#bones did that twice i wonder if leaving the people he loves and still finding it unbearable to be apart from them is a pattern

[dreamicus]

For The World is Hollow and I Have Toched the Sky isn't just weirdly poetic without any meaning,.it s actually the best and coolest title ever because. You see. Life is bad and they're in space

[viburnt]

PUPPY BOY! AU HEADCANONS PT.1

About this AU: Puppy boy! Au is your normal MHA universe with a slight twist. Men possess dog traits (ears, tails, and sometimes large canines), it's hereditary from father to son. Some reactions like tail wagging and perked ears happen, but they have normal lives like any other (mostly, if they like you enough they can give you an “owner” title.)

Still working on this AU please, give feedback 🙏

Kirishima + Pitbull

@angelshimaa come get your dog, bb

• Eijirou is a Pitbull puppy boy, he doesn't have his tail or ears cut like many of his kind, but he does have the eyes an attitude.

• Plenty of people fear him because pitbulls have a bad reputation, but he proves the myth is false by being super kind and loyal! Besides, it's difficult to be scared of him when he welcomes you with such a sweet smile.

• You decided to let him into your life after spending a lot of bonding time with him. It'd be a lie if you said you weren't nervous at first, his pointy teeth were reason enough to be wary. He managed to dissipate any fear, whatsoever, his tail wagging effusively whenever you spoke.

• Like many pitbulls, Kirishima is energetic and loves to exercise, so he constantly drags you to daily jogs and weight-lifting training.

• Did I mention he gives you scary dog privileges? Again, many people associate pitbulls with aggressive behavior, so they think twice before messing with you, specially if he is by your side.

• He is oblivious of his size and weight, and will try to be a lapdog even if his size is not the most practical. “Oh, you are sitting on the couch? Let me just crush you with my weight to cuddle.”

• Not very eager of the idea of being collared like some puppy boys are, but will accept to wear one if you really want him to. Just don't expect him to wear it for long periods.

• It's funny to introduce him with a scary and ominous nickname that contrasts with his kind and gentle personality. “This is my friend Bone crusher planet destroyer” *Kirishima waving his hand happily in the background* “A real menace!”

• Will not hesitate to smother you with PDA if another puppy boy tries to approach you.

“You're home, you're home!” Kirishima said, opening the door for you before you could even finish putting your key in the lock set. You'd only been away for a couple of hours, yet - in Kiri's mind- an eternity had passed. He had missed you so much!

“Hey, buddy, did anyone come while I was gone?” You asked, your hand finding its way to the soft black fur of his ears. It was easy to tell he liked it, specially when his tail wagged so rapidly. “No, no one came - Hey, I smell something on you.” Eijirou pointed out, sniffing your clothes a little. “You were with other men!” He pouted, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, it was a party. Of course, there were more people.” You giggled, leaving your bag on the kitchen counter.

Kiri was not having it, his strong arms locking you into a tight embrace. "Now I gotta cuddle you until my scent is there again!" He claimed, throwing you into the couch to cuddle for the rest of the evening. Oh, if only people knew how much of a baby your scary pitbull was!

Dabi + Dobberman

@dabislittlemouse your puppy bites!

• Even if this scary looking dog may seem like some sort of hell hound when your first meet him, he comes from a very selective bloodline after all! His breed would be a Dobberman, with his ears pointy and tail short from being cut at a young age. Also, albino dobbermans have blue eyes! And so you have Touya (white fur) before becoming Dabi (black fur).

• He knows people fears him just by looking at their reactions, and he enjoys it! Dabi wonders, however, why you didn't run away the first time you approached him. He thinks you are very dumb for not being careful around him, but doesn't mind your company at all.

• Hates the idea of an owner but can't help the tail wag whenever you compliment him or do something that he finds exciting. The first time you see that reaction is when you tell him how cool he was!

• Sometimes allows you to see his canines and smirks when he notices how much you like them. Dabi likes to tease by saying "Do you want me to bite you that bad?"

• Dabi IS the definition of scary dog privileges. Looks like he'll bite and WILL bite if someone tries to approach you.

• He also refers to you as "Lady" because, in his eyes, your dynamic with him is similar to the "Lady and the tramp" story... Except the tramp is more of a hurt dog that turned aggressive against everyone except you.

• Won't admit it but enjoys resting his head on your lap whenever you are sitting, this only happens in private though. Bonus points if you caress his hair and ears, you can see the stump of his tail wag!

"Dabi, why are you standing under the rain? You'll get sick!" You worried, watching the man waiting for you outside your workplace. His black spiky hair had turned slick and damp, but his ears remained perked up with attentiveness as he watched you step out of the building. "Just making sure you walk home safe, nothing else." He grunted with his hands inside the pockets of his coat. "There were some drunk fucks a few blocks down."

You pulled out your umbrella and shielded him, "Yeah? Will you put them in their place if they misbehave?" He heard you joke, but the dark smirk he had on his face was enough to tell you an answer. "Who says I didn't take care of them already?"

Your mouth gaped for a moment in both worry and amazement, "Well, as long as they still breath."

"Yeah, they do... I think." Dabi snorted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and flashing you a grin. "Now, let's get you home."

Bakugo + Chihuahua

@shonen-brainrot Your man is a Chihuahua, can't convince me otherwise

• A lot of people think Chihuahuas are evil, crazy and aggressive rats. Most of the time, they'd be wrong, but in Katsuki's case, the stereotype applies... partially. Chihuahuas are very friendly and social under the right circumstances, but if they get too spoiled or babied, they can develop a rather snarky and corrosive personality! So, on one hand, he is very attentive at home and knows when and where to be cooperative; on the other, if you push his buttons, he won't hesitate to bite.

• He has big fluffy ears, always pointing towards the sky. The tail matches, coated in soft cream fur. Hates when people tries to pet him and will get easily annoyed with baby talk; he is supposed to be scary, not some sort of fashion accessory people could coddle!

• Anxious, but not in the "I will have a mental breakdown and cry" type. He is anxious as in, "I feel vulnerable or attacked in this situation and will maul anyone who tries to approach."

• Like many Chihuahuas, he likes to be treated as a "big dog". Stands all strong and stern, plays rough, and will pick up a fight with people twice his size if he somehow thinks he can win (happens often, no one knows how). Definition of delulu tiny dog, and sometimes needs a reality check.

• Won't use a collar! At least not in a visible way. If you end up being his significant other, he will wear a collar but very subtly.

• Doesn't handle extreme temperatures very well, specially considering his quirk. Give this pup a sweater for God's sake!

"Goddammit, stop touching my damn ears!" Bakugo barked, swatting your hand away from him as you giggled. "Sorry, they're just too cute! Look at them twitch when I poke them." You pointed out, earning a growl from the blond. In a swift movement, he pinned you down on the couch, frowning and baring his teeth to you.

"I'm not your pet!" He huffed but the smirk on your face made his eyes widen in realization: he still was wearing the collar you gave him, tucked underneath the shirt of his uniform. "Relax, I won't do it again, ok?" You assured.

With a flustered face Bakugo let go of you, ears dropping with embarrassment. "Shut up, dumbass..." The blond mumbled, hiding his adorned neck with his clothes. "Has anyone seen it?" You asked curious. "Of course not! And I would kill them if they do." Smiling, you giggled. He was such a grumpy puppy!

[thelunarfairy]

Ohh loooook, it's me, again-

Bruh now I'm here to talk about another one of my favourite tbhk character, TSUKASA-

I have quite a questionable type, and tsukasa just so happens to fit in that so here I am, simping for him-

But omg your theories and analysis on him and his behavior? That really intrigues me and makes so much sense! I actually never thought about his behavior towards amane to be that way.

You know, out of curiosity I've been searching things like "can one child out of twins be a psychopath", considering how tsukasa's behavior has been described for so long typically. And at least even how I have childishly perceived his character. Didn't make sense to me because if I think this biologically, how can tsukasa's brain develop differently while amane acts sane with emotions in check? Is tsukasa even a psychopath? So after reading your analysis it hits me that ah yes, the boy is just a full blown sociopath who needs Amane's apology, an explanation, and his understanding. Because as you said, he doesn't show the emotions on his face, but you can sometimes determine his feelings through his words.

But also you know how children act the way they act because of their surroundings right? So how why did tsukasa act that way as a child? His little actions, such as crushing the bones of frogs, or just killing them. These little teensy acts of violence, I wonder where he learnt that from. Or maybe it's just me being too much-

He's such an intriguing character because we just don't know what's going on in his mind. You never know. You don't know why, he's doing what he's doing. Why he's acting in such a way, it's all a mystery. And I'm just waiting for when everything gets revealed and tsukasa finally finds peace that he deserves. The boy has suffered a LOT. And if I were in his place? I'd be petty as HELL. I would be angry and all over the place. Because yeah imagine sacrificing your life for your sibling, only to find out he not only killed himself, but also you, who gave their own life just for another. Now that's a tragedy.

Look, Tsukasa leaving people intrigued again haha is a gift he has. Look, if we're going to talk about Tsukasa we have to talk about both of them, let's include Amane.

The twins have had psychological problems since childhood, and we can say this is because of their suicidal tendency. Tsukasa was the first to give up on his own life, Amane gave up later, but gave up.

Consider the situation, if the person you love is going to die and to save them you need to make a sacrifice, what do you think people would do? Generally, they would try to look for another way, or even sacrifice someone from outside, who has nothing to do with it (let's not be hypocrites and let's understand that there are people who would do this, NEVER ALL of them, but there always are)

What would you do? Would you sacrifice yourself or try to find another way to convince God to save that person?

Tsukasa didn't think twice. But, let's overlook it a little due to his young age. And this is another factor, a four-year-old child who decided to die, do you see how impactful this is? Children at this age shouldn't worry about anything, he should just understand that his older brother is sick, but the whole time Tsukasa is trying to please Amane because he knows he's about to die.

Tsukasa is a very intelligent boy, above average, he proves this to us all the time, but I still can't see him in the same way as most people.

