held out a white cup that you knew contained matcha, your name scribbled across the side. You snorted and took it from him. It was made by him, you realised as you took the first sip. He always added a dash of caramel syrup to make it extra sweet for you. It was just the way you liked it.

He took his position, leaning up against your counter and kicking his leg up so it rested against the wood. You had to stop yourself from staring at him as he let himself relax. He just looked so effortlessly handsome with his perfect, tan skin and his deep chocolate eyes. Not to mention those plump li-

“How’s work been?” You cut off your own train of thought before you could begin to spiral.

“Hard,” he sulked, jutting his button lip out in a way that made him irresistibly cute.

“And yet you still found time to bring me my drink?” You were being sarcastic, of course. He brought you your drink every day, without fail. No matter how busy it was at the cafe, he’d always devote his lunch break to coming to see you. It had become a part of both your routines, and you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

He’d even done it once when you were at home, sick. Instead of your regular matcha in his hand, he carried a flask of freshly brewed green tea. It wasn’t your favourite drink, and he knew that, but he was convinced it would help you feel better. And with Vernon being as stubborn as he was, you had no room to argue when he showed up at your door with a sympathetic frown and a warm hug.

“I always have time to bring you your drink,” he smiled back, “you get grumpy if I don't.”

“More like you get grumpy if I don’t let you,” you corrected, “it’s been so long since I’ve gone a day without seeing you. I miss it.”

You continued to work as Vernon stood at the front desk, chatting idly with you as you strolled around with a spray bottle in hand. Every so often, Vernon would say something that would get him squirted like he was a kitten that was misbehaving. He never batted an eye, though, simply letting out one of his contagious laughs and wiping away the wet patch on his apron.

“I forgot to tell you about the dream I had last night,” he said as he checked his watch to see how much longer he had with you. By your calculations, he’d be leaving in 10 minutes and you’d be free to once again spiral into a world of delusional daydreams, set in a world where your feelings were reciprocated. “It was about you.”

“Elaborate,” you said as you brushed away some dead leaves that had tumbled to the ground.

“So, you know how I’m going on that date tonight?” he asked.

How could you forget, you thought to yourself as a scowl grew on your face. He’d been going on about this one for a whole week, reminding you each and every day just how pretty she was. Smart too. You tried to stop yourself from resenting the poor girl who you hadn’t even met, but before you knew it, you already hated her. You wanted to know what it was about her that had snatched Vernon’s attention. You wanted to know what it was about you that hadn’t.

“Well, I’m taking her to a fancy restaurant. She’s classy, so I think it’d suit her,” you could practically hear the dopey smile that he was wearing, even though you weren’t facing him. In a way, you were glad you couldn’t see him. You knew it’d sting to see him so excited about seeing a girl that wasn’t you. “But in my dream, you showed up instead. Claimed you were my date. Weird, right?”

“Right.”

“You were dressed in that long pink skirt you always wear. The one with the flowers,” he let out a chuckle, “I think that’s my favourite skirt of yours. You just look so happy every time you wear it. You did in my dream, too.”

His dream sounded an awful lot like a recurring daydream of yours. The two of you on a date, smiling and happy. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d thought about the outfit you’d wear if he were to ever ask you on one. The pink skirt was a regular. Daydream Vernon would never fail to compliment you on it, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“It’s my favourite skirt, too,” you said.

“You looked very pretty in it,” you were glad you were still facing away from him. You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks, just like you couldn’t help the shy smile on your lips. “I think I almost developed a crush on you.”

Yet as soon as the corners of your lips even dared to twitch, your happiness was instantly shattered.

Almost. He almost developed a crush on you. That was all it took to wipe the stupid smile off your face and replace it with a solemn frown. How dumb of you to get so excited over a passing comment? It’s not like he found you pretty in the way he found every other girl pretty. You were his best friend, after all.

And that’s all you ever would be to him. After years and years of trying to get him to notice you, you were still at the bottom of his list. You were practically ‘one of the boys’, except more emotionally available. You couldn’t bear to remember all the times he’d showed up at your house and used you as a shoulder to cry on after a bad date. Not that you expected much else. That’s what you were to Vernon; someone he could always count on in his times of need. A friend, and nothing more.

“Don’t you have to go?” You tried to sound chipper as you spoke, but even to your own ears, it sounded like you were on the verge of tears.

“You okay?” he asked, obviously picking up on your sudden switch in mood. You cursed yourself for not being a natural-born actress. It only added to the long list of things to hate yourself over. You know, along with the fact that you were trapped with a crush on a man who’d never love you back. Not to mention the fact that you were idiotic enough to let his offhanded compliments go to your head, only to be so cruelly brought back to earth by his thoughtless words.

“I’m fine! It’s just a mood swing,” you muttered. Vernon moved from behind you, trying to get a look at your face. He was just trying to confirm that you were fine before he left you on his own. Of course, you weren’t. So you bobbed down, pretending to pick up something invisible off of the floor. It only served to make Vernon worry more, but he knew not to push.

He made a mental note to see you later, probably after his date had finished. The two of you could sit on your bed and watch kid's films together, just like you always did when you were sad. He’d let you rest your head on his lap, and he’d play with your hair. It was a surefire way to make you smile, and his favourite way to calm you down. Your hair was just so soft, and you always looked so soft and cuddly when you were dozing on his lap.

He’d make sure to not tell you about how his date went. Not tonight, anyway. You always seemed to be in a worse mood whenever he talked about the girls he went on dates with. You were probably just protective of him, he’d tell himself. If you went on as many dates as he did, he’d probably be pissed too. You were much too sweet and kind to be dating just any man. If it were up to him, they’d have to go through a strict vetting process first, and maybe then, if they proved themselves to be of the highest standard, he’d let them within a six-foot radius of you…

“Are you sure?” He asked one last time. His voice was quiet, as if he was scared that a sudden rise in volume would make everything worse. “I can skip work if you want.”

“You’re not getting fired because of me,” you were equally as quiet, “now go. I’ll be fine.”

But you weren’t.

The moment he was out of sight, you let the tears begin to fall, despite the fact that you weren’t even sure what was making you so upset. You knew he didn’t like you in that way, and yet his confirmation of it seemed to make you spiral into a deep pit where the only thought circling in your mind was just how unlovable you were. Because how, when you’d been trying so hard for so long, did he still only see you as a friend?

He went on failed date after failed date, yet he still never saw you as an option. At this point, you were convinced that he could date every woman in the world, and you’d still come in last place. You were so close to getting what your heart desired, and yet so far.

You shut the shop early. It’s not like you ever got many customers anyway, and you could always stay open a little later on a different day if you needed to make up some hours. Besides, no one was going to walk into a florist when the sales clerk had mascara tears running down her cheeks, right? You could hardly promote love and happiness when you looked like Miss Havisham herself.

Although there was a chill in the air, you took the long way home. The way that meant you didn’t have to walk past the cafe where Vernon worked. That way you knew you were safe from another emotional outburst that was bound to happen the second you saw his face again. It just meant that you had to bundle yourself up extra tight in the thin jumper you’d worn to work that morning. You spent most of the journey trying to ignore the fact that you were shivering and carried on along the road to your home.

It came as no surprise when your feet led you straight to your bedroom once you got back. You couldn’t remember if you’d locked the front door, but honestly, you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was curl up into a hall and sob into your pillow. The floral material of the pillowcase stared at you, practically begging for you to wipe your makeup off before you started your second crying session of the day. Of course, you ignored it. It was too much effort to get out of bed again, and even more effort to wash your face.

Besides, the pattern on the fabric resembled the one of your pink floral skirt, and the last thing you wanted to be reminded of was that skirt. You didn’t know if you’d ever wear it again after Vernon had complimented it like he had. You didn’t want him to call you pretty if he wasn’t going to mean it.

For the first time ever, you were happy that you lived alone. With no roommates, there was no need to keep your cries quiet. You could let out all of your emotions without any judgment from anyone. All you had to do was hope that you were quiet enough that your neighbours didn't put in a noise complaint. You didn’t think you were in the right frame of mind to have to deal with some police officer at your door asking about some ghostly wails that were heard coming from your bedroom. ‘The man I love doesn’t love me back,’ isn’t exactly a widely accepted reason for disturbing the peace of your neighbours. They’d probably think you were insane for your overdramatic reaction. You felt that way, anyway. Insane and unjust and overdramatic in every way possible.

Still, the floodgates were open and there was no way to close them again. Wave after wave of tears left you with no break in between them. You were tired and dizzy, probably from the dehydration, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. As the world around you spun, all you could think about was Vernon, and you, and how pathetic you were for falling in love with him. Of course, it only released another flood of tears, and the cycle continued until you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

A few hours had passed before you felt the shifting of your mattress as someone sat next to you. A warm hand brushed over your face, tracing your features as if the person were trying to commit them to memory. The tip of a finger was used to wipe away the tear stains that had collected under your eyes. It tickled a little as they accidentally brushed over your eyelashes. You scrunched up your face and let out a whine of protest, which only served to make the other person laugh. A beautiful, musical laugh that you could recognise anywhere.

“What happened to your date?” you mumbled, sleepily. You didn’t open your eyes to look at Vernon, and Vernon made no move to take his hand away from your face. Whether you wanted him to or not was a complicated question and one that you weren’t prepared to decipher right now. You just lay there and enjoyed the soothing patterns he drew upon your skin.

“I left,” he said simply as if that explained anything at all.

“Did you not like her?” you questioned, trying to get more information from him.

“Not as much as I thought I would,” his hand moved to cup your jaw as his thumb brushed against your lips. It was a confusing gesture; one that you were tempted to associate with romantic attraction. Once again, you had to reign yourself in.

“Any reason?”

“I kept thinking about you,” his response to your question was met with silence from you. Shock and confusion coursed through you, making you fumble through your thoughts as you tried to rationalise what he just said. You seemed sad earlier, you told yourself, he must’ve just been worried. There was obviously no other reason he’d think about you.

He stopped talking for a few seconds, moving around until instead of being sat up, looking down upon you, he was lying next to you. He kept his hand upon your face the entire time, and you decided that you were grateful for that. It felt nice to know he was there.

“I kept comparing the two of you,” he said, quieter now than he had been before, “I was telling myself that you were funnier, and you dressed better and had a nicer laugh and prettier eyes. All of which is true, by the way.”

Upon hearing his words, you finally let your eyes flutter open. If this discussion was going to take place, you’d rather look into his eyes and know just how sincere he was being. It took a moment or two for them to focus, but once they did, you were met with such a beautiful sight. Vernon grinned at you with his beautiful smile, eyes twinkling as they met yours. You were convinced he’d stolen the stars and hidden them within his deep chocolate irises. He, of course, would deny all accusations made against his name. He’d claim he wasn’t a thief, but you knew that wasn’t true; he’d already stolen your heart.

“My eyes aren’t that pretty,” you responded, unsure of what else to say.

“Well, they’re prettier when they’re not all red and swollen,” he joked, “I came here to tell you something but I don’t know if I can. Not when you look like you’re about to burst into tears.”

“Shut up,” you hadn’t thought about the state you were in, but now it was the only thing you could think about. You must’ve looked a mess after all that crying you’d done.

“I’m kidding,” he wiped at the underneath of your eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He didn’t even blink an eye when the white material got covered in your makeup. “You’re pretty all the time.”

Maybe if you started crying again, it’d shut him up. Because the more he said, the harder it got to keep your thoughts sane and you really didn’t want to set yourself up for more heartbreak. It was difficult, though, when every word he said made you want to lean forward and kiss him. In all honesty, it was taking everything you had to stop yourself from doing exactly that.

“What did you want to tell me?” you decided that changing the subject would be a better way to keep your sanity in check.

Instead of answering you, though, he shuffled closer. So close, that you could feel his breath brushing against your face. He wore a stupid grin, one that made your heart flutter and your face heat up in a pretty pink blush. If Vernon noticed it, he ignored it. Gone was the usual teasing at the visual proof of your embarrassment, replaced instead by a tender look in his eyes. A tenderness that he often shared with you.

“I think I’ve been an idiot,” he said. It was strange; words that he usually spoke in such a jovial manner were instead recited with an unfamiliar seriousness to them. Rather than joking with you about an order he’d got wrong, or about how he’d tripped over in front of one of his dates, you were sure that this time whatever he'd done this time was serious. It worried you to no end.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, hoping that he’d give you a straightforward answer.

“Do you want to know why my dates always fail?” He replied. It wasn't an answer to your question, but you were sure it was leading there. So you nodded and waited for him to start talking once more. “It’s because none of them are you, Y/N.”

His words didn't register at first, taking a few seconds for the meaning to finally sink in. When they finally registered, you were sure it was a joke. You felt certain that in a second or two, he’d break into a fit of giggles before telling you that ‘you should’ve seen the look on your face’, or something along those lines. He’d smile, and press a kiss to your forehead, all while ignoring the pain that you were trying to disguise with your own fake laughter.

But it never came. There was no sign of his words being a joke anywhere on his face. In fact, you’d go as far as to say that his expression showed quite the opposite; he was nervous. Why, you weren’t quite sure. You couldn’t quite convince yourself that he was actually telling you the truth. Now, that would’ve been cause for laughter.

“When I saw you for the first time I felt something that I’ve never felt with anyone else. No matter how many dates I go on, no one makes me feel the way you do,” Vernon continued, his voice cracking a little as he spoke.

“How do I make you feel?” You replied.

Vernon thought about it for a second, a tender look in his eyes as he stared at you. The look he gave you was familiar, and yet this time it meant so much more, not just to you but to Vernon as well. It was full of a feeling that had laid dormant within him for a long time. A feeling of your own that was finally being reciprocated.

“Whenever I’m with you I feel like you’re the only thing that will ever matter,” he whispered as he shuffled closer to you. His face was only a few inches from your own, now. You couldn’t help but want to lean in and close the distance, “I can't focus on anything else when I’m with you, and when I’m not, all I can focus on is how much I want to see you again. Even when I’m with other girls, you’re the only person that fills my head.”

“Vernon,” you said before he cut you off.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and for a moment or two, it felt as though time had stopped. The words that you’d longed to hear for so long were now out in the open, and you couldn’t quite believe it. You dug your nails into the palm of your hand, wincing as you realised that you weren’t dreaming.

“Vernon,” you mumbled, “are you being serious? You’re not joking right?” You had to make sure it was true before you let yourself fall any deeper than you already had.

“No,” he replied, leaning closer. Your lips were just a few inches apart now, his breath warm against your face. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Y/N. I’m serious; I love you.”

You couldn't help but smile. A true, love-sick smile.

“I, uh, I think I might reciprocate those feelings,” you spluttered, finding it difficult to get the words out. It certainly didn’t help your nerves when Vernon’s only response was a confused face.

“Huh?” He replied. He looked cute with his brows furrowed and his lips pursed and for just a second, you forgot your nerves.

“I love you too, dummy.”

[delopsia]

I just finished reading Flowers in November, it was amazing!! These were some of my fav parts

Part 1: "Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."

Rhett thanking the reader for helping him with his wound and saying no one’s ever done that for him before even though he gets hurt often was heartbreaking.

It was really sweet that Rhett stepped to the side when him and Royal start yelling so that it was led away from the reader.

Rhett reorganizing the house when he’s drunk is so cute!

I love the details that emphasize it’s a different world!(Cows with gold horns, circle pizzas, “mash two potatoes with one fork”).

“That’s it, he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, “pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours.”

"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."

"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."

The dirty talk had me sweating 😅

I love that they were both nervous that the hole was gonna open up and it’d be the last time they see each other.

“Someone’s been in here.”

Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?" I love that rhett is so protective even though he just met the reader

Part 2

I love how grateful rhett is and that he always compliments the readers cooking even in the beginning when it doesn’t taste too good lol.

rhett comforting reader when they’re crying after they have a dream about their mom was too sweet! 🥹

Also rhett trying to put a bow on nyx was so adorable.

"I don't...nobody's ever...done anything like this for me before." That part was really sad and made me want to kiss him all over his face 😭

It made me happy that the Reader started bringing breakfast to him once or twice a week. And the one time she fed it to him made my heart melt!

So did them splitting the pieces of bacon, something about sharing food is so intimate!

It broke my heart when rhett got jumped by the tillersons (especially since it was Perry’s fault) but I’m glad reader helped take care of him and he’s healing now. It brought tears to my eyes when it mentioned how he spooks easier now.

(1/2)

Oh my goodness, thank you SO much for this 😭💐haha, I didn't think folks even read the old Flowers In November series any more! It was so cool to see all of your thoughts and favorite lines, Rhett's little protective streak, the cooking, the mundane comforts of being around him, the stuffed animal, Nyx the kelpie. I can't believe I forgot about all of this 🥹

It took me forever to figure out how to format this 😔✌ but I've tucked the other half of your ask underneath the 'Keep reading' button!

Part 3

‘A sharp, earsplitting crack rings out, a heavy, elephant-sized fist hitting the ground.’

"It's okay, it's okay," you don't realize you've jumped until Rhett's pulling you down from it, bringing you impossibly closer, "I've got you, baby."

Rhett comforting the reader and holding them close before they were even officially together was just *chef’s kiss* 😚

Rhett punching perry for disrespecting the reader was so sexy

Hearing the backstory of perry and Rebecca damn perry is fr a villain

"You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me," and when he says your name at the end of the sentence, it sounds like a melody. "Y'know that?"

‘Through the conflict of your heart, split between worlds, you find yourself in silent agreement.’

‘Cupping his cheeks, you squish them together, wrenching an amused chuckle from him, "sometimes, I don't believe you're real."

This part is so soft and sweet it has me so 🥰

"This what you wanted?" His deep voice rumbles against your scalp, rattling around your skull. Why does something so simple turn me on so much?’

Feeling him speaking against my head would fix me

"Fuck," leaning down, he presses a kiss to your upper chest, just above your cleavage, "fuck, you're beautiful."

"Has anyone told you how perfect you are?"

"Could fuckin' die happy between these pretty legs of yours," speaking directly into your wetness, vibrating deliciously up your core, "y'know how long I've thought 'bout this?"

"You like my finger, darlin'?" Adding another finger to join the first, working you, "God, you're takin' them so well for me."

The dirty talk along with Rhett’s arms trembling when he first slides into the reader had me foaming at the mouth 🤤

"Like a fuckin' daydream on top of me," he says against your lips, "y'know that?" The way he looks up at you tells you that he means every word. Smitten.’ Please rhett saying all these sweet things is a NEED not a want

"Stretchin' for me so well, darlin'," the squelch of your wetness is filthy, "god damn, your hot little cunt is so wet."

"Sweetie, please," pleading around a shaky breath, "want—wanna cum."

"Baby, baby," those eyes barely open, breath hitching, "feels good. Fuck, it feels good."

"You're so sensitive," cooing as you feel his thighs tremble beneath you, "you gonna cum in me, sweet boy?"

Rhett’s eyes crossing when he came cause it felt so good has forever changed me, I will be thinking about it several times a day for the rest of my life 🥵

Part 4

"Is this your stuffed animal?" You ask when he steps into the room.’

Rhett grins at the sight of the old thing, "yeah, that's Toast."

The name fits the little guy perfectly. A light brown body with dark brown feet and a spot on his left eye. Visibly loved, its fur matted and missing in places.’

"I almost feel bad for defiling his home like we did," every time you look at this little twin bed, you remember that night, especially what happened the morning after.’

‘There's no need for you to look to know that Rhett's cheeks are heating up; you can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Arms wind around your waist, burying his hot face into the back of your neck.’

I always love a fic where rhett blushes, he’s just a cute, bashful cowboy ☺️

And it’s so precious to think about little rhett sleeping with a stuffie when he was younger and getting so attached to it that he keeps it 🥹🥰

Him turning toast around when he gets a blowjob, he is too cute for words to describe!

‘Here he is. Your big cowboy whimpering into his own palm as you suck him off in his childhood bedroom. Helpless to do nothing but take it.’

