#His rate is super low where I live so

[galaxybooper]

During a discussion in the Council, a question emerged regarding ages of our beloved characters. I suggested we ask Vincent Tong. He has granted permission for me to share and I quote, "So long as my disclaimer of me saying this is my own opinion and not canon, accompanies my answer." Please ensure to respect Vincent Tong's request if you wish to share this answer with others. As always, the question and answer are directly copied and pasted from the Cameo DM. There has been no editing or rewording. Thank you, and enjoy!

"Really the only question I have is regarding Kai's age. Seeing as asking for Kai's age for every single season is a lot, could you perhaps tell us what you think is Kai's age in at least the pilots or maybe some other season?"

"That is a big question that has so much speculation. This is what I think, and this is my personal opinion and not canon. In the pilot Kai was a teenager maybe 13-15. He was Nya’s big brother and guardian since their parents weren’t around. Now, maybe in the Ninjago universe aging is different than our ‘world’ but as you can see we have new younger Ninja’s in Dragons rising. Through the years our adventures as the OG Ninja has been such a blast. I still have the first page of the first pilot episode where Kai has the first line. I treasure it so much!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 And I can claim that I was the FIRST OG Ninja of the Ninjago series!"

[veroniquesboutique]

A Good First Impression - Atsushi Murasakibara x AFAB!Reader

I am feral over Atsushi Murasakibara. Worms using my brain for food type of feral. Foaming at the mouth type of feral.

He is unironically my phone background type of feral.

So, uh....here's this. Personally, I feel real great about it, so I hope you enjoy it as well.

Title: A Good First Impression

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, f-receiving oral, fingering, it is genuinely only him eating you out, mention of m-receiving handjob, super intense orgasm, squirting, reluctance/hesitation about the squirting but not quite dubcon/noncon, baby used regularly as pet name, college au, fear of getting caught, getting caught after the fact, home for the holidays, parent mention

Characters & ships: boyfriend!Murasakibara Atsushi x AFAB!Reader

Word count: 2.6k words

Summary: Your long-term boyfriend is nervous about staying at your childhood home and meeting your parents for the first time for four reasons:

1 - He's tall, and people tend to comment on it. Too much. 2 - First impressions are a big deal, and what if he fucks it up with his future in-laws? 3 - He met you in college and is terrified of learning something about the you from before (spoiler: you pass the test!) 4 - He can't keep his hands off of you, and he doesn't want the embarrassment of getting caught.

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

Atsushi Murasakibara was nervous to meet your parents for many reasons.

First, his height. This was the first time he was meeting your family, and your parents weren’t exactly short per se, but he was a towering 6’10”. He hated new people having to crane their neck up to look at him, he hated the same three questions and two jokes that every person tells when they meet someone as tall as him, and he hated that he was going to have to learn the careful layout of your childhood home since it was likely not designed with someone of his towering stature in mind. It was always so embarrassing when he’d bump his head on too-low ceiling fans or when he had to bend too far to reach the sink. No one really realizes how weirdly isolating it feels to be at least a head taller than everyone around you, and that’s if he’s lucky. It definitely makes the first impression game much harder.

Second, the holidays. For some reason, instead of meeting your parents for the first time at a low-stakes dinner or briefly in public, he agreed to stay for a week for the holidays at your house. It wasn’t ideal, but they lived in the countryside, and a hotel would have been so inconvenient, so you two decided to stay with your parents. He even sat through the awkward conversation where you all had to figure out if he was sleeping in your room or on the couch. Your parents weren’t exactly the most conservative people in the world - they knew you lived with him now for God’s sake, so it’s not like they had no idea what you two got up to - but everyone was deeply uncomfortable with the suggestion of anything happening under their roof. That being said, none of their couches could handle him - re: the aforementioned height problem - so they made the disgruntled decision to let you two room together. Just no locking the door.

On top of it all, he wanted to bring them gifts, but he had no idea where to even start with holiday gifts for future in-laws he’d never met. You insisted that he didn’t really have to get them anything and that they’d be thankful for anything he put thought into, but that didn’t ease the burden of deciding if your dad was a beer guy or if he was a tool guy or if he was a sports guy or a grill guy or a music guy. The options made his head spin, and that’s not even touching all the possible gifts he could get your mother. This was it - THE first impression - and if he didn’t get it right, he was afraid of a rocky relationship with them forever.

Third, your childhood. He didn’t know you before you two met in college, so everything about you before you moved to the city is a complete mystery to him. His worst nightmare was discovering something about you that he would never be able to unsee. He had always hated the vulnerability in this moment in all of his previous relationships, and it had soured more than one relationship well before its expiry date.

The night you arrived, you showed him to your room, and he held his breath as you swung the door open for him. He walked in, looking around, waiting for the weird childhood shoe to drop, but…it didn’t. The room was fairly normal. It looked like it could be a teenage room in a movie. It seemed stale, set in time, but it didn’t give him the same feeling of ick throughout his body. Carefully, shelf by shelf, he investigated your knickknacks and decorations and memories, and everything he saw made him love the small piece of you that he knew more than the last. By the time he had overturned every stone in your room, his heart was beating harshly in the rhythm of your name.

“You look like you were expecting something crazy,” You laughed at him, having watched him snoop through your past.

He looked at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was. I didn’t find anything.”

And then he snuck a kiss.

Fourth, the final most important reason he was nervous was you. Well, to be more specific, he was nervous because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and this trip wasn’t going to change anything.

He was nervous because he didn’t want to get caught.

“Ah-Ah, ‘Sushi!” You moan, high pitched and trying to keep the volume low as you wiggle in his grip in an attempt to free yourself from the intensity of his tongue between your legs. Your wrist is pressed against your lips to dampen the sound. He tightens his grip on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart and against your body, opening you up for him, and his tongue continues roughly sliding against your sensitive, buzzing clit.

“They aren’t home. You can be loud,” He grunts against you before wrapping his lips around you and sucking you into his mouth, and you can’t help it as you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling.

“They could be home any second!” You hiss, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face, and in response, he moans deeply, sending tingles through your body.

“Then cum before they get back.”

Biting your lip and panting, nearly winded, you stare down at him, meeting his eyes watching you just over your pelvis, and when his tongue dips into you and presses against your trembling walls, you moan loudly with a furrowed brow. Your fingers tangle through his messy purple strands, pushing his face against your core harder.

He slurps the messy wetness dripping out of you, the sound lewd enough to make you blush. “God, you taste so good,” He groans into you, his tongue desperate. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days!” You laugh breathlessly, body convulsing at the small nudges of his nose against your clit as he drinks you in.

“And that’s three days too many,�� he complains, shaking his head and smearing his face against the slickness between your legs. “I can’t wait like that. I need you all the time.”

You pant in response, unable to form words when his tongue finds your clit again, brushing against it at a punishing pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach spasming, and he finally releases one of your legs from his controlling grip just to slide it up your needy slit and dip one of his long fingers into you. You nearly cum then, your back arching so aggressively that you hit your head against the wall, and he can’t help the small laugh that rumbles against your nerves.

“Careful, babe,” He mutters, curling the single finger inside you, and the feeling is such a warm, pleasurable tightness in your core.

“I’m going to cum,” You whisper, dropping your jaw open in pleasure, and you feel his smile in response.

“I’m not done yet, so if you cum now, you’re going to have to handle it when I keep going.”

You whimper, lip quivering and body shaking. Breathing, you attempt to stave off the orgasm that has you dangling off the edge of sanity. He slows his movements, watching you closely as he wrings you of cute little sounds and moans and shivers, and it helps when you suck in air, huffing through your nose to stop the trembling in your lower abdomen.

“Y-you said cum before they get back,” You counter, hissing the words through your teeth as you lean up, your toes curling tightly. His tongue helicopters against your throbbing clit, and he takes the hand that was on the back of your other thigh and places it atop your pelvis, pressing down as the finger still deep inside presses up, and you feel the telltale tightening in your core that makes you panic a little.

“You can choose to cum now and be overstimulated, or you can choose to cum later at the risk of your parents hearing you,” He looks up over you with a smile, a second finger suddenly pushing into you to meet the other. “I’m a believer in autonomy.”

As his two fingers now press into the gummy sweet spot in you, you confirm the tightening is definitely going to cause many, many more problems than he’s considering. You bring your hands to grip the bedding below you, trying to wiggle away again. “’Sushi, I-I, wait, I’m going to-” You frustratingly cut yourself off with a groan as his mouth finds your clit again.

“Going to what, babe?” His voice rumbles against you, and there’s a soft wash of pleasure moving through you like waves against a shore. You can only think that it’s going to be a pain to clean after this.

“It’s going to-I’m going to-”

“Aw, baby, I need you to use your words,” He teases, batting his eyelashes innocently when you shoot him a glare.

“I’m going to make a mess,” You grunt through gritted teeth, raising your eyebrows in hopes of him understanding the euphemism, and when it clicks in his brain, his eyes go bright and wide.

He hums darkly, pressing his fingers into you deeper and earning a surprised squeal out of you. “You’re going to squirt for me, baby?”

“God, I hate that word!” You yelp, involuntarily grinding your hips down onto him and panting out in tight, restrained pleasure. “You-you gotta stop now, I-”

“I wouldn’t dare waste this opportunity. You know I love making a mess of you.” His voice is dark, his eyes still teasing as he draws circles around your clit, and between the stretch of his now scissoring fingers, the pressure on your pelvis from his large hand, and his unrelenting pace on your sensitive spots, you’re seeing stars.

Falling back, you groan again, the feeling of uncomfortable tightening worsening deep in you. “The bedding!” You exclaim, arching your back, “I can’t-ah, fuck, I’ll mess up the bedding.”

“Your parents have a washer.”

“The bedding was from my grandmother,” You groan, scrunching up your face and writhing, closing your thighs around his head when it gets too intense. Hyperventilating, you press the side of your face into the pillow, bringing your hand to your face to bite down on your hand to quell the rocking of pleasure inside you now.

“Pity,” He mumbles, distracted too much by the sounds pouring from your mouth, the clenching of your pussy, the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, the slick sounds of his fingers deep in you, and the promise of even more to come (literally and figuratively). “We should’ve put a towel down, huh?”

You groan, frustrated by his lackadaisical demeanor but unable to communicate it as the feeling of pleasure floods your body. You can feel your eyes go a little hazy, and moments later, you call out, your orgasm hitting you like a wall of bricks. It feels like an electric shock through your body, every muscle in your body tensing with a tight zap as the dam breaks inside of you. You squirt, gushing and coating the bed and, effectively, Atsushi’s face, and the only thing that cuts through the absolute sensory overload of your pleasure is his praise that he groans against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. Feel it, c’mon, you can breathe. You taste so good, thank you, baby, thank you.”

With your heavy pants and soft, whimpering moans as aftershocks of the orgasm reverberate through you, your pussy pulses and throbs in time with your heart, and when he softly pushes into you one last time to wring the rest of it out of you, you squeak out a last whine as the final wave of your cum rushes out of you and over his hand. He chuckles at the sight, pulling out of you and dragging his tongue up his fingers while making dark, teasing eye contact with you. Watching his tongue work to lick all of your cum off his skin, your body trembles with both your world-shattering orgasm and the sudden impending need that pulses through you yet again already.

“Kiss me?” You breathe softly, lips barely parted, and he cracks a wide smile, laughing like he’s disbelieving of you.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby.” His voice is tense and dark with desire, and he crawls up your body slowly, and he meets your mouth with his extended tongue. You lick against it, tasting yourself, and he moans out loud, his hips pressing against yours. His length, hard and impressive, rubs against you, and the friction makes you cry out. You’re too sensitive and overstimulated, but he just smirks against your lips. “I told you to choose carefully. I wasn’t done with you.”

His hand drags down your body, feeling your curves with a hint of possession in his grasp. When he reaches his waist where his hips are pressing into yours, he grips his belt, pulling at the buckle, ripping it through the belt loops on his pants -

The front door opens. The sound of rustling bags floats up to your room. The floorboards creak.

Your eyes go wide in panic.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother calls up the stairs. “We’re home! Atsushi and you should come down and help us with dinner.”

“Get up, get up!” You mutter under your breath, gently batting at his shoulder as he frantically slides off you and off the bed, fixing his belt and helping you by pulling your bedding off. You’re searching for clothes, quickly pulling them on your legs.

The stairs whine as someone climbs step by step.

Your face burns at the impending embarrassment. Atsushi is struggling to hide his arousal with his clothes, and you’re struggling to wipe the slowly drying slick from between your thighs. Your bedding lays in a crumpled, suspicious ball on your mattress.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother asks again, her voice much closer than before.

The doorknob jiggles against the lock.

“C-coming!” You call back, pushing your fingers through your hair as Atsushi wipes his hands down his face to clean up any mess left behind.

“Your door’s-”

You cut off your mother’s inquiry about the locked door by swinging it open. “Sorry, force of habit,” You laugh, opening the door wide enough that she can see Atsushi sitting at your desk with his phone in his hand. He nods a greeting at her.

Her eyes flit to your unmade bed, back down to you, and back over to Atsushi. A slight blush covers her cheeks. “We…we brought groceries for dinner. Would you two like to come help?”

You look over your shoulder at Atsushi who meets your gaze. After a moment, he shrugs and nods. “Sure, we’d love to.”

“Great…come…down when you’re ready,” Your mother says awkwardly, quickly excusing herself back down the stairs. Once you hear her shoes click into the kitchen, you shut the door again, pressing your back to it as you finally let the air in your lungs go in a long sigh. You look up at Atsushi who is trying to bite back his laughter.

“Do you think she noticed?” You wince, knowing the answer.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She knows everything,” He stands, lumbering across the room towards you. He kisses your nose, his hand meeting yours on the doorknob. “Let’s go help with dinner.” He thinks. “And maybe later you can pay me back with a handjob in the shower.”

You groan, the thought of the blush on your mother’s face making your embarrassment burn brighter. “Absolutely not.”

[eightballspins]

(๑>؂•̀๑) how they act when they're drunk

pairing : p1harmony x male reader

rating : fluffy and comedy bc im funny <3

requested : yes !!! thank u for ur request <3 plss dont b afraid to send me some more, no matter who or if its ot6 (it just might take me a thousand years...) i love getting requests sm hehe

warnings : obvs mention of alcohol and being intoxicated

ᯓᡣ𐭩 yoon keeho

i see keeho as an EMOTIONAL DRUNK, like incredibly vocal about everything he is feeling at all times. he acts just like an incredibly clingy, emotional drunk that won’t get off of you. we already know how touchy he is when hes sober (rip jiung LMAO), imagine that when he’s 1. super sensitive 2. constantly wanting to feel love from you, his boyfriend, and 3. incredibly vocal about everything but especially — wanting to physical touch from you. you’d probably have to reason with him for twenty minutes why you need to leave him for twenty seconds just to piss.

“kyo, i need to pee so bad, i don’t think you get it,”

“no! you don’t get how, if you leave me here, i’ll die. i’ll seriously die. i think i’ll stop breathing or something.”

“that won’t happen.”

“you won’t know that for sure until it happens — and then what?!”

you eventually have to settle for bringing him into the bathroom where he has the right mind to just stand in the corner in silence while you do your business. it’s a really funny sight, his head hanging low and an obvious pout on his lips.

“i feel like” is the beginning of a lot of his sentences where he proceeds to explain everything he is feeling about everything in grand detail. it’s a cute thing he does, but sometimes you do have to cut him off because he has zero filter and could possibly end up offending someone (”i feel like that girl’s boyfriend right across the couch from us, that’s staring right at us, with the really ugly outfit is really, really, ugl-” “oh! wow, shouldn’t you be drinking some more water, kyo? hahah…”)

he apologizes several times throughout the night for being so bothersome, but really, it’s not that big of a deal. just because you have to listen to him ramble for a little longer than usual and sometimes choose your words more carefully, but it really isn’t as if it’s the end of the world. just be sure to reassure him at the end of the night that you didn’t mind keeping him company and stuff and he’ll be a happy man.

“i’m sorry for being so much when i’m drunk…and always saying i won’t get drunk like this again,” he whispers softly, his hand playing with your fingers as your sat in the now quiet living space. you retract your hand from his, moving it to play with his loose strands of hair.

“it’s okay, i don’t really mind, y’know? i’ll always be here,” your smile melts his heart and for some reason he starts crying.

“i just love you so much and i don’t know what i did to deserve you, you’re the perfect boyfriend and i’m just here crying, i’m sorry,” his sobs get progressively louder and it takes everything in you to not chuckle at his abnormally emotional self. you just comfort him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he properly calms down into an eventual nap.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi taeyang

i think theo is the type of drunk to either go COMPLETELY SILENT or COMPLETELY YAP someone’s ear off. he already has so much to say when he’s sober (he’s so funny i love him), so when he’s drunk, that either gets amplified to a million or completely shut down. the night could look like you constantly asking him if he’s okay as he stares off into the void or you having to constantly stop him from causing a really messy altercation with his unfiltered opinions. he acts like a complete prince to you, though, trust he will bat his eyes all pretty and pretend as if he didn’t just insult a person to filth right in front of you.

on the nights where he goes silent, you have to constantly just nudge him and ask if he’s okay. he looks up at you with wide, blank and slowly nods his head, which makes you reiterate your question, and he does the same thing. it’s a little bit scary how quiet and to himself he gets, but at least you don’t have worry about him bouncing off the walls idk. if he ever needs help with something or just wants your attention, he will just tug on you or your clothes, literally being silent the entire time.

feeling a lazy hand pull on yours, you turn to taeyang and raise your brows in question. he motions over to the bottle of water in his hands (that he had gotten himself when you weren’t looking) and makes a twisting motion with his freehand. obviously, you comply, opening the water bottle for him and handing it over without question.