Tsukasa has high suicidal tendencies and signs of depression. One of the most important signs that is undervalued by people is shown by him all the time, the warnings: Amane doesn't like me, Amane hates me, Amane will live better without me.

So, let's go to Amane, he follows the same reasoning.

Apparently Hanako has more psychological problems than Tsukasa. He, in his most youthful phase, appears to have severe depression, high suicidal rates, and the possibility of self-mutilation (nothing confirmed). Depression doesn't happen because you're sad, depression is a disabling pain, and when I say pain, I'm not referring to the body, but the mind.

Suicide is an act of desperation, he wants to get rid of pain. Amane has severe trauma, high rates of depression and suicidal tendencies, and in addition, like Tsukasa, he is unpredictable. The difference between them is that Tsukasa is spontaneous, he does a lot of things that make people scared, Amane doesn't do it directly like him, but he does it.

We found out that he was going to kill Aoi only after it was actually close to happening, he planned everything coldly and while it was happening, he pretended he didn't know anything, he pretended he was helping Nene and Akane find her ( because he felt obligated) and he even questioned her "How did you manage to escape number six?"

Tsukasa kills supernaturals in front of us, he tends to do cruel things at certain times, Hanako tends to do it behind our backs, you don't see or know his intentions.

Remember, the two are opposites. Didn't Tsukasa say that?

They both have a lot of psychological problems, if I'm going to delve deeper into this, I'll have to make a post hahaha but, you have to take one thing into consideration when we talk about the twins.

The supernatural creature under the house.

Tsukasa has lived with her since he was four years old, so he's used to seeing cruel things and thinking it's normal because he's seen it for a long time and there was no one there with him to tell him it was wrong.

Do you think this is a common conversation? He is talking to the creature. Is it normal to ask someone if they have eyes or hands? And even more so calmly and naturally.

Amane also knows this creature, less than Tsukasa, I suppose, but he also lived with it. The twins are not just two, they are three, the thing is embedded in their chest.

In the heart.

Tsukasa didn't kill animals as a child, he gave them to the creature, he clearly didn't know what he was doing, I imagine he found out later. He offered a rice ball to the creature to make another wish come true, and when nothing happened he assumed that he wanted an animal because the day before, his lizard had disappeared.

If he has learned to be cruel, it is probably because of the thing that is embedded in his heart, the creature in the house.

Amane is more responsible than him because Tsukasa saw things that he didn't, but that doesn't take away Amane's guilt. The story develops like this, hiding everything about Amane, about number 7, about Hanako, he hides it, but nothing guarantees that he isn't like Tsukasa, but he hates to admit it.

They are opposites and at the same time similar, to talk about one, we must talk about the other, that's how it works, or better yet, talk about all three. Never forget that thing, ever.

I still owe more posts about both of them hahaha, it will definitely be one of the big ones. I hope you liked it, thanks for the ask! ♡

[modthoughts00]

Fire Escape Boy 

*   *   *

The pot is almost overflowing from the leak in the ceiling when I come home. At least the rain has stopped for now. The smell of cigarettes wafts in from outside. Carrying the pot full of rain drops, I try to push the old white window up and dump the water out . 

“ ahhh” someone shouts from below me. Oh shit was someone out there? There's literally only a garbage 3 stories down who would be there. I hesitantly stick my head out the window and look down to see an older guy covered in  my rain water. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to be looking up. 

“ Now that's something you can’t watch on TV…” a familiar voice says. I turn to see Elijah from the elevator, sitting with his legs hanging over the fire escape. Baggy T- shirt casually hanging off his body, revealing the slightest bit of his collar bone. His cigarette placed effortlessly in his left hand. I’m still in my scrubs and hair slicked back in french braids. Fuck. 

“ What can I say…I try my best to give the people what they want…”

“ I don’t think Mr. Brooks wanted that…” he said. I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “But fuck that made my day, maybe he’ll think twice before giving me another lecture on cigarettes” I can see his eyes register my scrubs. “ Oh sorry its probably so annoying for you to watch  me ruin my lungs rn…” again I can’t tell if he is being a dick or not. 

“Nah I'm just in training, not the real deal yet”... I say pointing to my scrubs. “Mr. Brooks is right though we really shouldn’t” I say whilst stepping one foot back through my window

“Oi, phoebe right? Did you just say we? Stay for a smoke…” his voice was softer now. Straddling the window with one foot on the fire escape and one in my apartment, I hesitated. 

“Sorry no pressure, I’m out here every night, plenty of other smokes to be had.” he said looking straight ahead. His profile was so elegant, his smooth sun kissed skin barely holding in his jawline. Do not have a crush on the  neighbour Phoebe. You don’t even smoke. 

“ No I’d love to, just gonna grab a sweater.” what the fuck did I just say? 

“ Sweet,” he says as smoke leaves his mouth. Where’s my Casually sexy sweater? Sh*t Shi*tShit. Tearing open my top dresser; I see it on my chair of not dirty/ not clean clothes. Smack my cheeks to have some colour and climb back out. The air is still warm.The orange sky hung like a brick framed photo between the 4 walls of the courtyard. 

“Such a nice night.” I try to speak softly. The weather phoebe? That was your best opener. 

“ Yeah” He slightly nods his head as he exhales smoke. “ You want a light?” he said, turning to face me for the first time. His features are a little alarming this close. 

“Yeah thanks.” I say taking the cigarette from his hand. Our fingers briefly touching in the exchange. He holds out the lighter for me to grab. 

“ Eh you can like this one” I say, sticking the cigarette between my lips and leaning forward for him to light. 

“ As you wish” what is this overconfidence phoebe? I let out a massive cough. God that's disgusting. I think back to the tabloid of my mother smoking a cigarette in her 20s outside that Manhattan bar. I wonder if she felt as sexy as she looked. Or if it was really just disgusting for her like it was for me.

“ Oi cough it out, better out than in I always say” he says smiling at me. 

“BING BING BING”

“”Oh fuck thats my mom… her and my sister call every night” I say breaking the silence that felt like a life time. 

“ Oh so that's all the chatter I hear every night” he teases back with a playful smile. I feel my cheeks flush. 

“ Well I gotta go, but I hope to find you out here again.” I say so quietly I wonder if he can even hear me.  

“ You should be worried if I’m not here.” his voice says sarcastically. I don’t know if that statement gives me the ick or makes him more sexy? 

With that I climb back inside. 

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break.  When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

 You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War,  minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

 ♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

 You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

 Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

 ♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

  The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

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 You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

[llamagoddessofficial]

Happy (late im sorry) birthday @aka-indulgence !!! I wrote you a special thing... with one of your special boyos whomst you managed to convert me into loving. I hope you had a fun day!!

Tw; caves, broken bones

You’d stopped screaming a while ago.

There were a lot of reasons- for one, the air in the cave was damp, thick, choking... screaming required you to take a deep inhale of the stale smog and your lungs were already starting to reject it. It was borderline unbearable and you were pretty certain that if you survived this, you’d be choking and coughing for a week at least.

... But that wasn’t the biggest reason. That wasn’t the most important reason you were keeping your mouth shut tight, as you laid on your back in complete darkness, eyes darting around as fast as they could and leg numb with agony.

By this point, screaming was a critical danger that would get you killed.

... The cave just behind the cliff was rumoured to be impossibly deep, to have once contained some kind of legendary terrifying monster that reacted violently to intruders and killed those who didn’t heed its immediate warnings to leave. Of course, there were no modern sightings of this mythical beast, and it definitely sounded less like fact and more like some urban legend designed to keep people away from a dangerous area. No one had ever mapped it... no one wanted to, even the most intrepid of local explorers. The stories (and a healthy serving of common sense) seemed to have prevailed long enough for that particular entrance to just be left alone.

...

So of course, your study group decided it’d be such a good place to spend a Friday night, armed with nothing but half-charged torches, rucksacks full of drinks, and borrowed walking shoes.

You could feel tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, gravity dragging them down the sides of your face as you stared upward into the total blackness. It was stupid to come down here, horror movie levels of stupid- but you just couldn’t say no to them. The study group was the closest thing you had to friends, and you let them lure you into coming along, you’d allowed yourself to be led by your terror of being left out.

... You had no idea how long you’d been lying on your back in total darkness with your immovable leg throbbing with pain, but it was getting clearer and clearer no one was coming back for you.

... So I guess you’ve been left out after all- left out in a cave to die. 

...

A noise. You turned your head, quickly- a familiar blood red colour standing out against the black, closer than last time. Panic jolted through you once again and you grappled with your flashlight, turning it on and pointing it directly at the red; a harsh white circle of light appeared and illuminated a section of the cave. You saw bone and a wide maw of terrifying teeth for a split second before it retreated quickly from the glow in a flurry of movement, disappearing back into the nothingness, an aggravated snarl rippling through the cavern.

...

Your friends, if you could even call them that, seemed to have followed the philosophy of ‘don’t outrun the bear, just outrun the slowest person’. When the monster had attacked your group in the dark, everyone panicked and ran for the exit... and when you stumbled, falling down a steep shaft into what was most likely going to end up being your grave, you became the slowest person.

And the ‘bear’ focused on you.

... It was hanging around in the darkness surrounding you. You could hear it, scuttling, waiting, the terrifying sound bouncing off the walls and coming from every direction at once, you hated how your panic and the enclosed space worked perfectly together to fuck with your hearing. Your only hope was the flashlight you clutched in both quivering hands.

...

You turned to the left, and caught sight of the red again. An engorged, blood coloured orb, slowly moving closer to you like a stalking wolf- it paused when you raised the flashlight, ready to recoil, and you jammed your clammy thumb onto the on button.

...

Nothing.

...

“... N-no.” You said, tiny, voice cracking, shaking the device and mashing the useless button over and over. Suddenly, just like that, the darkness around you had swallowed you completely whole. “No, no, no...”

... 

The monster made the same realisation you had. The flashlight was out of battery. The bloody red eye contracted a fraction... and then, upon realising your only line of defence was gone, advanced toward you.

...