Him going from just previously being shy about the night you had sex in his twin-size bed to covering his mouth with his palm to prevent moaning like a little slut had me dizzy and panting 😮‍💨😵‍💫

I loved how rhett made the reader breakfast even though he’s not the best cook. It melted my heart!

"I can't imagine a day in my life without you," his voice breaks, gradually becoming watery, "and I promise you that as long as my heart's still beatin', I'm gonna be there." With every word, he shakes a little harder, trembling just like your quivering heart is.’

Pushing your noses together, those final words tumble off his tongue, "I love you," breath hitching, "and ain't nothin' in this world can get between that."

That was one of my fave parts and it just made what happened next all the more heartbreaking

"Please don't let go of me," quivering like a leaf, you squeeze as close to Rhett as possible.

"'m not gonna let you go," he promises, stepping further down the fence line, away from the hole, "I promise, baby, you're not goin' anywhere."

Please that part was so sweet and heartbreaking. It had me tearing up. It was also so intense and I love that not only rhett tried to save the reader but how Nyx tried to save the reader too and I’m glad that Nyx got to go with the reader and that the reader didn’t have to go into her old world all alone

"You found your necklace," you mutter, turning it around to sit correctly on his neck.’

"I'm glad you weren't there to see me ballin' my damn eyes out over it," but that watery grin tells you that you may witness it anyhow.’

A tear escapes; is quickly wiped away by your ring finger. He catches the glint of the stones in the light, grins, and presses a kiss to it when he finds the chance.’

"I hope you didn't find that stack of letters," you never did finish them, did you?’

"I read every single one," and then Rhett curls his hands around your cheeks, guiding you down to press your foreheads and noses together, "I love you too."

Thinking about rhett finding the necklace and letters and crying just broke my heart but I loved it at the same time!! It was one of the parts that tugged most at my heartstrings!

I love that rhett took toast with him! He’s so adorable!

Them going to go get a bag of concrete mix to cover up the purple flower at the end was so smart!

The epilogue was so funny and cute! I’m so glad they got a happy ending! And were able to play pizza box frisbee together lol 😂

It was such a fantastic series!! 🩷🩷🩷

[lurkerwithcomputer]

It's WIP Wednesday

The bitter, antiseptic hospital stink is much less unpleasant when masked by Shiragin's scent, sitting right next to her. Saiko sips soda from the giant sippy-cup Maman brought her. The way Mucchan thought to bring everyone else's handheld too warms her. Saiko inhales the scents of her squad, and the cold, dull knot her recent close call left in her chest loosens.

Saiko leans back into the pillows, puts her feet up on the bed tray, and starts up a game – multiplayer, of course. She knows that this position, in this kind of hospital gown, gives a bit of a show, but they've seen her in just an oversize tshirt before.

Shiragin stares, Uribo glares as usual, and Mucchan goggles, looking something other than anxious for once. Maman's look of mortified confusion pulls a giggle and a grin out of her.

"Are you seriously playing videogames with your toes?" says Shiragin, sounding kind of impressed, "every time I learn more about you, you get weirder," he adds, but there's no bite to it.

"I'm weird and you like it," she teases back.

"Guilty as charged," Shirazu says.

That gets a laugh out of everyone, even permanently-grumpy Uribo snorts. Maman taps his foot to the game's music and watches over Mucchan's shoulder. Saiko's not sure how much time has passed, but it's several days and nights of Undeath Harvest later, and Maman stands up.

"Excuse me, I need to go write up the paperwork for this," Maman looks around at the squad, a strangely uncomfortable look on his face, "don't cause too much trouble!"

This gets another round of laughs out of everyone, except Uribo. Maman waves as he steps out of Saiko's hospital room. Saiko looks back to her game – and mashes buttons to avoid the carnivorous vines bursting out of the ground. Their conversation turns into occasional videogame chatter.

"C'mere everyone, there's a rare material over here!"

"No, Urie, your left!" says Shiragin.

"Eep! a little help here?" Mucchan interrupts.

Uribo's character hacks and slashes through a thicket of wild tomatoes that open into toothy, four-part mouths. Mucchan huffs out a relieved sigh. Shiragin's character vaults a tombstone to reach the glowing pineapples growing from a pile of skulls.

Mucchan keeps looking over at her whenever there's a lull in the action, and the conversation takes another turn.

"Um, not to be rude, but..." Mucchan starts, "how did you learn to do that?"

"Play with my toes? Broke my arm a few years ago," Saiko replies over a commiserating "ouch" from Shiragin, "kept doing it so I can play and snack at the same time," she adds.

Uribo groans, and Saiko feels a grin tug at her cheeks.

"Who's up for another round of this?" Saiko asks.

"...Why not." mutters Uribo.

"I'm staying as long as possible," says Shiragin.

Another round, more chatter. More spreading warmth from her chest outwards. A squirm and a clench from her regrowing arms. Footsteps and a stranger's scent, from out in the hall. A nurse steps into the room, a no-nonsense look on her face.

"Visiting hours are over," the nurse says, "but I just know one of you will refuse to leave. Pick who gets the visitor's chair."

There's an unspoken agreement in the air. Mucchan and Uribo quit the game in a hurry, pocketing handhelds as they stand up.

"Bye, guys. Thanks for the games, and hanging out here," Saiko says.

"Get better quickly," says Uribo, and she knows he means it, because there's no bitter muttering under his breath afterward.

"Um, I hope your arms regrow soon," says Mucchan, as awkward as ever, "bye!" he waves as he leaves.

"See ya!" calls Shiragin, waving back.

The nurse fixes them with a look before stepping out.

That leaves the two of them, and a strange kind of tension in the air.

Tension, silence, stretching thin.

It's hard to decode the expression on Shiragin's face at first, but he's looking at her with wide, wet eyes - he's never looked more like he's about to cry. She hasn't seen a look like this on him since... Since the Auction. Since Shiragin, standing over a bikini-clad body, blood staining glossy, latex-y thigh-high boots.

Shiragin breaks the tension, a long moment snapping like a too-tight thread.

"What the fuck, that was wild. You lost your arms but still made that guy run away. Sassan feeding you his blood like some kind of vampire dad, shit, nearly gave me a heart attack," the words tumble out of him, "holy fuck, we're alive."

"Yeah, we're alive," she says, and she can't help it, she can feel her face pulling up in a smile, wide and wild.

The knot in her chest finally dissolves properly, tension deflating.

She breathes in deep, drinking in Shiragin's scent - the salty tang of sweat, the musky smell of leather jacket, the faintly fireworks-like smell that's just Shiragin. Where he smelled like fear before, sharp and nerve-wracking, now she can smell his relief - soft and dry and almost-sweet, like the scent of a well-loved manga.

It's comforting, and warm, and... hot? Why is it hot?

She looks him in the eye and crosses a leg over to pat the bed beside her with her foot.

"C'mere, Shiragin."

He climbs up on the bed, slowly at first, and then quickly, desperately. He lays down beside her, reaching out, wrapping his arms around her, hands leaving trails of warmth through her thin hospital gown. He tucks his head into the curve between her neck and shoulder and inhales.

Inhales like a man who'd been drowning. Inhales like breathing clean air outside a bar, after hours of cigarette smoke, aftershave and bad breath. Inhales like a fire starved of oxygen.

She leans into him and breathes in, too – this close, she can smell not only salty, tangy sweat, his motorbike jacket, the gunpowder-ish scent of Shiragin – but also the low, dry scent that clings to all of Shiragin's clothes, a hint of lime shampoo, and something heady and a bit musky... oh. Heat ripples through her body, outward from between her legs.

It's confirmed by what presses against her thigh, hot even through his pants.

"You too?" she asks, low and husky next to his ear.

A/N: Did Saiko add that comment about snacking and gaming at the same time just to get a reaction out of Urie? Yes, yes she did, and Urie knows it.

[playingfetchwithdinosaurs]

10, 27, 36? <3

10. What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc) i dont really remember myself doing a lot of these, but whenever some of them pop up on here i like doing them when it's aesthetic or like more abstract, random ass stuff

27. Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them! Yes! For my house keys, I have a keyblade from kingdom hearts and that's basically it; I used to have a keychain I got when visiting harvard that said nerd pride but the little key chain part broke and I haven't fixed it. On my car keys, I have a little pink racoon/fox that I've had since like 2013 maybe when one of my roommates got it for me. The poor thing's eyes are all glazed over from being scratched up, so I like to joke that it has glaucoma.

36. What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at? I guess ping pong; I took it for PE when I was a senior in high school. I'm not amazing at it since I haven't played in a very long time, but I do certainly enjoy it. As for regular arcade games, I'm not really great at many of them because I just button mash like mad, though I have a very special history with soul caliber 2 (the universe really likes putting me in fanfic like situations but then deciding against it at the last moment), so that holds a special place in my heart.

[uniquejellyfishqueen]

IBYTAM- 9 buttons

11/10/24 KC Chiefs game- 8 buttons

Her cat is named after Benjamin Button nickname Benji

12/18/2018 born

4/26/2019 adopted

4/26/2019: Instagram photo introducing him “This is Benjamin Button. He’s a good boy”

“Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town and all the bad boys would be good boys if they only had a chance to love her”

“Good boy, that’s right come close”

4/26: International Chernobyl Disaster Remembrance Day (1986)

4/26/1977: New York City’s most famous disco, Studio 45 opens

4/26/1977: The Morgan Creek Bridge is Chapel Hill, NC is renamed the James Taylor Bridge

-Taylor was named after James Taylor.

-11/22/2011 N2 MSG, NYC Speak Now World Tour James Taylor joined TS for performance of “Fire and Rain”

*it was during this performance on 11/22/2011 that the arm lyrics she had down her left arm: “Bring all the pretenders, one day. We will be remembered.” These were her own lyrics from Long Live.

-Long Live is track 14 on 3rd album.

-it has been played 46 times on tour, it was part of the set list but it was removed. Most recent played: London N7, Lisbon N2, Singapore N6.

726 is the area code for San Antonio—

Cities: San Antonio, Schertz, Universal City, Converse, Balcones Heights, Cross Mountain, Elmendorf, Garden Ridge, Helotes, Hill Country Village, Hollywood Park, Kirby, Leming, Live Oak, Olmos Park, Selma, St. Hedwig, Terrell Hills, and Windcrest

4/26/1905: Jack McCarthy, of the Chicago Cubs is the first fielder to throw out 3 runners at home plate in one game against the Pittsburgh Pirates.

4/26/1912: The 1st home run hit at Fenway park, in Boston MA was by Hugh Bradley of the Red Sox.

4/26/1995: Coors Field opens in Denver, Co

-ground was broke on 10/16/1992

*The Denver Masonic Temple Building (5 minutes from Coors Field) a Richardsonian Romanesque style building from 1889. It was added to the NRHP on 11/22/1977. Okay because they really like to plan they have a temple on both side of the field… no expenses spared I see, they are 10 minutes apart. Okay and their oldest one #5 just celebrated 100 years on 7/10/24. Denver has over 104 lodges, around 16,000 members, many who are members of the York and Scottish Rite of Freemasonary. (p.s Pennsylvania is the largest Masonic Jurisdiciton in the US claiming more than 80,000 members at the end of 2021 (more than any other state, nice..)

TS said that he is a purr box, “Karma is a cat purring in my lap cause it loves me.” The cat in the music video is Olivia Benson

-Mariska Hargitay posted on Instagram on 11/30/2023 a picture of her Siamese cat. “Karma is a cat, @taylorswift Meet Karma.”

(all numbers below added = 12)

O 15 B 2

251 is the area code for southwestern Alabama, including Mobile, Baldwin, and Washington. Created on 6/18/2001 -> 6/18/2024 ET #103 N1/1 Cardiff

B 2 B 2

#22 N3/3 Philadelphia SS guitar 11/11. And on piano were 412 which is the area code for Pittsburgh.

——-Turtle Creek is a borough in Allegheny County, PA 12 miles SE from Pittsburgh. Their lodge is #613. 6/13/2024 was #100 on the ET N1/3 in Liverpool. The surprise songs #s make the area code for McDonald, Missouri.

-> -> -> 6/13 is national sewing machine day (she featured a sewing machine in one of her fortnight videos.) And also 6/13/1991 the first all sports daily newspaper, the National stops publication.

*6/13/1995 Jagged Little Pill released

*6/13/2008 there was a wedding

*6/13/2015 TS brings Rachel Platten on stage to sing “Fight Song” during the show in Philadelphia.

->6th album 13 track is “This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.” This has been played 2x on the ET. Seattle N1/2 #44 7/22/23 and Cardiff N1/1 #103 6/18/2023. The difference between the two #s is 59. Show #59 N2/3 Buenos Aires. 1st mashup played first time End Game was played mashed up with Out of the Woods and Is it Over Now? Those 2 1989 songs are repeated again on #59 N2/4 Paris on 5/10/2024, the difference being instead of End Game she played album 11 track 3 MBOBHFT

Seattle & Buenos Aires SBA (sweet baby Angel?)-> -> -> SBA Small Business Administration: an independent agency of the US government that provides support to entrepreneurs and small businesses. Formed on 7/30/1953 -> 7/30/2011 Speak Now World Tour Quicken Loans Arena Cleveland, OH

—-Evermore (9th album) Coney Island (9th Track) ft the National released on 12/11/2020. The National and TS released The Alcott on 4/28/2023

* Benjamin is named after the character portrayed by actor Brad Pitt in the 2008 film
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Which was released in 12/25/2008 (merry ho ho) (17 days after the last night) (7 days until NYD) (turning 16 this year- like My Super Sweet 16? Theme song was Hilary Duff, 10 seasons 49 episodes premiered on 1/18/2005 and ended on 9/11/2017)

* His face is featured in the music video for "You Need To Calm Down" on the wristwatch with cat design, and in Taylor's Amazon music ad.

*A fun fact I learned was that Amazon has only been selling music and videos since 1998. That is only 26 years and how many of us remember the last CD we bought at the store? People sometimes get shocked when you talk about how it used to be, when it wasn’t that long ago to begin with.

* He was featured on Swift's TIME magazine cover for 2023's Person of the Year. (*this and the one above are both clues to time, like Benjamin is the clue for time)

* He has an IMDb credit for his role in the "ME!" music video.

* Benjamin has his own TSantiherochallenge video.

[badmiitopiaideas]

After you beat the Dark lord there is a 1/1000 chance for the great sage not being able to save your MC mii in time and then you have to enter a button mash sequence in which the dark curse and ancient amulet god are fighting over the MC's body.

If you lose the button mash sequence then you lose your MC until you beat the darker lord version of them, which goes to a random place on the map.

And after that there's a chance of the dark curse trying to posses them again. The great sage will most likely save your mii but there is a 1/1,000,000 chance of your mii getting possessed again

[hawkinsuniversity]

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

word count : 4.3k

pairing : steve harrington x reader x eddie munson

warnings : 18+ content, dark!steve, soft!eddie, bratty!reader, use of pet names, swearing, daddy kink, intense humiliation, degradation, dom training, boot worship, forced eating, praise, dumbification, exhbitonism, face slapping, bondage, pussy spanking, temperature play, very rough spanking, and fluffy steve at the end

minors please dni (do not interact!), due to 18+ content.

•••

“something wrong sweet cheeks?” eddie’s voice broke through the intense silence that the two of you, and steve had successfully maintained for the past fifteen minutes. it had been made clear at the beginning of the evening that steve had a short fuse on him after a long day at work and neither of you had dared to say a word since he had gotten home. that was until now.

your eyes quickly shot up from the pile of mashed potato’s that you had previously been shovelling around your plate. eddie’s dark eyes bore into yours disapprovingly as steve glanced up from his half finished meal.

“how come you haven’t eaten any mashed potato’s yet?” steve asked firmly while clutching tightly onto his steak knife. he was not in the mood for bullshit tonight.

“i don’t know… jus’ not hungry” you defended.

eddie cleared his throat and gently kicked your leg underneath the table, trying to make it clear now was not the time to push any of steve’s buttons.

honestly it was very rare for steve to develop such a fowl mood, but after today it was well justified. he had experienced one of the most stressful days at the family video store since he started working there and ended up having to cover two extra shifts of robin’s because of an important collage interview she had scheduled.

“well your gonna finish your dinner whether you are hungry or not.” he commanded.

no, not what he had commanded… what he had ordered.

you began to feel warmth pool in your lace panties and your pussy throbbed in anticipation.

steve was already dominating. no question about it. but on days like these he tolerated nothing less than perfection and precision. your cheeks flushed pink and thighs pressed together at the needy thought of steve punishing you while so short tempered and frustrated.

suddenly a large hand came hurtling towards you and a firm smack was laid across the fleshy part of your face. the hand roughly grabbed onto your chin and yanked you to the left so you that were nose to nose with the attacker.

steve harrington.

king steve.

daddy.

“i’m sorry princess did that sound like a suggestion?” he growled.

“n-no daddy..” you whimpered while trying your best to avoid eye contact.

just then another aggressive smack was angrily delivered across the other side of your face.

“look at me in my fucking eyes when you’re being spoken too!” he yelled.

as you stared up at steve you shook fearfully in his arms while eddie slowly ran his hand down your back soothingly.

“told you not to push sweetheart.. and of course you did anyways.” he scolded gently into your ear while steve scooped some of the cold mashed potato’s onto a fork before shoving it in front of you.

“eat.” he demanded.

your nose instantly scrunched in disgust and your eyes started to well up with tears.

“daddy please no! please daddy! i’ll be a good girl!!” you promised in hopes of a reward later tonight.

“open now.” steve warned in an even harsher tone while moving the fork closer to your lips.

“no daddy!” you whined while thrashing around on his lap in hopes of breaking free from the tight restraint his arms were creating around you.

steve only looked down at you in pity. you looked so pathetic. thrashing in his arms like a helpless dumb baby. he felt himself growing hard just thinking about it. but his own needs weren’t important right now. you needed to be taught a lesson. put in your rightful place. and steve knew just how to do it.

suddenly he aggressively ripped your plate off of the table and dumped the mushy contents onto the ground and one of his freshly polished shoes. you instantly stopped struggling and looked up at your boyfriend in curiosity.

“well what did you do that f-” you started before steve ripped you off of his lap and plopped you down on the ground so that you were kneeling in front of the mess.

“listen up brat. you can’t seem to follow simple fucking instructions today so i think that it’s time you are taught your place. now this is what’s going to happen… you’re going to lick the rest of your dinner off of my boot in silence and once you’re done you will receive your punishment. is that understood?”

you quietly whimpered. steve and eddie had humiliated you in the past but nothing as extreme as this. this was fucking crazy. your neighbours could literally look over the fence at any moment and see you kneeling mercifully at steve’s feet.

“is that understood?!” steve questioned again angrily, snapping you out of our worrisome trance.

as tears quickly begin to stream down your face you barely managed to choke out a verbal response.

“y-yes daddy.” you sobbed pathetically before lowering your head down to lick up the mashed potato’s and peas that were splayed across steve’s boot. the two boys watched with satisfaction as you gagged due to the texture of the soft peas while your hair dragged through the barely edible mush.

“awww harrington… our dumb little baby’s looking so worthless and needy for us.. would be cute if it wasn’t so pathetic..” eddie chuckled to himself while staring at you in awe.

you cried out helplessly at the boys harsh and degrading words while continuing to lap up your dinner as fast as possible without throwing up.

“well munson, don’t let me enjoy all the fun.” steve responded excitedly while handing eddie the glass of half drank apple juice that you had left unattended on the table. eddie’s eyes sparkled darkly before turning to you and directing you to remove all of your clothes immediately.

you looked up at your boyfriend in fear.

“eddie please no..” you begged pathetically while a mixture of tears and saliva streamed down your chin.

“oh yes baby.. take them off now.” he demanded once more.

you knew that arguing would only result in a worse outcome so you accepted your fate and quickly began stripping your clothes off layer by layer. as you removed your last undergarment you felt eddie’s tall shadow looming over you and you looked up at him sheepishly.