“you feeling okay?” you ask softly, sitting next to him and brushing his hair aside. he nods after gulping down the water, leaning against your shoulder and taking a deep breath. he’s so mellowed out like this that he falls asleep on your shoulder and stays like that until he wakes. he goes to sleep thankful that he has such a patient boyfriend and a smile on his face, his hand reaching for and holding yours before he knocks out.

on the other hand, if you’re dealing with the loud and chaotic taeyang, i wish you all the best…this man is a straight menace. there is a high chance he could end up pissing off the wrong person at some point of the night and you need to drag him out of a situation before it gets really bad. he’s a very straightforward man, obviously, but when he’s sober he has a filter most of the time and knows the right time and place. when he’s drunk, that differentiation he has for that goes out the window.

“why did you wear those pants and shirt, they’re ugly together.” he says frankly to a drunk keeho, whose face scrunches up at the blatant insult and looks as if he is about to cry, which taeyang then eggs on, “wait don’t cry, that’d be really sad if the reason you were to cry is because of your own decision,”

“taeyang, enough! oh my god,” you say, pulling him away from the keeho who was now curled up on the floor and clutching his clothes.

“oh, hi, baby,” he grins and throws an arm around your shoulder, dragging you down immensely with his weight, “i didn’t see you there,” a cheesy line he says almost every time he’s drunk, “do you like my outfit today? i chose it with you in mind,” he blows you a kiss and you have to hold yourself back from smooshing his face with your hand.

“just shh, please, before you say something so cheesy-”

“woah! that girl’s boyfriend is really ugly! should we help her? do you think he’s holding her hostage?!” his loud, booming voice fills the room and it takes everything in you to not abandon him there to fend for himself.

immediately, you bow to the couple and say quick apologies and move to hopefully move taeyang away from the scene. but he just puts more gasoline on the fire by kindly saying, “miss, do you need help? put the number three up if that strange man is bothering you!”

“taeyang, please, shut up!”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi jiung

oh my god jiung gets really PHILOSOPHICAL, like really philosophical. and he gets a little sappy, but most of the time he reels it in before he gets overly emotional. out of nowhere, he’ll ask you the most complex moral questions or things about the universe and fate and stuff like that, then immediately follow it up with, “oh, well, whatever :D” as if he didn’t just make you rethink your life choices. but it ends up being a sweet behavior of his because it somehow ends with him bashfully praising you and being explicitly very thankful for the relationship the two of you have.

“i read somewhere,” he starts and you knew that you were in for a rough one, “that some people believe that they’re connected with their soulmate through an invisible red string. have you ever heard of that?”

“i have,”

“do you believe in it?”

“…i don’t know, that’s a really complex subject — fate and stuff,”

he shrugs, looking onward at seemingly nothing, “i don’t think it’s that believable but then i think about us and i start to believe in stuff like that,” there’s a long pause before he says, “but also, i think fate isn’t completely responsible for us meeting. i don’t know how to explain it, but i don’t want to give all the credit of our relationship to something like fate — i feel like we’re more than that, y’know?”

his question leaves you contemplating everything about your relationship, trying to think like jiung and imagine.

“if people believe that there is a string connecting them to their soulmate, they probably would leave everything up to fate and not actively search for their soulmate, right? i don’t think that was the case with me — well, i wasn’t always trying to find someone for me, but i don’t…hm, i don’t know how to word it. what do you think?”

“i think…” there’s silence as you think about how to formulate your words, settling on, “i just know i love you, jiung, it shouldn’t be that complicated.”

he processes your words for a couple of seconds before laughing as if you had said the funniest thing in the world. the type of laugh that makes him drop his jaw and release gasps for air from how hard he was laughing. his hand was now holding yours and he’s squeezing as if his life depends on it.

“you’re right,” he manages in between gasps of air, “you’re right. i love you too, that’s enough,” he drops his head into your shoulder where he hums in content, “yes, i should just think about how lucky i am to even have you — no matter how it happened or what the chances were because that doesn’t matter now. what matters now is that we are now together,” he links your pinkies together, grinning wide like a child, “i love it, how we’re so connected.”

“by that string you were talking about?” you tease, making him shake his head.

“no, just how we work together and how you love me and how i love you,”

his heartfelt words and unusually very sincere considering his current state, but you accept them with a genuine smile and knocking of his forehead against yours. a drunk man’s words are his sober thoughts, or however the saying goes.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 hwang intak

intak…he’s so funny bruh. he’s an ENTERTAINER drunk, the party guy that ends up getting all the attention, but really that wasn’t his end goal. he’s definitely the type to pretend to want all the attention on him, but really he just wants to impress you…even though you’re already dating…he wants to be the only one you look at and will put on a show in order for that to happen.

someone was urgently calling your name, following it up with your boyfriends and something about the pool. obviously, concerned for his safety, you drop everything and rush to the backyard where the pool was.

“oh, there he is,” intak cheers, walking over and picking you up with his strong arms, “i was wondering where my baby was,” he’s sloppily kissing your cheek after that comment and grinning ear to ear the entire time.

“what’s going on? are you alright?” you ask, immediately concerned for his health.

“i’m fine, are you okay?” he shoots back, tilting his head to the side with a pout, “you feel good?”

“i feel great, but someone said something about you and a pool so i came running as soon as i heard,” you explained, taking in the scene and realizing that there were now people eagerly awaiting something.

“oh! that’s nothing!” he cheerfully says, booping your nose with his finger, “mr. worry over here, huh? that shows how much you love me, y’know?” he begins dragging you off to go inside, but someone from the surrounding crowd shouts.

“wait, intak!! you said you’d hold your breath underwater for two minutes! come on, man, i already bet money that you’d be able to!!”

intak grins ear to ear, not at all bothered by the person shouting, “oh! i’m not doing that anymore, sorrryyy!!” his apology is elongated with his voice dragging out the last syllable.

“what?! you can’t do that!”

“i just did — pfttt!” he sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry before completely dragging you inside and into the house, “babe, wanna watch me stuff three cupcakes in my mouth?” he curiously asks, which you obviously deny in fear of his wellbeing (three cupcakes? he’d definitely choke on them and you were not aware of how to do the Heimlich maneuver).

“no, it’s okay intak,” you politely decline, making your way to the icebox that hopefully has spare waterbottles.

“did you know i could drink an entire water bottle in under seven seconds? here, let me show you-”

“no, no, it’s okay intak,” you repeat, grabbing his hand that was reaching for the bottle and putting it back to his side, “just drink the water normally okay?”

his eyes are just full of so much love, slightly tinged red, with his naturally red blushing cheeks and he obediently nods yes.

“yesss, sirrr!” he chants, going to drink the water at a normal pace.

after sitting down for a couple of seconds, you begin scanning the room for any free space you two could occupy. but intak interprets it as you losing interest in him so he says something drastic to get your attention again, “wanna see me do a backflip off the counter? i finally learned how to! (he did not.)”

“no, it’s okay, intak,” you repeat once more, smoothing out his hair and smiling softly at him. “how about i watch you get comfortable on the couch over there where you can take a breather?”

“well, as long as you watch me,” he agrees, a carefree smile on his face as he lets you guide him to the couch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 haku shota

shota just likes sticking by your side when he’s drunk, a SILENT CLINGY drunk. hes an introverted extrovert so he only really wants to be near someone that he feels completely comfortable with, which at the top of that list would be you. he hangs by your side, almost completely silent. and when he isn’t silent, it’s the quietest random noises that he makes to get your attention.

“do you want some more water?” you ask your boyfriend, noticing that he was now nursing an empty water bottle. his big dark eyes look up at you and he nods his head in confirmation. you stand up to get the beverage and he follows suit, shooting up out of his sitting position and clinging to your arm as you navigate through the crowd.

it’s funny too because when he’s drunk he has a really weird and unexplainable possessive streak??? he is still silent when showing that possessiveness, so it really just looks and sounds like a jealous puppy that is following you around and trying to keep as many strangers away from you as possible. it’s cute since its incredibly harmless and it doesn’t warner any scolding or quick apologies from you whenever he does show any territorial behavior, instead you just look at his cute annoyed expression and appease him.

on the way to get his water, there was someone in the crowd that had recognized you and wanted to catch up. not seeing a problem with that, because there really isn’t any in the first place, you obliged and began chatting with them. it was a friendly convo, the person even greeting the silent shota by your side, but the man didn’t acknowledge them. after explaining how your boyfriend was a little out of it due to his intoxication, the person nodded in understanding. and shota thought that that would be the end of it…to his immense displeasure, the person didn’t leave you guys alone. and he was starting to feel more and more annoyed at their presence. he wrapped his hand around yours and squeezed tight enough that it got your attention. finally having your eyes on him, he batted his eyes at you innocently and motioned over to the empty water bottle you were still holding. remembering why you had even gotten up in the first place, you excuse yourself and soul from the conversation, which made smile in accomplishment.

“thank you,” he quietly whispers after accepting the water from you, leaning in for a soft kiss. you smile at his gentle behavior, immediately kissing back and then pulling away to let him drink some. he eagerly looks around like a lost puppy, as if he’s trying to find something. and just as you’re about to question him, he puts his head down in defeat and simply drinks.

“what was that?” you chuckle, bringing him in closer and smiling at his now slightly wet lips and sparkling eyes.

“nothing,” he says, leaning in for several more pecks in a row — which you obviously comply to. his clingy behavior and craving for your lips against his doesn’t falter at all through the night, but no one is complaining.

(he was trying to see if the person that was “bothering” you two earlier had seen the two of you be all lovey-dovey, but he couldn’t find them in the crowd)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 kim jongseob

jongseob is so funny when he’s drunk in the sense he’s a YAPPING and CLINGY mess, but SHYYY at the same time. at the beginning of the night, it isn’t that bad, to be honest. he’s capable of taking care of himself and standing on his own (literally and figuratively lmao) and even engaging in coherent conversation with others, but after a while he just wants to talk to you. yes, he’s still talking (probably about anything and everything too), but he just wants to stick by your side. oh, he’s also a really big blushing mess — acting like you guys are in middle school all over again and it's your first day as an officla couple, sometimes forgets you guys are actually dating and it’s not just a one sided crush (poor seobie lmao)

you and jongseob were sitting on the sidelines of the party. close enough that your legs were touching each others, but definitely not super cuddly on top of each other. your boyfriend was talking on and on about a vast variety of topics, sounding as if he was speaking in tongue twisters, but you really were trying your hardest to keep up. you were looking forward, but after hearing him stutter over his words a little, you turned to look towards him.

unsurprisingly, his eyes were already watching you and when you made eye contact he ducked his head down and began fiddling with his fingers. it was adorable, but it made you confused because ? did you have something on your face? or was he just not feeling good because the alcohol was catching up to him.

“you alright, babe?” his cheeks go ablaze at the pet name, but he aggressively nods his head to prove that he was fine.

“you wanna keep telling me about the progress of your island in animal crossing, then? i was really invested, y’know?” you grin and scoot closer to him, putting your arm around his seat and getting more comfortable.

“you were listening?” he asks quietly, hyper aware that your bodies were now much closer and you were leaning into him.

“of course i was, seob,” you answer easily, sighing in content. jongseob shyly holds your hand and moves closer to you, his face feeling as if it were going to explode from how hard he was blushing. he’s acting as if you haven’t been dating for the longest time.

give the two of you ten minutes uninterrupted and you’ll find jongseob shamelessly holding you close as he mutters mindless nothings as a way of staying awake. you offer several times to just go home, but he stubbornly argues that you two are too comfortable too move.

“i really like your eyes,” he says, studying your face and then pursing his lips, “but your nose is also really nice…and your lips, even your ears…unfair,” he sighs, dropping his head to rest on the couch cushion to his left as he faces you head on. you laugh at what seems to be a very serious dilemma for him, running your hand up and down his arm.

“what are you talking about, seob? you’re the prettiest guy i know, much prettier and more handsome than me,” you compliment to lift his spirits, but obviously all the sincerity is still there, “especially your smile,”

he buries his head into the cushion and you swear you hear him scream (?), but the music surrounding you guys could be making you delusional (you’re not he really did scream).

your boyfriend continues being a shy mess for as long as he’s drunk then begs for you to forget everything he said and how he acted when he’s sobered up because he’s so embarrassed.

[baby-tini]

do you think you could make some hcs about how each Mikey would react about reader successfully escaping and he finds her years later? And if not that's completely fine, have a good day

Not exactly HCs, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless~

TW- Kidnapping, Abuse

With Street Racer!Mikey, there's no escaping really, and I don't mean that as in you're not gonna get away, I just mean that he doesn't really have any bad or toxic behaviors, so there's no need too leave really. But, for the sake of this post, I'll say he does. I would say that it wouldn't be easy, simply because of his reputation and the fame that he has. I do imagine that he's pretty big on social media and he obviously has pictures of you, so fans are gonna recognize you. With constant paparazzi in your face and fans swarming you, leaving Street Racer!Mikey isn't going too be easy. If you did manage too get away though, he'd be pretty heart-broken and upset, I don't see him getting super pissed buy he'd be pretty upset and would actually file you a missing person, because, why would he look, knowing he doesn't have the capabilities in doing so, he'd have the police do it for him, When they do manage too find you though, his eyes are just empty as he takes you in his arms as he welcomes you home, stating that he was so worried and that he's glad you're safe.

Manila!Mikey would be the easiest, surprisingly, simply for the fact that he doesn't have the influences that the others do. He's not a big gang leader anymore, it's just you and him. The most difficult thing would be living in the Philippines, specifically if you're not from there and you're simply just a tourist, Manila, in the Philippines, is surrounded by water, so you can't leave without a boat or a plane so you'd have too be hiding out there. Getting on a plane or boat would be relatively hard for you because that's where he's constantly gonna be looking out for. It'll be harder for you if you stay on the move and are changing your name or look constantly. He will find you though.. and when he does, whether that be years or months later, you're deeply in for it and you're never leaving again. He might even go as far as too break your legs so that you physically can't leave him again, his approach isn't really that bad though, especially if you're in public, he'd just lead you away, whispering threats in your ear as you feel his gun digging into your side. When he gets you behind closed doors though... it's not very pretty for you.

Bonten!Mikey and Kanto!Mikey are the hardest too escape from, simply because of their influence and authority. They're both infamous gang-leaders and have a plethora of disposable men that are constantly watching you.

For Bonten!Mikey though, your biggest problem wouldn't even be Mikey himself, it would be Sanzu. He is extremely loyal to Mikey and he reports everything you do back to Mikey, even the smallest of things, like eating a certain thing or where you're going and how often you're going too. Now, with Bonten!Mikey, while he is busy quite often, he's not away all that much, he just sends his executives away too do it for him so that he can stay with you and you're always physically with him. So much so that he'll stand outside the door as you're showering, he's truly so clingy, so escaping him has an extremely low success rate. When, or if, you do, he's gonna lose it. He turns more cold, if possible, and everyone bares his wrath, he becomes more physical and he's teetering on the edge if a breakdown. You are another person that has yet again, left him, and he's just out of it, even slipping into a depressive episode. That was until, Sanzu had found you, and he's quick too report it too Mikey and he's never driven so fast, demanding, over the phone that Sanzu consistently trail you as he gets there. You don't really know what's happening as you're thrown into a car, it's dark and it's cold, you can't even see anything as you fall face-first on the soft cushioning as his hands immediately grab for you. The same cold hands you've dreaded feeling since you've escaped as you stared up onto the dead black abyss that were Mikeys eyes. Kanto!Mikey is a very similar situation for you, its very hard too leave for you because he's so notorious in the gang world and there's a lot people that are willing too hurt you. So, he's already very watchful of you in the first place. You're constantly with him, you don't even have room too breath- much less have freedom around him. He's also so very strict with you and he has rules planned for you, as well as consistent updates about you, from his men. Now, lets say a miracle happened and you did escape. He's not going too stop until he finds you and if it takes him years too find you, it's gonna be a brutal meeting when he sees you again, he's gonna go from having his hands around your throat too making out with multiple times within the same hour and it's excruciating for the next few months for you. You're gonna be walking on egg-shells for a long time and he'll never trust you again and you're not gonna be on your own ever again. You can do nothing by yourself, ever again. Good luck.

Toman!Mikey is a good 50\50 for escaping for you, it's not the hardest but also not the easiest. Again, going back to him being a gang-leader, he has people watching you and it's for the simple facts of safety. He understands how dangerous his reputation is perceived and there'll be people that are going too use you as collateral too spite him and Toman!Mikey can't have that happening. So you're already on a pretty tight leash and are constantly escorted by his most trusted men to everywhere you're going, and while he would constantly like too be with you, he knows that's not very plausible, but he's fine with the cute pictures and videos that he has you send him while he's away from you. When you do manage too escape though, Mikey doesn't really notice at first, simply because he's away, but when he receives the flood of texts from his men, detailing your escape, he didn't think it was actually an escape at first, he thought it was a kidnapping and he was quite infuriated. When he does figure out it's a kidnapping, he has his men working day and night looking for you, no rest for them until you're back in his possession and they know that. When you're back in his arms years later, you are no longer given the freedom that you once had, but you now sit, as a caged bird. No longer allowed the fresh air as he, personally, watches you from the video camera he had installed in your new room.

[sailoryooons]

Request: Alpha Yoongi x omega reader. Werewolves. Smut and fluff. Dom Yoongi and sub reader. Starting with non-sexual dominance like her kneeling at his feet. Then, kind of a fear/primal chase in the woods as foreplay. Smut. And then aftercare with nesting.