You screamed as loud as you possibly could. You screamed with your whole chest, so hard it ricocheted across the walls and rang in your ears, you kicked your good leg against the ground in a desperate attempt to push yourself away but your heel just slipped on the floor. The sound didn’t deter it- and the eye got bigger and bigger, coming closer by the second, the true scale of the thing hunting you was dawning alongside the panic.

It’s gonna eat me.

The eye was the size of your fist. You could smell something, something warm, its breath, you were seized with unparalleled fear and you blindly swung the useless torch like a weapon. To your shock, it connected- landing squarely on what must’ve been a cheekbone. But it did about as much damage as a pillow would to a rhino and the flashlight shattered into pieces upon impact, with the monster not even so much as flinching.

It was definitely breath, you could feel it in your hair. It smelled like blood. Giant hands moved around your torso, under your arms, and picked you clean up off the ground- and the oh-so-familiar heavy ‘scuttling’ sound of him moving filled your ears. 

S-someone help me!

You punched at his ribs, still ‘screaming' (it was hardly screaming anymore because it was punctured by cracks and thin breaths), the world was beginning to drown out. The sounds and smells and pain were all so overwhelming, the dark and red of his eye were already eating you before he’d even opened his mouth, all you could think about was how no matter how much you didn’t want to you were going to die.

...

Light. Light that wasn’t his eye. It was enough to distract from your shouting, pathetic attempt at making noise catching in your throat. Little glowing rocks- crystals, maybe, they dotted the floor and walls, creating a faint white that was just enough to see by but still filled the world around you with wriggling shadows.

... It was enough to, for the first time, properly see the creature that was taking you.

He was huge; a skeletal upper half, barrel-chested, shoulders twice the width of your own and a heavy sternum with ribs like prison bars. The size of his jaw and thickness of his teeth told you he wasn’t the kind of predator that wasted any time with theatrics; there was no serration, probably no venom, he wasn’t going to be using valuable time to suffocate victims. With a mouth like that he would get right to the point- crushing straight through bone like eggshell.

He was staring ahead. Concentrated.

... Your eyes darted past his skeletal body to the main thing you'd been afraid of seeing; his lower body was a centipede. Giant scar-mottled gleaming brown carapace, trailing off into the dark, massive hooked 'feet' working in perfect undulating tandem to move him effortlessly across the uneven cave floor. You had absolutely no idea how long he was, you couldn't even hazard a guess. No wonder you'd heard his scuttling all around you in the darkness, it wasn't your mind playing tricks on you, he'd literally been all around you- you never stood a chance, did you?

You'd wedged your arms between yourself and his massive ribcage, shaking hands pushing as hard as you could. Despite how obviously little it was counteracting his hold, it was your last way of feeling like you were fighting. Your face and neck ached, your chin was wobbling, your head pounded.. you were a melting ice statue ready to shatter at the slightest push.

You were running out of fight.

... He carried you up, over a lip, into a small alcove. A recessed section of rock, a cave within a cave- a slightly more concentrated cluster of those glowing stones revealed the interior was lined with furs, rags, chunks of sleeping bags, old and well-loved blankets. Some kind of nest.

I’m... am I hyperventilating? you thought, feeling disconnected and dizzy, mind retreating further and further away from your body as a final defence mechanism. Everything’s spinning. 

...

Softness. At first, you thought you’d just gone completely numb... but when you concentrated a little more, you were surprised to find you were staring up at the glow-dotted stone ceiling. 

...

... He’d... put you down. On his nest of blankets? He was hovering over you, breath still brushing your cheeks and forehead... that terrible eye shifted its gaze down your body, you felt like a dinner being surveyed.

... You couldn’t even bring yourself to try and wriggle away. What chance did you stand? Further and further into numbness... am I going into shock?

...

He reached toward your broken leg. You didn't even want to look at it; it hurt so badly. You squeezed your eyes shut, suppressing a sob.

...

Warmth.

A pleasant kind- like you'd just laid the broken limb beside a fire. Tingling faintly... magic? Healing magic? You couldn’t look, you didn’t have the stomach to see just how mangled the leg was, that’d just make it hurt even worse. But it was... 

... Nice.

The warmth was like an eraser. It floated over the leg, fuzzy and comforting, and wherever it floated the pain just... ebbed away. 

...

You opened your eyes again. When he stopped, there was no more pain in your leg. None at all. And he was just... sitting there. Staring at you.

...

“Y-you...” You croaked. The hole in the centre of his eyelight shrank a fraction. The magic felt like it was doing something to you; you could feel your shoulders slowly unwinding, chest relaxing enough for you to take breaths that actually filled your lungs, throbbing head settling down. “... You healed me?”

... Was clubbing him with a flashlight the wrong idea?

...

... He made a sound. Several sounds, actually... soft, throated, deep and staggered... chuffing, like a tiger. Such a gentle noise, for such a giant monster...

...

He seemed to make a decision. With one last little chuff and a nod to himself, his socket lidded... and he laid down next to you. One of his thick-as-your-head arms gently looped over your middle; you were vaguely aware of his centipede body gathering itself into the little alcove, some of it draping lazily over your lower legs.

... Keyword ‘vaguely’ aware. You were so tired, so tired and sick of being in pain, that you barely even wiggled in response to his strange cuddle-like gesture. He was... actually pretty warm... and he smelled like amber and campfires.

...

You were asleep before you could remember you needed to be scared of him touching you- that claws carding lovingly through your hair wasn’t supposed to feel nice.

[dreamties]

Billy & Stu's Adventures in Puppy Care

18+ / NSFW Accounts Do Not Interact

A/n- I wrote this a few months ago...thought i'd finally share. sorta nervous about this :O

Word Count: 1858

description: Y/n spends the day as a sleepy, affection starved puppy with their favorite people.

ship: billy loomis / stu macher / reader

this is about SFW pet regression so don't be weird !! for the love of slasher movies, DONT. BE. WEIRD !!

Y/n comes home from work in the very early hours of the morning, exhausted to the bone and just wanting to curl up and sleep. They still had to shower off the day's grease and sweat, and start breakfast for everyone. Sleep would come...but not soon enough. They try to wipe the sleep out of their eyes as they head to the bathroom, they take a quick glance at their boys in the other room. Smiling at the sight of Billy and Stu cuddling into each other, Stu with his long arms wrapped around the smaller boy. They’re quick to scamper off to the bathroom, no matter how much they wanted to stay there and take in the gorgeous view of their beloveds so at peace. No matter how much they wanted to nestle their way in between them. Bask in their warmth.

Their shower is long, spending time stretching their limbs and properly grooming themselves. Lathering a sweet and calming lavender scented shampoo along their body. Taking too long under the shower head, making sure all the suds are washed off themself and none of it clings to the tub.

Next, is breakfast. They put up the hot water for coffee and tea. Put the bread in the toaster, sort through various items in the fridge, trying to find jam. Finally acquiring strawberry jam, and taking the butter out as well. They scramble eggs, and plate the food on three plastic dishes. They place everything at the table, finally heading off to their bedroom again to retrieve their boyfriends. They place gentle kisses to each of their foreheads, then shake them awake. Billy’s the first one up, pushing himself out of Stu’s grip- much to his begrudgement.

“Aww, c’mon! Just a little longer,” he whines.

They let out a tired chuckle, “You can cuddle more later, breakfasts ready.”

The three of them sit down, and begin to dig into the meal. Y/n gets up when they finally hear the kettle whistling, making everyone's morning beverage of choice. They sit back down, a hot mug of tea in their hands. They take a sip, slipping their tongue out as they accidentally burn it.

They shake it off, and give an apologetic look to Stu, “We’re out of your favorite, we’ll have to stop at the store tomorrow. You two don’t have work, right?”

Stu pouts and Billy answers, “Not today.”

They give a pleased smile, “Good. I’m off the rest of the weekend.”

Both of their eyes glimmer at the news- “What did you have in mind?”

“Really? I just wanna...destress for a bit. Work was awful last night.”

They both frown. “Is it your boss again?” Billy asks.

They nod.

“Y’know, we could always-” Stu begins.

They narrowed their eyes at him, “If you suggest to kill my boss again- I swear to god, Stu!”

He raises his hands up in defense, giggling and smiling. “I surrender, I surrender.”

Billy and Y/n can’t help but smile at his antics. The three of you finally finish up, dishes in the sink, coffee filters and old tea bags in the trash.

“The two of you mind cleaning the dishes?” They yawn out, rubbing at their eyes.

Billy leans against the edge of the sink, giving them a soft look, “No problem.”

“Thank you,” they sigh, slumping into Billy. Nuzzling their head against him, aching for attention.

He smiles down at them, curious- as realization slowly dawns his face. “What do you want, pup?”

They brighten at the name, continuing to nuzzle him. He brings his hands up, one to pet through their hair, the other tracing across their neck. “You want your collar?”

A few quick nods later, and moving the three of you to the bedroom- Y/n finds themselves kneeling on the ground awaiting the collar. Stu’s rummaging through piles, trying to remember where they stored the thing- it wasn’t often that their beloved found themselves in this regressed state, so they often misplaced the gear needed to keep things exciting and safe for Y/n.

Stu finally finds it, Y/n curiously sniffs at his hands, the item looking suspiciously different than usual. He pets their hair, guiding them to kneel back on the ground. He then leans down to put it around their neck- stepping back to admire their look. They turn their head to peer at Billy, showing off the pretty, red collar in the process. In big, curly letters the top of the pendant reads Y/n . Their shared apartment address is written at the bottom along with their wonderful owners' names.

“Does our little pup like their new collar?” Billy grins down at them, scratching the bottom of their chin. “Good, good baby.”

Y/n spent most of the day following their partners around as they did chores. From napping on the kitchen floor as they did the dishes to hiding in the laundry as they attempted to clean and fold it. Once or twice they go off to do their own thing- possibly planning other murders- where they leave them alone. It’s not all bad when that occurs, they find their doggy bed- a perfect fit for their size- in the living room. They rest in it’s comforting hold till their loved ones make their way back to them. They find themselves fluctuating between their regressed state of mind and not throughout the day, it finally settles to a consistent regressed state as the day comes to a close.