“you better keep fucking eating.” he ordered harshly as you felt a heavy boot come down on your backside and push you forwards.

he forced your face back into the soggy mashed potato’s while you silently begged for mercy at the men’s feet.

suddenly, your body froze in shock as the apple juice that eddie had previously been holding began streaming down your face and body. the juice got everywhere. it was in your hair, on your face and body, in your mouth, and even in the food.

steve let out a deep hearty laugh and gently patted the top of your head. “awww she’s such a good little whore, isn’t she ed?”

“our perfect personal little cum dump.” he agreed.

you winced in embarrassment at the sound of their degrading praise and continued to gag while humiliation overwhelmed your senses.

“come on sweetheart, just a little bit more…” eddie encouraged.

your tongue swiftly swirled across steve’s boot as you attempted to finish every last morsel of food that might still be remaining on the surface. despite the intense feeling of disgust that had settled in your stomach, arousal continued to pool heavily in your soaking wet panties. and from what you gathered, the two boys clearly felt similarly due to the bulging erections that had formed in their tight jeans.

suddenly steve’s large hand reached down and grasped onto your soft hair to pull your head up to face him.

“the little cum slut is enjoying herself so much down there..” he degraded while his gorgeous brown eyes bore into your soul and the rough pad of his thumb toyed with your bottom lip.

“did you enjoy your dinner sweet girl?” eddie teased as steve smiled up at him in approval and let out a light chuckle.

“i hope she did because she’s gonna need something to sustain her through her punishment..”

you sobbed.

you had worked so hard to be a good girl for your daddy and he still wasn’t satisfied. he still thought you deserved to be punished.

he was still disappointed in you.

acceptance washed over you and your quaking body quickly became numb and useless below him.

“come on, just a little longer baby.. you can do it.” eddie encouraged while picking up your lifeless body from the ground and handing you to steve.

“mhm k” you mumbled under your breath quietly.

steve then flipped you onto your stomach and began to gently run his palm across your plump bottom that now had a large boot print displayed across it. he poked and prodded at the skin and even started to gently kiss your lower back. your body melted into his and just as a sense of safety and security had washed over you a large whip echoed through the backyard and a harsh sting formed on your ass. a shrill scream escaped your lips and your body began to thrash around on instinct. almost instantly another firm smack was placed on your raw bottom and you desperately whined out for eddie.

“eds can’t save you now baby.” steve taunted. “you’re gonna have to succumb to my mercy now…”

he then slowly started to trace gentle lines and shapes on the surface of your sensitive inner thighs. you whined out in need and attempted to grind your hips against steve but were unsurprisingly unsuccessful.

“tsk tsk tsk.. such a naughty impatient little whore.” he degraded. “and you really don’t seem to be learning your lesson.. think you’re gonna need a really rough punishment.”

you cowered in fear at the thought of a worse punishment so when eddie took his bandana off and tied it over your eyes, an instant wave of panic washed over your shaking body.

“shh be quiet baby.. will all be better soon.” he promised while stroking the back of your head.

by now you had began to feel steve fidgeting underneath you but were unsure of what he was doing. well.. that was until you felt a large hunk of metal come down on your bottom and roughly impact the fleshy part of your rear end.

“ow! what the fuck was that!” you screamed out in pain, unable to control your words.

you quickly whipped your head back and was instantly met with the horrifying sight of steve’s firm grasp around the strap of his belt, which now had fresh blood painted across the fancy buckle.

now it was eddie’s turn to punish you.

he swiftly brushed past you and made his way in between your legs (which had previously been dangling off of steve’s lap) before grabbing you by the ankles and hoisted your legs over his shoulders. you gasped out uncomfortably due to your tender muscles and lack of flexibility.

“ed-” you started when suddenly the munson boys large, ring clad hand came down harshly on your soft, fleshy pussy and the sound of a loud, squelching clap filled the back patio. the solidity of the iron caused you to shriek out in pain but the coolness that the metal provided simultaneously soothed the searing irritation.

“what have we told you about watching your mouth princess.” eddie growled in your ear. he had developed an animalistic tone and was clearly loosing patience with you.

“i- i am so sorry eds.. i swear i’ll be a good girl for the rest of the night.” you promised.

“just the rest of the night? oh sweetheart.. if you think that’s how this is going to work then you are sadly mistaken…” steve stated sympathetically. “if you ever want to cum again then you will shut the fuck up, stop being such a greedy little desperate whore, and take your punishment graciously. i do not want to hear another sound from you for the rest of the night unless you’re given special permission. do you understand?”

you looked back at steve and eddie stunned, unsure of what to do. you began to slowly open your mouth but shut it quickly after remembering what steve had said about talking. they were both fuming and you absolutely sure that if you found the courage to disobey either of them again you would never be given the privilege of cumming again. all three of you knew that the boy had been dead serious with his threat.

you slowly moved your gaze up so that it met steve’s piercing eyes and shakily nodded your head to signal that you were ready to continue.

steve chuckled to himself and jolted your head down so that your limp body was laying across his lap helplessly.

instantly the sharp pain returned and you began to feel the iron engravings on the belt press into your sensitive ass, creating obvious markings. blood had even began to steadily stream down your thighs and you bit down on your tongue in attempt to silence yourself.

“only gonna give you five tonight baby. does that sound okay?” eddie checked in.

you bobbed your head up and down to signal that you felt comfortable enough to take that kind of torment and almost instantly felt steve lightly squeeze your bicep to sooth you and let you know that he was still with you.

“so proud of you baby..” steve cooed. “just need you to count out the next four spanks for me.. yea?”

you restrained yourself from whining out in protest because you had already endured three harsh spanks so really you were only supposed to receive two, but decided against it for your own benefit.

“now baby we’ve only given you permission to count so we don’t want to hear any other little noises come from that pretty mouth of yours.” eddie demanded.

you shook your head once more in approval and within seconds felt the metal slap across your ass.

“two!” you shrieked out in agony. steve and eddie looked at each other and chuckled darkly.

“shhh baby.. better not be so loud.. the neighbours might think somethings wrong and come over to check on you.” steve taunted in your ear. “or is that exactly what you want? to have the neighbours see you sprawled out across my knee like the little slut you are?”

your pussy throbbed with desire but you knew that your punishment had to come first. steve and eddie wouldn’t let you get away that easily.

the next three spanks came down quickly, giving you very little time to even register what has happening. the pain from each of the smacks rose to surface of your ass all at once causing you to yelp out in pain.

“a- ah- three, fo- four, five!”

steve and eddies eyes immediately shot to each others and then to the ice bucket which had been placed earlier that evening in the centre of the table. you had screamed out without their permission and now you needed to punished even more.

within seconds steve was yanking you off of his lap and eddie was rushing to clear everything off of the table.

everything except the ice bucket.

once all of the plates and cutlery had been moved to one of the unattended patio chairs steve laid you out on the dinner table on your stomach. because you were blindfolded you were completely unsure of what was going on, but you knew that it definitely didn’t involve pleasure. at least not for you anyways. steve and eddie were overwhelmed with pleasure. seeing you struggle turned the both of them on beyond belief and only intensified their deep desire to have complete control over you.

the tea towels that eddie had plucked off of the wooden table were now being slung around your wrists and ankles by the two boys and you quickly realised what was happening.

you were being restrained.

you let out a shrill cry to exhibit your frustration but were quickly put in your place when eddie took the last tea towel and shoved in down your throat so that you were practically gagging on it.

you tried to scream, kick, and punch your way off the table but it was completely useless. you were going to be punished and there was no getting out of it.

“now” steve began.. “lets try this again, shall we? and try to listen this time you bratty, ignorant whore. you are going to endure your punishment of five spanks and daddy’s belt buckle will be used. no excuses. while i do that eds has seem to taken pity on you and agreed to make you feel a little… better.”

you didn’t like the way steve said better. you had almost heard his voice become darker and more demanding.

suddenly you gasped when you felt something gently touch your abdomen. it was steve’s hand. you could tell just by his touch that it was him.

“are you doing okay?” steve whispered.

“we can stop right now baby…” eddie assured while stroking a strand of hair behind your ear. “do you think thats what you need?”

you shook your head no and steve responded by giving your stomach a playful squeeze.

“my perfect girl” he praised while bringing his hand up to stroke your cheek.

you blushed at his kind words. steve and eddie both had power over you but steve had something that eddie never would. control.

obviously you loved the both of them equally and were desperate for each of them but you wanted something from steve that you could never get from eddie. no, you needed something from steve that you couldn’t get from eddie.

discipline.

everything about steve was so demanding. he was never afraid to be rough with you, was never afraid to push you past your limits. he was the only one that could truly put you in your rightful place. you loved eddie but sometimes he would only go so far with punishments in order to not hurt you too much. but steve knew how much you could take. steve knew what he could get you to do and he knew how much raw potential you had. although he might never admit it out loud, steve thought you were the most incredible, talented person out there and all he wants is to help you achieve anything and everything, even if that means being rougher with you.

steve then quickly broke contact causing you to whine out in annoyance but any sound that should have come out was muffled by the makeshift gag.

eddie followed steve’s lead and left your side to jump on top of the dinner table and kneel in between your spread legs.

the two boys exchanged mischievous glares with one another before steve gripped onto his leather belt and slashed it mercilessly across your bloody bottom. simultaneously, eddie plunged his ring clad fingers and a freezing cold piece of ice up your tight pussy.

shock.

your body had gone into complete shock.

you couldn’t feel anything.

that was until thirty seconds later when you were quickly snapped out of the numb state just to find another harsh slap delivered on your ass.

you were going to be horribly bruised and welted in the morning and you were almost certain that you wouldn’t be able to sit down for weeks to come. blood was splattered across your thighs causing both steve and eddies jeans to tighten as their erections grew at the dirty sight and the skin was already turning slightly purple. both boys felt bad but by the way eddie was looking into steve’s eyes it was clear that he felt really fucking bad.

steve shook his head but eddies eyes only pleaded back at him. he didn’t want to see his baby suffer. not like this. only wanted to make her feel good.

steve shook his head once more but eddie held his ground. you didn’t deserve this. yeah you had been a little bratty and you should have finished your dinner but it shouldn’t have been taken this far.

finally an exasperated sign escaped steve’s lips and he walked back towards your head to gently remove the gag and the blindfold. both were soaking wet from tears and saliva but you didn’t care. you were too needy to care.

“baby?” steve asked.

“mhm” you barely managed to whimper back at him.

“eds thinks that we should stop. do you think so too?” he questioned innocently.

“steve stop it. she’s done. i’m fucking serious. let’s just take her upstairs and give her a bath and then cuddle her to sleep.” eddie scolded.

your head instantly jolted up after hearing eddie’s words. he wanted to take you to bed, which meant you would be forced to sleep. you couldn’t fucking sleep. not now! not while you were still so achey,.. so needy,.. so fucking desperate…

“no!” you almost screamed at steve while his eyes bulged out in surprise at your instant response and quick recovery.

“i-i mean…” you began to correct. “i mean that i want you to finish punishing me daddy.” you said politely and definitively.

“baby are you sure?” eddie cooed while rubbing his warm hands up and down your smooth legs.

“y-yes eds.” you promised. “i’m sure.”

steve beamed down at you. he was so proud of you.

you were his girl.

you were his best girl.

steve stroked your supple skin with one hand and gently began undoing one of the wrist restraints with the other. eddie was doing the same on the other side.

“wha-” you protested. “daddy i said i wanna keep going!”

“i know baby, we are just gonna do things a little differently…” he assured you.

the boys untied the last two tea towels from the table and your ankles before steve was taking a seat in a chair that lay close to you. as he gently picked you up from the table he carefully positioned you across his lap and started to play with your hair again.

“how’s this?” he asked.

“perfect daddy, thank you.” you mumbled into his chest.

“good girl for using your manners.” steve praised even more. his mood had drastically improved and at this point he knew that you had reached your peak and needed to be brought down.

“are you sure you wanna finish this?” eddie asked worriedly while his eyes shot daggers at steve.

“yes eds.. wanna finish my punishment and be a good girl for daddy.” you announced while nuzzling your face deeper into steve.

“ok baby, just tell me if it’s too much.. ok?” eddie asked. he knew you weren’t going to change your mind when it came to appeasing steve, and he also knew how much steve felt the need to complete a things after starting them. especially punishments. steve’s need for constant control really angered eddie and it frustrated him that your constant need for validation had been taken this far.

“mhm k” you mumbled sheepishly back.

and with that sound of confirmation steve’s palm rose and quickly clapped back down on your bloody ass. a slight squeak escaped from your lips, but honestly the spank had been fairly gentle and it was quite obvious how much steve was truly holding back. he knew how angry eddie was and he was angry with himself for hurting you to this extent. but deep down a small part of him knew that this was what you truly needed and what you had wanted all along.

another light smack was placed on your rear end but this time even gentler than the last. pain was still searing through your thighs and steve started to worry some of the wounds might become more serious or infected if touched too much or left them exposed for too long.

finally the last (but firm) spank was laid across your back side and you cried out in relief as realised that it was all over.

“shhh..” steve cooed while pulling you closer and peppering kisses across your face. “come on baby let’s go get you cleaned up.”

and with that steve scooped you up in his arms and began making his way towards the door to go back inside…

•••

water rushed over your body while you grasped tightly onto steve’s large hands and carefully traced over each of the prominent veins. the boy had been sitting in a warm bubble bath with you for the past half hour after bandaging you up and giving you a million feel better kisses (which you were still in the process of receiving btw) while eddie cleaned up downstairs.

“baby?” steve mumbled into your shoulder.

“yes daddy?” you responded quietly.

“i know that i can be hard on you sometimes.. and i know that sometimes i can be a bit too rough but i just want you to know that i only act that way because of how much i love you and want you to reach your full potential. you’re perfect baby and i really don’t know what i’d do without you in my life. i love you so fucking much and never want you to ever feel unwanted or like i would ever actually want to hurt you. i know i can get carried away sometimes and it can feel like you might want to leave me during certain moments so i just wanted t-”

steve was abruptly cut off by you latching onto his pink lips and kissing him passionately.

“daddy i love you so much.” you pulled away and confessed.

tears welled in steve’s eyes and as you clung onto his body you could feel him melt into you. he had never been this vulnerable and open with you before and you knew how much it truly scared him. you wanted him to feel safe too.

“i’ll never leave you daddy.” you whispered into his ear. “i promise.”

•••

this smut fic was inspired by @rollergirlworld and @carol-munson so make sure to check out both of their pages because they post some really amazing content!!

[literallydontlook]

Things could be different

Pairing: Captain Rex x f!reader

Rating: Mature/explicit (a lemon, if you’ve also been transported back to 2003, so no minors)

WC: 4k+

Warnings: pining and smut, unprotected PiV, oral (m receiving), fingering

Summary: Post-Saleucami Rex gets what he wants.

A/N: Y’all. Apparently your girl your girl wrote something. Listen, day dreaming about Rex, jotting down notes on my phone and thinking of reasons to buy this dress is a lot more accessible around nonstop family time than drawing smut, so here we are. I’m in as much disbelief as you. You can imagine whatever hot-ass outfit would make you look sexy AF but this is what I’m imagining. Did my best to make reader inclusive but if there’s something I screwed up on that front, please let me know!

Part 2 >

—

Rex really doesn’t want to spend his evening at 79s but Cody had somehow convinced him to help babysit keep the 501st and 212th in line. It’s too hot outside to be in a room that packed and he’s *tired*. The return from Saleucami left him with a blaster shot to the chest and his head swimming with confusing, selfish ideas about his purpose as a soldier and his worth as a person — Couldn’t he have one full night’s sleep to himself?

A familiar voice grumbling and swearing close by interrupts his spiraling internal turmoil, but he thinks he’s imagined it. Quickly looking around, he confirms the reality of your presence and Rex’s heart nearly beats out of his chest.

You’re standing in front of a restaurant angrily mashing the buttons on your commlink in a dress just barely skimming the middle of your thighs, shimmer silk cut to tantalize your best features. He’s always thought you were well dressed in professional settings, and Maker knows he thinks you’re beautiful, but he’s never seen you like this before. Even while indulging himself in the privacy of a deserted shower, imagining the feeling of your bare legs tangled with his or your lips wrapped around his cock, his own debauched fantasies never conjured up a picture of you looking this stunning.

It’s already been months - maybe even a whole year since Rex first started pining after you. He isn’t stupid and General Skywalker isn’t as sneaky as he thinks. There’s no reason a Jedi knight needs to meet with a senator this many times in a week, but Rex finds that their trips to the senate building coincidentally end in Padme’s office 90% of the time. And that’s how he first meets you: accompanying the general as he barges into your completely legitimate meeting with the senator to deliver an “important message from the council”. You looked a little peeved, but the senator - graceful as ever - took the interruption in stride, smoothly introducing you to the two men before asking for a private moment with the general.

Exiled behind closed doors, Rex apologized on behalf of his friend expecting a condescending lecture about respect typical of staff working in the senate building. He was surprised when you instead criticized his babysitting abilities. As if he exercised any control over the general - a karking Jedi.

“You can’t let him come by five times a week you know - he’s not subtle and they’re going to get caught.”

Rex huffed out something between a laugh and a scoff when you met his surprised look with an impish smirk, eyes sparkling mischievously. You broke the ice so casually Rex didnt even realize he was traveling the path forged through the broken, melting shards. He had never enjoyed such easy-flowing conversation or friendly banter with a civilian before, but your aura pulsed in time with his, glowing with a warmth that drew him in like an Alderaanian flare-wing to a flame. You were genuinely curious about Rex’s experiences as a clone trooper, but more importantly as a person. The earnestness of your questioning encouraged him to share stories from his time as a cadet and cherished moments with his brothers that not even the general knew about. You were so engrossed, laughing uncontrollably at a story about his first catastrophic day of jet pack training with Cody, that Rex was unable to reciprocate with his own questions before General Skywalker was collecting him to return to base.

After that first introduction, it turned out Rex had plenty of opportunities to ask about your role as Senator Amidala’s press manager and learn about your surprisingly privileged upbringing on Coruscant whenever he was planet-side. He could see how you were drawn to Padme’s politics and admired your duty to the galactic community - to use your skills, connections, and financial resources to help make life better for everyone, not just the Corusanti elite. Accompanying General Skywalker’s frequent trips to the senator’s office on “official Jedi business” afforded him plenty of these chance encounters and he began looking forward to meetings at the Senate building.

By the time Rex realized he was actively finding excuses to end up at the senator’s office with hopes of an accidental encounter, his cadet’s crush had fully evolved into something much more serious.

It was at a group interview and photoshoot you’d organized with the Coruscant News Network that Rex’s vode began raising eyebrows and shooting each other knowing grins. Padme’s proposed new bill granting clones personhood needed an emotional appeal - a way for the public to connect to the troopers’ humanity — so your friendship with Captain Rex and Padme’s close “working” relationship with General Skywalker made it only logical to conscript some men from the 501st to the cause.

Rex isn’t much of a Sabaac player and his soft heart radiated so warmly in your presence that if the way he so easily conversed with you didn’t betray his newly self-admitted feelings, anyone could see the adoration in his lingering gaze and stolen glances.

And this is where his problems began. Rex had hoped to keep this forbidden treasure for himself, hiding you away in his dreams to visit while off planet or in quiet moments of solitude. As a loyal Republic soldier, he’d accepted that his kind aren’t permitted to form romantic relationships with nat borns, but he figured that he could allow himself this one small luxury - one secret, unrequited crush to admire from afar, the memories of who he could use to fuel not just erotic but domestic fantasies in private. Rex had convinced himself that he could toe this line because his feelings only existed hypothetically, in a place that could be buried underground and denied if he were ever questioned. But as soon as his brothers had caught on, his secret was unearthed and he was unable to deny the reality of those feelings solidifying and knocking him on his ass: He was hopelessly smitten and Torrent company wasn’t going to let this go.