❀ Pairing: Alpha Werewolf!Yoongi x Omega werewolf! F. reader

❀ Summary: Your alpha wants to go on a hunt through the woods. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 8,727

❀ Genre: A/b/o, werewolves, supernatural, established relationship

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: I have never used the word scent and smells this much in my life please forgive me for I have used it a million times, alpha/omega dynamics, Yoongi chasing through the reader for fun, light predator/prey play, sexually explicit content including unprotected sex (f. receiving), breeding kink, mention of ruts, oral sex (f. receiving) not a lot of foreplay, a ton of being in subspace and hormone drunk, reader is pretty much a pillow princess/borderline free use for Yoongi, a lot of slick and soft dom Yoongi/sub reader, hint at aftercare and nesting

❀ Published: April 11, 2023

❀ A/N: Hi okay so I re-wrote this like three times because every time I did it, I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of filling this request, but I think I finally have something that I am happy with! It went in a little bit of a different place, but I hope that you like it! I am super unused to writing werewolves and a/b/o and I had such a good time dipping my toe in - it’s something I want to write in the future where I have some room to world build and go crazy on word count hehehe. Enjoy!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Milestone Event Request Fill |

Trees flash by you as you run, hands pumping at your sides, heart thundering in your chest. A pack of rabbits startle as you run by, bolting into their little dens. The earth is damp beneath your feet, still saturated with morning rain. You almost loose your footing more than once as you spring over a fallen tree, dry-rotted and full of ants.

The pine trees are packed tight, shafts of moonlight painting the forest floor in spotlights of silver as you run. The low-hanging branches catch you on your flight, needles stinging your skin but not drawing blood. Still, you snarl as a branch cracks under your barefoot, sending a sharp pang through your sole. 

You don’t stop, moving blindly toward the south of your territory. You don’t look over your shoulder to see where he is - you don’t need to. Even with a small head start, Yoongi is far faster than you are, and you swear the land changes at his command, putting tangled vines where you don’t remember them being, adding a hole to trip you up as you sprint through the trees. 

Yoongi isn’t magic, of course. He cannot change the lay of the land any more than you can, but he walks among these trees and hills every night. Plus, you’re frantic in your runaway, your human instincts bluring, somewhere between wolf and person. 

Run, little omega, Yoongi had whispered, pupils blown out, scent heady and hypnotizing. You’d only just come through the door to find him standing in the living room on the edge of pre-rut. Run and don’t let me catch you. 

Except Yoongi is going to catch you. You can hear the squirrels in the trees chattering angrily at him as he crashes through the woods behind you. He doesn’t have to be quiet - he is the top of the food chain here, he has nothing to fear. And neither do you, really. You’re a predator too, a wolf born and bred in these woods.

There is only a single thing you are prey to and he is laughing manically behind you as he hunts you down. 

Movement to your right catches your eye. Yoongi’s trying to cut you off, coming from the west of the woods to intercept you as you scramble south. You snarl and change direction, swerving southeast to put distance between the two of you. 

“Ah, come on, omega!” he hollers behind you, voice closer than you expect. You move faster, desperate to outrun him.

This far south of your house is a ravine. You know that if you slide down the side and run east, you’ll end up in Jungkook’s territory. A place your’e definitely not allowed to go, especially right now. You throw caution to the wind anyways, making a line for the ravine, singularly focused on making the slide down. 

You never make it, Yoongi slamming into your side and knocking you off your feet. You scream as you go down hard, but not hard enough to do more than jar your bones. Yoongi takes the brunt of your fall; you pressed against his chest, his back hitting the ground hard before he rolls. 

Gasping for breath, you claw at him, scraping to move from where he has you pinned. He laughs, catching your hands in one fist and slamming them above your head. His grip and the sound of him snarling your name has you snap to attention, going boneless. 

Yoongi is panting heavily against you, filling your space with his scent. Your eyes flutter as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath. Every inhale has your sense flooding with Yoongi’s scent: pine and sage, edged with something heaver and muskier. 

Alpha near rut. 

It makes your head spine and for a second, your vision of him goes a little blurry. He lets go of your hands but you don’t move. He knows you won’t, pinned under the heavy weight of him as he straddles your waist, sitting on you. 

Blinking the heaviness from your eyes, you look up at him and it feels like the world stops. 

Yoongi’s round face is framed by dark, black hair. It’s a little damp with sweat, clinging to his brow bone. His feline eyes are sharp and wild, pupils dilated with the frenzy of the hunt. A single, dark scar mars his right eye. You used to feel a pang of guilt looking at it, a reminder of what being an alpha had cost him. 

Now, though, you think of it fondly. You’ve traced it hundreds of times with your fingers, know every smooth and knotted surface of the injury. Yoongi is beautiful with and without it, lips glossy as his tongue darts out to wet them.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi growls, leaning down. You hold your breath as he leans toward your neck, nosing the scent gland there. Stars burst behind your eyes and you shiver underneath him, let out a whimper. He laughs, the sound low and scratchy in your ear. “Could smell you all the way from the house.” Yoong’s hands runs down your hips, skirts your thigh, and slips between your legs. He presses his fingers against your jeans. “Could smell this perfect little cunt for miles.”

A high-pitched whine leaves you as Yoongi presses harder, fingers providing the barest amount of friction. The ache between your legs is growing painful, your stomach twisting in arousal in response to the smell of him, the touch of him. An omega responding to their alpha in pre-rut, nearly on the brink of instrictual frenzy. 

Forming coherent thoughts is difficult, especially when you’re mind is in a state that’s more wolf than human. That’s the struggle with werewolves, toeing the line between human and animal. Instinct and choice. Your body does not choose to respond to him on a chemical level, but you don’t mind. It’s Yoongi. Your Yoongi. Your mate. 

“I told you not to get caught.”

You huff, irritation stoking you. He mouths at your throat over your gland, making you nearly pass out. “You’re faster than I am.”

“That isn’t true.”

Yoongi distracts you with a wet, hot lick over your mating mark. You let out a loud moan, not even trying to hide it this time. He laughs as you squirm under him, silenced when he growls your name. “Is that true, omega?” He asks, mouthing at your jaw. You can hardly understand his line of questioning as your thoughts and feelings blur. “Am I really faster than you?”

For a few moments, you don’t respond. Everything feels heightened, the sound of Yoongi’s voice buzzing against the corner of your mouth as he brushes his lips across your skin, not kissing you exactly. You’re hyper-aware of the smell of him, threatening to drive you into madness. Feel the way his hips press to against yours. 

“Omega.” Yoongi’s voice is final. 

“No,” you admit. “You’re not faster than me.” 

“So you let me catch you?” 

“I thought about it.” Yoongi nose bumps yours. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth barely touches yours and you speak against his lips, “But then I decided I wanted to win.”

“And you were running to Jungkook’s hmm?” You wince and he hums, knowing he’s right. “Bad omega. Little wolves running into another alphas territory while they’re being hunted isn’t a very good idea, huh?”

“Would you have followed?”

“Of course I would. You’re mine. I would follow you into a fucking fire. Little Jungkookie’s territory is nothing.”

It’s a simple declaration, but you know what it means for an alpha to boldly claim he would enter another wolf’s territory, to break a line of demarcation. You can’t help but smile, leaning your head upward to press a kiss to his lips, hungry and tired of running from him. 

Yoongi lets you, though you feel the shape of a smirk through the sweet taste of his mouth, warm against yours. Yoongi sinks his hips heavily against yours and you moan into his mouth, spurring him further. Your hands remain where he left them, outstretched above your head as he licks into you, no longer content to let you kiss him the way you want. 

His kisses consume you. He takes your breath away, hand leaving the apex of your thighs to snake up your front, loosely gripping your throat. You feel dizzy. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t do anything but rest his hand at the base of your neck, fingers pressed lightly to the sides of your throat. 

It’s comforting, having him smother you like this. You get lost in the wet tangle of his tongue, your skin burning up from the inside out. He rolls his hips into you, but it’s not enough. You need him, a fire sparking to life that burns hotter than you can manage.

A feverish need comes over you. Yoongi senses the shift. His kisses turn to bites, teething gently at your skin as he works you out of your clothes. You still haven’t moved your hands and when he glances at them, he grins. 

Your eyes are only for him, shrouded in darkness as he pulls your pants down, then your shirt. Your eyes are sharp in the dark, able to see the rippling muscle of his arms and shoulders. The dusty nipples, the swells and planes of his chest and stomach. See the way his gaze is fucked out when he’s barely touched you, shuffling down your legs, hands skimming and grabbing the soft meat of your thighs. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dragging from the wet smear down your thighs, to your hands above your head. You whine under his gaze and he grins, feral and sharp. “So obedient for me.”

“You like hands above head until you say so.”

“I do.” Yoongi bows low, grabbing your legs and hiking them over his shoulders. Your world spins, feeling his breath on your cunt as he makes a low sound in his throat. “Fucking wet, just how I like it.” 

Yoongi licks a sloppy path up your pussy and you gasp, head digging back into the grass. It’s almost painful, the need for him pulsing between your legs. He hums, sucking at your clit hungrily. Your toes curl and you hide your face in your arm, the urge to squirm away from the stimulation strong.  

You’re an exposed wire under Yoongi’s tongue as he eats you out, messy and wet. He laps at your hole, eager to taste you, nose pressed against your clit, teasing. You whimper his name, thighs clenching, fisting your hands together as you fight to remain still. It’s nearly impossible, this stillness he’s asked of you. You want to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, want to dig your nails in and scratch, want to pull him close and shove him away.

The sounds he makes are obscene, alternating between sucking loudly and flicking his tongue against your throbbing clit. It’s pleasure-laced pain. You want him to fuck you, to sink into you as deep as he can until you can’t do anything but take it. But you like this too, the way Yoongi’s tongue works your clenching hole.

A high-pitched keen leaves your mouth. He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded as he sticks his tongue out, making a show of licking your cunt top to bottom. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you mumble his name, speech slurred. 

“Hmm?” he asks, grunting against you as he works you closer to an orgasm, which hovers in the distance. He looks up at you again, sees the tears lining your eyes. “You can touch me,” he murmurs, saying the world between lush licks between your folds. “Greedy omega.”

And so what if you are greedy. Yoongi gives you everything you want. He makes a grumble about it, rolling his eyes and sometimes acting like it’s a little inconvenience, but you know he loves it- loves this. Loves letting you get away with things when you ask sweetly.

Yoongi’s hair is silky and a little sweaty as you run your fingers through it, nails scratching at his scalp the way he likes. His moan is muffled against your pussy and you wriggle beneath him. It feels so good, your stomach in knots. Your limbs begin to tingle and you feel that tight, squeezing feeling in your core, clenching hard. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dig your nails into Yoongi’s scalp and he growls at the pain. You think your breaking skin, nails turned into claws, limbs shaking as your orgasm tightens and tightens until it feels like you can’t breath, like the world is going to crack in half. 

And then it breaks. Your orgasm floods out of you in a rush, your muscle spasming so hard that you scream. Heels digging into the dirt, fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, head whipped to the side, cheek pressed into the ground and eyes squeezed shut so hard you see colors exploded behind your eyelids. 

Heavy-limbed and feeling drunk, you drop your legs open a bit. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips, flipping you over. You don’t have the strength to hold yourself up, hands buckling under you, face pressed to the back of your palms. He says something that you can’t hear, your head still swimming in the clouds. 

Every one of your joints feels melted, unable to lock together to support your weight. It doesn’t matter. Yoongi does it for you, lifting you up so that you’re on your knees, thighs spread wide. Air cools the wet mess on your legs. You realize you’re dripping past your knees. 

Yoongi’s palms feel like fire on your flushed skin. He wraps and arm around your waist, pulling you back to his chest, the other looping under your arm so he can grab your neck firmly. This time, he does squeeze, fingers placed perfectly on the sides of your throat. 

Everything around you feels like cotton candy fuzz, fluffy and sweet. Your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder as his teeth find your shoulder, nipping your skin. Behind you, his cock slides gently between your folds, making you hiss. 

“Gonna fill up this pussy,” Yoongi murmurs. “Gonna fuck you full, yeah?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.” The word slurs on your tongue. “Please, want it.”

“You’re already fucked out from just my mouth, omega.” 

“So?” 

He chuckles darkly. His cockhead catches your clenching hole and you whine, hands going to clutch the arm on your waist and holding your throat. “Have you no decency, hm?”

“No. Yoongi please, it hurts. Please just - please.”

“Shhh.” Yoongi places a warm, wet kiss on your jaw. “I’ve got you. You know I’ve got you?”

Words are too hard, so you nod. Yoongi places another sweet kiss on your cheek before he shuffles and thrusts into you, smooth on the upstroke. You gasp, breath knocked out of you as he slides to the hilt. Yoongi’s cock is thick and though you’re soaked, the stretch is intense, your walls clinging to him in a vice grip.

Behind you, Yoongi curses. His hand tightens, and it gets just a little bit harder to breath. Slowly, he retracts before snapping forward again, stroke slow but hard. He groans, focused on setting a leisurely and smooth pace. Every thrust of his hips makes his cock hit deep, punching the air from your lungs. With his fingers pressing against your throat, it gets harder to take in more air, making you light-headed, the forest spinning. 

It feels so good, this blooming pleasure inside of you. Every time he hits your soft spot just right, you feel closer to madness. Yoongi squeezes your throat tighter. His skin is warm and sweaty, sliding against yours, the friction making your eyes roll back.

Yoongi’s teeth scrape your shoulder. Sink in just a little, not enough to draw blood, but you feel the sting. It’s good, pleasure-laced pain. And then he’s telling you to let go, to come around him. You deny your alpha nothing, eyes fluttering shut as you squeeze tight tight tight. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi snarls. You come so hard he has to stop thrusting, your pussy clenching around him with everything you’ve got. You’re not breathing, air stuck in your lungs, blood rushing in your eyes, stars behind your eyes. “Breathe,” Yoongi pants, letting go of your throat. You suck in a sharp breath of air, flooding your lungs. “That’s it. You can take it, yeah? Can take it til I fill you up?”

“Yes, alpha.”

It’s a mumble of words. You’re not even sure if it comes out right. Yoongi holds you to him, doesn’t mind that you're boneless. Your fingers thread his where his hands grip you, squeezing as your head cradles against his neck. You nose him there, drawing all sorts of feral sounds from him as he chases his orgasm, driven to the edge while you scent him. He comes with a loud sound, maybe your name or something else. You’re not sure. 

Yoongi smells like home. Well - smells like earth and come and sweat and trees and pheremones. But his smell is there, pine and sage. Wild and gentle. Earth and cleansing. You love the smell of him, you have since you met him. 

“Rest.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faraway. “I’ve got you.” 

Weightlessness takes over. You don’t remember moving and you don’t remember Yoongi pulling out of you and picking you up. You’re drunk off his scent, hormones throwing you over the cliff and into a deep lake, where you float aimlessly. Comforted. 

Soft sheets slide against your skin. You turn your face and breathe in, smelling Yoongi everywhere. It’s warm and you smell you too. Rosemary and mint. Your scents linger together, making you feel at home. Loved. Safe. 

Something jostles you a little. You slow-blink an eye open, realizing you’re at home, tucked into the corner of your room you like to use for nesting. Blankets of Yoongi’s are piled eye and there are shirts and hoodies that belong to him. Some shirts that belong to you. Things that remind you of the two of you, that feel like you both. 

Yoongi is tucked behind you, breath puffing against your ear. His eyes are closed when you curve your head to look at him. “Sleep,” he rasps, not opening his eyes. “And thank you for the hunt. I’m not done with you. But I’m tired.” 

You smile and close your eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of Yoongi’s arms.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

congrats on the 1k follower count Hype!! Here’s my ficlet request: M (“this can’t be happening… it’s just a dream..”) + 🕯️ + hurt/comfort + taking placing in the (You got me) in the palm of your hand-verse!

Thank you so much! ❤️ This was a fun, fluffy write, I hope you enjoy it. 🔮✨️

Fate don't know you (like I do)

Words: 988

Rated: T

Tags: Established relationship; No UD AU; anniversary; idiots in love; Steve Harrington is a sweetheart; Fade to black

Notes: Set in the same universe as (You got me) in the palm of your hand

Steve is just lighting the last candle when he hears the key in the apartment door. He quickly shakes out the match, then settles crossed-legged on the living room floor. 

He can hear Eddie bustling around in the hallway - his keys dropping into the bowl, the thud of his work boots coming off. It leaves him with just enough time to smooth out his costume and arrange his hair. Just enough time to look at his work and wonder if maybe he overdid it a notch. But then the doorknob turns and it’s too late for doubts.

Eddie shuffles into the room without switching on the light. His overalls are half-unzipped already, revealing a long, pale triangle of his throat and chest, the black ink of his tattoos. His hands are trying to free his dark curls from the clutches of his hair tie. He’s muttering under his breath, something about stupid, fucking alternators and stupid, fucking customers. 

He’s halfway across the room before he realizes the sofa isn’t in its usual spot. 

He pauses, one hand still in his hair, incredulous surprise creeping into his features as he takes in the room. The tablecloths and bed sheets draped over the walls. The way the furniture has been shoved into the corners to make space on the floor. The pillows scattered across the ground, and the sofa table at the center of the room, hidden under another tablecloth. The empty glass jars that have been placed on every available surface, meticulously covered in colorful parchment paper, candles glowing softly from within. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, his eyes land on Steve. 

“What the fuck?” he murmurs, eyes raking over his billowey shirt and the velvet curtain-turned-cape, the fucking leggings and the cardboard crown with the fake gems. Steve smiles and rubs at his prickling neck. 