Billy grabs a red ceramic dog bowl from one of the bottom cupboards- it’s tucked away neatly, covered in a worn towel to prevent it’s breakage and protect it from dust. He hands the bowl to Stu, who pours a considerable amount of dry cereal into it. He moves to set it down, and Billy lets out a not entirely gentle, “Be careful.”

Stu rolls his eyes, “I’ve got it,” and places it on the ground, next to the edge of the counter. While he does that, Billy gets out bowls for them and milk from the fridge, placing two full bowls of milk and cereal on the table.

They sit down and begin to eat, idly chatting with each other. Billy tries not to laugh too hard from something moronic his boyfriend says. Sparing odd glances at their other partner, who's got their face right up against their bowl, while they happily munch up their kibble . Billy snickers, looking away from them. They were too cute and silly for their own good.

Y/n’s the first to finish up. Instead of waiting patiently for their owners, they crawl underneath the table, finding themselves next to Billy’s chair. Unbeknownst to him.

They nudge their head against his leg, achieving nothing but a small jolt of surprise.They let out a sharp whine when he doesn’t react immediately.

Billy looks underneath the table for a brief moment, “What’re you doing down there, Y/n?”

They keep rubbing at his leg. Stu, who has just finished, looks down to see what the commotion is. “Aww, they just want some love,” he grins. “C’mere.” He pats his lap, inviting them to him.

It was awkward trying to situate themself on Stu in a way that felt comfortable and puppy-like, but had little to no feelings of how non-regressed, human them would sit. They end up lying their head on his thigh, letting out a pleased noise as he pets their head.

“What kinda manners you teaching our little pup over there?” Billy teasingly remarks. He sighs, taking in the blissed out state of his partners, and how happy Stu seemed to be as he fulfilled their smallest desires. He quickly finds his way standing next to Stu’s spot.

“Let's take this to the bedroom,” he gestures away from the table. “You’ll be more comfortable, Y/n- and you.” He points a finger at Stu.

Stu chuckles, face falling slightly, and smiling nervously at Billy. “What? What’d I do?”

He smirks at him, having fun playing around with Stu, “You gonna be a good boy, too?”

“I’m not usually?”

Billy barks out a laugh, “You’re a fucking nuiscance.” It’s not said with malice, but an odd sense of affection. He glances down at Stu’s lap, noticing Y/n’s eyes drooping shut. “Looks like our baby’s getting tired.”

They perk up at the name, wide eyes staring up at Billy. The two boys chuckle. “Gonna carry em, okay?” Stu mentions, petting down their hair once more. They nuzzle against him at the idea. “You like that, huh?”

Eventually, Stu picks Y/n up, cradling them in his arms. He places them safely on the bed- though it takes as a second as they struggle with him, trying to stay wrapped in his nice, warm embrace. They whine as they’re finally left on the bed by themselves- Billy and Stu changing into proper bedroom attire. Billy’s in boxers and a white tee- while Stu has chosen quite a minimalistic approach. Boxers only. They try not to pay mind to Y/n’s whining too much, as they finally stop- dejectedly curling up on the mattress.

Stu’s quick to join them, as Billy lets out a sigh- “C’mere, baby.” They hurriedly uncurl themselves and kneel on the edge of the bed- looking up expectantly.

He places a small kiss on the top of their head, moving his hands slowly across their body- stopping at the edge of their top. He peels their clothes off, with ease and if practiced, till it’s nothing but bare skin. They press into him, thankful for his help. He kisses them again, and holds his hand against their head in a gentle manner. Hugging them close to himself. “It’s okay, love.”

Stu comes from behind pulling the two of you down with him. Y/n lets out a surprised squeak along with a series of giggles. They find themselves laying against his chest, while Billy’s over both of them, trying not to accidentally hurt Y/n. It’s warm in the middle of it, and they feel protected. Stu’s got an arm lazily playing with Billy’s hair, and the other hung around Y/n’s shoulders.

The three of them don’t stay in the position long. Comfortable? Yes. But no one, even their little pup, would want to stay the whole night like this. They needed- and deserved- a proper night of sleep. Especially after their long and tiring day of work, and having to deal with their hardass of a boss. (If he ended up missing or found dead within the following days...well, he had it coming.)

Y/n’s practically asleep when they try moving themselves around. They tuck their little puppy in first, peppering them with kisses and little reassurances. Then Stu climbs under, after sharing a quiet kiss with his boyfriend. Billy’s the last to get in- both boys curling their bodies in a way that allowed their pup to safely cocoon themselves in the middle. Their small bundle of love secured in their grasp. Billy whispers small “I love you”s, as sleep finally takes them in.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Little did you know - Kaz Brekker/platonic! Crows x fem! reader

A/n: I don't know where this came from... It's a mess but its like- whatever I guess

Warnings: GORE, DEATH, TORTURE, questionable sanity, this could be disturbing to some people so don't say I didn't warn you!

I do not own six of crows or shadow and bone or it's characters

Summary: The Crows make a vital mistake when trying to get information not knowing that it would cost them everything...

(Gif not mine)

Her hair flows in the wind the only part of her moving the rest still as a serpent creeping up on its prey. Slowly, she starts to move forward as she spots her victims, some pretty little birdy's, just some unusually remarkable crows. If anything went right today the only thing that would be remarkable about them would be their downfall.

She almost yells out in excitement and joy when they wander right into her trap. They walk into her house - a dead merchant's house and go to loot what's left of it.

From her vantage point in the ceiling, she can see everything, from Nina's hands out ready to Matthias beside her. She sees Jesper's darting eyes and Wylan's uneasiness. Moreover, she can even see Inej Ghafa in the shadows high on alert ready to strike at any moment, just in case.

Then her eyes find Kaz and she almost kills him there and then.

He's in his normal attire and he hadn't changed his atrocious haircut either. Yet he's different still, it's the way he's holding himself. Like he feels accomplished.

And even though he has his neutral 'I'm bored' face on Y/n can see through him. She's always been able too and right now he's happy for an easy run. Not a trace of him is guilty or mourning and it's only been one week.

Now that she thinks about it there's not a trace of mourning in anyone.

Balling her hands into fits she nearly screams in agony, they thought she had died and they didn't even care. If she had any doubts before they're gone with just some simple observation.

Yet Y/n still waits and as soon as the Crows get into the trap completely she starts moving.

They had killed her loving parents who worked at a bakery, they had done nothing, nothing wrong. But now they were still six feet under, and she knew it was not just some casualties. Kaz was too precise for that.

She creeps up behind Inej and knocks her out cold before she can even cry out, Y/n catches her body before it can hit the floor and she carefully lays Inej to the said knowing she'll have to tie her up later.

Next is Jesper and Wylan.

For Jesper, she shoots him with a sleeping dart made out of a massively hard metal to control for fabricators and blinds Wylan before doing the same thing to him as well.

Taking out a bomb from Wylan's bag she sets it off. Running towards Nina and before she can use her heartrender abilities, Y/n headbutts her causing her figure to fall to the floor. Unconscious.

Matthias starts sprinting towards her but she simply grabs his shoulder and hits him on a pressure point on his neck and he's out with the rest of them.

It's funny because he taught her that manoeuvre.

"Kaz!" She yells in a shrill voice beckoning him downstairs, did he really leave his little itty bitty Crows alone? Ah, just like he did to her, what they all did to her.

The Crows and Y/n were on a mission and something went wrong, she was shot and they left her to die. She could have been easily saved but they left her and while they did that she remembers - the thing that she remembers most about that night. Kaz leaned down into her ear and said;

'Thanks for the information little snake.'

They had used her to get information, everything she had with them was fake. Everything with Kaz was fake. Every little touch, every little moment, their entire (established) relationship was fake.

"Come down Kazzy I helped you! Now you help me!" She runs up the stairs knowing that there's only one exit, the window. That was extremely high off the ground he would hopefully try to bargain with her first.

Even if he didn't Y/n had brought some rope because he would definitely break his legs at that height.

But Y/n wasn't a little snake now she was a majestic serpent that wielded the screeches of revenge in her venom.

She runs into the room with the window and there he was there in a chair in the shadows looking smug, but the serpent knew it was all just a facade - fake confidence.

Smiling at him she pulls out a second chair from a broken-down desk and places it right in front of him. 'Bang.' It's a simple sound but it echos throughout the room bouncing off the walls into the depths of madness.

"Oh Kazzy, have you come to help me?" She takes her lip in between her teeth and fake trembles.

"Have you come to save me?" Her voice is tiny and it's nothing like it used to be around him, yet he still flinches. He knows she's putting on an act but it still hurts him. And she wants to hurt him over, and over again.

"Y/n... We needed that information, lots of the Dregs' lives were on the line. There is so much more you wouldn't don't understand."

Laughing into the open she secretly pulls out a syringe from her back pocket readying it in her hand.

Instantly her voice changes from the scarce poor girl's voice to a very dark voice. Vengeance was held there and it was like burning your ears in the pits of hell listening to it. The sins and revenge sounded melodic but the torture that laid underneath was horrific.

"Really Rietveld? Did you think I would forgive so easily?"

Kaz's face morphs into surprise at hearing his real last name, Y/n jumps at the chance and she plunges the syringe deep into his neck.

"See you in hell."

___________________TIME SKIP A COUPLE OF HOURS__

All the Crows are tied up to some chairs in the secret basement of the house. The woman waits for what looks like patiently but really she's boiling with excitement.

This is going to be fun.

Finally, the last Crows wakes up and the Serpent takes out her playthings. Just a couple of knives and guns, but those were just her toys the real weapons are the emotional and mental pain she would cause everyone including herself.

"You know why you are here, don't you?" She walks around the room watching every one of The Crows' snarling faces but perhaps some of them held remorse.

Although Y/n was past their pity now. None of the damage could be undone, what's done is done. An eye for an eye.

"Nina darling, this may hurt a bit." Quicker than Jesper's sharpshooter's eye could catch she stabs Nina in the stomach as she yells out in pain Y/n twists the knife back and forth.

Matthias screams out for his lover and after what feels like an internity the serpent pulls the dagger out knowing that she'll just eventually die from blood loss.