Despite the non-stop teasing, the boys were truly happy to see their by-the-books captain show some interest in someone and Fives in particular had made it his personal mission to get Rex laid.

“None of us would report you for asking her out you know.”

Rex stiffened. This was the first time any of his vode had addressed the issue so straightforwardly and even though he did his best to project a professional neutrality, the way he couldn’t meet Fives’ eyes betrayed the intense sense of longing he felt in his heart.

“Senator Amidala’s press manager and I are nothing more than friends. Our duty is to the Republic and anything that could jeopardize our loyalty to the GAR is tantamount to treason.”

But that was before Saleucami. And now…now Rex doesn’t know where he stands.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on this because you’ve suddenly looked up from your commlink, eyebrows still knit and lips in a pout but karking hells, your face actually lights up when you spot him.

“Well well well - look what the tooka dragged in. Fancy seeing you here, Captain.” You love addressing Rex by his rank in mock formality, and he always plays along. In the past, he’s thought briefly, hoped, that the playful way you banter with him could be flirting, that the look in your eyes might mean you feel something for him too. Not that he would or should do anything about it.

“Where are you headed this fine evening?”

Rex huffs out a laugh as he approaches, “I’d hardly call it a ‘fine’ evening — you looked ready to kill a man.”

You cross your arms while averting your gaze. “Yeah, well you’d be mad too if your date left you waiting for over an hour.”

Oh.

Something in Rex’s stomach drops and he visibly deflates; any small flicker of hope he’d ever dared to entertain snuffed out in a moment. Of course you’re seeing someone — of course. And the di’kut apparently doesn’t know what he has because Rex would never take your time and company for granted. He feels indignant on your behalf.

“Well then with all due respect, ma’am —he’s an idiot.”

You can’t help but laugh at the conviction with which he declares this and Rex can’t help the little swell of pride that makes his chest puff — that he was the one to bring you some happiness this evening. He flashes you a lopsided grin.

“I’m never going on a blind date again,” you chuckle while looking away in silent consideration, worrying your lower lip between your teeth before shyly asking, “Have…have you had dinner yet?”

With those two sentences Rex can feel his spirits lift, a little spark lighting the torch he’s been carrying for you. You’re not really seeing anyone, and what’s more, you’re sort of asking him on a date?

“Ma’am? Are you… asking me out?” He asks playfully, hoping you wouldn’t sense the desire burning within him.

Rex knows he shouldn’t even be entertaining this. He knows it’s against regulation, but fuck did seeing Cut with a family awaken new possibilities for him.

You smile at him with a look that’s both coy and uncertain and Rex can’t believe the next words out of your mouth.

“I guess that depends on what your answer is.”

—

You hadn’t been working with Padme for long before you met the handsome captain, moments after his Jedi barged into your meeting unannounced. Rex had the decency to look sheepish as he apologized later in the hallway and you couldn’t help but think he was cute. It’s not often you click with new people, but you could feel a chemistry with Rex as soon as he huffed out a laugh at your stupid joke.

It only took three more chance encounters in her office and a few of your less-than-subtle questions about him before Padme figured out your feelings towards Rex. You were both obviously aware of the restrictions surrounding romantic entanglements with clones, but the senator, herself in a secret, forbidden marriage, isn’t one to let regulation stand in the way of love — not that I love him, you thought to yourself (that would be insane - you barely know the man) but you think that you could.

Padme approached matchmaking like she did politics: with diplomatic strategy. In short, she was the ultimate wingwoman. Somehow, Rex and Anakin’s interruptions became even more frequent after she gently confronted you about your crush and her private conversations with the general seemed to last a little longer, leaving you and the trooper alone to socialize.

While you were beginning to gain some confidence that the captain may return your interest, you were nervous to make a move because of the highly illegal nature of such a proposition. Even with Padme’s help and encouragement, Rex was a well respected, loyal trooper and you weren’t confident he’d be willing to risk his rank and life for…what - a date? After several months, Anakin had been able to gather pretty definitive evidence that Rex had no intention of crossing that line.

Padme was the one to deliver the news and you did your best to keep the disappointment and hurt from your face.

“Why don’t I set you up? I know Senator Clovis has a few friends that you’d like,” Padme had gently suggested. “You’ll forget all about Rex after a few fun nights out.”

Five failed dates later and you found yourself being stood up by a senatorial aid in front of a swanky restaurant feeling one part humiliated and one part irate.

And then he was there - helmetless but dressed in full armor - and you couldn’t help how the sight of him made your heart flip flop in your chest. You’re not sure what gave you the courage to finally make a move but something about his energy was different tonight.

“Have…have you had dinner yet?”

—

“I’m sorry but this…this is disgusting.”

Rex looks truly repulsed as he stares at the slop on his plate before finally pushing it away. Not many respectable establishments on the surface serve clones so you’d opted to order in. Unfortunately there was a mix up at the restaurant and you ended up with someone else’s food. They had terrible taste.

“I’m never letting you pick the restaurant ever again,” you tease while setting aside your plate and turning your body towards Rex. What started out as a rotten evening was turning out to be one of the most fun nights you’d had in awhile. After the initial awkwardness of navigating being on a “date”, the two of you slipped back into your familiar, playful dynamic. Rex was as kind and considerate as always and you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he is. He had stripped down to his blacks after entering your apartment and Maker did he look good.

He pauses before turning to face you, his arm bent, resting over the back of the couch “…’again’ huh?”

Rex had meant for it to come out more playful but his voice betrayed the hope and longing gripping his heart.

You would normally fire back with something witty and flirtatious but you’re just now realizing how close he’s sitting to you. The energy between you has suddenly shifted; what was friendly and comfortable now felt charged with possibility, the air electric. Your mouth feels too dry and you swallow thickly before managing to nod once.

“Yeah…Again.” You breathe.

The seconds seem to stagnate, stretching to impossible lengths as he leans in slowly and licks his lips, eyes darting down towards yours before meeting your gaze again.

“Can I - can I kiss you?”

And just like that, the heat building between the two of you over the last year boils over and rushes straight to your core. You crash your lips into his and he snakes a hand around your waist while the other grips the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands rove the firm planes of his chest, traveling over his broad shoulders and then up behind his neck before scratching your nails over his scalp. He moans into your mouth, sending shivers down your spine and another flood of warmth to your center.

He chases your lips as you pull away momentarily to straddle his hips. Rex’s pupils are blown wide with lust as he cups your face and pulls you into another bruising kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth, hands moving to squeeze your waist and bunch the silky fabric in his fists. You breathe a desperate whine when he breaks away and you know you should feel pathetic, whimpering as he kisses down your neck and sucks a mark at the base, but your body is on fire and burning too hot to care. He pauses his lips above the dip between your breasts, eyes glancing up to you for permission.

“Is this ok?” He asks while rubbing soothing circles into your waist. Maker he’s so cute, you think.

“Yes,” you breathe, “you can touch me anywhere.”

Rex palms at your tits, swiping the pads of his thumbs over your pebbled nipples before pulling down the front of your dress and sucking a sensitive bud into his mouth and releasing it with a lewd pop. Your back arches as you grind yourself over his hardening bulge, whimpering for more.

“F-fuck I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls into your jaw as his hands travel the length of your thighs, sliding under the hem of your dress and bunching it up around your waist as he gropes the plush of your ass, fingers moving to tease the band of your panties.

You cup his jaw in your hands, tilt his face up towards yours and, pressing your forehead to his you whisper, “then have me.” His cock twitches as he takes you in — kiss bruised lips smeared with lipstick are parted, chest heaving, breasts exposed and heavy lidded eyes leave you looking completely debauched. You’re a vision plucked straight from his dreams and Rex reaches cautiously, hands trembling — as if any sudden movements could cause him to wake in his bunk, alone and painfully hard — to unzip your dress. And when you’re finally bare before him his breath hitches.

You lean forward, nipping at his ear and whisper, “Take me to bed, captain.”

Rex completely short circuits. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. He can’t believe you’re real. Maybe he actually died from that blaster wound on Saleucami and he’s gone to some paradise in the afterlife. Somehow he finds the wherewithal to grip under your thighs and lift you, standing as you mouth at his jaw.

Your apartment is small so Rex finds the bed room easily. He tosses you gently onto the bed and he pulls the top of his blacks over his head. Your eyes widen. It’s not like you didn’t know he’d have a body like this; after all, he’s basically a genetically modified super soldier and Maker knows you’ve fantasized about it. But you’re still shocked into an awestruck silence when you actually see him. Rex is built like a god — defined upper body, corded muscles under golden skin begging to be touched. You watch with bated breath as he peels off his bottoms, freeing his stiff cock and for the first time you thank the Kaminoans because fuck — he’s huge.

You must have been staring because he’s stopped undressing, eyes worried and eyebrows knit. He self consciously looks down at himself and back to you.

“Uh…is th – am I not what you expected?” He asks and the hurt that flashes in his eyes breaks your heart.

“What? No! I mean fuck, Rex,” you stammer out as you rise up to your knees and run your hand down his chest and over his abdomen appreciatively, “Maker, you’re just… you’re way hotter than I imagined,” you admit with a nervous chuckle. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, sinking back down until your face is level with his cock. You wrap a hand around the base and lick a stripe up the underside and Rex struggles to control his breathing. Without breaking eye contact, you take him into your mouth, swiping your tongue over the bead of precum leaking from the tip and his hands fly to grip the back of your head as he throws his head back and groans.

“F-fuck.”

You could get addicted to this kind of power. Rex, venerable clone captain of the 501st, falling apart and trembling because of your mouth. You take him in further until he’s touching the back of your throat and your nose brushes against the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. You can feel him tensing and fisting your hair as he struggles not to buck into your mouth. Breathing through your nose you gag on his length before pulling off to replace your mouth with your hand and stroke him languidly.

“Maker — Fuck. C’mere,” he grits out while pulling you up into another searing kiss. Rex’s hands desperately roam your body, groping and feeling and squeezing, pushing you down gently to lay on your back as he crawls over you. He slides one hand down to your center and runs a finger through your folds.

“You’re so wet.” Rex moans appreciatively as he swipes a finger over your clit.

“Yes,” you whimper into his mouth, “All ‘cause of you. I want you so bad, Rex.”

He pushes two fingers into your hole and the stretch has you throbbing with need and sets your nerve endings alight. As he pumps in and out, you slip a hand down to rub tight circles over your clit.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as he adds a third finger, “you can come for me like this, yeah?”

You can feel yourself edging closer and closer to your climax but you don’t want it to end yet. “Rex please — I want you…. I wanna feel you inside me,” you moan pathetically.

“Just give me one. Just give me one like this and you can have whatever you want.” He grits out and with that, he curls his fingers, hitting that spot that makes you scream. Your vision goes white and you fist the sheets as Rex fucks you through your orgasm, his fingers now dripping with your release. And when you finally come down from your high, panting and boneless, he crawls up onto the bed to kiss you sweetly, cupping your cheek in his hand and gently caressing the skin with his thumb. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours, gazing into your eyes with an awe-struck look that melts your heart.

You huff out an incredulous laugh. “Wow,” you breath. Rex responds with a dopey, crooked smile and you reach out to cup his face in your hands. “Fuck me, Rex.”

His eyes darken before he crashes his lips to yours, tongue swiping into your mouth as he reaches down to blindly notch himself at your entrance and push in slowly. You can feel every ridge and vein as he breeches your tight walls and you both groan in unison when he’s buried to the hilt. You wrap your legs around him and dig your heels into his ass, begging for him to move.

You’d normally like to be fucked fast and rough but there’s something about the slow, deep way Rex thrusts into you that feels reverential, like you’re a goddess and he’s worshipping at your altar. The feeling clouds your mind and sparks something deep inside and when he threads his fingers through yours you feel like your heart could burst out of your chest. He kisses along your jaw and babbles incoherently into your ear.

“Th-think about you all the time.”

“F-fuck, mesh’la.”

“Feel better than I imagined.”

He picks up his pace, grinding into you when his hips meet yours. You never thought such vanilla sex could feel so mind meltingly good but the new pace he’s set, the way his coarse hairs rub against your clit, and his mumbled confessions send you to another plane of existence, building and building and building.

“Oh stars, Rex, please don’t stop,” you beg. “I’m so close.” You frantically reach around his back, nails sinking into his skin as the heat building in your core finally ignites and —

“Oh gods Rex, I—FUCK”

You’re sobbing his name as he ruts into you, fucking you through your orgasm and desperately seeking his own release. Your walls grip his cock like a vice and he follows soon after, choking out a strangled moan as he rips himself from your warmth to take himself in hand and cover your breasts in his release.

The moments that follow are quiet. There’s only the sound of your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as you come down from your highs, taking each other in. Your faces are mirrors of incredulity.

Did that actually just happen?

As the fog of lust dissipates, you remember the confessions he moaned into your ear. Could he have feelings for you too? Was any of that true?

You’re at a loss for words, stunned into silence until Rex clears his throat, “Ah uh where can I find —“ he motions at the mess he’s made.

“Oh,” you mentally shake yourself out of your stupor.

“Towels and stuff are in the ‘fresher under the sink,” you say as you prop yourself up on your forearms, “…thanks.”

He’s back in a moment with a warm, damp washcloth, gently wiping away his spend from your chest. His eyes make contact with yours. They’re full of adoration and uncertainty and he opens his mouth to speak just when the sound of his commlink chirps from the other room.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t massively disappointed when he reluctantly left to answer it; you can hear him being called away, an order to return to base immediately.

When he returns to your room, Rex is wearing an expression you can’t read. It’s serious but the way his eyebrows are knit together betrays a sense of…sadness? Regret? Your heart is in your throat. Maybe he’s realized what a massive mistake this was. That he could be court martialed if this progressed any further.

“So you’re being summoned. Duty calls?” You tease, trying to find familiar ground, an attempt to return to your old dynamic and calm your nerves.

“That’s right.” His voice is tight and he nods once in your direction before finding his discarded blacks and redressing. You watch him silently from your bed, admiring the shadowy outline of his muscles rippling in the dim light as he pulls on his top. He pauses for a moment and turns his head to look at you in consideration before walking out of the room. You hear the snaps of claps and the clanking of plastoid as he puts on his armor and briefly consider whether you should get up to see him out when he returns fully dressed. Rex nervously adjusts his vambraces before breaking the silence.

“Can I…see you again?” He asks shyly.

Your chest squeezes and you can’t help the smile that’s plastering your face.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’d like that.” Rex’s face lights up with your acceptance and he thanks the Maker for the scar at the center of his chest, for the near-death experience that led him to Cut. For the Lawquanes. For opening his eyes to look past his programming and showing him that maybe…

Maybe things could be different.

—

Part 2 >

A/N: WOW my respect for fic writers on this hellsite has increased tenfold. Formatting in this editor is a bitch. Why are all the paragraph breaks different sizes? I can’t.

Tagging some Rex sluts: @djarinsbeskar @asta-lily @book-of-baba-fett @djarrex @rowansparrow

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: seven ( 12.3k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The sound of your phone ringing rips you from sleep. You sit bolt upright, confusion and panic dousing you like twin buckets of ice water. You’d been having a nightmare about something, but you can’t remember what. The tattered ends of it are already slipping away, just out of reach. You don’t chase after them.

You fumble for your phone in the dark, fingers groping uselessly at your blankets until they close around it. The bright white light from your screen blinds you as you flip it over and you blink blearily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and trying to answer with the other.

“Hello?” you rasp, mashing the speaker button. “Who is this?”

“Apologies for disturbing your sleep, ma’am.” A woman’s voice crackles over the other end of the line. You can hear exhaustion dripping off every word. “This is Officer Kwon from the Namhyeon-dong precinct of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Force.”

You squint into the dark expanse of your bedroom, a little frown on your face as you struggle to process what she’s saying. “....okay?”

“I’m calling because we’ve got two of your hybrids in custody.”

You blink slowly. “Hmmmm, I don’t think so...” you mumble through a yawn. “They’re all in bed.”

“We ran their numbers through the registry and you were pinged as the owner of both.” You hear papers shuffling and her voice get distant as she transfers the receiver to her shoulder to free up a hand. “We’ve got a rabbit calling himself Jeongguk and a Seokjin who the rabbit says is a deer-” She sighs. “Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here. They won’t tell me where they came from and the phone number of the business they were registered to before you is out of service. They’re hurt pretty bad, worse than what we can take care of here at the station. We can’t get them any sort of medical care without their guardian’s permission, so-”

Your eyes glaze over as you groggily connect the dots.

A deer and a rabbit.

Not canine, not feline.

Other.

Other.

You shove the covers down your legs and kick them over the side of the bed. “I’m on the way,” you tell her, already adding up the distance between your building and Namhyeon-dong. It’d take an hour to get all the bus transfers you needed- your eyes narrow as you squint at the time on your phone. 3:27 AM. You’d have to get a cab. Your stomach twists at the thought of the fare, but you shove the feeling down. This was no time to be thrifty. “Do whatever you need to.”

The officer exhales in relief. You can practically hear the tension leave her shoulders. “There’s a little hybrid clinic in the neighborhood. I’ll see if I can get the vet up and convince them to go.”

“Thank you,” you breathe. She gives you the address and you type it into your notes app, reading it back to her twice to make sure you got it right. She hangs up with a promise to see you soon and your phone locks, leaving you alone in the blue-black gloom of an early morning.

This wasn’t great. This wasn’t great any way you sliced it. You’d thought you’d have an extra two weeks to get the canines settled and all five hybrids to at least not want to kill each other. That’d been the plan, at least, when you’d sequestered yourself in your bedroom without telling Jimin and Taehyung goodnight or doing any introductions. Now the others were coming and you were on borrowed time. You drag your hands down over your face. “What are we gonna do?” Nothing but silence answers you.

When you were a kid and you’d had anything big before you- a massive school project you’d waited til the last moment to start, having to walk yourself to the market because your mom was too sick to go, a hard conversation with a friend- your mom had always told you to break it down into smaller pieces. Make the big thing small; do what you can for now. So, that’s what you do.

You shove your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, tug your backpack out from under your bed and grab a pair of socks. You slide them on as quickly as you can and head for the door. You tug it open and try to rush through, already on the way to your next small thing- but you stumble over a shoulder and go down.

You let out a yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into one of pain as your forehead knocks against the other person’s. Your hands slam down on either side of their head and their own fly up to your waist to steady you. You blink down at them, willing your eyes to adjust to the dark.

Hoseok is beneath you. He’s squinting up at you, his hair in disarray and his cheeks puffy with sleep. “Ow,” he croaks.

You wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing the spot on his forehead your own knocked against on autopilot. He seems to wake up a little at that, eyebrows inching up his forehead. You snatch your hand back. “Ah, sorry. I was worried I hurt you-”

“I’m okay,” he rasps, his voice still thick with sleep. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay.” You disentangle yourself from him and rise back to your feet. He struggles to get up too, mirroring you. The blankets pooled around his hips fall to his feet. You frown at the picture he makes, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and indents on his cheek from the hardwood. “Did you...did you sleep out here?”

His ears fall and he lowers his head a bit between his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did…”

You wrote off a lot of the behavior the boys exhibited that you didn’t understand as just a part of them being hybrids. When Taehyung affectionately headbutted you, or Jimin always hopped up on counters or Yoongi lapped from glasses instead of sipping, you just accepted it and stashed it away to google later- but this was a little more concerning. Did he not feel safe in his room? You’d tried to put him and Namjoon as far away from the felines as you could, but you also knew the cats weren’t thrilled about sharing their space. You hoped they hadn’t made him feel too unwelcome after you’d collapsed into bed.

“Is everything okay?” His ears twitch as the smell of your worry fills his nose. He leans forward and for a moment you think he’s gonna close the distance between you- but he pulls back.