“Um, surprise?” he says. “Happy anniversary.” 

Eddie takes a step towards him, then pauses again. His throat bops as he swallows, but his face still shows nothing but confusion. 

“What is all this?” he asks. His voice cracks around the last syllable. Steve suppresses a grin and leans back on his hands. 

“Well, I wanted to do something special, so I thought I’d recreate the scene of our first meeting.”

“We met in highschool, you dork,” Eddie snarks, but he does sink down on one of the pillows opposite Steve. His eyes continue to roam over their surroundings, large and brown and full of wonder. “Where’d you even get all this stuff?” 

“Where we fell in love, then,” Steve says impatiently. “It turned out great, didn’t it? I borrowed the sheets and the pillows and stuff from Claudia. Remember that super important family matter in Hawkins two weeks back?” 

“The one where you told me not to come.” 

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Exactly. I would have loved to have actual lanterns, too, but getting that many would’ve been way too expensive, so I had to improvise. I think they turned out okay, considering what I was working with, but if you tell me to eat another fucking PB and J sandwich for the next year or so I’ll- … hey, whoa, what’s the matter?” 

Because Eddie has finally turned and is looking at him, and his entire face is twitching with raw emotion. His hands are trembling in his lap. His eyes are still bright - too bright in the low candlelight, way too bright, and shit, shit, shit, what's going on? 

Steve is up on his knees and slipping into Eddie’s space just in time to brush the first tears away.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. He swats Steve's hands away to rub his arm over his own face, but doesn’t pull out of his embrace. “Fuck, I'm sorry.” 

“No,” Steve stammers. “No, Eddie, I am sorry. I mean, I dunno what for, exactly, but I must've done something wrong for you to-” 

“I thought you were leaving me, you stupid dickhead,” Eddie blurts. 

Steve's words wheeze to a stop. 

“What?” he says when his brain finally manages to reboot itself. “I mean how- … Why would you even think that?” 

Eddie rolls his pretty eyes at him, but there's a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Oh, gee, Stevie, why would I think that? You've been acting all secretive, going back to Hawkins and refusing to tell me what you're doing there, locking yourself in the bedroom for hours, hiding bags full of bed linen in your car-” 

“Aw, what, you saw those?” 

“You're not as subtle as you think, big boy.” 

Eddie winks at him and leans in for a peck on the lips, but when he pulls away, his face is serious again. 

“And also because …” he mutters, pulling a strand of hair from his ponytail to twist it between his fingers. “I dunno. Sometimes, I still look at you and I think … this isn't happening. It's all in my head. It's just a dream. Because there’s now way, is there? No way I’ve scored the prettiest, sweetest, most romantic doofus in that shitty little hellhole for a boyfriend. No way that you’re here with me, that you’d ever want me like this.”

“What?” Steve hums, splaying a firm hand over the base of Eddie’s neck to draw him closer. “You mean like this?” 

He only allows them to break the kiss when they’re both flushed and gasping for air. Eddie’s eyes are still bright when he looks at him, but this time, it’s the good kind of bright. 

“Can’t believe you thought that,” Steve murmurs, pulling the zipper of Eddie’s overalls further down with one deft hand. “You honestly didn’t see this coming?” 

Eddie huffs a laugh against his lips. “For the millionth time, honey: Not actually psychic.” 

“Well, good,” Steve smiles, slipping the overall off Eddie’s shoulders and pushing him down onto the cushioned floor. “That means you also don’t know what else I have planned for tonight.”

More celebration ficlets

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 11: Right Beside You

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook has you to thank, if only he knew how.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, past trauma (mentioned assault and torture), mentioned homelessness

a/n: the found family is strong with this one😌🥰 hi everyone, thank you for joining me for this next part of the journey! sorry for being super offline this week, it's been an exhausting one and I'm still a bit mentally checked out as I write this note, but all of the positive comments have been lovely to see🥰special note for the anon who wanted a sneak peek, I just couldn't find a good spot to post for this chapter and didn't have the energy to comb through for one either. I'll consider for future parts when I have more time to do so, but in the meantime I would love just to hear what you enjoyed so far💞enjoy the chapter!

Jungkook didn’t speak to you about that night. Barely even looked your way the next morning when you slunk in to have breakfast.

It was entirely unfair that he was there bright and early, looking completely put-together in that handsome way he always did – or maybe it was one of the perks of having a face like his. A lucky side effect of his stubbornly ignoring you was that he didn’t seem to notice, certainly not acknowledge, your envious staring at him, before you were able to catch yourself and rid your mind of these thoughts.

You, however, had only gone back upstairs when you felt your eyes drooping again, long after Jungkook had disappeared. Even then, it was to fitful sleep. All the midnight epiphanies in the world weren’t about to make you forget your guilt over Hoseok.

So now, it was safe to say you were tired.

Hunching over a plate, you said little, but at least tried to smile at Hope, who caught your gaze. Yoongi eyed between the two of you, and you shrank again, unable to stand the thought he was also wary of you. Maybe Jungkook was just the most open about it.

You wondered over your toast whether Jungkook had a similar reason for being awake last night. Whether he knew yours.

Did he realise that you had been up because of your guilt-ridden nightmares? Would that make him feel better, to know you were being punished for your actions by your own psyche?

You hadn’t thought to question his own presence in the training room at night until now, though. Not that it was a particularly pleasant train of thought. Did he have nightmares of his own? Worse still, were they the same as yours? Had your near miss caused him the same fear it had you, enough to invade his sleep?

At the end of the table, Jungkook spoke in a low voice to Jin. There was no chance for you to guess what they were talking about.

Yet you were still watching. You couldn’t look away, almost wondering if you could see inside his head if you looked hard enough. Puzzle him out.

A scraping sound and movement beneath your hand jerked your attention away.

Your eyes darted to your plate – or where it had been. They followed as it dragged itself swiftly across the table, stopping in front of a clasped pair of hands. And Jimin’s eyes, intent on you under raised brows, made you shift.

“Well, if you’re not going to eat it,” he smiled innocently.

With a pout, you made a swipe for the toast you had abandoned on your plate in your (rather long) moment of distraction. The plate, of course, swiftly darted away from your reach, then switched directions.

Huffing, you gave up, slouching back sulkily in your chair while Jimin laughed.

Another hand reached over to slide your breakfast back to you, this time met with no protest. Jimin was still laughing, glittering pink dying in his eyes, and you smiled gratefully to V, your food restorer.

Lesson learned, you did keep your attention to yourself this time as you finished without looking back up.

As such, you missed the sharp eyes that had finally turned towards you.

At a loss, and not keen as usual to head to training, you followed Jimin and V over to the couch and sunk into it after breakfast, ready to waste away some of the morning. The other two kept muttering between themselves, but you were happy to let them go on unbothered.

A weight dipping the cushion beside you made your head turn in surprise.

Hope flopped against the back of the sofa, looking up at you with a smile.

“Did I ever tell you how I got my powers?” he said, tone casual.

Meanwhile, you tried not to widen your eyes. While all the boys, for obvious reasons, knew about the cause of your powers’ arrival, you weren’t sure about theirs. It wasn’t something you could just… ask.

Or so you thought.

It had been one of the worst nights of your life, so you imagined it was similar for them. Why should they want to share that with someone they didn’t trust?

Maybe Hobi did trust you, though. Because when you shook your head, he shifted his elbows onto the back of the sofa, leaning forward to confide in you.

“I was a student,” he began the tale, “training for stunt work on the side. I had to work this shitty all-night convenience store to afford it… not exactly in the safest end of town.”

You could only imagine it all too well. You realised Jimin and V had stopped their chatter, lapsing into silent attention to the story, although they must know it already.

“One night, some random guy tried to rob the place. When he started attacking a customer, I vaulted the cash desk to stop him. He beat the shit out of me. Had a crowbar and everything. But then, when I was on the floor – couldn’t move anymore, not even stand – it’s like I suddenly woke up. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Watching his face carefully, you found no words. It was clear the experience had been terrifying, his expression clouding for a moment as he told you the worst of it. You had never seen him look so serious.

He shook himself lightly, meeting your eyes again, and the normally permanent smile returned to his face.

“Suddenly I got the energy to fight back. Since then, I’ve moved faster, been stronger, than I ever was before. It turned a few heads on the stunt team, which is how Namjoon got wind of me.”

“Wow, that’s… scary,” you settled for, though it didn’t do his story justice.

“Yeah,” he nodded, before turning fully to you, a look fixing you in place. “Nothing compared with a slip in training.”

You wilted at the painful reminder which blindsided you. So that’s what this was about?

Hope clapped you on the shoulder.

“I still trust you, yeah? That’s not up to Jungkook.”

Nodding, you finally managed a weak smile of your own.

“Thanks.”

Not knowing how to settle back into the sofa, you shifted and spied V whispering something to Jimin. Jimin shifted back to look him in the face, brow tilting in question. V nodded.

Then Jimin spun to you.

“Tae also wants me to tell you… how he got his powers.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Really,” you shifted your gaze to V, “don’t feel you have to. It must be tough-”

“It may be hard to talk about, but you should hear it,” Jimin assured you, “we want you to know.”

Your heart softened at this double show of trust. Giving a nod, you watched Jimin take a bracing breath.

“I was the one who found him,” he began, “Namjoon sent me. He heard about the place, wanted to investigate… it was a testing centre. They were keeping him there like a prisoner, seeing what stuff they could inject until he…”

Jimin choked off the sentence. You didn’t want to hear the end of it.

Jimin’s eyes were wide and betrayed such dazzling emotion you could hardly look. It was no wonder he was such a fierce protector of V, that they loved each other so strongly.

“In the end, they gave him fire. We’re not even sure if they meant to, if they knew what they were doing. But they were using him, and I had to get him out of there.”

Letting silence stretch for a moment, you waited until it was clear he wasn’t going on.

“Good,” you spoke quietly. Shifting your eyes to V, you found him looking at you calmly, though the darkness in his eyes was heavier than normal. “I’m glad you made it here.”

Jimin squeezed his hand.

Though you tried to swallow it down, you couldn’t help your next question. You wouldn’t ask what happened to Hope’s would-be killer, but this…

“What happened to the lab?” you whispered.

V’s gaze remained unblinking.

“Burned,” he said, in that rare, low voice.

Not leaving his gaze, you only nodded.

You may have been accepted by your friends. Their trust bolstered you, it did, only… Something didn’t sit right while you were still so perplexed at your precarious footing with Jungkook.

When he did show up, Jungkook seemed oddly distracted all morning. Weirdest of all was that his mood didn’t drive him away to the gym like usual. He sat at the end of the sofa until Yoongi arrived, fishing controllers from the dreaded Drawer of Cables. Playing a few rounds of video games was fun, but you still found yourself glancing a little too often at the detached Jungkook. When a controller got passed to him, he nearly won without breaking into a sweat, only to apparently zone out and fall off the map near the end.

The others laughed at him and yelled their own victories, the two of you the only ones not joining in. At least you cracked a grin, but Jungkook seemed to have drifted.

Maybe, with the others knowing him better than you did, their lack of notice was a good sign. Surely you couldn’t be the only one caught so off-guard by his silence? Or maybe it was because of last night. None of the others had heard your odd midnight conversation.

With Jungkook acting this way, you had wondered how training would play out. If he would even show. You wouldn’t blame him after yesterday with Hobi, and… whatever that had been last night.

No, you wouldn’t blame him, but strangely you found yourself hoping for the opposite in any case. Some sign from him about what last night meant… or at least that you should forget about it.

In the event, your wondering was never answered.

Namjoon marching into the room wasn’t what any of you had expected. Usually, that meant business. And today was no exception.

“Are you guys ready to head out?”

Which meant that if you weren’t, now was the time to prepare. All you needed to do was grab shoes, and then you were following Jin as he grabbed keys and headed down the front stairs to the garage.

Behind you, Hobi was desperately searching for a second shoe, only having found one in his room. Yoongi had been begrudgingly roped into helping, and his sighs filled the air at regular intervals as he found yet another spot empty.

Jimin was hopping around as he tried to run to the door before tying his laces.

Namjoon walked through the sudden chaos, unfazed, raising his voice slightly.

“Bosun’s just had to flee his place at the edge of town. Says there are people inside already. So we’d better move.”

The garage door slid open as you reached it. Jungkook was already waiting. He had been the first one to his feet when Namjoon entered with a battle plan, and you got it. Some good action would force unwanted distractions from your mind like nothing else.

He pushed away from the wall, squaring his shoulders as he stepped towards the waiting cars. And stumbled.

You bit down on your lip, but it was as if he could sense your instinctive laughter. Yours were the first place his eyes glowered as he recovered balance.

Ducking your eyes, they landed on a sneaker strewn on the ground.

“Oi, Hobi!” you called, launching his missing sneaker up the stairs past Namjoon, who was now descending.

“Thanks!” came his call, and then he was beside you in an instant, yellow light flashing in his eyes.

“Hey, only one of us has speed powers!” Yoongi complained, jogging down the stairs last.

Namjoon’s eyes flickered over the lot of you and then you were piling into cars. Jimin tugged you after him and V into Jin’s car, while the others took the neighbouring one.

With the unexpected attack already apparently underway, Jin cut all the corners he could as you sped across the city. You remembered seeing Bosun’s name in one of the various files Jin was sifting through as he and Namjoon desperately tried to strategise their way out of this game already in motion. Clearly, his wasn’t one of their top places of concern as he hadn’t been relocated yet.

You were beginning to see why. The streets you passed grew less and less maintained, cracks, weeds and broken signs whizzing past your window. This was more similar to the end of town you used to live in, before Bolt. And you would assume it to be way off his radar.

Apparently not.

Jin pulled up in some alley beside an unassuming and leaky-looking warehouse. Fumbling to open the glove box, he passed you each a small receiver along with instructions.

“Jimin, V, take that side. The back entrance is around there. With any luck they aren’t expecting us, but be ready for anything. Y/N, go the other way, check it’s clear. Then head to the front where you’ll meet the others.”

Nodding hastily, you all scrammed from the car. Jimin patted your shoulder and flashed you a grin – a nod from V and they were sprinting away to the left. You peeled off right instead, focus setting in the moment your feet were in motion.

Rounding a corner, you were faced with a near-identical alley, narrow and shadowy with puddles nestled in cracks in the concrete.

Eyes scanning, you first checked the windows in the long expanse of wall. There were few, high up and tiny. From here, you could see no one looking back out at you. Hopefully that meant the surprise factor was still on your side.

It was when your eyes returned to the street in front of you that your steps faltered. Closer now, a figure became clear in the shadows that you hadn’t made out before.

Slowing, you squinted at them, hands already twitching. But they hadn’t made any move, although they had clearly seen you. Crouched against the wall, they looked directly your way as you approached hesitantly. Maybe they just didn’t know who you were? But if they were guarding this place, surely any passerby could be classed as a threat?

So why weren’t they attacking?

You stopped fully, now only paces from them. You saw it was a young man, maybe even a teenager. His eyes were large as they looked at you from below unkempt hair, and while they had a hard edge of practised hostility, all you read there was wariness and fear.

Hands retreating under fraying sleeves, he shifted uncomfortably the longer you stood in front of him. Worn-out shoes with a hole in the side shifted near to a puddle.

Frowning, your eyes caught sight of a bag he was sheltering with his body.

Breath slowed uncomfortably in your throat as it dawned on you. He wasn’t with the people attacking the warehouse – he probably had no idea anything was even going on in the building behind the two of you.

“You should get out of here,” you met his eyes again.

He didn’t need telling twice. Since you had showed interest in him, his discomfort had been clear, and he finally shot to his feet, still clinging to the overstuffed backpack behind him.

Then your eyes were torn from his nervous ones by a blast from the end of the alley.

Whipping around, you were briefly dazzled by a burst of gold light. Inexplicably, it put you at ease – or the knowledge of who was behind it did.

What had you instantly back on edge were the two silhouetted figures that now ran across the entrance to the alleyway. The sight of weapons clutched to their chests had your fingers flexing, feeling your powers simmer defensively.

It had begun.

A second after the armed people emerged, one of them was sent to the floor by a human-sized bullet – Hope. Their gun skidded away, landing in a shallow puddle with a splash.

Starting forwards intently to aid your team, you spared one last glance back at the boy you had found in the alley.

Those same fearful eyes were now fixed past you at the violence unfolding as it spilled from the warehouse entrance. Rigid, he seemed frozen to the spot.

“Go!” you barked, “I mean it!”

And then you were running. If he had any sense, the kid would get moving.

Another sharp blade of gold light descended, nearly knocking over the remaining assailant ahead of you, but they ducked and staggered on, the blast clashing with the neighbouring wall. Tracing the source of the attack, you spied Jungkook’s vantage point on the roof, his head visible though only a brief blur as he raced after his target.

Fixing your eyes front, you charged head-on at the fleeing man.

And he spotted you too.

Whatever weapon you were facing now, you didn’t fancy finding out. He was aiming it, giving you a clear view down the barrel.

Your step never once faltered. You didn’t need to reach for a weapon.

You were one.

Blue fired from your fingertips before his could move on the trigger. It caught him, flinging him backwards, flipping before slamming against the ground.

Still hot-footing it to the heat of the action, you glanced to Jungkook, smirk already lifting your lips, ready to share the momentary victory.

But he hadn’t changed direction. Instead, he was flying towards you, descending from the rooftop on a pillar of gold, and his other arm was aiming behind you-

Turning, you caught sight of the fleeing boy, almost out of sight now.