Taking a quick look around the room she notices some of the terrified faces and how everyone is on edge. Good, just how she wants it.

"Mörd demjin," Matthias mutters under his breath and Y/n takes his throat in her hand and holds tight enough to choke him.

"Don't call me by the little nickname you gave Kazzy!" She yells furiously holding onto him tighter and tighter. His face starts to become purple and she can hear the yells and screams of the birdy's in the background.

'No! Let go! Matthias! Matthias! Let him go!'

"Any last words?" She jets out her lip before holding onto him tighter and she sees the fury of the ice in his eyes before there's nothing. His eyes roll back lifeless.

"No Matthias! Matthias!" Nina shrieks trying to desperately get out of her chair.

Rolling her eyes with a huff Y/n pulls out a gun and shoots Nina twice in the head.

"Now you're with your lover." She drawls on the word lover and turns to Inej. She didn't really want to do this but she had to cause him all the pain that she could. Even if Inej tried to stop them.

Swiftly she pulls out the knife Inej gave her and kindly kills her with a hard blow to the heart. She doesn't suffer, she just solely died, it's the only kindness the Serpent can afford to give her.

At this point, Jesper and Wylan are openly sobbing and screaming for their friends and for Y/n to please stop. But she doesn't, with blood all over her clothes she makes her path towards her next fool.

"If you were wondering why you couldn't control the bullets, Jesper." She drawls on in a monotone voice. She can see and hear Wylan screaming and it pains her but she doesn't let it show. She lets the Serpent take over or else this will never get done.

Fully becoming the Serpent Y/n places the barrel of her gun up to his heart and she just shoots, no emotion on her face whatsoever.

"A special venom of mine for Grisha. Had some fun testing it."

Going over to Wylan she quickly slits his throat not wanting the little merchling to suffer more than he already has.

She looks at Kaz blankly, he's shaking and he's beyond trying not to show any emotion. Tears are streaming down his face and he's gasping for air. Trembles roll off his body and the agony on his face pierces her hurt.

"Why?" Rietveld finally manages to rasp out. "WHY!" He screams ultimately reaching his breaking point.

"Because Kaz," She whispers in a sickeningly sweet voice lifting his chin with the tip of her pointer finger.

"Everything comes with a price." She pauses letting it sink in.

"And little did you know the price it would cost you."

And that's the story of Sankta Serpentina and Sankt Dirtyhands.

Words 1634

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover

(if you would like to be added leave a comment!)

[yanderenightmare]

ooh I wanna see ua bakugo frustrate with his affection over this clueless moron, kinda like shoto, like he gives her like a flower and she's just like wuut .__.

yandere ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

This is so cute, I can’t. Don’t know if this is what you wanted hahahaha, but I have a weak spot for like Luna Lovegood girls, like Alice in Wonderland derpy pigtailed pastel Melanie Martinez lookin’ cupcakes. And made this still in the UA au... hope that’s ok!

goodiebag WARNINGS: slight yandere, slight dubcon theme, profanity, anxiety, hallucinations, stalking

SCARY LOVE

He felt like such a stalker, like a wolf hiding in the grass, just a disgusting waste of a human being standing and ogling her from the safe distance, far enough away that she wouldn’t care to look up, but just close enough to see the color in her eyes from where she was planted in the shade under the campus willow-tree.

Why was she so fucking cute?

Her locks knotted up into two big messy buns, big splendid pastel bows tying them both into place, one blue, the other pink, matching puffy scrunchies decorating both her wrists. Cute. Small wisps of light flowing hair falling in front of her face, tickling her nose, making it scrunch like a how bunny would every now and again. Cute. White ruffled socks reaching halfway up her leg. Cute. Her knees baring pastel-colored band-aids and small scrapes and purple bruises, in the same state her elbows were. Cute. Nimble fingers handling the book that seemed so out-of-place in its size where it weighed down heavily in her lap. She looked like such a fucking fairytale. A soft-tinted cotton-candy daydream. 

Ready to have his bloody hands fuck up everything.

Bloody hell. What the fuck is he doing?

He can’t just stand there like some lovesick freak and do nothing, simply waiting for the school-bell to sound off its alarm, making her jump up like a little bunny popping up from its rabbit-hole where she’ll struggle with carrying that ridiculous book and sit down in class only to daydream about going back outside, but not before she’ll walk past him, allowing him to smell that sweet perfume that always has his heart clenching furiously in his chest and his cock growing warm and heavy in his pants.

What is wrong with him?

He can’t be thinking of her like that. This sweet precious little flower sitting so quietly with no wish to bother anyone, so soft and sweet he bet she’d cry if she so much as stepped on an ant. He wondered if she was a crier, if she’d be this adorable little crybaby ball of sobs and wet moans beneath him. He wondered what types of sound she’d make if he shoved his cock inside her. If she’d squeal and gasp and hiccup at his size, if she’d mewl, if she’d whimper, if she’d scream.

Fuck.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

To think he would never have met her if he hadn’t been forced to sign up to that stupid side-course. To think he was so mad that he didn’t make the cut for the class about war-theory and was forced to take philosophy with a bunch of air-headed freaks instead. To think he almost didn’t meet her. To think- fuck, he’s even starting to sound like one of them fucking philosophy-ditzes.

To be or not to be, or to drool over the girl sitting beneath the willow-tree.

Maybe that’s what he should submit next time they have one of those moronic poetry sessions. Perhaps then she would look at him with interest, with surprise and even praise, maybe even reverence, mirroring the look he gives her when she stands on the podium reciting her swirling words and artful descriptions, looking as though she’s entirely in her own world, dreaming, not just speaking but preaching, preaching to him about gods he’s never heard of yet somehow always believed in.

He used to believe gods drank blood and could only be celebrated through pain, that they made creatures like him, crafted him from dragon bones and fire and everything sharp and deadly, crafting him from war for war to become war itself, to find purpose in conquering, to find worth in glory. But now… looking at this creature, this creature who celebrates life and not death through laughter and daydreams and love far away from pain, he knows he’s had it all wrong.

He’s no good with words. He never has been. Except when insulting people, then he turns into a fucking lyric. What she can do is a gift. Either that, or she’s simply just insane. Either way, he doesn’t really care. She’s still soft, a tender type of madness, sweet and small and would look so good with a couple of love-bites to crash that display of milk and cream and cotton, so fucking brilliant with his handprint marking her ass… and he’s doing it again.

Fuck.

None of that will happen if he doesn’t grow a pair and go talk to her. But he can’t just talk to her. He has nothing to say. Or he has plenty to say, but nothing she could hear. He needed to find the most straightforward approach, however… while it needed to be unmistakable or lest she misunderstand, it couldn’t be aggressive. That would frighten her and he couldn’t risk spooking her away. He couldn’t risk ruining everything. It was apparent she didn’t think too much of him except that he was an angry looking boy in her Friday-classes, he needed to prove he too could be… sweet… or at least something akin to it.

He was wrong in thinking that anything would make her look up from her book. Even as he stood a mere meter away from her, she didn’t look up, completely lost and submerged in her own world as she always was. Only when he cleared his throat did she finally lift her gaze, eyes fluttering from traveling the pages and blinked softly to look up at him.

Cute.

He forgot to say anything, with a hand reached out, fisting the air, knuckles whitening in his grip, where inside the seemingly furious hand was something to contrast his otherwise deadly red stare.

The look of puzzlement on her face was insurmountable. Her small hands giving no indication to receive whatever he was offering.

“Is this a threat?” Came her soft voice, shaking him out of the faze he’d slipped into, though quickly plunging him into another one, this time not so much anticipation but confusion.

“What? No!” The both of them simply looked at each other for a moment. Bakugo’s hand still protruding out towards her, the thing in his hand no more tempting to accept than before to the girl who was still planted, making no action to get up from her spot.

“I don’t understand…” She admitted, wondering if he perhaps wanted her seat in the shade, but wasn’t given the time to ask the question as he decided to clear things up.

“It’s a flower.”

She could see that. It was a flower ripped from its root, an otherwise healthy flower before being suffocated in Bakugo’s death-grip.

“It’s a dead flower…” She corrected, a hint of sorrow on her features and he knew he was already failing in his pursuit, wanting to make things right before they could derail even more.

“It’s pretty... like you.” That came out as even more an ominous threat he realized, indicating she’d end up like the proven pretty dead flower in his chokehold.

“Are you sure this isn’t a threat?” The fact that she felt the need to ask him not only once but twice told him all he needed to know of her thoughts regarding him. She obviously thought he was a deranged explosive beast from the Hero-course.

“Goddamn it, no, I…” He frustrated, finding it hard to arrange the words, finding it hard to even find the words. “You… You’re so… You-” She was oblivious to how much he was struggling it seemed, as her personality suddenly shifted and she jumped up, book thrown to her side rather recklessly, skirt with ruffles and all bouncy with the same vigor as her tits.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together, eyes wide with such bright light Bakugo almost felt blinded by, it even managing to frightened him a bit. “Thank you, that’s very good to know! I’d be terrified if I was anyone but me!” His brows lifted in dawning realization, feeling safer by being calmed by the reminder of how he was talking to a ditz, a complete mental-case… though… a mental-case who’d managed to dance her way and get lost in his heart. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t ask.” Preparing him for her question, she leant in just a bit more, looking at him intently. “Are you yourself today, Bakugo?”

As absurd as the question was to him, when it rolled off her tongue it nearly seemed like the most casual of things to ask someone, as though she was requesting his thoughts on the weather. And though it was the epitome of peculiar, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how appropriate the question was, because he were, in fact, not at all feeling like himself.

“… No.”

She gave a contemplative look and a hum. “Then you must be Baku-gone…” He couldn’t hold back the snort that followed her statement, again being reminded of what a complete klutz she was, something so far away from his cynical view of the world and something far more relaxing than what his fears had managed to conjure of her rejection. It seemed so ridiculous now, that he’d thought she would run away or scream, never having let himself imagine her in what he knew was her true nature, light-hearted and incapable of doing any harm, at least not on purpose. “Wow, you really must be, huh?” She continued, fishing him out of his curt chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. Come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you smile.” She mused, admiring the small pleasantness stretched upon his face.