“No,” he answers. You feel your heart sink. “I just...your room is closest to the front door.” You blink at him slowly, not following. You don’t know how his sight is in the dark, but he must see the confusion furrowing your brow,because he continues. “Your room is the only one on the first floor and it’s close to the living room and front door. We all sleep upstairs. If someone broke in, they’d get you first.” He tosses a finger down at the blankets. “I was sleeping here so that wouldn’t happen.”

“Nobody’s gonna get me, Hoseok,” You soothe, trying to assuage his fears. “I’m nobody-”

“You don’t know that,” he argues back. “And you’re not ‘nobody’ to me. I waited my whole life for you. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to make of that. You’d known Hoseok had been trained specifically to protect the person he’d eventually be sent to, but you hadn’t expected him to be so adamant about it. After all Namjoon grew up in the same place- No. Your expression sours as the thought stops you. No he didn’t. The wolfdog hybrid had been locked away for most of his life and interaction with others had come only in the form of meal delivery. He wouldn’t have had the director’s lessons drilled into his head everyday in the same way Hope had.

Still, no one has expressed this level of care for you since your mom died. You’re not entirely sure you deserve it.

“I was gonna wake up before you did and go back to my room,” he mumbles, kicking gently at the blanket and not meeting your eyes. “I promise, I was. I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his ears drooping more and more the longer you look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hoseok,” You tell him and his ears perk up a little. It was true, he hadn’t. His actions were sweet, if a bit misguided but you were more worried about him than anything. “I don’t know what the director told you or what you’ve heard, but I promise there’s no one after me.” He frowns at that, lips twisting into a little pout. He goes to interject, but you speak again before he can. “If you’re worried about anything, just tell me okay? If there’s anything you need to do to make yourself feel more at ease here, just tell me.” You implore him softly.

Hoseok nods slowly and you see his tail give one small wag. You nod back, and turn to go, but his voice stops you. “I think it would help a lot if I could sleep down here.” Your brow furrows at that.

“This is the only bedroom on this floor, though?”

He whines and looks like he’s about to explain- but a soft voice purring in your ear cuts him off. “He could sleep on the couch,” Jimin supplies, his arms entwining around your middle as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s quite comfortable...Y/N-ah, do you mind dogs on the furniture?” His tone is light, free of the haze of sleep and a little teasing. From the way Hoseok’s ears droop and the way his shoulders curve in, you could tell Jimin hadn’t crept down here for a bit of good-natured ribbing. Your scent sours as your expression does, irritation with the leopard hybrid pricking at you. He lets out a little disgruntled murr in protest as he noses at your neck, trying to get you to soften for him. You tilt your head away from him and disentangle yourself from his arms. It’s three in the morning, you have to cross the city to deal with the fallout from God only knows what, and your neck still aches from the bruise Yoongi had left on it. You have too much on your plate to deal with Jimin needling his new housemate.

“Leave him alone, Jimin,” You exhale, side-stepping the leopard hybrid and heading down the corridor for the door. “Hoseok, you can sleep where you want. I’ve gotta go.”

The doberman takes a step forward. “I’ll come with you-” the icy look Jimin shoots him has him slowing but it’s not until the leopard hybrid bares his teeth at him that he stalls entirely. The sound of his whimper has you whirling around, but when you do, you find Jimin looking at you, blasé and Hoseok eyeing him with uncertainty

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” you toss back over your shoulder as you slide your feet into a pair of shoes. “Please, just...if you can’t be friendly, just do your own thing ‘til I get back.” You lace up your sneakers as quickly as you can and duck out the door. “Text me if you need anything; I’ll call on the way back.” And you’re gone, leaving the leopard and the doberman in the dark.

You are not at all confident in their ability to maintain a truce while you’re gone. You’re almost certain that if you hadn’t shoved your way between Namjoon and Yoongi last night, they’d have come to blows right there in the lobby last night. You punch the button for the ground floor and slump back against the railing of the elevator, exhaustion settling heavy on you now that you were alone again. You’d known Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung weren’t thrilled about sharing their space, but you hadn’t expected this kind of fallout from bringing new hybrids home. You don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make things a little easier, but you want to. Sighing, you resign yourself to more research. You pull out your phone and start typing.

why are my hybrids freaking the fuck out

You backspace. Venting at google wasn’t going to help you figure out what the sharp looks Jimin kept throwing Hoseok while he thought your back was turned meant or why Yoongi had been so furious the other hybrids’ scent was on you.

why don’t my hybrids like each other

Just like all your other searches, this one turns up millions of results. You thumb over the links but none of them are helpful. They’re dealing with puppy hybrids bickering and cat hybrids hissing at each other. None of them cover cross-species beef. None of them deal with exotics. You sigh, lock your phone and tilt your head back to stare at the soft yellow lights in the elevator’s ceiling. You were out of your depth. You’d known that from the moment Mr. Seo turned you into an heiress with a wave of his fountain pen. You get the urge to run, that old niggling feeling that settled like a stone in your mind and made your palms itch.

It’s been years since you last felt the need to pull a disappearing act. You don’t think you’ve done it since the one year anniversary of your mom’s death. The foster home you’d been sent to was a shit show. You found out the woman in charge had been pocketing the money you gave her every month for your mother’s columbarium fees and her urn was in danger of being thrown out. You’d shoved everything you owned into your school bag and walked across the city to get her. When the police found you, you were striding down the side of the highway, her urn clutched to your chest, determined to go anywhere but there.

You hadn’t known where you were going then; you still didn’t now. All you’d had was the urge to flee and fire under your feet. All you’d had was a singular focus on the road ahead.

The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft ding, the automated voice letting you know you’ve reached the lobby. You step out and shuffle across it with your head down, careful to avoid eye contact with the receptionist watching you warily from behind her desk.

It’s a cold night. A blast of frigid air hits your face the second you’re out the door. You curse under your and fold your arms around yourself in a futile effort to keep warm. You should go back upstairs and get the coat Yoongi made you buy. You shift from one foot to the other, weighing your options- and decide against it. If the conversation you’d had with Hoseok was enough to wake Jimin and send him slinking toward you, you running in and out of the penthouse would almost certainly wake Yoongi up. Memories flash in your mind: his hands gripping your hips tight, his rough tongue laving over your neck, that self-satisfied smirk he’d let spread over his mouth. You pinch yourself, trying to stem the heat you can feel crawling out the neck of your sweatshirt. It had upset you, there was no denying that. The warm feeling that’d bubbled up in your stomach at being touched didn’t wash away the fact that him marking you had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with warding off the canine hybrids.

Yeah, you decide, quickening your pace down the ice-slicked sidewalk. You’d much rather face the cold than him.

You make quick work of the walk from Haneul Tower to the streets of the club district. It’s only two blocks up and one over, but by the time you get there, you feel like a giant icicle. You’re out of place in a sweatshirt and scuffed up sneakers among the glitz and glamor of the club-goers, but you don’t have time to deal with your imposter syndrome. You duck into the first taxi you find, pass the old man the address Officer Kwon had given you and settle back.

He complains nearly the entire time about how far out of the way you’re making him go. You apologize as much as you’re able and promise him return fair back to Gangnam if he waits for you. He huffs and puffs, but he still takes you. Forty minutes later, you’re standing on the sidewalk outside of Happy Tails Hybrid Clinic, rapping urgently at the glass. After two minutes that feel like twenty, someone finally answers you.

You think she’s in her late twenties but the dark circles under her eyes she keeps rubbing at make her look older. She’s dressed in the typical winter police uniform, minus her jacket. The pale blue sleeves of her dress shirt are rolled up above her elbows and are blotchy with pale red marks she’d tried to scrub out. Blood. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

She unlocks the door and pokes her headout. “Y/N L/N?” She asks, eyes narrowed against the glare of the street lamps.

“Yeah,” you answer, giving one short nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Officer Kwon; we spoke on the phone.” She opens the door for you fully, stepping back and ushering you in urgently. “I’ll be honest,” she says once you’re safely inside and the door is locked back tight again. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”

You frown at that. “Why wouldn’t I have shown?”

“Most of the time when hybrids run, it’s an abuse case.” She drops into one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room. Her head falls back with a thunk against the yellow plaster. If it hurts, she shows no signs of it, just stares up at the fluorescent lights. You settle on the lip of the chair next to her, feeling awkward and anxious. “The rabbit broke into an Olive Young to steal antiseptic and bandages,” she supplies without you having to ask. “He said he did it for the deer. When he showed me he was…” Officer Kwon exhales sharply and tips forward to rest her head in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you insist softly. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” she answers, voice muffled against her palms. “I pulled your name and ID picture from the national database and the rabbit didn’t recognize you. Even if you didn’t do it, I didn’t think you’d wanna deal with it.”

Your anxiety spikes at her words. What had happened to the hybrids before she found them? Who’d want to hurt them that badly? Your mouth feels dry, but you force it to move. “Do you know who they were running from?”

Officer Kwon shakes her head and drags her hands down her face. She lets her arms fall to her knees as she hunches over in her chair, back bowed with exhaustion. “Whatever the rabbit knows, he’s not sharing,” she exhales. “-And the deer’s in no position to speak up. He’s been unconscious since I found him.” As if sensing you tense, she adds, “He’s on the table now. I think Dr. Cheon put him under sedation.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure if there’s anything you even can. You have a million questions buzzing around in your mind, but so heavy is the weight of them on your tongue that you can’t find the strength to ask a single one. You’re saved by the doctor coming out from the back.

The door right next to the counter that reads STAFF + PATIENTS ONLY swings open and a middle aged woman in cat print scrubs comes out, shoulders hunched in like she’s got the weight of the world on her back. You can’t blame her; she looks every bit as tired as you feel. She stops just short of you and Officer Kwon, peels off a pair of blue medical gloves, dyed sticky red, and tosses them into the garbage can behind the reception desk. “Well,” she huffs, dragging her fingers through the greying wisps of hair that’d escaped from her braid. “It’s done.”

“How is he?” The police officer asks before you can. Dr. Cheon grimaces and leans against the counter.

“If you hadn’t found him in time, it could’ve been much worse.” You think she’s trying to put you at ease, but you don’t want compromising optimism. You want the truth. “An hour or two later and we’d be dealing with a very different situation, medically.”

You swallow and force yourself to speak. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

Dr. Cheon turns her attention to you and blinks slowly, like she’d just noticed you were there. “...this is the guardian?” The police officer nods. The doctor takes you in, eyes roving from the mess of your hair twisted into a bun atop your head, to the scuffed rubber toes of your sneakers. She’s judging you, you know, trying to find something that’d mark you as the reason for the pain and suffering of the hybrids she’d helped. She finds none. “It didn’t happen to them,” she sighs. “Someone did this to them on purpose, likely over the course of several hours.” She tugs the office chair out from behind the desk and sinks into it, her limbs going to jelly the second she’s seated.

“Jeongguk won’t tell me what happened, but I know the signs. Puncture wounds around the entirety of Seokjin’s ankle, remnants of both sedatives and epinephrine in both of their blood, what looks like a bullet graze wound on Jeongguk’s side and he’s got a broken arm,” she rattles off symptom after symptom, each of them making the knot in your belly wind tighter and tighter. “The worst of it is Seokjin’s head. Hairline fractures all along the top of his skull and lacerations on his pedicles. They took his antlers from him.”

You feel sick to your stomach. You knew there were people who hurt hybrids, just like there were people that hurt animals and other people. You just hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with the fallout of one such incident. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Cheon allows. “But he’ll need to be monitored closely during these next few weeks. They were hunted. If they decide to come with you instead of going to the shelter with Officer Kwon, you’ll need to be cognisant of the fact that the trauma from that could manifest in unexpected ways.”

Hunted. They’d been hunted.

You knew hunting was illegal in South Korea, you had that little tidbit tucked away in the recesses of your grade school memory along with the list of provinces and their capitals and the names of all the sailor scouts. It’d been outlawed in the fifties with the rash of hybrid centered legislation after a hunter up in Chungcheongbuk-do had shot a black bear hybrid he’d mistaken for a real bear. It was determined that since humans couldn’t distinguish between regular animals and hybrids shifted down into animal form, hunting had to be outlawed to prevent any accidental killings.

“Were they shifted down?” You ask. “Did someone not realize-”

“No.” Dr. Cheon’s answer is swift and final. “They knew. This was a choice.” The disgust in her voice is palpable.

“There are places that...Some centers cater to people that want to hunt.” Officer Kwon cuts in. “They have hybrids as employees and they let people rent airsoft or paintball guns to come hunt them. It’s supposed to be more ethical than actual hunting. No matter how distasteful I might personally find it, if they have a permit, there’s not really much the police can do unless a law has been broken. ”

“And without any information on where they came from, we can’t prove that one has,” Dr. Cheon finishes. “The most I can do as a vet is submit a report to the police about a possible abuse case and hope it makes its way to the hybrid crimes unit.” You hear the words she doesn’t speak, the meaning behind them. There’s nothing more we can do. They’ll get away with it. This is the end of the line.

Dr. Cheon drops her palms against her knees and forces herself to stand “Jeongguk’s injuries should heal just fine outside of the clinic,” She sighs. “But Seokjin-” she clicks her tongue against her teeth and gives a single shake of her head. “Cervine hybrids don’t shed their antlers like real deer do. There’s no telling if his will grow back or what they’ll look like when they do. All we can do is keep the wounds clean and pray.”

You nod numbly. She gestures for you to follow her and you do, making your way around the reception desk and through the staff door with her.

It’s dim in the back. The overhead lights are off and your path ahead is illuminated only by what light spills over from the reception room and an exam room up ahead. There’s only four of them, but the door to this one is slightly ajar. “Wait here for a second,” Dr. Cheon instructs, slipping through the door and leaving you alone in the corridor. You can hear her speaking softly to someone inside and them answering in even quieter tones. You have to strain to pick up the edge of their voice and even then, you can’t understand what they’re saying. “Would you like her to come in here, or would you like her to stay outside?” You hear her ask. The response is too soft for you to catch but a second later the door swings open.

Dr. Cheon steps out and gestures for the shadowy figure behind her to follow. “It’s alright,” she assures them. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Slowly, they shuffle out from the back.

It’s Jeongguk. There’s no denying what he is, not with the black velvet ears you see poking up out of his mop of wavy, dark hair. They’re alert; they prick toward you when your breath hitches. His eyes are dark and wide and the tip of his nose twitches when he looks at you. You muster up a smile you hope is reassuring and this right foot taps once against the linoleum. Yes, he’s a rabbit- but he’s also fucking huge.

What little research you’d managed to do in between apologizing to your taxi driver and keeping an eye on the fare had been straightforward: rabbit hybrids were naturally timid, needed a lot of attention and were small. Most sources you’d checked seemed to concur that they very rarely cleared 5’5. Jeongguk is pushing 6 feet and he’s built like a professional athlete. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life running for it.

He’s wearing a teeshirt that’s too tight on his chest, the logo of the Seoul police force stretched thin, and a pair of grey sweatpants that are too short for him, both obviously on loan from Officer Kwon. His feet are bare, but there are bandages wrapped around both of them. True to what Dr. Cheon told you, his arms in a cast and wrapped in a sling. There’s scrapes on his knuckles and bruises blooming on the right side of his face. He looks like he’s been through the wringer. Still, he doesn’t slouch or shrink before you.

“Jeongguk, this is the woman we talked about,” Dr. Cheon tells him. He nods, but doesn’t move his gaze from your face once. “You’ll be going home with her-”

“Only if he wants,” You interject and she nods in agreement, quickly adding that caveat in.

“-only if you want.” He nods again and swallows, his bare foot giving another little tap against the floor.

“What about Seokjin?” He asks you.

“If he wants to come too, he’s welcome to, but neither of you have to if you don’t want to.” There’s a little frown on his face as you answer and he finally looks away. You can’t help but think that’s a bad sign, that he thinks he and his friend would be safer in a shelter that they ever could be with you- but then he asks another question.

“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?” You frown at that. Why was it that every hybrid in the city was suddenly so concerned with your marital status? Hoseok had asked you in the car last night and now Jeongguk seemed worried about it as well. Sensing your confusion, he clarifies. “Do you live with any men?”

You wince. “Oh! Yeah, I live with five.” You see his expression darken as his ears sag. “They’re mostly predator-”

“If they’re hybrids, it’s fine.” He interjects, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “I can live with them.”

You relax too. From what you’d seen, most shelters weren’t nice places. They were overcrowded and underfunded. If the news was any indication, some of the worse ones got treated like grab bags by fighting rings, who’d shell out a couple thousand won for a canine hybrid and turn him into a prize fighter. You didn’t want that for them, not if you could provide an alternative.

But was it one though? He said he could live with them, but could they live with him? You think back to Yoongi and Namjoon snarling at each other last night, about Jimin’s little jabs at Hoseok. Yeah, you’d need to have another house meeting when you got home if this was ever going to work. Jeongguk had just been through hell and back; the last thing he needed was a territorial bobcat trying him.

“You can change your mind any time,” You tell him softly. “If you get there and feel like it’s not a good fit for you and Seokjin, you can go, okay?”

He dips his head. “Okay.”

“I think Seokjin can decide for himself.”

Your eyes rocket just over Jeongguk’s shoulder. There’s a man leaning heavily against the doorframe of the room the rabbit hybrid had come out of. He’s in a blue exam gown, his feet bare except for a plain white cast on his left leg. Every part of his head from his eyebrows up is bandaged, but you see soft tufts of red-brown hair poking out from between the layers. He looks human. You’d almost think he was if it weren’t for the oblong pupils in his hazel eyes and supple ears you see twitching as he observes you.

“What are you doing up?!” The alarm in Dr. Cheon’s voice is palpable. “Those sedatives should’ve kept you out ‘til morning.” She takes a step like she’s going to rush to his side- but stops short when he tenses and tilts his chin to his chest. Just for a second, it looked like he was preparing himself to square off against her- like he was brandishing something that wasn’t really there. His antlers, you think. He was trying to protect himself with his antlers.

Seokjin forces himself upright, his knees wobbling as he tries to stand on his own. He looks off-balance, and it’s not just because of the cast. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to stand now that a piece of him is missing. His legs are trembling. “What can I say?” He huffs, sounding like he just ran a marathon. “I like to surprise people.” And then his legs buckle underneath him.

He hits the floor with a heavy thud. Jeongguk and Dr. Cheon rush to his side but he waves them off, eyes closed and brow knit in frustration. “I’m fine,” he insists, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to struggle back to his feet. “I’m fine, I just…I just need a moment-”

“You need bed rest.” Dr. Cheon goes to latch on to his arm to help him stand but Jeongguk catches her wrist, gives a single shake of his head and she drops it back to her side.

Seokjin manages to get himself back standing, but he sways precariously. “If this were a hunt, I’d already be dead.” He swallows and inhales shakily through his nose, doing his best not to gulp down air. “You should have left me, Jeongguk. You know the rules. One falls, but the herd rises-”

“The herd is gone, Seokjin.” The bitterness in the younger hybrid’s voice takes you aback. It’s a black wave, threatening to drown all four of you right there in the corridor. Seokjin stares at him, his jaw slack and pretty brown eyes wide.

“What do you-”

“They’re gone.” The rabbit hybrid’s bruised fingers clench into a fist and he fixes his glare on the tile. “All of them.”

Silence rings in the corridor. Dr. Cheon’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t press for details and neither do you. She’d been right. They’d been hunted. The thought of it turns your stomach. Seokjin closes his eyes, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks as a muscle tenses in his jaw. He’s thinking. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is settled on you. Your heart jumps as your nerves get the better of you, and one of his ears flicks back.

“You’re taking us?” He asks. You swallow.

“Only if you want me to.” An unreadable look passes between him and Jeongguk, the younger’s nose twitching.

“Speaking strictly as your doctor,” Dr. Cheon speaks up, interrupting the hybrids’ telepathy. “You need time to rest and recuperate-”

“Is there any special reason I have to rest and recuperate here?” He asks. You can’t help but notice the slight challenge in his voice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches.