Your heart dropped in slow motion, but your body acted without waiting for permission.

Well-aimed gold streaked down the alley. Hand raising, you threw an arrow of blue to meet it. Lightning collided in the air, your shot throwing his off, a missile of sparking blue and gold smashing against the warehouse.

Outrage painting his face, Jungkook hit the ground, already dashing towards you and the boy. Readied his arm again…

“Jungkook!” you cried.

Not stepping out of his path, the two of you practically crashed into each other. Your hand caught his shoulder, restraining him as you twisted to look behind you.

The boy was on the ground, metres from the impact. As you watched, he scrambled to his feet, hoisted his backpack over a shoulder and ran, finally disappearing into another street.

“He’s not with them,” you panted, “…he’s just a kid.”

Turning back to Jungkook, you expected rage, frustration… but not this. His eyes were fixed on the spot the boy had fled from. As his eyes tracked, slowly, back to your face, he inhaled softly. Held it. Slack-jawed horror washed over him.

Struck by the force of emotion surfacing so suddenly in his eyes, you lightened your grip and took a step back.

A heavy frown pressed on Jungkook's brows, gaze once again growing distant, drifting to the alley behind you.

“I didn’t think…” he mumbled, but his lips stilled again, parted in horror.

“You’re not supposed to expect it,” you whispered.

Eyes fixed on Jungkook’s intently, you caught the sharp flicker as they returned to you. Lucidity flooded back to him and his throat bobbed in a hard swallow.

As he looked at you, his frown eased imperceptibly, realisation widening his eyes instead.

“He would be dead.” Jungkook’s voice was brittle.

Your heart was only now slowing in your chest, the shock of adrenaline subsiding. All it took was another blow from somewhere behind the pair of you, ringing out through the confined space, to pull you away from Jungkook.

His head turned; you stepped to see around him. Dropping your arm fully at last, you broke into a sprint once more, knowing even before you heard his steps that Jungkook would be right beside you.

You eyed the warehouse and alleyway disappearing in the rear-view mirror. Soon they were eaten up by the maze of roads taking you back into the city that was none the wiser.

There hadn’t been many more attackers. No one of note, only bolstered by weapons of Bolt’s previous acquisition. In the end, the group of you had driven them out with relative ease.

Which was good. Bosun had shaken hands with Namjoon outside in relief as he found his work still intact.

But you wondered if you were the only one nagged by another win without sight of the orchestrator. Bolt seemed to follow you everywhere, without ever showing his face. You took your eyes from the cars around you to a news stand as you drove past. Blue splashed over the front cover, Bolt took his place in the glorious spotlight, right where he wanted.

Did the readers know what he had working behind the scenes?

The weapons these fighters were decked out with, you knew them. But you also knew Kuyang had never made so many of them as you were now encountering on each shout.

“Do you think Namjoon-hyung will mind if we skip training?” Jimin was nudging V with that playfully devilish grin of his, “we basically had a workout already!”

Glancing at the rear-view, you saw Jin raise a brow and shared a private smile with yourself. You didn’t think Namjoon was the one Jimin should be worrying about.

Then you sat up.

“Hey, Jin?” you spoke.

He hummed, glancing to you in the mirror, but your eyes had caught something else.

“The same car is still behind us.”

Jin’s hands tightened on the wheel and he shot a look to follow yours.

“You’re sure?”

He braked a little too sharply as a car pulled from a turning ahead of you.

“I’m sure. Not that red one, the black one behind it, do you see?”

Narrowed eyes scanning the mirror, he nodded.

“Since when?”

“A good few roads. Since the lights.”

Jimin had gone quiet, all three of you now watching Jin closely for an answer as he pursed his lips. Though you sincerely hoped it was simply a harmless coincidence, you had left the busiest roads and were nearing home. Best not to take chances.

“Let’s see what they’re about,” Jin said, voice low and calculated.

A challenge.

A turning approached, so he indicated and slipped into the right-turn lane. Tentatively, you turned your head, enough to eye the black car. It carried on behind the red one and you relaxed – for a moment.

Then, just before you were obscured by the corner, it, too, switched lanes.

Your car took a collective breath in.

Jin tilted his head.

“Interesting.”

Chewing your cheek, you glanced sideways. The same nerves were reflected back in Jimin and V’s eyes.

“Jimin, can you text Namjoon that we have a potential tail?” Jin asked, tone suddenly lighter, “might be late. And in the meantime-”

He turned again, taking you down a much smaller road. The opposite direction to your original destination.

Driving straight on, he waited until the black car showed itself behind you. There was almost no doubt in your mind now.

“Joon says he’ll see us back home,” Jimin said, lifting his phone up surreptitiously to snap some images of your stalker, “and that they’re all clear. Although maybe whoever’s following them is just more subtle about it.”

Jin chuckled with him, but it was brief.

“Well, without Y/N spotting it, I’m not sure I would be much the wiser,” he mused.

Another glance in the mirror, and the black vehicle was indicating, pulling between parked cars. Didn’t tuck itself all the way in, with what could be an effort to keep a view clear of your car heading further down the road.

“Oh, were heading this way after all, hm?” Jin asked dryly.

Looking back to the road with determination, he took a right. Not long after, another right, where he swung around and stopped, facing out onto the road you had just left.

It didn’t even take that long. Your lungs hadn’t even started straining from the breath you held.

The car drove in front of you.

Jimin was ready, taking another picture as the driver passed, but there was no double-take or visible glance your way. They had a hood up, mask and dark glasses on.

The car carried on, but this game wasn’t going to last. As Jin pulled out, they were already slowing down, turning onto the road parallel to yours.

A burst of speed had you pressed back in the seat.

“Jimin, can you stop this guy? I’ve seen about enough.”

Jimin hummed a casual agreement, but you saw the smirk that grew on his lips, the glint in his eyes before pink light bled into them.

Sure enough, at the next intersection, the black car was right there. Jimin held a hand up, splayed his fingers, and that was all it took. Your stalker hit an invisible wall. The tyres froze, car stuck fast on the road it had been speeding down.

Jin put his foot down.

Several turns and roads later, with no more signs of the same vehicle, or of any repeat followers, he finally turned on himself, resuming your intended route at last. Didn’t stop you all keeping lookout, even as you waited for the hidden wall to slip aside and let you home. Especially then.

It was a relief to spill up the stairs to the scents of cooking – tteokbokki, if you weren’t mistaken.

The second lot of relief came when you saw Yoongi was the one behind the stove. Bound to be a solid meal, trusting him.

While the group noticed your return, Hobi jumping to his feet and Namjoon striding forwards, checking on all of you, you paused on the top step. Just cast your eyes around, for a second. Sometimes these moments would hit you from nowhere. Some outdated part of you expecting to have to cook for yourself after getting back from an already exhausting day, only to find your team making things easier.

In the small ways, just as much as the big, your life had changed. In the small ways, it was definitely for the better.

Letting a fond, awed smile slip onto your face for a second, you breathed in.

Jimin’s laugh met your ears, and you turned back to the moment. He clapped a chuckling Jungkook on the shoulder, giving a playful shove before he moved on towards the table. You moved to follow, only to find Jungkook hadn’t budged.

Residual smile still on his face, eyes wide and cheerful, his gaze rested on you. There was a slight hesitation, his smile growing fainter, nervous as he appeared to stall in front of you.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. It would almost be conversational; if only you had had a casual conversation with the guy, you would know. “Glad you’re all back safe.”

At your stunned stare, he squeezed a hurried smile back in place, and fled to Yoongi’s side in the kitchen. Your mouth hung open, eyes following Jungkook’s back even as Jin marched past.

“Yah, trust me to take care of the kitchen hyung,” Yoongi complained to the back of Jin’s head as he bent to sample a spoonful of sauce.

“I’m just taste-testing,” Jin defended a second later with a cheeky grin on his face.

Yoongi didn’t bat an eye.

“Well if the inspector’s not happy, report me,” he harrumphed, “go sit down.”

Jin allowed himself to be shoved table-wards, self-satisfied smile permanently on his face.

Still hovering beside Yoongi, Jungkook finally looked back at you. It would have been subtle, too, if you had been able to tear your eyes from him yet. He gazed up from below his hair.

A small, startled expression flitted across his face – not so intimidating now, huh? – before your view was mercifully blocked by Namjoon.

“I heard you noticed the tail back there. Good spot.”

Smiling, you bobbed your head.

“Thanks,” you eyed the floor, “I don’t even know what made me look for it.”

“Whatever it was, I’m glad you did. It got us all back here. I’ll be working on finding out who they were, though, and what they were doing after us.”

Your eyes flicked back to his face, a flicker of unease shooting across your expression.

He sighed, his turn to drop his gaze this time.

“I’ll keep you all posted. For now, it’s done. And I believe dinner is in order.”

Stepping aside, he ushered you past, only somewhat assuaged. That hadn’t been some usual attack which you could put down all-guns-blazing. Someone following you… that was different. Someone playing a long game. And there was one person you could already think of who was running one of those.

In the time you had been speaking with Namjoon, Jin had somehow returned to the kitchen, though Yoongi was silent about it this time.

Yoongi passed dishes as Jin scooped food into them, Jungkook rooting through the cupboards for something too. Slipping into a seat, you watched them idly. Jin set the steaming plates on the side, which is when Jungkook leaned over to chop chives over the top. You sure were in for a luxurious meal. A decent reward, you thought.

Turning with the next plate, Jin paused. Didn’t set it down. He stared, frozen, at Jungkook.

Catching on a second later, the younger man looked up like a caught puppy. Even if he hadn’t been doing anything nefarious.

An amused smile stole over Jin’s face.

“Since when do you cook so fancy, Kook?” he grinned.

“F-fancy?” Jungkook blinked. “Isn’t this… how you make it?”

Jin shrugged, setting down the plate and turning to grab the one Yoongi proffered impatiently.

“Never thought to add them,” Jin mused, “looks nice though. Tell me, where did you pick up such cheffing tips?”

Jin was half-joking, still plating up, but something was dawning on the younger man.

Jungkook looked comically horrified, gaze darting between the green chives in one hand and the scissors in the other. He paused like that just a little too long to sound casual when he finally regained his voice to mutter:

“This is how Y/N likes it.”

Any hope of sounding nonchalant died as Jin’s eyes bulged from his face. Yoongi froze, eyebrows raising, before looking over his shoulder to you with a questioning smile.

Namjoon, mercifully, looked down to his lap with a private smile, but he was the only one. Hobi broke into a grin and Jimin spun to laugh openly at his younger brother, who looked thoroughly grumpy now. Jungkook’s mouth was fixed in a solid pout, his hard glare not helping in the slightest as the declarations of joyful surprise clearly got to him.

In the face of Yoongi’s now wiggling eyebrows, and a disconcertingly intense stare from V, you laughed weakly.

For a second, your eyes met with Jungkook’s. He snapped his gaze away an instant later, firmly hiding his flushed cheeks with his turned back, recommencing his chive-chopping rather more aggressively.

Jin clapped him on the back exaggeratedly, before scooping a dish up.

“I think this has the most,” he smirked, sliding it to rest right in front of you, “the Y/N speciality, made just for you.”

With a roll of your eyes and an exasperated laugh, you took the bowl.

“Yah, leave off! You brought this on yourself, you know. Why not teach Jungkook your way?”

“Wha-” Jin broke off, flicking a dish towel at Jungkook’s back, “how many times have I made tteokbokki with you, punk?”

Shoulders a little looser, Jungkook ducked out of the way.

“You mean made for me,” he defended.

Leaving Jin to splutter behind him, Jungkook marched over to the table with two more chive-topped bowls of food which he set down a little too hard, landing with loud clunks.

The others dutifully moved on to other things as the plates all reached the table and the lot of you dug in, grateful after an eventful day. When Jin made a comment about the added flavour of the dish, it was genuine and not a dig at their youngest.

Still, Jungkook picked quietly at his food. It may have been bold to claim he was avoiding your eye, as you couldn’t really remember a time he had sought it out, but though he was only a seat across from you, he didn’t once look at you. What was worse was that you couldn’t help but notice. Couldn’t stop your attention straying to him among the boys’ chatter which should have been distracting you.

At least he ate it all.

You made a point to collect his plate once you had all finished. Namjoon had already disappeared, Jimin gathering the rest of the dishes to wash.

Rounding the table, you lifted the empty dish from under his nose, making him look up.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you said, before he could look away. You didn’t smile, just returned his startled gaze with your own steady one.

He had to know you weren’t laughing at him. Even if a sprinkling of chives was nothing to be embarrassed about in the first place.

Ducking his gaze after a long second, he followed the others to flop down on the sofa.

Watching with amusement, you had to force yourself to move too. You placed the dishes on the pile and distractedly grabbed a towel since Jimin had started washing. It was funny… Not long ago, you wouldn’t have thought the abrasive, menacing Jungkook you knew then could ever look like a deer in the headlights.

“What are you smiling about?”

An elbow from Jimin brought you abruptly from your reflections. Yelping, you swatted him away.

“Nothing,” you insisted, grabbing desperately for a dish to dry.

Your response only encouraged the teasing smile spreading across your companion’s mouth. You didn’t like the way his eyebrow quirked. He fixed you with a scarily knowing look that had you gulping.

Then he shrugged and turned back to the dishwater.

THE CHIIIIVES😂Thank you for reading! How are you enjoying them all getting along?💜

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@jk5t4r @purplebeebs @nanjeonlangakook @wifflepuff1344

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hi there, hello😊💜 I have a rather self-indulgent J question. If that's okay. But do you think he'd be protective of his s/o if he found out that they live and work in a super sketchy neighborhood? Stuff like not a single quiet night. Theft and other safety and health issues are always on the agenda, next to being worked to the bone. I'm just wondering because yeah🙃 Sending you all of my love and hugs, you're incredible🫂💖💕

Hey hi hello Sue🥺💖

Self-indulgent J questions are more than welcome, it's been a while since I got sent one!👀

I think J would be very protective of his s/o, even if they lived in a wealthy area with a low crime rate. He takes care of his possessions, his plans, so he takes extra care with you (perhaps it makes up for the lack of care he pays to his men and to himself).

With sirens blaring on almost every street, with the distant sound of smashing glass and running feet, the odd scream and frantic yell, it's not unusual for a stray car to go blazing down your road, waking you up from your threshold consciousness as distantly you wonder where your clown is. You're exhausted, worked to the bone at your job, overworked and underpaid (as are we all), and then you go home to worry about having your home broken into (by someone other than J; he likes to keep you on edge with that sometimes), to be kept awake by all of the aforementioned noises... but J protects you, even and especially when you think he's far away or disinterested or anything else you tell yourself to cause yourself displaced pain late at night. You internalise your frustration with your life, and J is often the focus of such destructive thoughts.

But he does protect you. He knows most of the plans that go on in your area; all of his men are trained to spy on the lower-class criminals, while J spies on the upper-class criminals (they're the most boring ones, extremely predictable, which only makes it too easy for J to blow up one of their cars just for fun). Between he and his men, there is always a car stationed a block or so away from your workplace. A different car every shift, and every morning you wake up with a number plate drawn on the condensation of your mirror or scrawled in lipstick across the shower tiles or on your fridge. Always erasable, and never the same number plate twice.

Twice is a choice, predictable, an almost established pattern - dangerous. Only too easy for harm to come to you. Unthinkable.

The car will take you home before it's sent to be destroyed, the man will be killed later on. You never travel home in the same car, and you never have the same driver. J does not trust his men. They are dispensable. He always sees to their death himself; he's the only one he trusts, because someone else could say they killed the man who drove you home, but actions and words are different. J only trusts the former. The latter is mere decoration; it's nice, but it isn't necessary.

You walk yourself to work, or you take the bus or catch a taxi, but you are always delivered home. Anyone who gives you grief at work is mysteriously a winner of the lottery a week later and then they're inspired to travel the world or whatever it is people who suddenly come into an obscene amount of money do (J doesn't care, he just wants them to go. away), or they're gotten rid of in a messier, but much more fun way. Your rent is always somehow paid - J doesn't want you worrying about that. You can get your own groceries and whatnot, but the rent is always paid for you. When a night of crime is on the horizon for where you live, J 'advises' you stay home and men are posted around your entire neighbourhood to make sure that harm doesn't come close.

A good dose of fear is healthy in moderation, but it's everywhere for you because of where you live, and J tries to minimise it if you want him to. You wouldn't even need to ask for him to do it, he knows what you want and need. Reading you is easy for the man who spends the majority of his time with you, and he has a detailed knowledge of your many intricacies. You're always so tired from being kept awake by the noises outside your home, and J does what he can to make sure that word gets around about your neighbourhood being a, uh, ba-ad place to cause chaos in. It ain't much fun since there's not much to do there.

In truth, J is protecting you. Quieter nights, nicer co-workers; he does what he can. He never takes credit for it, he never tells you what he's done for you. But you know. You know how quiet J's love is, and yet you can hear him yelling it at you. It's loud and clear so there's no misunderstandings between the two of you and your place in his life is concrete, just as his place in your life is.

He is the chaos, and you are the every day. Mundane, but not boring. J is the fireworks in the sky, green and purple so you know it's him thinking of you and letting you know in one of his favourite ways. Red if he's telling you to stay home tonight, blue if he's telling you it's safe. Secret, careful ways, but you've learned them well across the time you've both been together.

You are the safe and warm home that J can get cleaned up in, rest in, you provide him with a reason to do what he does - not that he needs one, of course, J does what he does because he can and it's fun and he's good at it. You are the stillness of the night, the solace, the peace and the one thing J is extremely protective of.

Nothing and no one harms you. Nothing and no one can even get close, they die before they so much as think about it because J knows. He always knows.