But then his brows furrowed, the happiness seeping from his features and leaving them contorted with annoyance, much to her dismay, regretting her choice of words. “I smile.” He argued, looking at her as though demanding she explain herself.

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him, scrunching her brows and biting her lip for a second or two as though she were in deep thought, not wanting to upset him any further, though not wanting to speak without candidness. “No… you… bare teeth… like a wolf eager to catch its prey.” His ears retracted, features taken aback by her observation, finding he couldn’t quite say otherwise, though he’d never viewed it that way, but again, the more he thought about it, the more all her strange words made sense as he found them to be true. Silly of him to think his wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing approach could fool her, silly of him to think he could fool himself into believing she’d ever consider going out with someone so… predatory.

Though, minds are easily swayed, he reminded himself of. Her opinion of him wasn’t set in stone after all. “Does it scare you?” He finally asked, finding that was the only thing he was actually curious about. Though… perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she did fear him just a bit, because god knows how terrified he is of her and how she makes him feel as though he’s bleeding or falling or stripped of everything, cut by the knees and naked and so very needy to have her just look at him.

“I would say no, but I cannot lie.” His heart sunk upon hearing her admit it, disappointed, not sure if it was in her or in him.

She’s scared… Of course, she is scared! Who wouldn’t be? Dumb of him to think anything else.

“But, that’s rather the point isn’t it? To scare people?” She took a step forward, eyes bright and hopeful, hating to think she’d upset him.

“Not you.” It was barely above a whisper, words simply cast out there, and it left the girl looking perplexed, curious and even guilt-stricken or ashamed.

“Well… I shouldn’t fear things I know too little about… that would be silly…” She felt the urge to touch him, wanting him to truly hear her words, wanting to enforce them by touch, yet as her hands reached out to take his all so brazenly her eyes fell upon the flower again. She didn’t really have any wish to touch something dead, it always being such a cold and empty feeling running like ice through her veins, yet she reached out to receive the flower anyway, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “So, if not my fear, what is it this Bakugone wishes of me then?” She slipped on a tender smile, genuine and perfect, her soft fingertips brushing against his.

“I…” He was so focused on how she was touching him, the pressure, the elegance, the perfection, so focused he forgot the words again, so focused on her soft fingertips, her warmth, her pastel-manicured nails, he didn’t realize how the movement had stilled.

“You want to eat my heart.”

Her voice made him look up from where they were conjoined, crimson orbs dragged slowly to meet the oddity of her voice no less her words, yet as he looked, he continued to search because he found no eyes looking back at him, only whites, wide gleaming glowing void whites staring at him.

“You want to rip open my ribcage and feast.” Shaken and confused his brows twisted as he yet again tried to find her eyes. “You want to see me burst and bloom for you.” He hadn’t tried pulling his hand away, not really wanting to either, but he realized he perhaps wouldn’t be able to even if he’d wanted with how hard she was now digging her once soft fingers into his wrist. “You want to cripple me. You want to hear my deathbed confession. You want to lick the sin from my expression.” Her brows were the ones to crinkle now as she inhaled a shuddering breath, her hand shaking as she held onto him, seemingly as though her life depended on it. “You want and you’ve been wanting for so long. You want and want, there’s no end to what you want.” Her voice was now frantic, sporadic, hitched and frightened. “You want more and more and more and more and more-” She shook so much she lost her footing and tripped, staggering back and hitting the dirt with a sharp thud, knocking her out of whatever trance she’d slipped into, no more words coming thundering from her lips except for a cute little exclamation of oof, fluffy skirt puffed out around her like a jellyfish.

“What the fuck!” He shouted once she let go, flower falling to the floor, dropped in the midst of his shock and confusion as to what had happened, yet also feeling embarrassed with how she’d seemed to have caught him red-handed, and shaken with how much she knew, disturbed with how it all had been phrased, yet concerned, concerned because he knew he’d failed, he’d scared her so much she nearly melted, but somehow even more concerned with how she’d hit the ground. “I’m-” She looked up at him and he was left dumbstruck with how wide her eyes were and how full they now seemed with the return of her irises and pupils. No longer looking like wax, but like great gems or galaxies he couldn’t help but fall prey to, especially with how glossy they were, shining and glimmering and wet, wet with tears.

“No wonder you feel gone.” She suddenly mumbled, or it wasn’t exactly a mumble, but in contrast to whatever voice she spoke in before it surely seemed subdued. “Someone’s run off with your heart!” She clumsily got back to her feet, gripping his shoulders, nearly making him stagger back and fall with just how intense and vivid her actions were thrown at him. “You’re in love!” She squealed, nearly screaming it at him, before reeling herself back in, probably only now realizing how she’d attacked the boy. “Excuse me, I mean pardon, I mean I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you.” She backed away, fingers playing with each other as she tumbled through her sentence. “It’s my quirk you see. It has a habit of living its own life. I didn’t mean to spout out your desires like that, it was a total invasion of your privacy and completely rude and unethical on my side. I really am so sorry. Would you forgive me?”

Wasn’t he the one who should be apologizing to her?

He remained stunned and confused and growing even more so by the second as she spoke. “Perhaps I could make it up to you? Perhaps I can help you in your quest to retrieve your heart? Who is the thief?”

And there it was.

She was so overwhelmed she didn’t even pick up who the emotions were for.

Silly thing.

This made him ease up. He hadn’t spoiled everything yet. In fact, she seemed even more enthusiastic now than before, even more eager to talk to him and help him even. “Is it that green-haired boy? What was his name again? Something with D or M, I can’t for the life of me remember! Or perhaps it’s the floaty one? You know, the one with the big brown eyes. No! I know who it is, it’s the one with the shark teeth, and the spikey red hair-” She rambled, and even though some of her suggestions revolted him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her when she was so… so bouncy with thrill, so cute with how her tits squeezed together in her top and jumped for him with every word that fell from those lushes pink lips that would feel so good to bite into and feel on his neck and down his chest and-

“You can help me.” He suddenly blurted, whipping her from her rambling.

“Really?!” Big eyes, filled with such expectancy and acceptance of whatever he was about to request even without a shred of knowing what. “How?” It was as though it were her life wish to help, that denying him would mean death or something even worse in her eyes.

“By making it up to me.”

His grin returned, the one that lacked… not exactly happiness, because there was still a certain glee to it, a certain enjoyment, yet lacking altruism and was instead left looking greedy and gluttonous and as though he was made up of… teeth, and only teeth, and too many teeth, and that those teeth were too sharp.

“Oh.” She seemed drained of her vigorous passion, like a light snuffed out, swallowing thickly. And though she knew it all to be in her head, knew it all to be but a figment of her fears, she still took a step back as though she’d seen something that worried her, and was quickly followed by what had worried her as Bakugo paralleled her backtracking, leaving her no further away from his hungry open-mouthed smirk.

“Kiss me.” She realized she’d backed all the way into the tree, her back meeting the hard trunk seemed to shake her from her vision as the biting image submerged and left her with a quite normal-looking Bakugo towering over her, no longer Bakugone or just a toothy grin, and she was left deciding whether it was any better or maybe even worse than what she had been picturing.

Yet, she had no time to think as Bakugo’s hand raised to cup her cheek, where in the seconds it took for him to do so, she needed to prepare herself for all his obsessive lovesick thoughts she knew would yet again flood her mind, only now she wouldn’t shake from them, and what more, now she knew who they were about. Poor thing had taken Bakugo’s heart without knowing, without knowing to prepare for Bakugo’s blood-stained scarred hand to reach into her chest and hold her own terror-wide heart in a chokehold as he too took it for himself. Without knowing how to protect herself from his many sharp teeth that would steal and eat to satiate what livid hungry fire, what desperate thirst she’d awoken inside his heart, to relieve the pain of it all, to finally breath again, to find safety, to find belonging, to find life. And she had no way of preparing for it, no way of protecting herself from it, no way of hiding from Bakugo’s sharp teeth… but when his hand, his calloused sandpaper-textured palm handled her cheek she was met with a new image, a soft-tinted mellow yet dramatic rhapsodic fire, one that she rather cherished than feared, one that she felt like chasing, one that seemed like it was calling her.

Bakugo leaned in slowly, as though asking for permission, receiving no complaints, just a set of large eyes staring at him. Her hands, feeling as though their fingertips had plunged deep into the bark of the tree behind her, ripped loose to touch him, feeling the simmering plethora of brutally violent passions swimming beneath them as they hovered on top of his skin. Tasting it on her tongue as he captured her soft lips with his own stiff ones. She could taste the hunger, the teeth, the longing, the pain, the fire, the waiting and time he’d suffered in the darkness all alone, she could taste the war, but more… she could taste the fear, the fear of losing or not having at all, and at the very tip of her tongue, stronger than anything else, she caught it, the flavor crystalized like sugar… hope… love.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[rarephloxes]

@lucienvanserraweek, free day!

I’m so happy to announce that this is a collab with my dear friend @ratabrasileira!!! Go show the beautiful drawing she did some love!!

rating: G

words: 2.2k

Elain searches the woods for flowers and finds more than she ever expected. Sleeping Beauty Au

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Elain left the cottage barefooted, the soft cushion of the grass comfortable and well known to her feet. The familiar and gratifying feeling of calm earth beneath her, steady and grounding, more than enough reason to forego any sort of shoes.

Roses, Feyre had chanted, the dreamy look in her sister’s eyes persisting ever since her chance encounter with a newcomer guard at the town square, the prettiest ones you can find, please?

Elain had not the courage to tell her younger sister that she had picked fresh flowers just the day before, funny-shaped pink blooms Elain found at the lip of the stream near the border.

So, she had picked her basket - the one Nesta had gifted her on her last birthday, handmade by her older sister herself; a beautiful, intricate thing done with the hard-earned love of the hardest Archeron - and left, a spring to her step and a tune brimming in her throat.

The woods, the townspeople said, were older than the village by unaccounted years, and therefore filled with deep, wondrous and dangerous magic.