“No, I suppose not,” she acquiesces. She doesn’t look particularly pleased about the prospect of letting her patient go when he was still in the danger zone, but if the look of determination in Seokjin’s eyes is any indication, she doesn’t have much choice.

“Then, we’ll go.” The tone of his voice is final, letting everyone present know that he’s done talking about it.

That's the last that’s said to you or anyone else about it. Jeongguk falls in line with his orders easily and so doesDr. Cheon after she manages to get him to accept a pair of crutches she’d foisted upon him and passes off a prescription for pain meds and both of their check up schedules to you.

“It’s important that they don’t miss these dates,” she tells you at the reception counter, tapping the sheath of papers with one clean, blunted nail. “A single one of them. And make sure they don’t shift ‘til I’ve given them the all clear. Hybrid injuries are tricky, but they’re aggravated by the shift.” You nod, hanging onto every word she says, forcing your tired brain to take mental notes. “And-” she cuts her eyes at Jeongguk and Jin, both of whom are lingering in various extremes in the room, the deer hybrid sitting ramrod straight in a chair in the far right corner and the rabbit pretending to browse informational pamphlets. Once Dr. Cheon’s deemed it safe, she leans closer to you across the counter and gestures for you to come closer as well. You blink in confusion but acquiesce. “It’s important that your current hybrids be made to feel secure with the new additions coming.” She tells you, voice gravely serious. “Do you know about scenting order?”

After a beat, you nod. “Yeah. I mean, I read about it online but-”

Dr. Cheon tuts her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Online sources are shaky at best, wildly inaccurate at worst- particularly forums.” Your stomach flips. Had all your research been for nothing? “What did they tell you?”

“Um…” your brain boots up slowly as you try to recall the hours of research you’d done. “Uh, dominant hybrid first, then in age order?”

The corner of Dr. Cheon’s mouth quirks in an odd way. “That’s certainly a simplified way of looking at it.”

You wince.

“Hybrid group dynamics can be…” She searches for the right word. “Messy to start out with, especially with hybrids who don’t know each other who find themselves with an inexperienced handler. They’re all going to be trying to figure out where they fit in the pecking order as well as how their relationship with you works. There’s likely to be a lot of posturing, not just in order to impress you, but to solidify their place as well.” Dr. Cheon drags a hand down over her face. “Seven male hybrids under one roof...It’d be a miracle if no one’s missing fingers by the time the week’s out.”

“Is there any way I can stop them from being mean to each other?”

“I’m not a behaviorist,” The doctor sighs. “But I’d suggest you start with a conversation.”

You slide into the back of the taxi a little after 5:30 AM and pull out your phone. You’d promised to call on the way back and you don’t want a repeat of what’d happened the last time you’d forgotten. You scroll down your contacts, thumb hovering over Yoongi’s name and you hesitate. You remember warm lips, a rough tongue. You remember hands gripping your hips tight and a possessive growl in your ear. You press Taehyung’s name instead.

The tiger hybrid picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” His voice is slow and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

“Hey, it’s Y/N-” Almost immediately a happy rumbling starts from his end of the line. You can hear the sleepy joy in it and it makes your face warm.”A-and I just wanted to let you guys know I’m on the way home.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, a low, musical sound. “Where’d you go?”

You bite your lip as nerves spark up in you. Well, all things considered, it was probably better for him to find out now rather than later. “The last two hybrids my uncle got…they were hurt and I had to come get them.”

The line is quiet for a moment and you gnaw at the bottom of your lip. Finally, Taehyung speaks. “Ah.” That’s all he says. Somehow, that’s worse than whatever Yoongi growling at the new hybrids or Jimin icing them out.

“I’ll be home in about another forty-five minutes, okay? Could you have everyone get together in the living room for me? We need to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, I can.”

You wince. There’s an almost imperceptible change in his voice. You swallow. “Taehyung, are you upset?”

He hums again like he’s considering it. “No,” he answers after a moment. “I don’t think i am. At least, not with you.”

That does little to allay your fears, but you force yourself to sound upbeat when you tell him, “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The line clicks off and you drop your head against the headrest. A conversation. It should be a simple thing, but you spend the entirety of your taxi ride back to Gangnam with your stomach in knots. If the thought of introducing your two (very injured, very vulnerable) new hybrids to a house full of predators wasn’t enough, you have to try to allay Jeongguk’s inexplicable fear of the taxi driver. The middle aged man isn’t thrilled about ferrying hybrids across the city anyway, but between Seokjin swooning and Jeongguk thumping his foot so hard the whole car rattles whenever the man so much as looks in his rearview mirror, he’s almost ready to put all three of you out on the side of the highway. You have to promise him a 50,000 won tip just to get him to relent. He rolls up the partition, but even that doesn’t put Jeongguk at ease.

The rabbit hybrid is curled up in the corner of the backseat, his back against the door, his injured arm cradled close and his knees pulled up to his chin. His ears are on high alert, twitching at every passing car or stray siren. His whole body is tensed up like there’s a current running through it, like if he lets himself relax for a second, he’ll disperse into nothing. He’s glaring daggers at the partition, but you know he can’t see the driver. The car rolls over a speed bump a bit too fast and he flinches, hand shooting out for the door handle.

You watch him, concern coloring your scent. It’s not your place to ask, you know, and you feel almost stupid doing it, but the words slip out of their own accord. “Are you okay?” It’s a ridiculous question. You can still see the bruises blooming on his cheekbone, see the angry red of his split lip in the stray light of street lamps. His dark eyes flick toward you, round nose twitching.

“How do you know he’s taking us somewhere safe?” His gaze shifts from you, to the partition, to Seokjin, dozing fitfully on your otherside. The deer hybrid had finally surrendered to his pain meds not a second after you’d helped buckle him in. He’d been out cold before the driver had pulled away from the curb.

“Because that’s what I paid him to do,” you tell him, truthfully. You’d never given much thought to how much trust you placed in taxi and bus drivers to not kidnap you before. You certainly had to now, especially when Jeongguk seemed hyperaware of the fact that you’d entrusted all of your lives to a stranger. The rabbit hybrid swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. He gives a little shake of his head.

“He could take your money and still take us somewhere bad. He could take us up into the mountains and Seokjin and I wouldn’t be able to do anything because we’re hurt and-”

“That’s not going to happen, Jeongguk,” you say in as soothing a voice as you can manage to muster up. “It’s really unlikely that that’ll happen, but even if it did, I’d do my best to protect you.”

He snorts, ears tilting back. They brush the roof of the car as they do and he shrinks himself, shoulders hunching forward. “What can you do?” His tone is derisive. “You’re only human. You’re not as fast as us or as strong-”

“I’d try,” you insist, some strong, unnameable emotion tightening your chest at the thought of them in danger. “If if came down to it, I’d still try to protect the pair of you-”

“You don’t even know me.” Jeongguk’s voice is edging somewhere between disgust and disbelief. You look away from him then and at your hands, gripping your knees.

“I don’t,” you agree easily. “But I’d like to. Even if I don’t- even if I didn’t, people should still help each other when they can. We owe each other that much.” The taxi is quiet for a moment, only the sound of tires rushing over the slick pavement and other cars zooming by filling the empty air between the two of you. Finally, the rabbit hybrid exhales shakily.

“I’m not a person.” He sounds resigned to that fact, like he’s accepted a burden far too heavy for him. “I’m not even an animal. I’m a-”

“Just because you aren’t human…” you start off hesitantly, very much aware that you might be crossing several invisible lines. “...doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You have your own thoughts and feelings and emotions. You deserve to have them heard. I know I’m not as fast as you or as strong, but the least I can do is listen to you, right?” The car is silent again. You’re too nervous to look at Jeongguk, worried that you’d gone too far- but then there’s a warm weight against your side. It starts slow at first, just your shoulders brushing against each other, but before you know it, Jeongguk’s leaning his whole body against yours. He’s slumped over with his head tucked beneath your chin like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Jeongguk-”

“I’m afraid.” He admits in a whisper, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “Everything in me tells me to run all the time, but I can’t anymore.” His ears droop and his pretty dark eyes slip shut. This close, you can hear his heart beating at breakneck speed in his chest, feel how he shudders with every shaky inhale. “I’m so tired of running.” He’s terrified. You wouldn’t have guessed from his posture. Maybe the reason he held himself so tight was to stop himself from shaking apart.

You watch in surprise as the rabbit hybrid links his fingers with yours and drops your hand on top of his head, right between his velvety ears. “Help me like this.” You’re frozen, unsure what to do with a six foot tall man practically crawling into your sweatshirt with you. Was this really okay? He’d just been through something traumatic, the details of which you know nothing about. You hadn’t thought he’d want anyone to touch him, much less you, a virtual stranger. You don’t know what to do. The car jerks to a quick stop and the taxi driver leans on his horn, curses jaywalkers. Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens and he flinches so hard you’re surprised he didn’t knock his head into your teeth. He exhales shakily, tilts his head up and brushes his nose along the underside of your jaw. “Please,” he asks in a voice so small you know it’s killing him. “Just ‘til we get there, please just let me be weak.”

That breaks something inside you. Despite how awkward you might feel, he’s sure to be feeling worse. You wrap your arms fully around him, hesitant until you feel him go lax in your arms. You slowly stroke the back of his head and he buries his face in your clavicle, his eyes squeezed shut. “We’re almost there,” you assure him gently as he fists his good hand in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “You’re almost home.”

By the time the three of you arrive back at Haneul tower, the sky is lightening in the east and the first wave of office workers are making their way from your building into the streets of Gangnam. It’s not even 6 AM yet, but the city is stirring.

It takes you a good ten minutes to rouse both the boys and get them out of the taxi. After you’d let Jeongguk cling to you, the rabbit hybrid had fallen asleep quickly, the exhaustion from his turbulent day finally catching up to him. Even in sleep he was latched on to you, a small crease between his brows and his nose wrinkled up. Seokjin hadn’t fared much better. The cocktail of meds Dr. Cheon had given him had rendered him dead to the world for the entirety of the drive back. Even now you were having trouble rousing him.

“Seokjin…” You shake the sleeping stag’s shoulders but the only response you get is a slight hitch in his snoring. “Seokjin, please wake up, we have to go…” You can practically feel the glare the taxi driver is giving you in his rearview mirror. Yeah, the meter is still running, but you’ve taken up enough of his time as it is. “Seokjin, come on…” Jeongguk is standing behind you, staring bleary-eyed up at the apartment building, his free hand fisted in the fabric of your sweatshirt. If he’s cold in his thin tee-shirt and bare feet, he makes no mention of it.

Without warning, the taxi driver leans on the horn. Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, fear making his body tight. Jeongguk jerks so violently you think he’s going to rip a hole in your sweatshirt. You stumble back a few paces, trying to steady the rabbit and stop the pair of you from tumbling into the street. When you manage to right yourself, you slam a palm against the roof of the car and glare in the window at the driver. “Yo, what the fuck?”

The man glares back at you and waves you off. “I don’t have all day!” He shouts. “Get your animal and get out!”

You want to argue with him, you want to make him apologize- but the sight of Seokjin disoriented and afraid stops you. He’s looking at you with hazy eyes, his whole body stiff and his chest heaving. It’s for his sake alone that you hold your tongue. You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, buddy.” You say. “I got you.” He looks from your face to your hand and finally, slowly, places his own in it. His fingers are long and elegant and his hand dwarfs your’s. You tug him from the backseat and he leans heavily on you, hopping awkwardly to avoid walking on his broken foot. You pass him his crutches and he takes them, wobbling awkwardly as he tries to set himself to rights. “Can you stand?” You ask him. He nods and starts limping for the glass doors of Haneul Tower. He’s doing his best to look strong. His back is straight and his head is high, but you don’t miss the tremble in his fingers or the way he winces whenever the wind blows over the top of his head. You shove some bills at the taxi driver with a final, disapproving look, usher Jeongguk up onto the sidewalk and head inside after Seokjin.

The moment the three of you breach the double doors, Jeongguk drops his hand from your sweatshirt. His eyes rove over the glass and granite, round nose twitching at all the scents and his ears standing at attention on top of his head. He pauses, a little furrow between his brows. You’re halfway to the elevators, hovering a foot behind Seokjin in case he falls, before you notice the rabbit hybrid isn’t following you.

You cast a look back over his shoulder and find him gawking up at the hanging lights, mouth slightly ajar and starry-eyed. The corner of your mouth twitches. He’s cute, you decide. The thought leaves you almost instantly when you see Mr. Park powerwalking over to him, a sunny smile on his face. Jeongguk takes notice of him only a split second after you do and his eyes wide. You see him tense up, watch the fingers on his uninjured hand curl into a ball.

“You need to get him,” Seokjin says, sounding like he’s out of breath. You turn your attention back to the deer hybrid. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches and his face is pale. “You need to get him,” he repeats, nodding at Jeongguk. “That man gets any closer and Jeongguk will kick him.”

You whip back around. Mr. Park is closing the distance between them, seemingly unconcerned by the look of distress on the rabbit hybrids face or how his foot seems to be tapping a mile a minute.

“Excuse me!” The older man says, reaching out to put a hand on the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder. “Where’s your-”

“Mr. Park!” You practically sprint over as fast as you can, sliding between the receptionist and the hybrid just as he’d started winding his leg back. Mr. Park blinks, surprised to find you so suddenly in front of him. You offer him a tight smile. “He’s with me.”

“Oh! Ms. L/N, I apologize. He didn’t have a collar, so I assumed he was a stray.” The statement pricks at you, but you know he means nothing by it, so you try to stamp down your irritation. “It’s rare but we do occasionally have them come in in the hope someone will take them in.” He clucks his tongue against his teeth. “Such a shame really.”

You feel Jeongguk’s hand fist in the fabric of your sweatshirt. He wants to go. You nod emphatically at what Mr. Park says, already heading back to the elevators. “Yeah, totally,” you agree, shuffling the rabbit hybrid in front of you and putting some distance between him and the elderly man. “Well, have a good morning! I’ll see you later!”

“Ms. L/N, I actually need to speak with you-”

You wave him off and duck into the elevator Seokjin had called in your brief absence. “We’ll talk later!” You tell him, pressing the close door buttons as quickly as you can and willing them to shut before he can catch up.

“But it’s about your-!”

The doors click shut and you’re blessed with silence. You exhale in a short puff, press the button for the penthouse and slump against the cool metal wall, finally letting yourself relax for a moment. The elevator starts rolling and Jeongguk flinches beside you. He duck his head like he’s going to crouch down- but he stops himself, grips the railing instead.

“It’s okay,” You soothe. “It’s just-”

“I’m fine,” he insists, forcing himself to stand up straight and release the death grip he has on your sweatshirt. “I’m fine; my time’s up.”

It’s just like he’d said in the car. Just ‘til we get there, let me be weak.

The rest of the elevator ride passes in silence outside of the automated bell dinging as you pass each new floor and Seokjin panting quietly. He’s in a bad way. He’ll need another dose of pain meds soon. You arrive on the top floor, punching in the key code and pull the door open. “Let me get Seokjin settled, Jeongguk and I-” You run directly into someone.

Their arms wrap around you, covered in a brown cable knit sweater. It’s soft and they smell of vanilla. They press their cheek against the top of your head and exhale, a little rumble kicking up in their chest. “You’re back.” Taehyung.

“Hey, buddy.” You pat him on the back gently and peer around him. Yoongi and Jimin are both sprawled on the couch, legs kicked out so there isn’t room for anyone else to join them. Namjoon is sitting on the stairs shooting daggers at the back of Yoongi’s head and his arms crossed over his chest.Hoseok is lingering in the no man’s land between the living room and kitchen looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. The atmosphere is tense to say the least.

Taehyung dips his head down. “I got them, like you said,” he whispers, lips brushing against the tip of your ear and his breath warm. You have fight off a little shiver, but if he notices it, he doesn’t react. “I don’t think Hyung and Jiminie like the others very much.”

You give a little nod of acknowledgement. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all just need to get to know each other a little better.”

Seokjin hobbles through the door, past the tiger hybrid and drops himself onto a stool on the kitchen with a heavy exhale. “Well, I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes at most before these meds catch a second wind, so let’s get this over with.” He’s doing his best to sound cavalier but he’s pallid. You don’t miss the thin sheen of cold sweat on his face and neck. “Seokjin. Twenty-eight. Red stag.”

All the other hybrids are staring at him in a mix of confusion, irritation and, in some cases, open dislike. It seems like they don’t know what to make of him. It’s Yoongi who speaks first. “If you’re a stag,” he drawls and you already feel dread welling up in you at what you know is going to follow. “Where are your antlers?”

Seokjin fixes him with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only put them on for special occasions.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands together trying to diffuse the tension you can feel building. “New house rule: let’s not ask each other about injuries past or present unless we’re asking how to help.” Yoongi looks miffed, but he settles. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have expected him to say something snarky back to you. He’s trying not to push his luck after last night, you think. “Yoongi, why don’t you go next?”

His ears flick in annoyance, but he does as you ask. “I’m Yoongi, I’m twenty-seven and I’m a bobcat-”

“I’m Jimin,” his junior pipes up before he’s hardly had time to finish. “I’m an amur leopard and I came here with Yoongi-hyung and Tae. We’ve been with Y/N the longest.” He says it like it’s an important piece of information for everyone to know.

Beside you, Taehyung lifts one hand, palm up. “Hi,” he says calmly. “I’m Taehyung. I like the color purple.” Everyone watches him to see what else he’s going to say, but the tiger hybrid is finished. You give him a little nudge with your shoulder.

“Tell them how old you are and what your hybrid is,” you suggest.

“Oh,” he lifts his eyebrows like the thought genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m twenty-four and I’m a tiger.” Suddenly remembering something, he tilts his head forward in a little bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” A sour look takes over Yoongi’s face and Jimin rolls his eyes, gestures for the youngest of their group to come sit beside him.

Hoseok is the next one to pipe up. “I’m Hoseok!” He seems to perk up a little when you turn your eyes to him, his docked tail giving as much of a wag as it’s able. “I’m a Doberman, I’m twenty-six and Joonie and I came from the same pla-”

“My name is Namjoon.” The wolfdog cuts off the other canine with a growl. All the wind goes out of Hoseok’s sails and you don’t miss the way Seokjin freezes up at the dark sound, suddenly alert. You weren’t sure if prey hybrids still avoided predator hybrids like their animal counterparts did, but you’d need to learn and fast. Namjoon leans back on the stairs, his jaw clenched. “I’m the same age as him-” he jerks his head at the Doberman hybrid. “-so I guess I’m twenty-six too.” He makes no mention of his hybrid and you don’t press. You don’t know how sensitive a subject it is for him yet, but you don’t want to find out the hard way.

Hoseok looks back at you and cocks his head to the side, his gaze fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”

Five pairs of eyes follow his. You turn around. Outside the apartment, still in the corridor, is Jeongguk, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide as he surveys the mixed bag of hybrids spread out in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Do you wanna come in?”

His gaze flicks from you, to the cats, then to Hoseok and finally to Namjoon. It’s only when he sees the wolfdog hybrid that he moves from the wall. He takes halting, jittery steps one after the other until he’s planted by your side, his eyes on his bare feet. Every move he makes makes it look like he’s fighting against his own body, forcing himself to tamp down his instinct and move.

“Can you introduce yourself?” You ask him softly. “Or do you want me to?”

His good hand clenches into a fist and forces himself to look up. He meets each of the other hybrid’s eyes evenly. “My name is Jeongguk.” When he speaks, there’s no shake in his voice. “I’m twenty-three years old. I came from the same place as Seokjin but we don’t know each other that well. I’m a Flemish Giant Rabbit.” So that was why he was so big. You’d never seen a Flemish Giant in real life, but you’d happened across the odd youtube video of them once or twice in your suggestions. They were huge.