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Eight

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism, minor references to sex, WARNING: talks about death and self-harm)

Description: Phoenix tries to rectify the missing pieces within herself, but she struggles to figure out how.

Tagged: @tonixe@chernayawidow , @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites, @ophennie@virgoelf-blog , @my-obsession-spn, @capricxnt @demodemo909 @boywivlove

Song: Gypsy - Fleetwood Mac

"FUCK!" Homelander yelled, the tv remote broke in his closed fist. One of the flat screen televisions in the meeting room was set to channel 8 and Starlight was all over the news. Her little video had gone viral, her resignation given, Homelander thrown under the bus, this was all out war. Homelander was fuming, Ashley was gnawing her nails down to the skin, the Deep was posted at one of the chairs around the table, Agnes was sitting a few seats down from him sipping on a cup of coffee.

And you were standing there, arms crossed, staring blankly at the screen.

You were so tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained from everything. Just from living really.

When was the last time you slept again?

"Okay!" Ashley squealed, "We'll fix this. We'll fix this. Please. Oh my god! Fuck!" Your eyes slid shut, her panicking died in your ears, the world silenced for a moment.

"Phoenix!" Your eyes shot open, Homelander was staring at you with a look of desperation plastered on his face. "What do we do?" Your hands tightened around your biceps and your teeth dug into your bottom lip. What do we do? More importantly, what should be done?

"We don't have time to worry about Starlight." Your voice came out hoarse, in a low whisper. The room fell quiet. "She has a loyal fan base, but they aren't as loyal as our people. I wouldn't worry about her." Homelander nodded virgorously, licking his lips. The desperation in his boyish eyes faded and what replaced it was a sharp coldness.

"You're right. We've got to find Soldier Boy."

"But we need to make a statement!" Ashley's shrill made you roll your eyes.

"Go take a fuckin' Xanax, Ashley!" You commanded, holding up an admonishing finger. Ashley's lips shut with a resounding pop and she straightened, fear crawled up her spine and glued her to the floor. "I'll talk. I know how to charm a crowd. It'll put this off until we can get shit under control." Your command came out more as a question, Homelander's jaw flicked from side to side before he nodded. "Come on Agnes." The older woman rose from the table without protest, following after your quick strides with a waddle of her own.

...

"Good Evening!" You crowned your fingers and propped them up on the podium. "I appreciate you all being here for this impromptu press conference. Given the situation, I'm sure you know there are a few things that Vought needs to address."

"Where's Homelander?" A journalist shouted from the crowd, flapping his hand above the sea of heads to get Phoenix's attention.

"Homelander is off handling more important matters." The crowd broke out in shouted questions and mixed words, journalists reaching over eachother as they attempted to flag you down. You begrudgingly pointed at a woman in the front row.

"Isn't this important? Starlight has resigned? What is the future of the Seven? Why are you up there when you're not even on the team?" It went silent as everyone waited for a response, or rather, a staccato of responses to answer a staccato of questions. You paused, thought about the significance of your next words, what they would mean. You found a camera and stared into it.

"I want to make myself very clear..." Your voice penetrated the air, the room was thick with the tone that every syllable carried. "Starlight isn't a priority. Everyday Homelander, I, and many other heroes are trying to keep you all safe. We fought overseas so that the super villain threat could be contained. I underestimated the enemy and now the super villain threat is here. Us heroes need to be doing our jobs, not starting petty battles over social media. If Starlight wants to play her games and spread her lies, slander us, she is welcome to do so. But Homelander and I are going to focus on what is important: your safety, your lives."

An intense stillness blanketed the crowd, a few camera flashes. One journalist had the gull to raise their hand, when no one else would, not after a speech like that.

"What are your thoughts on the deathes of the TNT twins? Your former colleagues?"

Good. I'm glad they're dead.

"And your friend? Crimson Countess?" Your head tilted to the other voice, you swallowed and looked down at your fingers.

"Countess wasn't my friend, and neither were the Twins." You shook your head. "Not anymore at least. Not when they turned their backs on..." You paused. Me. -- Ben. "On you. The people. Some of the strongest heroes I knew for their time, and only Noir and I remain. The others worried about their luxury condos, their ratings, movie deals, royalties. None of them cared about what really matters. I don't mourn them. I don't think I ever will."

"But what of Soldier Boy? You were there when he died, did you mourn him?"

"I-" You had to take a deep breath, the emotions that swelled in you had nearly knocked you off your feet. You cleared your throat and held back tears. "I did. I do."

Soldier Boy was still dead to you.

"Soldier Boy died so that all of us could live."

...

 🎶 So I'm back to the velvet underground.  🎶 

 🎶 Back to the floor that I love... 🎶 

Three Xanax, two blunts-going on three-and half a bottle of whiskey later, you found yourself laying on your bed in a mess of comforter and pillows. Your suit was discarded somewhere, leaving you down to nothing but your underwear. And you were just laying there, staring up at the ceiling as you smoked from a blunt and sipped from a bronze filled glass. Your record player sung in the background, mellowing out your already distant mood.

 🎶 To a room with some lace and paper flowers 🎶 

 🎶 Back to the gypsy that I was 🎶 

 🎶 To the gypsy that I was... 🎶 

What did you have?

John?

He kept you around as an extension of himself rather than as someone he cared for. You were the arms of his authority, fingers curled around your enemies with a vice grip. In reverse, he was a reflection of you in many ways, uncaring, erratic, impulsive. You knew he didn't care about you. Not truly. You weren't sure he was capable of it. Maybe with some admiration, some approval, but love was a distant thought in John's head. He only ever craved it from others. And you were more than able to provide in the past, giving pieces of yourself to John without a second thought. Now you had no more pieces left to give.

 🎶 And it all comes down to you. 🎶 

 🎶 And you know that it does when. 🎶 

 🎶 Lightening strikes maybe once maybe twice. 🎶 

Your fans?

You would rather burn them all alive, throw them in a furnace and walk away. They didn't love you. They loved the image of yourself that you fronted, but they didn't know you.

 🎶 Oh and it lights up the night. 🎶 

 🎶 And you see your gypsy (ohh, ohh) 🎶 

 🎶 You see your gypsy. 🎶 

You?

That was all you had. Herodom was a quiet life, a lonely one. But it was never about saving people or doing some good in the world. As much as Starlight thought she was making a difference, the world would never change. There would always be criminals. There would always be greedy politicans and corrupt agents of the law. The world was cold and callous and it never retreated.

And you had nothing.

You were a victim of the chaos. Vought took you in, molded you into something vile and morbid, tossed you around in a bag of salt, and hurled you into the world for their own profit.

You were an experiment.

Your lips wrapped around the end of your blunt and you took a drag. Smoke flowed from your nostrils, it floated up toward the high ceiling and you watched it swirl until it faded completely.

Your head drooped to the side and your face wrinkled as if you were about to cry, before you suppressed that urge.

 🎶 To the gypsy that remains. 🎶 

 🎶 Faces freedom, with a little fear. 🎶 

 🎶 I have no fear, and have only love. 🎶 

 🎶 And if I was a child and the child was enough. 🎶 

 🎶 Enough for me to love. 🎶 

 🎶 Enough to love. 🎶 

Through a blurry haze, your half lidded eyes spotted a figure at the open double doors leading into your bedroom. You shifted a little, squinted, then slowly sat upright.

"Ben?"

He was dressed in his full suit, arms straight at his sides.

"Hello, hot stuff." He answered casually, stepping closer. He sent you a boyish smile that reminded you of his older self, all cocky, all confident, all play, no work.

"What are you-" The blunt dropped from your hand, hitting the marble floor. "What are you doing here?" His eyes darted down your body, hovering over your naked torso a little longer than necessary before raising back to your face.

"You didn't need me?" You dropped your head, a firm hand cupped on your jaw, the touch burned into your skin and your gaze was being directed back to Ben. He felt so real. He felt solid. He felt tangible.

 🎶 She is dancing away from you now (Oooh). 🎶 

 🎶 She was just a wish, she was just a wish (ooh, ooh). 🎶 

 🎶 And her memory is all that is left for you now. 🎶 

"Am I hallucinating?" Your palms rested gently on his chest, Ben's thumb scaled your cheek and he sighed.

"No."

 🎶 You see you're a gypsy. 🎶 

"This is a dream, sweetheart."

"Of course it is," You sniffled.

"You wouldn't be able to hallucinate, even if you wanted." Another voice chimed and when you glanced over, it was Vogelbaum. "Your body can't sustain the affects of foreign substances long enough for that to happen." He was in a bloodied labcoat and his words were slightly muffled through a gas mask. Your expression lit up with panic and your head was being yanked back by Soldier Boy's hand.

"Don't pay attention to that piece of shit." Soldier Boy drew you closer with his other hand at your hip. "Just look at me."

"Why is this happening? Why am I dreaming about this?" You whispered, Ben's hand moved to cradle the back of your head.

"Because I'm the answer." You blinked at him, then tiredly moved into his body. Your arms wrapped around him and you hugged him. Ben enveloped you in return, his strong and bulky arms holding you close...

"You even smell real."

"That's what happens when you smoke a lot of dope."

"Also, the cannabis you were smoking no doubt contained traces of LSD." Vogelbaum again. You squeezed your eyes shut and Soldier Boy grunted when your arms tightened around him.

"Can he just shut up for fucks sake?" Soldier Boy inhaled deeply and he exhaled with a sigh.

"You want my advice?"

"Not really." He grabbed your shoulders and drew you away at arm's length.

"Sometimes you gotta take life by the balls, kid." You blinked at him, your head sinking toward your chest. Soldier Boy rolled his eyes before grabbing under your chin and lifting your head again. "Remember back in the day. We didn't let anybody get in our way. We owned this fuckin' place."

"Oh no." You breathed, your palms rose to your cheeks and Soldier Boy relinquished his hold on you so you could pace away from him. "It's happening. This is it. I'm having the worst mental breakdown of my life. I'm going to destroy the world."

"Only in theory." Vogelbaum piped in again, "Theoretically your body can reach temperatures bordering that of the sun and in that instance-" Soldier Boy's shield came hurtling toward him out of nowhere. The Scientist disappeared in a puff of smoke before the metal could touch him.

"I hate that guy." Soldier Boy's head tilted as he considered you. "Listen..." He emphasized with raised hands. "The only person who understands you right now is me." He stepped toward you, and you hunched in on yourself in defeat."You have me. I'm your answer."

"You're also a figment of my imagination."

"Nah, honey, I'm out there. I'm alive. Come find me."

"You want me dead out there." Soldier Boy's lips quirked up in a handsome smirk and he shook his head.

"But, sweetheart, I don't."

...

When your eyes opened, they opened slowly, the blunt had burnt out in your bed sheet and your body was sprawled out across the bed in all different directions. You blinked at the ceiling, thinking about your dream, thinking about him. The thought left a gross taste in your mouth, your stomach jumped and a weight settled in your chest.

Gosh, you wanted to die sometimes, didn't you?

What was this? What were you doing here?

Why don't you just leave and give all this up? Just like you always wanted.

Because you can't.

You were tired.

It took a few minutes of blank staring before you rose from your bed and travelled out of your room.

"God help me!" You heard a voice exclaim as you entered into the living room. It was Agnes. She made an effort to cover her gaze from your nude figure. And after all these years, she still hadn't gotten used to your ways. You squinted at her, stumbling toward the onset of the kitchen.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave." Agnes nervously clenched and unclenched her fingers, finally lowering her hand to look at you. Your eyes connected, Agnus' wrinkles creased with a furrowed brow, with concern.

"Homelander wanted me to stay. He's worried about you." You groaned, pouring yourself another glass of whiskey and downing it back with a wince.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You poured the next glass, sipping from it as you held Agnus' expectant gaze.

"John just wants to make sure I'm on his side." You replied in a dull tone, hunching over the countertop.

"Are you?" You didn't respond. Not immediately. Your eyes flitted around the penthouse and you took in the expanse of space that had been your home for decades.

"Maybe I don't want to be on a side anymore, Agnes." You placed your glass down and stalked over to a wall that held various photos and movie posters and memories from the old days. You scanned each photo, as you had hundreds of times, with a trained eye.

"Please. Tell me what's wrong."

"Everything I do, it doesn't matter." Your eyes paused on a familiar face, and you felt a sadness engulf the entirety of your heart.

He was so good to you. Always trying to comfort you. Always at your side when you needed him.

"Do ya'maybe want to talk about it?"

"No."

You would go find him. That was final. You were sure of it. Screw everyone else. This man. He would be the one you went to. He was the one you needed. He would tell you what you needed to do and he would be genuine. Above all. He would be genuine.

"I'm heading out for a little bit, Agnes. Alone." You took quick steps toward your room.

"Wait, wh-where are you going? Homelander told me to watch you." You didn't respond, turning to close the double doors into your bedroom. At the last glimpse between the cracks, you saw her plop onto the couch with exasperation.

[sixhours]

Firsts - Colic

Rating: Everyone Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel and Ellie, Ellie Williams, Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, fluff, fluffy baby stuff, no really this is sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, don't forget to brush your teeth Word count: 1.8k

Notes: I promise it's just fluff this time. Sickly sweet with a dash of humor, nary an angsty cloud in sight. Joel thinks of Sarah but it's not sad.

You can also read Firsts on AO3.

Six weeks.

Joel holds Anna on his right shoulder and walks her up and down the hall, patting and shushing and soothing, knowing it does absolutely no good. His socks are threadbare from all the pacing, and he could swear there’s a fresh trench in the wood floors where they take turns walking her back and forth, back and forth.

He’s never been more grateful to be almost deaf in one ear; at least the ringing dulls the constant wail.

No one sleeps. Even Ellie has taken to wearing earplugs to bed because she can hear the kid crying from her room in the garage.

The midwife–doubling as the town’s resident pediatrician–was as helpful as the goddamned pacifier that Anna refuses to take. The baby is gaining weight, eating well, outgrowing her newborn clothes. She’s alert and healthy and this awful phase is just that–a phase, and a perfectly normal part of her development.

So says the woman who doesn’t have to listen to her every night.

“Just don’t shake her,” the midwife says dismissively, handing the baby back to Joel after her third evaluation that week. “She’s fine.”

Joel thinks if he were going to shake anyone, it would definitely not be the baby.

During the day, Anna is a tiny joy, all gummy smiles and coos. Little fingers scratch at his beard and pull his hair and he nuzzles her round little belly with his big nose and his heart is so full it hurts.

But five o’clock rolls around and their sweet little angel morphs into an angry demon who sleeps in half-hour fits between feeding and screaming. She won’t take a bottle or the breast, she’s dry, she’s not gassy, and short of being pinched by invisible ghosts–a theory he and Charlie debated at length during a particularly exhausting night when they were both half delirious with sleep deprivation–there’s nothing to do but wait it out.

And so it’s pacing, and swaying, and rocking, and shushing, and they’re all shuffling around like infected during the daytime.

“C’mon, kiddo,” he sighs, deciding to take Anna downstairs for a change of scenery. Not that she’s seeing much, little eyes all scrunched up as she concentrates all her energy on exercising her lungs.

Joel hums and murmurs as he makes a fresh circuit around the living room, the kitchen, the dining table, then back. On the fourth pass, he pauses to look out the window over the kitchen sink and sees the glow of Ellie’s light from the shed. He and Anna aren’t the only ones up at this hour.

After one more lap, he decides what the hell, the baby can scream just as well in the fresh air as she can in the house. He grabs the infant snowsuit that’s still a size too big off the coat rack and starts to bundle her up. It dwarfs her tiny, scrunched-up body, but at least it’s warm.

“I know, baby girl, I know,” he murmurs, working her little arms and legs into the torture device as she screams louder, only quieting a fraction when he picks her back up and stuffs her down the front of his jacket, turning it into an improvised sling.

What he wouldn’t give for his old pickup right now. When Sarah was fussy he could strap her into her car seat, turn the radio on low, and drive around the neighborhood until the rumbling of the engine knocked her out. Better than Benadryl, his mother used to say.

But life in the apocalypse is a mostly manual affair, and strapping the kid to the back of a horse isn’t an option. Neither is Benadryl. Not that he’s considered either.

Not often, anyway.

He steps onto the porch and the early February air is a brief shock. Anna settles for a few precious seconds. It doesn’t last, but it’s long enough for Joel to take a deep breath, nuzzling the baby’s forehead, grounding him in her sweet, milky scent.

“Little bug,” he murmurs into the fur of her snowsuit. “You ready to sleep, hmm? Got it all out of your system?”

Her response is a resounding wail.

“Alright, I hear ya,” he mutters, and begins a meandering walk down the porch steps, to the curb, to the end of the street, and back. Five more laps until he trods back up the porch steps with a still-crying baby in his arms, no closer to sleep than he was twenty minutes ago.

The porch swing is lightly covered in snow, so he dusts it off and plops down, immediately taking up the back-and-forth motion, relieved to be off his feet even as Anna continues her symphony of sadness. He tips his head back and closes his eyes and sings aloud. He’d prefer to have a guitar in his lap, but no one will be able to hear his gravely voice over the sound of Anna’s crying, anyway.

But I've wandered much further today than I should,

And I can't seem to find my way back to the wood,

Help me if you can, I’ve got to get back to the house at Pooh Corner by one,

You'd be surprised, there's so much to be done.

Count all the bees in the hive,

Chase all the clouds from the sky,

Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh…

“That’s a weird fucking song.”

He pauses, cracks an eye to watch as Ellie plods up the porch steps, hands stuffed in the pockets of her sweatshirt, wincing at the racket.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “We wake you?”