Elain, as well as her sisters, was orphaned too soon. A wasting sickness that had scourged their village had taken away both of her parents, one after the other, leaving only a nearly of age Nesta, a doe-eyed Elain, and a tear-stained Feyre.

Many years had passed since, the nebulous, all-consuming pain of the absence of their parents soothed by time. Despite her grieving, it never escaped Elain’s thoughts how lucky she was to have such wonderful people in her life: her kind neighbors; the quaint, energized people of the village, who never missed a chance for celebration; the old grouch at the square who made wooden figures just as her father once had; Feyre’s laugh, her creativity and Nesta’s attentive strength.

The woods, magical and mysterious, were a source of peace in Elain’s little life, too. A balm made of soft sunlight, fresh, perfumed breeze, and the singing quietness of wildlife.

She walked, shawl hanging on her elbows to ward off the slightest of spring chills. Elain sang to her heart’s content, a lively lyric dancing on her tongue and bouncing on the leaves of the tallest of trees, her heart soaring with each note she presented to her loved woodland.

With Feyre’s wishes in mind, Elain followed a path towards a grove, the humidity at her destination perfect for the birth of deep pink roses which best complimented Feyre’s complexion.

She crossed the sturdy old bridge that allowed passage over the river, her cottage’s mill no longer audible from where she stood.

“Hello, Mister,” Elain greeted the white, wild bunny, its twitching mustache smelling the air twice before hurrying on fast jumps towards her, a cupped palm of berries awaiting the animal’s eager mouth, allowing her to scratch its head “You’re rather famished this morning, aren’t you?” she asked. The bunny agreed with what seemed like and affirmative ear twitch before her furry friend scampered away to a nearby bush.

Then, singing about poets and kings, Elain continued her path through the meandering trees, her basket filling with dark, juicy berries - a few of them already staining her lips red - and multicolored flowers.

A bold, red little bird landed on Elain’s extended finger and enchantingly sung with her. Its melodic chirping lacing and harmonizing to the girl’s sweet voice, their impromptu duet accompanied by the rustling leaves and the gurgling stream.

How wonderful Elain felt, surrounded by nature, connecting to the air around her as if it had birthed her itself, offering it her voice. Respectfully reaping the charming flora, she found on her way, breathing their scent, befriending the forest animals, and spinning on the tip of her toes on the soft soil.

As she stopped dancing, her skirts still swishing around her calves from the last of her twirls, Elain noticed a magnificent shrub of the blooms she had braved the woods for, jewel-bright pink petals shining under sunbeams, as if the tress had organized themselves to create a spot of light for such earthly beauty.

Right then, the strangest of things happened.

With her heart jumping to her throat, beating frenetically against her ribs, Elain noticed a beautiful horse. Saddled, with a gleaming chestnut coat, dark eyes downcast, calmly munching on the grass near its hooves.

It wasn’t unheard of, horses in the woods, wild or otherwise, they were not far from the main road, but that was not what made Elain’s skin prickle with alertness.

A well-taken care horse as such must have a rider nearby.

“Samson,” called a male voice “There’s not much left to go.” The horse shuffled his legs, huffing before turning its nose away, back onto the moss.

“There will be carrots,” the voice tried again, with a tone of simulated indifference.

Caught like a fish on a hook, the horse’s great neck snapped up, looking at its rider, as if expecting the vegetable all at once. Stoic as the pair of them seemed, Elain had the impression Samson was kindly spoiled.

Elain, who could hear the rich sound of the stranger’s voice, had not yet distinguished his form in the shade beyond the grove she entered, but following the stallion’s gaze she finally sighted him.

Oh, but what a beautiful man he was.

Stranger was tall and broad-shouldered, with an old, silvery scar marking the side of his face, slitting his brow and narrowly missing his eye - which seemed to be a disconcerting shade of brown. He had the most vibrant shade of red hair she has ever seen, dark like autumn leaves and silky like water.

He was the most beautiful human she has ever seen.

Stranger, however, had yet to notice her.

And as handsome as he was, Elain was clever enough to realize that a quick, silent escape was the safest option.

Slowly, she walked one step back.

The crunch of the branch beneath her foot echoed loudly, too loudly to be confounded by an innocuous wildlife sound.

Elain couldn't raise her eyes to look at him, attention glued to the sword holstered at his hip.

“Be not afraid, lady. I’ll take my leave in a moment,” Stranger said in a placating tone, palms deliberately upraised for her benefit.

The woods turned to music at the exact moment their eyes met.

A world-altering spark of recognition lighted in her mind.

A stranger in the woods, merry music, dancing fireflies, and singing birds, trees being led by the wind as if women in a ballroom, her vision spinning, and her body lighting up like fireworks. A hand on her waist, a choreography her body must have been made for performing, such ease it was to allow it to guide her away.

Dreams, she remembered, wonderful dreams which always kept her under her covers for a moment too long, always ending way too soon, leaving longing as a dent in her pillow.

Now he was right in front of her.

“I know you,” she whispered, words slipping through her lips like birds escaping a cage, her hands shaking.

He was dressed in well-made traveling clothes, dark pants, finely done knee-length boots she had only ever glanced upon whenever wealthier people crossed the town to check on their local businesses, but those deftly dressed gentlemen couldn’t have looked better than the man even with the priciest of fineries. Elain resisted the urge to press her hands to her cheeks, heated and pink from noticing Stranger only wore a thin, unruffled poet’s shirt, - his cape and hat using the nearby trees as hangers - its open laces revealing golden skin and wisps of red hair.

Elain had never felt self-conscious of her looks or clothes, the townspeople dressing similarly to her (even if Elain herself had one of the best sewing hands in their village). Her current outfit was a simple corset with boning made out of prepped hedgehog spikes, the plain fabric embellished with neat seams and picturesque figures Elain had stitched herself; a brown, light skirt - easy to wash and easier to hide soil stains - and, what now she deemed absurd due to the grime on her nails, no slippers.

“And I, you,” he answered as in a daze, hands falling limply at his sides.

“Do you hear it?” Elain made her voice firm, lifting he chin but with her knees slightly bent, ready to run.

“Yes, my lady,” he took a step, then two, until a stretch of his arm would land his hand on her shoulder.

But he didn’t move to touch her.

Elain swallowed, the breeze cooling her body, eyes downcast, legs now motionless and nearly failing her.

“Why won’t you let me see your eyes, my lady?” She couldn’t be sure, for she knew him not, but there was pleading in his tone.

“I’m afraid, my lord, that if I look at you, I’ll awake and leave this dream,” she whispered, surprised, but not fearful, of her words. “And you’ll fly away from my grasp,”

Suddenly shy of her newly found boldness, she turned her back to him.

“I’m-" She started, voice small.

“No, please.” Elain saw a shadow over her shoulder but wouldn’t dare to guess. “Forgive me for my requests, my lady, you need not give me anything, I-”

He sounded... embarrassed.

She found it endearing.

The song of the woods shifted to a village rhythm she knew well.

“Dance with me,” he called.

A gasp fell freely from her mouth, the ghost of a touch on her hand.

Slowly, she turned back to face him and realized her mistake.

His eyes were not brown, but a vibrant russet shade, complimenting his hair better. Elain had heard only the continent bred humans with the most varied and colorful bodies.

“I forgive you,” she mouthed, her throat no longer functional.

There were callouses on his palms if from holding reins or sword fighting, she couldn’t determine, but they were so gentle against her skin she barely put any mind to it.

A blast of sound surrounded them, as if the song recognized their meeting, rejoicing in their movements, magnifying their volume to ensconce the pair of them in a cloud of magic. Elain allowed her stranger to spin and lead her in the dance of her dreams.

She couldn’t help to laugh and smile and giggle as they swayed in impossibly rehearsed arrangements, his wide, carefree, delighted grin pouring sunshine into her chest.

Time turned to a growing bloom, following the natural, slow, unpreoccupied pace of life. A hundred dances thrummed with them while the small pointer of the square clock circled once.

At that time, the resounding, deep clang of the church’s bell chiming twelve times broke through the magic steering the couple.

Elain ceased her steps, the pang of reality downing on her face, awareness washing the enchanted fog in her mind.

She let go of Stranger’s hand, the melodies dimming to a quiet hum, tempting her as a distance siren song,

“I must go,” she told him, yet unable to move.

“So soon?” he asked earnestly, arms lovingly tightening around her waist, not caging, only a gentle embrace.

“Oh, please, I must have my leave. Your lordship certainly has somewhere to be. I don’t even know what to call you-“ she babbled in a rush.

Stranger pressed his nose to the sliver of skin above her neck line, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if she were a saint and he a devotee. Elain lost the breath in her lungs, head lulling back, her words cutting themselves short.

“It’s yours,” his lips brushed the slope of her neck, “My name, my heart, my soul. It’s all yours. I’m Luc-“

Hurriedly, Elain lifted his head and pressed her pointer and middle finger to his mouth, “You must not tell me your name,”

“I heard your voice,” he admitted, a portrait of hope in his face, gently grasping her wrist “I deviated from the road to look for the angel whose song I was lucky to listen. But the singing stopped, as it was never there in the first place,”

“The woods have a mind of their own” she whispered to herself, eyes roaming around as if searching.

“I found you once I let Samson rest for a moment,” he continued, uninterrupted, as though afraid she would vanish in a poof of light.

“Please, my lady. Can’t you see? One is never to deny a gift from the Gods,”

“Are you a believer, Stranger?”

“Now, I am,” he said, his gaze unfaltering, “Will you allow me to reveal my name to your Ladyship?”

“I’m no lady,” she said, taking her hand from the warmth of his, regretting it immediately, “I must have my leave,” How would she explain her tardiness to Nesta? Oh, how reckless she was acting.

“At least allow me to take you to your home, my lady,”

Elain knew deep in her gut as clearly as she knew the color of the sky and the name of her favorite flowers that he would never hurt her.

But her oldest sister warning echoed in her conscience, coiling its limbs around her, refraining her voice.

The universe, it seemed, understood her decision.

Samson let out a loud neigh, attracting her love’s attention for just long enough.