With introductions out of the way, you feel a little tension melt out of your shoulders. That was the biggest hurdle. Maybe now that they all at least knew each other, they’d be a little more open to being around each other. You let out a little exhale. “And I’m Y/N. I’m also twenty-three and this is my uncle’s apartment. He’s the only that bought all of you but I only found out you were coming a little over a week ago, so please forgive me for being unprepared.” You rub your palms against your eyes, trying to combat the exhaustion you can feel crawling over you. “I don’t know that much about hybrids, but I’m trying to learn. A lot of things you’re gonna have to help me with. I’m not expecting you guys to be pets or best friends or anything, but if we could all try to get along I’d appreciate it.” You offer all seven them a weary smile. “Thanks for getting up early to do this, guys, I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, literally anything, please don’t be scared to ask-”

“Um, Y/N?” Hoseok is looking at you like he’s been dying to say something for the past five minutes. You turn your attention to him and squint as you try to focus on what he’s saying. “I did a sweep of the apartment earlier-” That was concerning. You make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to do security sweeps anymore. “-and there’s only four bedrooms.”

You blink at him in confusion.

“There’s eight of us.”

Oh. Oh. You drag your hands down over your face. You hadn’t accounted for lack of space being an issue. When you first moved in, Oliver’s penthouse seemed like it went on forever. “Okay,” you start, crunching some quick numbers. “Some of us are gonna have to double up.” There’s a disgruntled mrow from the couch and without looking, you know it’s Jimin. “Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung are already sharing so they’re exempt, but Seokjin needs his own room- at least until he recovers.”

“That’s fine by me,” the stag chimes in. “But that leaves Jeongguk without a-”

“Hyung, can I stay with you?” The room goes quiet.

“Seokjin really needs his own room-” You pull your face out of your hands to address the rabbit hybrid, but he isn’t looking at the stag. His eyes are fixed on Namjoon who’s looking at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. The wolfdog looks from the rabbit to you.

“I saw a camp bed out in the greenhouse while you were showing us around last night.” He says, standing to go. “I’ll sleep out there.”

“Namjoon, you don’t have to sleep outside-”

“I like it out there.” He calls back over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “I can see the sky.” Then he’s gone and the six of you are left.

“Well,” Jimin purrs, rising and crossing the living room to you. “Best of luck.” He rubs his cheek against yours, folding you into a loose hug. You think he’s about to pull away, but he whispers in your ear, “If you want to share with us, you know where we sleep.” And then he’s gone, sauntering up the stairs with Taehyung and Yoongi in tow. The bobcat tosses a look at you, but you look away quickly, missing the way his ears sage when you do.

Now, the only ones left are you, Jeongguk, Hoseok and Seokjin who’s rapidly fading. “I’ll take the couch,” you volunteer. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but right now, the stark white cushions look like heaven to your sleep-deprived mind. “Seokjin can have my room-”

“He can have mine,” Hoseok interjects. “And, if it’s okay, could I stay with you?” There’s a light whine on the end of his words and you don’t miss the way his ears prick up in anticipation of your answer. “It’s what I wanted to ask you earlier.”

Oh. When Jimin interrupted him, that’s what he’d been trying to say: he wanted to sleep in your room to be closer to you. To protect you.

“Yeah,” you agree easily. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Sharing beds wasn’t a big deal for you. You’d grown up in a flat with your mom and had shared a bed with her til she’d been taken from you. Then in foster homes with too many kids and not enough resources, you’d had to double- and sometimes even triple- up. It was a matter of convenience and space.

Hoseok’s tail gives a little wag and he nods, happy with your decision.

“Great!” Seokjin cheers weakly. “Now can someone please help me lie down.”

It’s Hoseok that helps the stag hybrid up the stairs and into bed. He’s stronger than you and taller, so it only makes sense. You show Jeongguk to his new room and stay with him for a few minutes while he feels it out, making sure it’s safe. It’s only once he’s sequestered himself under the covers and dismissed you that you leave, closing the door quietly behind you as the rabbit hybrid settles down for some much needed sleep. You turn to head back for the stairs- but you find Yoongi at the other end of the corridor, staring you down. You stare back. He swallows.

“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice quieter than you ever remember hearing it.

You give a little nod. “Yeah,” you assent. “We need to.”

He meets you halfway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers and his gaze anywhere but on your face. The seconds stretch out and you exhale, closing your eyes. “Yoongi, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interjects. “About what happened in the elevator. It was disrespectful and immature. I won’t do it again.”

You balk at him. You’d honestly expected him to tell you you were being childish for reacting so strongly to it when you’d told him he could mark you whenever he was ready. But he hadn’t. He shuffles back a few steps, his head still low.

“Well, that was all I wanted to say to you, so-”

“Do you understand?” You ask him. He stops short. “Do you understand why I was upset?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you see a little furrow between his gray eyebrows. “Because I marked you.”

“No,” you insist, emphatically. “I was upset because it didn’t feel like you were doing it for me.” He does look up at you then, yellow eyes unreadable. “It didn’t feel like you were marking me because we’re friends or you wanted me to be a part of your group. It felt like you were doing it to show off in front of Namjoon and Hoseok.” You swallow. “And that hurt my feelings.” It feels good to say. It feels good to talk about.

He lets out a little chirp of distress. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. “I just-” He rakes a hand back through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck, I just felt like if I didn’t do something right then you’d get bored of me and send me away. I thought you’d replace me with them.”

Your heart twists. You know the feeling more intimately than you’d like to admit. You reach out, hesitantly and squeeze Yoongi’s arm. “Yoongi, I’m not gonna send you away. Ever. It’s important to me that you know that. Unless you wanna go, you can stay. There’s room enough for all of you.”

“No there’s not, that’s why we’re sharing rooms,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and let out a little chuckle. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The corner of his mouth curls up at the playful insult. After a moment, he speaks. “I don’t, for the record,” he says. “Wanna go, I mean.” He stares down into your face, yellow eyes intense. The seconds drag on and something between the two of you grows tight. He leans down, face nuzzling the soft spot between your ear and your jaw. He huffs. “Bunny scented you,” he mutters, tail flicking in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re relieved.

“He was afraid in the car,” you answer softly. “I think it helped.” Your hands slip from his arms around his back and he purrs. It’s the first time you’ve heard him make that sound. It sends warm vibrations through your whole body and you giggle. Yoongi smiles against your skin and your heart leaps. He’s never smiled around you before. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. You know it’s there. “Do you want to try again?”

Yoongi exhales, his breath warm on your neck. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head to the side for him. “You can.”

This time is different, you can feel that from the onset. His fingers wrap gently around your hips and he nuzzles into your skin. He nips lightly at the skin below your ear, the corner of your jaw, all down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where it joins your shoulder. He hums, wraps his arms around you fully and pulls you flush against the hard line of his body. Your breath hatches and you can practically hear your heart thudding traitorously in your chest.

It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself as he laves his rough tongue against your feverish skin. It’s not a big deal; marking isn’t sexual. This isn’t a big deal, there’s no need to be nervous or get- the points of his teeth scrape over the mark before he laps at again and you have to bite back a whimper. Your knees feel a little weak- that is, until Yoongi slots his thigh between them, keeping you up while he finishes his work. Your hands ball up into fists in the fabric of his t shirt and you grit your teeth together with the effort of keeping quiet. He pulls off your neck with a wet pop and you swear you’re imagining it when he presses a final kiss to his mark. He noses your ear, still purring and you think he’s gonna mark you more- but then his warmth is gone and his standing before you, eyes a little hazier but no worse for wear.

He reaches up and flicks you in the forehead. You grumble at him, covering the spot up with your hands before he can do it again. A lazy smirk spreads out on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he drawls. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading back to his shared bedroom. “Don’t wipe this one off this time, okay?”

You nod mutely after him as he disappears, your hand cupping your mark. “What was that?” You wonder. You descend the stairs in a daze, your mind whirling. None of your research had told you creating a mark would be like that. You’d thought it was a quick thing and Yoongi had just been showboating for the canines. Even in the videos you watched, the hybrid had leaned in close to the human, given then a few quick swipes with their tongue and moved on. Then again, those hybrids had all been domesticated dog or cat breeds. “Are exotics different?” You muse, turning the handle to your bedroom- and promptly tripping over someone.

This time, you don’t go all the way down. You make it halfway before Hoseok catches you. “Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N!” The dog hybrid whines, fussing over you as he sets you back to rights. “I’ll do better about staying out of your way, I promise-”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, trying to stop him from fretting. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” You survey the floor of your bedroom. It seemed like in his security sweep earlier, Hoseok had found the linen cabinet and made use of the spare blankets. His pillow and a comforter are set up in a little pallet on the floor in front of your door. It seems he’d been putting the final touches on it when you’d stumbled over him. “Hoseok…” you start slowly. The Doberman looks at you, ears pricked up. “Hoseok, I wasn’t expecting you to sleep on the floor.”

He cocks his head to the side, doglike even in his confusion. “Then where…?”

“The bed is big enough,” you say, gesturing to the queen sized bed dominating the center of the room. “I don’t mind sharing if you’re comfortable with it.”

His adam’s apple bob’s in his throat as he swallows, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it.”

You nod and pat him on the shoulder, passing him as you head to bed. “Come on, then.” You collapse onto your bed face-first and slip back under the covers with a groan. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap before I’ve gotta get up and deal with stuff…”

The room is quiet, but somewhere in it, you can hear Hoseok shuffling around. “Maybe I should check to make sure everything is safe one more time?”

You exhale, your eyes slipping shut. “Hoseok…”

“Did you lock the front door after you came in? I think the rabbit...Jeongguk was the last one in? I don’t remember him locking-”

“Hope, bed. Now.” He doesn’t say anything else, but a few seconds later, you feel the far side of the bed dip with his weight. You sigh as he shifts to get under the blankets and you snuggle down further into your pillow. “Sleep well, Hobi.”

He mumbles something under his breath about security being a serious issue, but you don’t catch it. You’re already halfway to dreamland.

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Holy War Chapter 15

The three of them watched Mother Superion flip her cane effortlessly in her hand, swinging the handle portion just behind a particularly mouthy sister’s heel. Sweeping her legs from under her faster than the recruit could even blink. Faster still, the end of the cane was held under her chin; whether it was a warning or a threat wasn’t clear. Not that it mattered much. The message was heard as the recruit’s eyes widened at having been put on her back so swiftly by a seemingly hobbled woman.

Lilith had never seen anything like it. Apparently, neither had Mary. Who had been much worse than the youngest of the group at schooling her reactions to things. “So Mother Superion has skills…”

To this point, she had been still recovering; getting back from that injury that left her scarred and chronically in pain had been long and arduous. Mentally even more so. Shannon knew she’d been one of the few Sisters still around Cat’s Cradle to remember, to have to privilege of knowing a very different Sister Suzanne. Part of her wanted to jump down Mary’s throat for it even though she knew her… Mary… didn’t mean anything by the comment. She was simply making an observation, but Shannon didn’t want it to be lost on either of her teammates that that woman had taught Shannon everything she knew and then some.

Listening to newer members of the order questions Suzanne’s Mother Superion’s competence or adeptness as a Sister Warrior when she’d returned with a new title after a couple of years of being away… It was enough to nearly drive Shannon to violence. Had been once - Mary had needed to pull her off the offending sister. Which landed them both in Suzanne’s office.

“Beware of an old [woman] in a profession where [women] usually die young,” Shannon muttered under her breath with respect and a bit of sadness. It was primarily directed at Mary, who was, as usual, at her right side. Lilith was there, too, though. She was a little behind and to the left, but still there. Having been fully accepted into their little group only a few months before.

“She’ll kill you if she heard you calling her old.” Mary chuckled, and Shannon tilted her head with a raised eyebrow agreeing with her. Because she absolutely would, and Shannon had taken enough licks sparing with Suzanne for several lifetimes.

“I’m sure Sister Shannon meant… experienced.” Lilith drew out, the words leaving her lips before she thought of them. It was like her brain was ‘hearing’ them for the first time, just as Shannon and Mary had. Maybe she wasn’t better than Mary about keeping her reactions to herself.

Both women snorted at her sarcasm, surprised at Lilith’s engaging with their teasing. To this point, she hadn’t talked much. Hadn’t wanted to mess up what seemed to be a good thing so far. Shannon looking out for her. Although Mary pushed her and mashed every button Lilith had, she was dependable when Lilith was at her lowest.

“Call me Shannon, weirdo.” The tall brunette had leaned into her, nudging Lilith’s shoulder, making them sway with the endearment. Shannon because she was leaning into it. Lilith because she was still getting used to it being cared for this way. It often made her feel unbalanced. “We’re sisters.” Her smile was easy and bright, just like it always was. Dimples capable of reaching hearts from even the most fortified positions. “That part’s implied.” Lilith hadn’t known what to say because this woman, her team leader, didn’t mean it as an honorific. She wasn’t referencing their position as nuns, and Lilith felt like a fish out of water, with was ironic because she also felt like she was drowning in affection.

“Shan, I think you broke the poor kid.” Lilith hadn’t noticed that she’d become the one in the middle until Mary swung her arm around her shoulder. The sentiment of the gesture was simultaneously tempered and enriched by knuckles against the top of her head, pulling her hair from its carefully constructed bun.

KEEP READING 

[creepypasta-archive]

Sam

by DATGUY66

This broke me. To this day I've still not been able to figure out what the fuck is this story about. It feels like something you'd see in a dream and have an aneurysm trying to read.

CW// Spooky Jeff image at the header with a knife near it's face, bullying, knife, implied slurs??

Click below to read the original unedited story

Sam was always known to push the envelope, but now something had just gone completely wrong.

Nobody liked Sam — he was the nerd. He always sat in the corner of the classroom, studying and studying. He got bullied a good amount of times, and was always being pushed around and stepped on.

The worst part was that he was my friend.

I was on fairly higher ranks than Sam, but being friends with an absolute geek would come in costly. I would sometimes be bullied, too, and I wished I was friends with somebody else — but the only reason I was his friend was because I felt bad for the poor lad.

Well, everyone did. Whenever he walked around the school corridor, kids would laugh and point, insulting him and saying things like “Hey everybody look, it’s Sommy!” and everyone would laugh. I would try to hide my giggles, but it was impossible, Sam was just so pathetic and tiny. I could easily push him into the dirt.

Of course, I grew up knowing Sam would probably work as a retail clerk or something, but his good education and file of knowledge had suggested different.

I, myself was very smart, but what made Sam bullied was mostly his appearance. He would wear a pin-striped button T’shirt, along with clacker trousers and really big and circular glasses, which made his eyes look bigger than they really were.

Usually, he had to replace his glasses, because nearly everyday he’d be tripped (by some kid) or punched in the face, and of course damaging his glasses. Sam never really cared about what people thought though, and so did our history teacher. When Sam would sit quietly in the corner, studying, kids would most likely call him a “dumb ox,” but then our teacher would say, “You call him a dumb ox now, but he could revolutionize modern science.”

I knew she was probably right, but that didn’t make the insults die down. As years passed, Sam’s insults would get ruder and more harsh — and one new kid began using some words that would send him to the principle’s office if he got caught using them. During lunch, I felt really bad for Sam. The cafeteria prices were raised through the roof — and we couldn’t bring our own lunch.

Plus, Sam always forgot to bring his money. But the adults who served the food at the cafeteria had sympathy for Sam, and would give him lunch for free. Well, only because THEY felt sorry for him. Of course, some kid would trip him or push his face into the mashed potatoes, so he’d be extra hungry when we left.

Whenever Sam sat somewhere, all the girls would move to the opposite side. I even once heard one of them say, “Scrawny little guy, his life’s probably a living nightmare!” I had actually told the principle about this.

One night, me and Sam were walking from school, and then I spotted something shiny in the forest. There was actually a huge forest realm right beside our school, so afterwards or in recess we would go there and have our “Epic Adventures.”

Sam was reluctant, but said “alright” and we went in. It was very dark and shady — there were no nature trails, nothing. Then, as soon as the shiny object got closer into sight, I immediately realized it was a knife.

“Why would a knife be there?” Sam said as he inched over to it.

“I don’t know!”

I grabbed it — and then another hand grabbed it… not Sam’s…. but a figure that almost like that of a clown. It had black tangled hair… a long bloody smile… but worst of all those eyes… they beamed into my soul. I stumbled back, staring at the man….. and then he lunged at me, stabbing me ‘til blood was running down on the ground. “... Sam… helpp…”

But he just ran away, screaming. The fourth time he stabbed me, I was knocked out cold.

Then I befriended Sam.

[rezzyromance]

i have come!! to request something!! for the trash man!!

so, him with a reader that just doesn’t know shit when it comes to machinery. like yes, they know what it does and why it does it and they might even know how to clean it, but if you gave them a broken nintendo 64 and told them “hey. fix this box. see you in two hours” you’d just come back and the game would be clean but it wouldn’t work and theyd be sitting by it like “yeah box broke. sorry”

Omg this is so goofy and perfect because idk anything about machinery either.

The room was filled with frustrated grunts and the sound of Karl slapping his radio. He managed to fix it once and enjoyed having music playing as he worked. It helped keep him calm. Sometimes, he would even tap his foot along to the songs he enjoyed most. You enjoyed sitting around while he worked because every now and then he would sing along quietly. He's never aware of when he does it and you refuse to point it out because you know if you do then he'll be embarrassed and never do it again.

Now, instead of singing along peacefully he is whacking it, swearing under his breath. "Welp, I think it's done for. I don't have time to sit down and fix it again.", he sighs and sits back down at his desk to continue his work in silence. You had been lounging in a chair in his office, keeping him company. He tried to play it off like it didn't bug him, but you could feel the frustration buzzing off of him like static. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help.", you say from your seat.

"Do you think...you could?", he pauses his work for a second and looks over to you. "How? I don't know anything about machines or technology or anything like that!", you were confused on where the idea came from. "Well you watched me fix it last time. I'm sure it's just that same issue.", he grabs the radio and stretches it out in your direction. You stand up nervously and walk over, taking the radio from him. "I don't.. think I can do this.", you lock eyes with him. "Sure you can. It'll give you something to do.", he turns back to his work and continues. You have no other choice but to attempt to work on it.

You take a small box of tools you remember seeing him use when working on it before and go into another room to work alone, not wanting to disrupt Karl's work. You close your eyes and try to visualize what he was doing when he was working on the radio before. You remember him unscrewing a little part that you can take off and reveal the wires inside and so you do the same. You were met with the intimidating sight of tons of colorful wires. There was a red wire that seemed to be split in two. When he fixed it before, he had attached the wire back together some how. "I guess.. all I have to do is connect it?", you say outload quietly as you think of what to do. You hold each side of the split wire and bring them together. It sparks and you jump, but for a split second you could hear the radio ring with music. You were frightened by the sparks but excited by the fact that there was some hope for you to be able to fix it.

Unsure of how to keep the wires together, you rummage through a junk drawer in hopes to find some tape. You found some black electrical tape and a smile stretched across your face. The thought of Karl being proud of you for being able to fix his radio excited you. You rushed back to the radio with the tape in your hand. You make the two wires connect and sparks fly. You ignore them this time and quickly wrap the electrical tape around them, forcing them to connect.

The radio sprung to life. It bombarded the room with loud opera music. You quickly turn the volume knob down, hoping to quiet the loud music, but the volume didn't change. "Nononono!", you cry out as you frantically push buttons and turn the knobs. Still, the obnoxious music filled the room. The door of the room opens and Karl stands in the doorway. "Did you fix it?", he tries to yell over the music. "Uhhhh not really? Kind of?", you walk over to him as you yell. "What's with the opera?", he walks over and begins to press buttons to change the channel. Nothing changes. His brows furrow in confusion and he begins to turn knobs to change the volume. Again, nothing changes. "What the fuck did you do?!", he mashes the power button. The radio did not turn off. "HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO DO THIS?!", he starts to slap the box and you walk over to him. "I DON'T KNOW!!", you yell. Suddenly, the radio grows even louder than before. You covered your ears to protect them from the obnoxiously loud sounds. "WHAT THE FUCK!?", he yells and throws the radio across the room, smashing it into the wall.