“Nah, couldn’t sleep. Scootch.”

He does, moving over so she can join him on the swing. Ellie peers at the screaming bundle perched on Joel’s chest.

“She’s still at it, huh?”

“Yup,” he mutters. “She’ll wear herself out here pretty soon…I hope.”

“I forgot how loud they are,” she sighs, falling into the same rhythm on the swing as they rock together. “The babies at the orphanage used to keep me up at night.”

He tries to keep a neutral face. He imagines Ellie at Anna’s age, left to cry for hours with no one to pick her up and pace the floor, no one to answer. It tugs at something deep and raw inside him, something that makes him want to hold her too tight. She doesn’t talk about her life before they found each other, but he knows what it was like in the QZ; no birth control, too many kids and a lot of dead parents. The orphanages were packed.

“Want me to take her for a bit?” she offers.

“Sure, if you want,” he shrugs. “She’s windin’ down.”

Joel pulls the squalling baby out of his makeshift jacket carrier.

“Behave for your sister, bug,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on the baby’s angry, sweaty temple before handing her over, biting his tongue on a reminder to support her head and neck as he watches Ellie do just that.

Ellie props Anna up on one shoulder, patting her back and rubbing in circles the way Joel showed her. After a few minutes, Anna’s cries dwindle to soft whines and whimpering hiccups.

“Look who’s got the magic touch,” she says, smug.

Joel tips his head back and closes his eyes, smiling, soaking in the sudden and blissful quiet. “You caught her at the right time. She was gonna settle down any minute.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, pretending to talk to the baby. “She just didn’t want to be stuck with her stinky old man all night, huh? I’d cry too if I had to walk around strapped to this asshole.”

“Smartass. S’normal for ‘em to cry at this age,” Joel says, more to reassure himself than her. “Sarah went through it, too, I think. Don’t ‘member much about it, just that I didn’t sleep then, either.”

“What about Sarah’s mom?”

“She, uh…she had a hard time after the baby came. Happens like that sometimes. Didn’t really…bond, I guess.”

Her eyes widen. “So what, she just…left?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie whistles softly, shifting Anna’s weight in his arms. “That’s fucking rough, dude. I’d be pissed.”

Joel considers this carefully. “Yeah, I was…for a while. But it was prob’ly for the best. Her loss an’ all.”

“Nobody’s gonna leave you, kid,” Ellie says softly, tilting her head back to see Anna’s little face, almost hidden in the fur of her snowsuit. “We’re gonna be around for a long, long time…me, your dad, and Charlie.”

He watches them out of the corner of his eye, his daughters. Anna, still wide awake, making gentle cooing sounds against her sister’s shoulder, whose body he cradled in his arms as she took her first breath. Ellie, the scrappy, scrawny QZ kid who greeted him with the broad swing of a knife, who saved him in ways he is only just beginning to understand.

Christ, I’m a fuckin’ sap , he thinks, swallowing hard, blaming the sudden tightness in his throat on exhaustion.

“So…still think you’re never havin’ kids?” he asks.

“You that eager to be a grandpa, old man?” she counters.

He smirks. “Didn’t say that.”

“I dunno,” she frowns at the baby. “She’s not exactly selling it. No sleep, diapers…and there’s that whole childbirth thing. Yuck.”

Anna gives an indignant squawk.

“Yeah, I know, she’s not bein’ very nice to you, huh?” Joel says in mock sympathy. “Pickin’ on a helpless li’l baby.”

“Just telling it like it is.”

Ellie looks over at him after a few minutes. “You know I like girls, right?”

“...do I know that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Dude, c’mon .”

“I’m just sayin’...we’ve never really, uh, talked about that…stuff.”

“Well…I like girls, Joel.”

“An’ I am one-hundred percent fine with that,” he says easily. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a family if you want.”

“Wow, you really don’t know how babies are made,” she says dryly. “And here I thought you were just ‘really fuckin’ drunk.’”

He arches an eyebrow. “We were, but that’s–wait, how did you–”

“Charlie told me.”

“Of course she did,” he mutters. “So uh, sure, that’s, uh…one way. But family doesn’t have to mean blood.”

He nudges her boot with his, gives her a meaningful look.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she softens. “But don’t think I’m gonna start calling you ‘Dad’ or something, asshole.”

“Call me whatever you want, kid…just don’t call me late for dinner,” Joel yawns.

“Ugh, that’s such a dad thing to say,” she groans, but she leans in, snuggling closer in a rare moment of affection. He puts his arm over the back of the swing and Ellie rests her head on his shoulder.

“Think she’s almost out,” he murmurs after a while, leaning back to peer into the hood of the snowsuit where Anna has gone quiet, blinking drowsily at him. “We can go in.”

“M’kay,” Ellie whispers, but she makes no move to get up, and he’s in no rush to interrupt this tenuous peace.

The porch swing creaks its familiar rhythm into the night. Joel places a kiss on Ellie’s temple, and Anna finally sleeps.

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you to everyone who tagged me for Sunday and Tuesday, I've been really struggling with writing lately and it's been extremely disheartening but this morning I had A Singular Bean for Frostpunk AU and milked it for all it's worth! This snippet comes immediately after the Buck and Eddie POVs of being found in the cold. Please enjoy!

He suddenly feels responsible for their wellbeing, and maybe that’s why he refuses to leave the kid’s – Christopher’s – side until the rest of the team arrives, Eli carrying the heavy med kit on his back. “I’ll get the man, Eli check the kid,” Bobby instructs, sinking to his knees beside Buck. “What’s the story with them, Buck?” “I got here just a couple minutes before the guy passed out. Didn’t say his name but his kid is called Christopher. He looked super weak, a-and they’re both freezing.” Bobby and Eli share a look over Buck’s shoulder and Eli gets to work on Christopher, checking his vital signs and most importantly, his temperature. Bobby repeats the same process on the father, while Tommy and Sal rifle through the backpack on the sled, checking for any useful information on where they’d come from. “Found the guy’s papers, Cap,” says Sal, walking towards Bobby with a flimsy leaflet in his hand. “Say’s the guy’s called Edmundo Diaz, from Sector 126. He’s ex-military but his most recent job was in a sawmill, he might be useful.” “We don’t save people based on use, Sal,” Bobby responds, his eyes not leaving Edmundo as he speaks. “He’s damn cold, temp sitting around 90 and his heart rate and respiratory rate are a little more elevated than I’d like. Eli, how’s the kid?” “Looking fairly rough, Bobby, we’re going to have to hustle to get them back in time. His temp is at 91 so he’ll be looking at pretty severe hypothermia if we don’t warm him up soon.” Bobby sucks air through his teeth, clearly thinking hard. “We’re a good 16 hours out from the city, 17 or 18 with these two and their gear. Think they’ve got it in them to make it that long?” Eli makes a face. “I really don’t know, Cap. The kid, maybe, but the guy’s temp is a little too low for my liking. Maybe if we warmed them up a little, they’d have a better chance. Did Maddie say anything about being able get the snowmobile team out here?” Buck perks up at the mention of the snowmobiles. The team was sent out a day before Buck’s team was, off on a search for supplies a few hundred miles away but were always on call in case a rescue was needed. Getting them to help would cut their travel time almost in half, giving Christopher and Edmundo the precious hours needed to save their lives. “I- I could ride one back with the kid, if they didn’t want to spare a man, Bobby?” he asks hopefully. Sal snorts from his position by the sled. Buck’s love for the snowmobiles is no secret and Bobby’s spent many a mission patiently explaining why it wouldn’t be safe or necessary and otherwise spoiling Buck’s fun. However, this situation calls for haste and Buck is nothing if not an – ah – efficient driver. Bobby looks thoughtful, before standing up and brushing the snow off his pants. “I’ll give dispatch a call and see if she can reroute them to us,” he says, continuing quickly as he watches Buck light up, “but I will be driving. You need to look after the kid, okay?” Buck deflates a little, but something in him stirs as he turns to look at the little figure in the snow next to him. He’s so young, probably no older than 7, and Buck’s heart breaks for him. He’s too young to be experiencing the hardships of the Winter, too innocent to have to watch his father weaken as they journey to a safer home. It’s like a small fire has been kindled in the pit of Buck’s belly as he shuffles closer to the boy and snakes an arm under his neck and the other under his legs, pulling his tiny frame up so he’s in Buck’s lap. Buck is going to protect this boy with his life.

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @tizniz @watchyourbuck @wikiangela @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @pirrusstuff @cal-daisies-and-briars @kitteneddiediaz @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @rainbow-nerdss @wildlife4life @puppyboybuckley @smilingbuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @housewifebuck @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @elvensorceress @babytrapperdiaz @ci5mates @hermscat (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this)

[oh-stars]

Super

Powers

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 754 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

--

“Do you think Jane likes having powers?” Robin asks. 

Steve looks up at her, eyes straining. They’re laying around the new trailer’s living room, the coffee table pushed to the side from their yoga routine (it’s the only exercise Robin can agree to with the heat right now, so he’ll take it). They’re both exhausted, the heat slowing them to mush. She’s laying upside down, feet against the windowsill and her head hanging off the cushion. Her hair’s falling into Steve’s eyes, brushing against his face where their heads are basically touching. If she were Eddie, this would be dangerous – he’d topple on Steve within minutes. But Robin’s surprisingly agile. 

“I feel like it's the worst,” she continues. “I’d crumble under pressure.” 

“You didn’t when you cracked the code,” Steve points out. 

“That was different,” Robin says on a sigh. “I didn’t know that was, like, real.” 

Steve shrugs as much as he can on the floor. She’s got a point. “Jane doesn’t know any difference,” he adds. “I think she’d rather have them than not.” 

Robin twists her hair, brushing against Steve’s forehead. “She didn’t have them before spring break so she does know different. So again, does she like having powers?” 

“She definitely likes them. She uses them all the time to dick around with the other kids.” 

The AC unit kicks into overdrive, whirring in the background of their conversation like a train blowing through a neighborhood. The silence between them lasts almost two full minutes before Robin asks, “What boring super power would you want?” 

“Boring?” 

“Yeah, low stakes. No evil mind wizards like Henry/Vecna/One. No Russians or end of the world stuff. And,” she says on an inhale, “no messing with other people’s minds.” 

“I don’t know,” Steve says honestly. “I need an example. All I can think about is flight and that’s not boring.” 

“It is,” Robin says, “but not boring enough.” She hums as she wiggles on the couch, until she rolls to the side and off to sit beside him. “Like being able to only hit green lights when you’re driving.” 

Steve’s eyes widen. “Oh. That’s good.” He twists to face her, head resting on his elbow, she mimics his posture. “What about water tasting like any other drink I want?” 

She considers this, lips pursing as she tosses the idea around in her head. “Like it always tastes good or you could turn it into root beer without changing anything?” 

“Both,” Steve says, with a nod. “If I want just water, it always tastes like the best water you’ve ever had but if I really want a root beer but only have water, it’ll taste like it.” 

“What about alcohol though?” 

Steve shrugs. “I could live without it.” 

Robin nods slowly. “I think I want to be able to learn everything by touching a book.” 

“You’d be unstoppable.” 

“Exactly.” Robin smirks as she puts her hands behind her head. “I’ll be an expert on everything and anything.” 

“Henderson would hate you.” 

She laughs, sitting up as she nods. “I’ll always know more than him, but I’ll never tell him how.” 

“That’s evil,” Steve laughs. “Do it to Eddie too.” 

“You’re a genius,” Robin says. 

The door creaks open and Wayne walks in, groceries in hand. They jump up to help him without another word. 

“Hey Uncle Wayne,” Robin asks sweetly as she puts away the canned goods, “what would you want your super power to be if you had an everyday, small power that only affects you?” 

Wayne grunts as he stands up from leaning into the fridge. “What would I do with super powers?” 

“Something small,” Steve says as he hops onto the counter with an apple. “Something to make your life easier.” 

He scratches at his scruffy chin and leans against the counter beside Robin. “Make life easier?”

“Yup,” they say. 

“Like missing all the red lights,” Steve adds, tossing the apple up in the air. 

Wayne makes another thinking noise as he looks up at the popcorned ceiling. 

As he’s about to say something else, Eddie’s voice echoes through the trailer park. “Push, Gareth! Jesus Christ.” 

Wayne sighs and motions to the door. “Fixing that shit,” he says. “C’mon, Ed could use the muscle with that heap of junk and you two are at least three Gareths.” 

Steve snorts as he hops down. He slings his arm over Robin’s shoulder and pulls her close to whisper, “Bet you Jane’s powers would come in handy now.” 

Robin pushes him away, laughing. 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[lilliesofinspirationvalley]

Thoughts on Hollows and Ether Corruption

What We Know Canonically (So Far)

Almost anything can experience ether corruption when inside a hollow, whether a living being or inanimate object

Those with high ether aptitude can stay in Hollows for longer periods of time without worrying about being corrupted, while those with low aptitude have anti-ether equipment that can help protect them. Ether aptitude tests are common

Artificial intelligence (androids, bangboo, smart machines, etc) are vulnerable to corruption if they pass the Forbidden Fruit test— which we don’t have specifics on atm, but presumably marks when an AI has become fully sentient like a person. This corruption is likely referring to ethereal mutation rather than the crystals that form on inanimate objects. Or perhaps even both! Ouch.

People who have been in Hollows for “too long” are susceptible to cognitive corruption syndrome (CCS), which is essentially a dementia/alhzheimer’s-esque disease that causes memory regression

Inferences (and/or Assumptions)

Living beings (humans, thirens, sentient ai, etc) presumably have their corruption levels “reset”/scale back down after exiting a hollow. I’m taking it as a similar situation to blot in Twisted Wonderland, where accumulation naturally decreases with enough time outside the hollow, and can be sped up with proper health maintenance (eating, sleeping, etc).

Corruption only really becomes a concern based on if you can leave (hence why proxies and carrots are so important), and if you stay in the hollows for extended periods of time. I think the threshold for “too long” starts at about maybe 2-3 hours??? Most commissions, including story events, take nowhere near as long as that in real time, I’m sure. I think the longest we might’ve gotten was about 75-90 minutes with the Cunning Hares in the prologue.

That’s the case for those with high ether aptitudes though. Lower aptitudes will experience effects much faster. Red Fang Gang’s Miguel Silver had to have practically zero ether aptitude for his mutation to be so instant.

Coming into contact with ether as an element/material (crystals, Nicole and Zhu Yuan’s shots, etc) won’t immediately cause high corruption levels/mutation (it’s likely everything in the ZZZ verse has in-world increased durability, given players and enemies alike can take bullet shots, burns, freezing, electric shocks, etc without dire consequences). Ethereals are often the most affected by other ether attacks— like ghost or dragon type being super effective against itself from Pokemon

Ether-tipped blades and other melee weapons have got to be a thing (I already have some ocs with this in mind for their weapons), and I don’t think it’s inherently dangerous to get hit by/wield them. You just gotta keep them covered when not in use, and be mindful/intentional of where you hold them (as you already would be with blades of any kind). The material used for weaponry (melee and firearms alike) is probably diluted a significant amount compared to the original crystals?

When actually harvesting ether crystals and other material, it’s highly recommended (often required) to handle with as much caution and protection as possible. The main thing being proper containment and coverage like gloves and stuff.

If there are more gradual effects to Hollow exposure, it’s likely not well known at the time of ZZZ’s main story. CCS could potentially be such, but it’s probably more susceptible if someone stays in hollows for about/longer than 2-3 hours in a single period of time.

Rapidly entering/exiting a hollow back and forth doesn’t count as a “reset”

Inanimate objects, overall, have significantly higher resistance against corruption. Specific levels can vary depending on material rates of corrosion/erosion/decay, quality and handling of the item, how deep it’s located in the hollow, etc. Time-space warping could also be a potential factor, but it’s probably difficult to test logistics for that.

As a general rule of thumb, buildings and infrastructure are usually the most durable things within a hollow. If you stay inside a building within the hollow (such as the Ballet Towers in Ch 3), you can stay inside for much longer (the threshold increasing up to 5-6 or even 7-8 hours, hence why Victoria Housekeeping could do their maintenance checks in the Ballet Towers without endangering themselves). Of course, if ethereals are able to access the building, that will naturally cause interior and/or exterior corruption mainly if hit with ether itself)

Understandably, artificial intelligence has far more resistance to (physical) corruption than organic beings, given they often house mechanical bodies. Though mental capabilities are still vulnerable from potential damage to processing units and such. But that takes about the same threshold as organic beings (~ 2-3 hours outside, 5-8 hours inside).

Unknown (As of Now)

Corruption effects on vegetation (plants/fungus), along with non-sentient animals and/or robotics.