The music finally stopped as the radio hit the ground, most likely dead for good. Your body is tense as you prepare for him to grow mad and scold you for ruining his radio. Instead, you hear him laugh. You look over to him and watch as his smile grows larger and his laugh grows louder. He found the bizarre situation hilarious. "You're not .. mad? I broke your radio.", you were confused. He attempted to talk in between his laughter. "I don't have a fucking clue what you did, but that was the funniest mistake ever.", he wipes a tear from his eye and catches his breath. "I'll just put it back together when I get some down time. And remind me to never let you touch my stuff again.", he pats your shoulder and kisses your forehead, walking out of the room after picking up the poor radio. You chuckle under your breath, releaved that he wasn't mad about his radio.

[its-kall-the-clown]

14 Fluff for Red Son realizing he's nursing a crush on MK

As some context this is post redemption for the demon bull family. So Mei, MK, and Red hang out a lot together now. Red Son is also an idiot. XD

Also this isn’t my most polished work so sorry if it feels rushed.

prompt list

Stop that!! (Don't stop)

Rating: PG-13 for implied sexual interactions

"I think I'm sick"

Red Son admits to the ceiling of Mei's room. They were hanging out like they normally did on days MK was training with monkey king. She was playing some sort of retro video game and he was watching till he got bored and lay on her bed thinking.

"You got a tummy ache?" Mei teased, pausing her game and he huffs rolling his eyes, and sits up.

"Don't be ridiculous" he huffs out and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okayyyy so what're the symptoms." Mei crawls from her spot on the floor and joins him in bed, sitting crisscrossed with her hand in her lap, and leaning forward eagerly.

"It's hard to explain… sometimes when MK is gone my chest hurts " he places a hand over his heart that was beating normally at the moment.

"And sometimes, when he's around, my hands get sweaty and it feels like I'm gonna throw up and…." He watches a wide unlearning Cheshire grin grow across his friend's face. He continues on, albeit, a bit more hesitantly.

"And….sometimes I can't talk right, and sometimes when he IS around my chest hurts also?" Mei was grinning so wide she was more teeth than she was girl.

"Why are you smiling…."

"OMFG!!?? You have a crush on Mk?!!!" She squeaks excitedly and rolls around in her back as she descends into what Red can only describe as absolute madness.

"What are you talking about??!" He sputters, Mei giggles a bit longer before finally pulling together and greeting him with a wide grin.

"Dude. Your like SO gay for him. 'My HeARt hUrTs WhEn hE’s not arOuNdddd~ " she mocks him in a fake tone and he growls hitting her with a pillow..

"Stop that!" He growls.

"SToP ThAt~" she mocks back and they devolve into a pillow fight on her bed. He girns when he hits her smug face squarely with a dragon stuffie.

Soon they lay panting on her bed and the dragon girl rolls onto her stomach poking him in the face.

"So. Crushing in MK huh?"

He grows beat red again and pulls a pillow into his face and groans.

"You should tell him."

Red son sits up with a smile.

"I should!"

"Yes!!"

"So I can tell him to stop making me sick!"

"Say what now?"

He turns to Mei with a feral smile. This 'crush' or whatever she called it could be fixed. If MK was the one giving it to him. He just needed MK to stop doing...whatever he was doing to make him feel like this.

"Hold on I think you are conf-"

"Thanks Mei!" He gets up and is off to confront the noodle boy as he hears Mei shout at him from her room.

"You're a fucking idiot!!!"

-----------

He storms forward like a typhoon. Red son is a force of nature that can not be stopped, nothing could yield him in his goal or hinder him in his path. Wild horses pulling chariots could not stop him, celestials in heaven would not dare stand in his way, and even his parents (by far the scariest force of all) could not persuade him to rethink what he was doing.

He pushes past the doors to Pigsy's noodles, shoves past patrons and ignores the warning shouts from the pigman.

he had one goal on mind

"Nyyyooodle boy!!!!!!" He bellows grabbing the attention to his problem. Those perfect expression color eyes meet him and the disease in his chest grows. He's in his training clothes, clearly on his way up to his apartment over the shop so he can shower.

Why did the idea of MK showering make his heartbeat erratically? Soft shoulders and cascading water off them…

She shakes his head back and forth now back on track.

"Stop. That." He growls out grinding his teeth together as steam leaves his ears. MK tilts his head slightly. The disease grows more in his chest and he hates it.

"Stop that!!!!" He points directly at MK feeling his hair sputter and spark as his temperature rises. He thinks his face is growing red.

"I'm….not doing anything?" MK gives him a sheepish smile, the kind that quirks up on one side and absolutely obliterates Red Son on the spot.

Like a crunchy fall leaf under the heel of a boot he's crushed.

Whatever motivation he had before it evaporates quicker than a drop of water in the Sahara desert.

"Y-your haven't heard the last of me!!" He makes a quick retreat, stumbling over his own feet and taking out one of Pigsy's tables in the process.

He exits the shop faster than he entered. He needed to regroup and strategize.

-----------

"SoooOOOOOo How'd it go?" Mei asked her eyes not leaving the screen, she's playing a different video game now, and she didn't even spare him a glance when he came back as if she predicted he would fail.

"Horrible!!! All it did was make this sickness worse." He throws his arms up and paces back and forth biting his lip. Mei doesn't pause her game this time, only continuing to mash buttons as he grumbles under his breath.

She lets out A long-suffering sigh and finally pauses her game.

"Dude. I know you're behind on the lingo and stuff but a 'crush' isn't a sickness. It means you like MK. As in you want to kiss him and stuff." she explains with a shrug unpausing her game and the sound of power-ups and pixelated men punching each other continues.

Red Son halts in his tracks

He pictures kissing MK. pressing his lips to the boy's soft adorable lips. He can practically feel the warmth it would produce. He pictures MK smiling into the kiss as they awkwardly bump noses. He pictures holding MK’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walk hand and hand. He imagines the feeling of MK’s hair between his fingers as he runs his hands through it.

He sucks in a gasp, his heart beating out of time.

Of fuck.

“I’m so screwed…..”

He feels Mei patting his shoulder, she paused her game again when he was fantasizing

“Yeah, you are. But at least now you can DO something about it.” she nudges his side and he blushes a bright red and he can hear her chuckling at him

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

“Can we talk?”

MK blinks back at him looking back and forth for a moment as if he was confused by his precence. Which to be fair he DID just enter through MK’s window while he was showering and was now waiting for him on his bed.

“Uhhhhh sure?” they rub the last remaining moisture from his hair with a towel before tossing it to the floor to be added to piles of laundry they had yet to do. Red Son didn't even curl his lip up at the slob-like behavior because HOLY SHIT MK IS SHIRTLESS!!!

Of course, MK didn't even seem to care that he was only wearing grey sweatpants in his presence. Red Son guilty looked MK’s chest up and down while they searched for a sleep shirt. Working out with Monkey King has been paying off because MK was sporting some muscle. He also had a few scars from battles that only added to how attractive he was, and of course, there were the two faint top surgery scars under his pecks.

“Is this about your weird episode in the shop today?” they asked pulling him from his guilt ogling and MK pulled a shirt over his body. Damn what a shame.

“Mei says I have something called a ‘crush’ and I should ‘tell them how I feel’ in order to make the pain in my chest go away,” he explained using quotation marks with his fingers to punctuate himself. MK’s eyes widen slightly and then it's schooled quickly. They join Red Son on the bed.

“O-oh? Have you told them?” MK squirms in place and keeps his gaze cast down. He looks uncomfortable, no. he looks upset? Why would MK be upset? Was it because he broke into his room again without permission?

No not that. Although he will have to apologize later

“I’m working on that part,” he explains scooting closer to MK and he grabs one of their hands gently. This felt stupid, and he thinks his sickness will kill him with how quickly his heart is beating. He was terrified and all his symptoms were amplified by ten.

He looks into MK’s espresso-colored eyes looking for something. He loved those eyes. They showed so much in them and he SWORE they could change the whole lighting of a room.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water with his false starts. Eventually, he clears his throat and releases his confession.

“Umm well...MK. I h-have a crush on you.”

he shuts his eyes and waits for the rejection, waits to hear MK laugh with their head back and shove him away.

None of that comes.

He peaks an eye open to find MK’s face a bright scarlet red. Was that a good sign? Or was MK so angry at him that he was just building up anger inside of him like a volcano ready to blow.

“ I w-will leave now.” he pulls away ready to retreat with at least his dignity still in tack. He's pulled back violently and soft lips are smashed to his. He lets out a surprised whimper and absolutely melts into the feeling. His brain is electrified and static all at once.

He kisses back hungrily grabbing MK by the waist and pulls him closer. When they are running out of air only does MK pull away with a little breathless gasp.

“Stay the night?” They requested, placing a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck and he can’t find a single cell in his body that would possibly say no. He nods numbly and MK kisses him again a smile on his lips that he could taste.

----------

“MK GET UP! YOU ARE LATE AGAIN!!”

Pigsy burst down the door jolting the demon awake from his peaceful slumber, his arms that were previously wrapped around MK pull away quickly in the process. He thinks he could stick to the ceiling with his claws like a cat in a cartoon if he jolted just a little higher.

The covers are yanked off them both before Red Son even has time to protest. Thank gods they both put underwear back on when they finished satisfying each other. Red Son is completely and thoroughly exposed to MK’s boss, bitemarks, and hickes across his chest snitching on him.

Red Son and Pigsy meet eyes and he feels a sweat break out across his neck. Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.

“I don't know what happened here... And I don't WANT to know. Tell MK he’s got ten minutes to get downstairs.” Pigsy turns on his heel and leaves slamming the door behind him. Red Son looks over to his now-boyfriend who’s mouth hangs open with drool dripping down his face.

MK slept through all of it.

He can’t help but chuckle and kiss their forehead gently.

[twerkinwithhazza]

Pumpkin Seeds

Author’s Note: UH OHHH BACK AGAIN. I’m back yall finally off hiatus all because my phone is broken LOL. Anywho tumblr is a totally different place and most of my mutuals are adulting now. I would love new tumblr friends and I’m gonna try to continue this writing stuff but I’m busy with adult things now lol and it really depends on if you guys like what you see. Please excuse my rustiness this my first imagine in years... literally. I’ll get better with time. This was also slightly edited but I know there bound to be some mistakes. Anyways watch the Golden music video for clear skin and I hope you guys enjoy!  I think it's so adorable that whoever requested this thought this request wouldn't speak to me lol ! It definitely did because this went from a blurb to a full blown imagine.

psst you can read my other work here!

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut and possible shitty writing, dirty talk, light choking, and some cursing.

Glossary: (y/c/n)= your cousins name + (y/m/n)= your mothers name

Request: hi!!!! if you are wrtiting for Harry please can you do one where missus and Harry are at a family party and have a quickie in the bathroom? don’t worry if it’s not speaking to you lol xxx

Normally you and your husband loved spending time with your families. Harry was always playing a balancing act between filming music videos, doing interviews, writing sessions, and an occasional date night in the house that always involved a Postmates order from your favorite restaurants and the two of you binge-watching Netflix on shuffle. As much as the both of you enjoyed stuffing your face with poke bowls from Poke Papa and watching True Crime stories, it wasn’t exactly romantic or fulfilling for the both of you, just enough to hold you over until his schedule clears up. So when Harry finally got a weekend off, you guys were ecstatic! You spent the week cleaning the house and meal prepping so no Postmates would be needed and Harry used his free time in between interviews for shopping for special toys and pretty lingerie he wanted to see you model for him. Flirty text messages were sent back and forth during small work breaks about your plans for the weekend and now all the two of you had to do was make it Saturday.

You’re not gonna like this...

The 5 words that destroyed you and Harry’s weekend plans. Anne called while you were organizing your closet and announced that her and Gemma, along with your parents and favorite cousins were coming to town to spend time with the two of you. You tried to convince her that maybe a small dinner party at that new fancy restaurant downtown would be a perfect spot for a get together but she was adamant about coming over to cook the two of you a homecooked meal. Breaking the news to Harry was the worst part, he was clearly devastated (you swore you saw the man shed a few tears). Now here you were stuffing your mouth with Anne’s famous juicy cooked duck instead of your husband's juicy di...

“(Y/N) can you pass me the mashed potatoes”

Your dad’s strong yet muffled voice interrupted your train of thought and broke you out of your horny trance as he chowed down on his meal. Pushing the dish over in your dad's direction allowed you the chance to look around and take a glance at Harry who was making small talk with one of your favorite cousins. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, of course with a few buttons loose, and his cross necklace bounced on his chest as he laughed at your cousin's crazy work stories. You focused on his fingers, his infamous rings adorned his hands, you noted that they were slightly damp from eating and the condensation on his glass cup. As you were drinking in his appearance a small damp spot was forming in your panties but given that there were too many eyewitnesses including, yours and his parents so you chose to just clamp your thighs shut and stuff your mouth with more mashed potatoes. 

Harry deserved his credit as a husband. Despite his calm demeanor, he was very well aware of your little ordeal yet still managed to give interview advice to (y/c/n) and compliment your mom’s cocktail mix. He was quite amused by how increasingly frustrated you were becoming. He noted your concentrated face as you munched harshly on a string bean, hands clenching onto the fork for dear life. He decided to do a little temperature check to truly see how far gone you were.

“So what are we thinking for dessert pecan pie or crumble cake ?”, Harry questioned as he stuck his fork in his mouth, pulling it out again once all the gravy was licked clean. Your eyes finally met and you can tell that he was tossing the ball in your court, it was your job to show him how you wanted the game to be played.

“Mmm I don’t know I guess I’ll have some pecan pie but I really wish I had some pumpkin seeds”, you flatly said as you finished sipping your wine, maintaining full eye contact with him.

Pumpkin seeds. You and Harry were “outside of the box” thinkers, you had to be with his life as a celebrity not exactly pairing well with your shared sexual fantasies. You had code words to indicate to each other when you were craving the other one's touch, but you knew that using the same words around friends, family, and other public figures for too long would possibly cause some suspicion. So your code words changed with the seasons, literally. When the leaves started turning that classic golden yellow and auburn, your code words changed thus came the use of the word Pumpkin Seeds.

Gemma and your mom shared a glance, raising their eyebrows in collective confusion.

“Pumpkin seeds.. For dessert ?” Gemma finally burst out., both of your mothers soft laughter followed in the background.

“Heyyy” ,Harry pouted as he bopped Gemma on the nose with some gravy ,“ I have you know Pumpkin Seeds are one of our favorite midnight snacks”. 

“Gross“, Gemma stuck out her tongue and wiped her nose. You couldn't tell whether she was referring to the gravy on her nose, your choice of midnight snacks, Harry’s smug statement followed by a wink at you, or a combination of all three.

“Well we can be concerned with dessert once we break out the baby pictures, I’ve been dying to see the infamous skinny dipping picture (y/m/n) has been telling me about”. Anne clapped her hands together and hopped out of her seat heading to the kitchen. Your mother followed behind but not before instructing you to head up to the attic to retrieve the pictures. You glanced at Harry but he seemed occupied cleaning up the dinner plates with your dad. You let out a frustrated huff and made your way up to the attic to grab the photo albums. 

As you shuffled through old boxes holding Harry’s old tour outfits and your little knickknacks from your travels, you heard the attic door open.

“Pumpkin seeds huh?”, Harry lightly chuckled letting the attic door close and leaning against the door frame. 

You refused to make eye contact with him, continuing to shuffle through the bins locating a few photo albums as you went , “It was only a matter of time Harry and you know it. Our weekend got stolen and we haven’t... ya know in like two weeks. So, yes Harry I want some damn pumpkin seeds.”

You let out a huff. You didn’t mean to come off so sassy and aggressive but you were frustrated… sexually. Your cousin was getting more Harry time in the 3 hour family dinner than you had gotten in the past two weeks. You stacked the photo albums gently on top of each other and cradled them in your arms, finally turning to face your husband but you didn't have to look very far. Harry had closed that gap between the two of you, gripping your face and making you look up at him causing you to drop the albums in shock. 

“Well let’s get you your pumpkin seeds then”

That’s all it took and sparks turned into a flame, you and Harry’s bodies connected and a feverish makeout session broke out. You both were so hungry for each other after weeks of neglects and it just felt so damn good to finally connect. Harry’s wet kisses were making their way down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. You knew he was getting into it and normally you would be completely here for it if your kitchen wasn’t flooded with family members waiting to laugh at your baby pictures.

“Baby.. we… fuckkkkk”, You moaned out as Harry popped one of your nipples out of his mouth before moving to nip on the next one. “Baby we can’t your mom is downstairs… we have to go”, you finally let out and glanced down at your husband as pinched your nipples between his finger tips. “When has that ever stopped us”, he slyly laughs. In one swift motion, he turned you around pulling your back into his chest pulling down your skirt. You couldn’t even get words of protest out, Harry had his hands wrapped around your neck and was already freeing himself from his pants and boxers. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a hiss as he watched a string of your arousal stretch from your dripping flower to his fingers.

“Baby please just do something”, you huffed out a soft moan as you waited in anticipation. The grip around your throat tightened as he entered you, both of you letting out a sigh of relief. Harry completely bottomed out inside of you, touching that special spot that only he could. Your walls clenched around him, holding him in snug almost as if your pussy was begging him not to leave. Normally the two you were very vocal during sex from dirty talk to his loud moans and your even louder cries of pleasure. However you both knew that wasn’t possible right now and kept your moans down as much as you could. Harry was not making it easy though and the noise coming from the two of your bodies colliding were basty in the best ways possible. With every thrust of Harry’s hip you could hear your wetness coating Harry dick and as Harry picked up the speed his balls roughly tapped on your clit, only adding to your pleasure. You could barely form thoughts let alone sentence, Harry was literally fucking you silly and using your G-Spot as punching bag for his dick, The sounds and the pleasure were clearly getting to Harry as well, the grip he had on your hips grew tighter and his eyes were squeezed shut. 

“Bloody fucking hell you’re so tight around me, can’t even take it”, he groans and throws his head back as he roughly draws your hips into his. It didn’t even feel like it was possible but Harry picked up the speed of his thrust continuing the assault on your poor needy pussy even further. The pleasure was all too much and that oh so familiar feeling hit the pit of your stomach and you were starting to lose your composure. Your moans were getting increasingly louder and your grip on Harry was growing tighter. Harry knew his wife and he knew your dam was getting closer and closer to breaking and he was determined to get you there. He placed a hand over your mouth and moved his other hands down to your clit rubbing it in slow circles. “ Look at you” he cooed cockily, “Taking me so fucking well like a good girl should. Barely let out a scream ‘cus you don’t want your parents to hear how much of a cock whore you are”. He knew you wouldn’t last long with the way he was talking to you and he was absolutely correct because his words were driving you insane. As the pressure was continued building up in your stomach, you felt the telling twitch in Harry’s dick that let you know he was approaching his end too.

“Gonna give me what I want uh? Gonna cum all over my cock and let me cum in that tight little pussy of yours. You gotta hold it in.. don’t want to leave any drops for our guest to find huh? Gonna be a good girl and hold all my cum in you?”, Harry grunted into your ear as you whimpered against his hands. You were seeing stars and feeling butterflies in the pit of your stomach and you knew it was only a matter of time before you both came undone.” Oh baby”, you whined and your head fell down as the pressure from your stomach finally was released as your orgasm spilled out all over Harry’s dick and thighs. The gushing feeling from your orgasm and your weak whimpers and cries drove Harry overboard, burying his face in your neck and his roughly groaning as he released inside of you. The two of you stayed connected for a bit, thighs stuck together thanks to your shared orgasm with Harry’s arm wrapped around your waist supporting both of your weights up as you composed yourselves. When he finally pulled out of you, you kept every drop he gave you tucked inside your tight walls just as promised. 

“So those Pumpkin Seeds huh”