[batsplat]

something something the way valentino wanted to destroy gibernau that bad. like for a while there sete did live rent free in his mind I guess. I do realize that vale was using the whole situation to like you said motivate himself but still!

jerez last lap when valentino makes that mistake and runs wide and lets sete through... is it possible to more visibly panic when riding a motorcycle. like valentino just freaks at the idea that he might be letting sete win, immediately gets super shaky as he hops on sete's rear tyre. his own front tyre off the ground right before he sends it on sete's inside in a move that - let's be honest - just wasn't gonna do it. once sete re-overtakes, valentino really only has a few seconds to make his choice, and in the end he decides he'd rather take them both out than let sete beat them. like?? I think when people discuss parallels between vale and a certain other rider, it's always important to remember that valentino isn't really that aggressive on a normal day... he's also really not particularly reckless, like that's why he has a reputation for being an aggressive rider but still in his prime/late prime (basically pre-2011) he also had a super low crash rate. what valentino is all about his calculated aggression, he's very deliberate with what he thinks he can get away with - and when he noticeably escalates the aggression in a way that is also pretty risky for him, it usually tells you something special is going on. the other obvious example is laguna '08, but that was the epitome of calculated aggression: he knew exactly what he was going to do because he decided he had to send casey a message

this last corner move isn't a message. this isn't calculated. it had been job done, lead taken three laps before the end, very cool and calm and clever, but then valentino slips up. and he cannot let sete win. he can't! what does he do if he can't find the inside line, just barrel into sete? like, it's not that the move is even that egregious (I mean it kinda is but also we're all a bit desensitised these days, 2013 was obviously even sillier) and, yes, sete was just plain unlucky to get injured from that contact. but the thing is, if that move ends up being even riskier, if valentino is in an even worse position, valentino fully sends it anyway. like he was always going to send it in that corner. of course he was

it's kinda... it's so revealing, what you get when you really get his back against the wall. what he did in 2004 when he was truly under pressure in the championship picture basically for the first time, how he still went for sete's throat last lap of phillip island... genuinely that's a situation where basically every other rider settles for second because you have a championship to wrap up, except maybe marc and honestly in that specific situation even he might have left it to just the one last lap mov- actually you know what never mind, okay maybe two riders who would've gone for it in that situation. and in basically every other situation against any other rival, valentino doesn't go for it either. phillip island 2009 isn't a matchpoint race and valentino probably didn't have anything for casey that day anyway, but he could've pushed it a bit harder and maybe at least tried to show a front wheel here or there. and that's arguably a less precarious championship situation than phillip island was. but he wouldn't get that kind of head loss over casey! he wouldn't get that kind of head loss over jorge either! but however much he enjoys winning, however much he enjoys, uh, not crashing, all of that can actually go out of the window when he faces someone who he NEEDS to beat

I really stand by this tbh:

like ffs, it's such massive head loss to go on national television and promise your rival who was nominally still your friend 24 hours ago is never going to win another race in his life. we kinda roll with it now because he managed to pull it off but he shouldn't have. this should have been CRAZY hubris from this mfer but now it's like 'wow he really did break that guy'. I know this may be controversial, but I still reckon it is the biggest case of genuine head loss in his entire career - mainly because it's such a spontaneous reaction and had this heat-of-the-moment insanity. makes me furious that this worked. sete got five pole positions in 2005!! FIVE! it's not like he suddenly got slow overnight! he didn't win ANY of them!! sick sick stuff

yeah, valentino motivated himself through sete... but it is kinda crazy, to what extent that motivational process outlived sete being a competitive threat. what's really fun to me about this rivalry is that... you know, nowadays that kind of friendship would be way harder to just erase. we'd have all this footage to go back to, so many more little hints and bits of interviews to work with, probably some instagram posts from ibiza, to have as a record of what that relationship once was. but with them? they were title rivals and they were friends - and they weren't talking about their friendship in interviews before it all fell apart. so now it's just sort of... gone. they went on holidays together, even when they were title rivals - and the best evidence we have for that are the commentators talking about it at brno 2003. we have no clue why they got on in the first place, we don't know how they managed that friendship as title rivals before the disaster. it's still one of the most striking things about the whole thing to me... because it's just a bit further back in the past, valentino really could make the friendship vanish at the time of his choosing. the way you can really tell that sete got to him is how there's basically no sign left of their friendship. valentino erased sete from his autobiography and he's erased him from the story of his whole career more often than not. and that's how you know sete really got into valentino's head... through the weight of valentino's cold indifference

[grandeoatmilklatte]

HL Characters and their Horror Movie Tropes

+ a Horror movie character I think they're most similar to and their likelihood of survival!

I randomly got hit with this idea in my sleep, so now it's on my blog! Hopefully this hasn't been done before! Of course these are my opinions based on my stupid little brain, but feel free to nicely let me know your thoughts. Also, because this has to do with horror movies, there will of course be mentions of D34th, so please keep that in mind. And if I gave your favorite character a low chance of survival, know that I am truly sorry, but someone's gotta go in a Horror film!

Some spoilers will be present for some movies, so please be advised.

Ominis Gaunt:

Trope: Ominis is the resourceful friend. The one who's instantly trying to find a reasonable escape route. He's the one you want when you're trapped in an escape room. Ominis is determined to figure out who the killer is and TAKE THEM DOWN. Final Girl energy to the max. Not even his disability is stopping him.

Character: Erin - You're Next (2011) - Such an under rated Final Girl. Erin is resourceful, knows how to put up a fight, and she's got a rough background that helps her survive. No doubt that Ominis's ruthless upbringing as a Gaunt would come in handy when it comes to survival. He likely knows how to fight, and would get brutal if it came to saving himself and his friends. Erin uses her environment to her advantage, which I know Omi would. (i know there's debate as to whether or not Erin does live, but I'd like to believe she does!)

Likelihood of survival: 96%

Garreth Weasley:

Trope: Garreth is the comic relief friend. May or may not be helpful in terms of escaping, but at least he's good at keeping the group entertained while they're trying to escape the haunted house. He's eager to help and subdue the killer, although he may screw up sometimes. It’s really up to chance whether he’d live or not, which breaks my heart to say cause I love my baby boy Garreth, but I'm trying to be realistic. If he did die, his death would be the most devastating for the group and the audience because of how much of a loved character he was.

Character: I have two that fit Garreth fairly well! Dewey - Scream (1996) and Marty - Cabin in the Woods (2011). Dewey because like Garreth, Dewey is a lovable goofball, but can put up a fight when needed. He cares about his friends, is brave, and still survives despite taking some nasty hits, and I feel like Garreth could take a few hits without being fatally hurt. And then Marty because Marty is hilarious, like Garreth. We all know Garreth would be a stoner a modern day setting, like Marty, and despite Garreth's goofy nature, he isn't dumb by any means, like Marty (Marty is the one to first notice something is up). Plus, like Marty, Garreth is the secret hottie. Movie fun fact - in the scene where they all swim in the lake, Marty is the only one that doesn't take his shirt off and jump in because the actor was actually MORE RIPPED than Chris Hemsworth, and it would have ruined the illusion of Marty being the lanky stoner and Chris being the hot jock.

Likelihood of survival: 75%

Sebastian Sallow:

Trope: Sebastian would try to be the hero for sure (if he isn't the killer). He's eager to find the killer, especially if his lover is in danger. He'll protect them and the rest of the friend group as much as he can. He definitely has Final Girl energy as well, but is at super high risk of dying if he's not careful due to his eagerness to fight the killer off. If he's the killer, he would be the jealous, jilted, boyfriend type, the hot jock guy that you wouldn't suspect (or maybe you would). He's doing this because he was hurt and is getting revenge. His Final Girl will have a lot on her plate.

Character: For the hero role: Ash - The Evil Dead (1981) - Boys can be Final Girls too!! Ash kicks ass and looks hot doing it. He's determined to survive and stops at nothing to do so. For the killer role: Billy - (Scream 1996) - Hot jilted boyfriend. Billy is ruthless in his killing, but thankfully he has an awesome Final Girl to put him in his place.

Likelihood of survival: as a hero - 85%, as the killer - 40%

Imelda Reyes:

Trope: Imelda is the bitchy popular girl that you grow to love as the movie progresses. Sadly she will not survive, and she'd be another sad fan favorite death. She deserved to be a Final Girl with her confidence and attitude, but sadly survival was not in the cards. She did put up one hell of a fight though!

Character: Tatum - Scream (1996). Tatum is confident and tough, and absolutely deserved to be a Final Girl. Tatum even taunts Ghostface before he attacks her, which is totally something Imelda would do. She puts up one hell of a fight, but loses the fight eventually, we know Imelda is fiesty and would fight the killer to the bitter end. 

Likelihood of survival: 10%

Leander Prewitt:

Trope: Leander seems like the type to trust very easily, which means he would put way too much trust in the killer, and it might be his demise. As much as I love Leander, he would be easy to lure in. He would put up a fight, but it would be futile. He would at least have the opportunity to warn the others that there's a killer in their midst, giving the group a fighting chance. There's also a chance he could just get knocked out by the killer, the killer thinks he's dead, but he's not! (It hurts my heart to potentially kill him but not everyone can live in a Horror movie!) If you have a better trope idea please let me know cause I felt bad for him!

Character: Aaron - Creep (2014) - (Major spoilers incoming for this one and the sequel) Aaron should have left at the first sign of Joseph being weird, but he didn't. He stayed for far longer than he should have, and even when he DID ESCAPE, he still agreed to meet with him later, which led to his end. My hope is that Leander would be more like Sara - Creep 2 (2017). She also makes the mistake of trusting Joseph far too much, but she at least escapes and survives the film (although Joseph is definitely still looking for her. )

Likelihood of survival: 30%

Amit Thakkar:

Trope: The smart one!! The one who told the group not to touch the cursed object/not to go in the haunted house. Although he'd definitely be a scaredy cat, he'd be eager to find them a way out. Will likely not try to fight the killer though, and will just be focused on escaping. That is of course, if he even ends up in that situation in the first place. He’d be the type to not even follow the group to begin with, thus escaping the entire movie.

Character: Gavin - The Taking of Deborah Logan (2014) - As soon as Gavin realizes something's not right, HE LEAVES. He doesn't wait around for shit to hit the fan. He quits the documentary while everyone else fucks around and finds out. Thus, surviving the movie.

Likelihood of survival: 90%

Poppy Sweeting:

Trope: Poppy is a sweetheart! She’s friendly and cares about animals (beasts). She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Right? You ever meet someone that’s just too nice and you can tell there’s probably a darkness to her, waiting to be unleashed? Poppy seems like the perfect killer because of how unexpected it would be. Her bubbly personality is a perfect way to lure someone in before she attacks. We all know she doesn’t bat an eye to the use of unforgiveables on poachers. On the brightside, she isn’t that difficult to take down once you outsmart her. 

Character: (This is going to be an obscure one. If you know what movie this is, please let me know cause I want to be friends!!) Rebecca - Superhost (2021) - Superhost is an indie horror movie about a vlogging couple who vlog from Airbnbs. They stay at this one Airbnb owned by a Superhost named Rebecca. Rebecca is bubbly and sweet, but there’s just something off about her, and she gets progressively scarier as the movie progresses. Her character is adorable, sweet, but totally unhinged. If Poppy was into vacation homes instead of beasts, this would be her. 

Likelihood of survival: 50%

Natty Onai: 

Trope: Natty is a true Gryffindor. She’s brave and protective of her loved ones. She has the makings of a Final Girl, but her eagerness to fight back puts her in danger frequently, and she could possibly go as a result. She would need to scale back and not act on impulse if she wants to survive the film. 

Character: Helen - I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) - I know I just said Natty has Final Girl vibes, but there’s too many Final Girls on this list already, so for her I’m picking a girl who SHOULD have been a Final Girl, and definitely had the makings of one. Helen is badass, popular, and puts up a fight to stay alive. She would have been a much better Final Girl than Julie (Julie sucks!!). Helen’s death was lame, but heartbreaking. Another fan favorite unfairly taken away. Also, Helen’s actress is also miss Buffy FREAKING Summers, another badass lady who I feel like Natty would vibe well with.

Likelihood of survival: 40%

MC:

Character: MC is another character that could be either the hero or the killer. As the hero, they are determined to protect those they love, and fight the killer to the bitter end. They obviously have major plot armor. They might discover they have superpowers just when they're about to die, and they use the superpowers to fight off the killer, thus surviving the movie. As the killer, they would definitely be the type of killer who didn’t start off that way, and turned evil due to the things that were done to them.

Trope: As a hero - Sienna Shaw - Terrifier 2 (2022) - Why does she have super powers? Who knows? But she's cool and just when hope is lost, she's able to use her powers to protect her loved ones and defeat Art the Clown. As a killer - Jane Doe in The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2014) (major spoiler for the movie incoming!!!) she wasn’t inherently evil, but after being tortured and being accused of witchcraft, her corpse became evil, cursing anyone who dares touch her. She’s also super powerful considering she doesn’t move for most of the movie. This level of overpowered-ness is also a trait of our MC. 

Likelihood of survival: as a hero: 98%, as the killer: 98%

Bonus! Duncan Hobhouse LOL

Trope: Duncan would bring about the horror to begin with. He's the one accidentally reading from cursed books out loud, the one who's accidentally watching a cursed tape, and the one using the ouija board. He's not surviving. BYE. He'll be screaming the whole time, giving up the group's location to the killer constantly. The other characters will spend the rest of the movie hating him because he got them in this mess to begin with.

Character: Every person in the Evil Dead franchise that plays the recording that raises the deadites. You should never play mysterious records, especially ones you find in a creepy cabin or in a hole in the ground. 

Likelihood of survival: 2%

[officialtrashbin]

Ok ok ok ok ok wrap-up thoughts on the season now that the finale is out:

First of all, DEATHBIT DEATHBIT DEATHBIT

2) ok the subplot with Rogue and Magneto actually grew on me. Like, she’s rejected him ultimately but they still mattered to each other and they still do, it’s just not romantic from her side anymore. I can’t blame magneto for not getting over her rejection I’d never be able to take the psychic damage of losing Rogue

also yeah the age gap was a little weird but I’m living for the drama and the potential for their platonic friendship. I want to make a comment about how their stint is an example of unidentified trauma becoming trauma bonding but then I have to like…write it.

3) I actually think Roberto and Jubilee were super cute and have elected to give their storylines a pass. Like they’re just kids coming into adulthood and have found comfort in each other, that’s good enough for me for now. (Though I’d like to see more of comic-accurate Sunspot being adapted but I digress. It’s only been 1 season.)

Also I think Sunspot awkwardly hanging around the Xmen slowly coming to terms with his speedran adoption is the funniest basis for an arc and have no further comments. Might write a fic later on his Struggles.

4) KURT JOINING THE MOTHERFUCKIN SQUAD BABYYYY and literally just everything about him. Being so supportive of Rogue and holding her and encouraging Gambit and just 😭😭😭😭

5) PHOENIX JEAN PHOENIX JEAN I LOVED JEAN

6) cyclops was one of my least favs in the original, this show put so much respect back on his name. I actually adore him now—plus the scenes with him doting on his grown ass man child is hysterical. Need more of it. I need this guy telling people this Hulk Hogan of a unit is his lil boy.

If Nathan isn’t seen later at a baseball game with Scott in a Summer 01 jersey and the cyborg arm badly painted over I’m committing crimes.

7) I think Storm needed way more screen time. I know there were scenes with her written out due to budget issues (and also them skipping her goodbye to Gambit made me annoyed) but like. The fact that her centric arc was put across two episodes shared with other episodes was irritating.

7.5) In this same vein I missed Bishop, I got so attached!!!! but here’s to hoping he’s kicking ass again in s2!

8) the rate in which I fell in love with these characters all over again is insane. Like harder than the original show in a fraction of the time.

9) Rogue did nothing wrong. 😭

10) Magneto definitely wasn’t right, but it’s interesting to witness how they justified his view point with Genosha and Bastion, and the ripple effect it had on people who didn’t even agree with him in the first place.

11) Cherik lmfao they were SO gay. I’m all for affectionate besties and dudes being shown as having close platonic bonds but this was Very Affectionate Besties with Seductive Grin Bedroom Eyes Charles Every Two Sentences.

12) honestly want a version of this show though where Charles stayed gone. I actually like him! I just think not having him around to help guide everyone made things so much spicier. Magneto was StrugglingTM for Real

13) Gambit’s death was so good, but I definitely figured he’d be coming back somehow because there was no way they were offing him thinking Rogue didn’t choose him.

14) speaking of, I was mostly joking in my shitposts about Death Gambit cause I had my money on a possible Sentinel Gambit with Bastion’s introduction, but the moment they went to Egypt I started clawing up all my old shit posts.

15) ROGUE DID NOTHING WRONG (lots of wrong but you know what? I love her. She can commit wrongs again.)

16) Beast was so good but I also low key wish he had a bit more screen time. His bitterness after Genosha was short-lived, I wish it had been explored more, like Charles talking it out of him or something and reminding him about their goals or…something.

17) Bastion was awesome no notes, hope he comes back as a horseman for the flex

18) hot Magneto no notes

19) hot Apocalypse no notes

20) crop top Gambit no notes

21) “His name was Gambit! Remember it!” Rogue was so beast in this season, it was cathartic watching her beat the shit out of Bastion. Her and Sunspot honestly make for a cool combat duo and I want to see them interact more.

22) DEATH GAMBIT AAAAAAHHHHHG

23) ey yo hold up does this mean Leech and the Morlochs and the perished Genosha mutants are permanently dead??? 💀

24) Logan and Morph were definitely something this season and I adored it, I adored Morph especially. Like Morph really said I Love You even if it was as Jean, I take what I can get

26) Magneto ripping Wolverine’s skeleton out like homie wouldn’t try to kill him with a wooden chair if given the opportunity. If anything now Logan has 0 weaknesses and a personal vendetta he can act upon. Rest in pieces Erik.

27) A goddess, a gravely injured Canadian, and a metaphor for gender identity walk into a bar and all 3 say “ouch” (bad joke. You’re welcome. Don’t worry guys, Storm is there so their arc will be wrapped up in about 12 minutes. Sorry can you tell I’m still mildly salty about her lack of screen time)

28) Rogue launching Cap’s shield is 11/10. Do it again do it again (woulda been top tier humor if the end credits showed him still looking for it frantically as the asteroid got closer)

Mostly that’s all I got. I have various other thoughts including how fucking HYPE seeing my fav duo Cloak and Dagger made me, but these were the key personal takeaways.