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” she promised as he turned around to watch his horse.

And ran away, deep into the woods.

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments make my day.

Special thanks to @moononastring and @silvergriff for hosting this awesome event, @separatist-apologist for being the kindest and most considerate beta reader I could ever hope for.

I’m building a tag list! If you want to keep up with my writing, let me know :))

I may or may not continue this? I really want to mesh this with a bunch of other ideas I have on my notes!!

[sugar-petals]

:: random things about boyfriend yoongi

↳ ♡ NOTE I saw this format floating around the fandom and thought it was cool and sweet (just like our honey boy so here it goes) 😊  includes an sfw and nsfw bit, both can be read independently.

words. 3k

SFW

First off, Yoongi is laid-back and casually sexy the way we know him. But he also has spikes of energy where he actually gets a little clingy. Any opportunity he will use to hold hands or jump around like a madman with his gummy smile because he got excited about something that you never could predict would make him so happy. He truly is an epiphany.

He’s your most eager personal chef but funnily enough a little unsettled by onions so you end up helping him. Yoongi hates to be crying in the kitchen because of some evil little vegetable but hey, perfect time and place to spend half an hour huddled together cooking or baking. And Yoongi is secretly longing for a cheesy scene, he finds it romantic when you wipe the tears from his face.

His way of speaking to you is a mix of mumbly Korean, high-pitched pouty cat speak, and old-school English slang phrases that he learned somewhere on social media or award shows back in 2018. Most of the time he takes things seriously but is up for some joking anyway. He is sure to giggle every now and then which is really adorable of him. Yoongi is also the person who gets every nuance of your humor and reacts to it.

After being single, you really have to get used to someone waddling around the house. Like— oh, he’s there! And it’s none other than him! Since Yoongi isn’t noisy when he concentrates on his laptop, it really stands out when he morphs from his unmovable rock-like being to a slow rolling stone headed towards the kitchen from time to time. You have to blink every time. And how could you not look up, he’s walking by with his cutest oversized sweaters and striped fluffy socks.

He cannot hide things that normal people would try to keep secret — because of their own discomfort, but he is good at blocking out things that serve your comfort. I’ll explain what I mean. If you have been keeping up with Yoongi postponing the reveal of his surgery until it was successful, you know what I mean. In short, Yoongi is pretty much an automatic filter for things that disturb you. Knowing the right time and place to inform you is the key. As is disregarding things that don’t concern you as a couple, unnecessary drama and opinions. He’s really good at that without ever trying to sugar-coat the important things because he remains a frank and honest soul.

Yoongi has an easier time giving random presents for simple occasions rather than making a big deal out of traditional festivities. So, big celebrations are often kept simple — unless the rest of BTS is there advocating their ‘a little party never killed nobody’ motto — while Yoongi focuses on getting you something attentive or useful every other day pretty much. He’s still a frugal type, you know him. It’s more about inexpensive things that catch his eye because he heard you likes this or that type of snack or want this or that sofa cushion. 

There’s always something new and surprising in the fridge and it’s hardly ever empty because Yoongs takes care of the groceries, really thinking it through. Just personal chef things. Being Yoongi’s partner must be the most destressing thing. He takes responsibility for the worldly things, the ironing clothes and the trash cans. He himself thinks that’s the easiest shit ever and is ready to put time into it (he sees the merit, it drives him) while thinking your side — the sheer act of being in love with him, being there for him — must be hard. Which it isn’t. 

Yoongi thinks emotions and relationships are tough and complicated while daily life runs smoothly at the snap of a finger. You think maintenance is a drudgery while love is not the maze your boyfriend assumes it is. Deep down Yoongi thinks he’s unlovable and a bad person, that’s why he believes he doesn’t have the burden but you have. That your affection then blazes past the barriers in Yoongi’s esteem is something that he finds incredible. It catches him off guard there, you burst the bubbles of the flaws he falsely imagines he has.

You bet your ARMY bomb you’re watching cat videos together.

Guess who’s the first person to hear all of Yoongi’s upcoming hit tracks? Even Namjoon gets the first sample ten minutes later. You gotta be really advanced at keeping secrets and avoiding accidental leaks with your phone or something.

Yoongi hesitates with the analogy because it’s a little funny and you’re evidently not a steaming liquid made of beans, but he claims you really are like his daily americano. Makes his every morning better. 

Now, in all seriousness. What means the most to him is that you take him how he is and are stable company. Yoongi is afraid of betrayal and stupid games so he has to be sure to have a safe bet going. I think that’s why he fancies marriage, it’s a sign of commitment and some degree of permanence to him. And yes, he is a bit jealous in nature since he’s easily invested in someone with a purity of feeling, almost in a naive way. Yoongi easily idolizes his partner and puts a lot of energy into a bond. He wants to protect that, take the risk, and he has watched for someone who radiates genuine trust and faith. He is sure to have found it in you without any illusions and he is right. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.

Playing the piano for dinner or date night is a must, he practices constantly to advance to a great standard. He secretly finds a lot of satisfaction in you cooing at his skills and melodies. Those ten bony fingers gliding over the keys with such a technicality and focus, and a passion that makes you hold your breath, it’s great to watch.

Did you see that one coming? He will compose and produce a designated mixtape only for you personally. Yes, with a little self-filmed, self-cut music video for the title track. 

Now those things never see the light of day, they’re all for you. But what about your couple life once it touches the social realm? As one might expect, Yoongi is very ‘eyes turn narrow’ with people who bring disharmony to your dynamic and the relationship in general. In fact, he is grumpy and disappointed, and should someone give him a reason, distinctly brutal. If someone even attempts to test you or plays manipulative games, Yoongi is relentlessly turning them from the inside out with his words that never miss the mark. They’re efficient. As I said, he hates playing annoying games, he’ll do any shortcut and be Yoongi.

I guarantee you can lean back and will never the fazed by stupid people and time wasters again. No need to lose face. Yoongi does the dirty work and is the best possible defender to have on your side. He handles that. Invasive opinions and useless phrases he will shove right up some trashtalker’s ass and leave. Let’s squarely say he is unafraid to be a armchair critic of your and his haters and doesn’t want any of that nuisance to disturb what you have together. He cuts very quick and makes sure not to get tangled up in trouble.

Yoongi will also debunk a whole bunch of weirdos on weverse asking about your private love while he’s at it. Prepare for some very entertaining snide remarks. Oh my god, so many entitled people will be pissed off. Many will also celebrate him for stepping up. What’s actually important to Yoongi is that nobody taints what is like a treasure to him.

It won’t be hard to overlook that Yoongi is very proud of you as well. He looks confident and revering when he hangs out with the group and you’re somewhere close by, even just doing something trivial.

He’s also pretty touchy, sometimes publically to demonstrate something, but mostly in the relative calm and safety of a hotel room. When the lights are out, all barriers crash, the utter romantic takes over. His favorite types of kisses besides those onto his hands are when you kiss his lashes. And yep. Yoongs is such a cozy little spoon. A very curled up one with cute shooky pajamas on most likely.

Talk about clothes. Believe it or not, Yoongi’s fashion goes through a significant change due to the relationship. He knows that you are touchy and thinks about what kinds of flannels are the biggest cuddle magnet, after all. And oh wonder, he will also show some level of skin when he accidentally hears your praises for his arms and legs and collar bones and glowy skin while talking to a close friend of yours. So, look forward to that in summer (he still dislikes the winter cold and wraps himself into scarves twice his size, mind you) though it’s still for your eyes only, he covers up when going out. Truth be told, he enjoys when you casually touch his skin. Especially the arms. Which hold up the firmament to you, and your world, too, and guard it.

BTS will know about how excited he is about you because he often boasts about for how long you’ve been living together by now. We all know this is Yoongi’s favorite way of bragging and it further shows that loyalty, dedication and longevity is the spice to his every meal.

Yoongi is probably going to quit the bottle because you naturally make him feel at ease and upbeat. In fact, he simply forgets about his wine. I don’t have to convince you that Yoongi will be very immersed in any interaction with you whether that be watching movies or discussing his latest tracks. 

Those discussions come with extra back massages for him because he spends a lot of hours in his chair. Especially around the neck, it’s no secret that this is in every cat’s top 3 favorite massaging areas. Yoongi is gonna make some really raspy, sleepy sounds and just melt in your hands. He’s gonna sleep like a baby afterwards every time. Sometimes, he says funny and cute things while he dozes. He looks very content.

Say goodbye to the 21st century adulting annoyances in your life because Yoongi has a grip on those without a word. Those six specific chores that always plague you take him only a dozen minutes and he is eager, the forms to fill out are already sent off, the list of people to e-mail is weeded through. The taxes are paid, the bank account is full, the meals are on the table, garnished to perfection. Roof over the head, and it’s a sturdy one, Yoongi bought a sound haven house to inhabit a lot of happiness for two. 

He’s probably the only person who doesn’t see it as a loss of dignity if you want to hold on tight to him during a dentist visit as a grown ass mf. Why all of this? Yoongi cannot not strive to feel needed in his actions. He wouldn’t like himself if he couldn’t contribute something reliable and useful. That you find things worthy of your time is priority. You complement each other, what you think is a waste of energy makes him work and strive and vice versa. That way, in the end all things are taken care of.

Giving is more important than taking in Yoongi’s world. He thinks of everything because he considers it an offense to have you in a pile of duties, that is, if you don’t like ‘em. It’s his form of dedicating his efforts and showing respect. He doesn’t need much in return. The things he expects if at all don’t feel like a duty: Much like he doesn’t consider doing those acts of services for you likewise.

Work horse he is, he needs something on his daily to-do plan. Which includes making you feel unbothered by the occasions of an incoming strict world when it’s getting to you. You’re supposed to do what you feel like doing just like him and not slave away at fifty deeds. That you torture yourself with daily life hassle is the thing he dislikes seeing the most. He enjoys doing these things so he’s happy to get going.

What’s not a daily life hassle: Holly is a big fan of yours. Instant friendship. Just wanted you to know.

He always knows how to preoccupy himself and finds something to improve. Getting on your nerves, and that’s no surprise, is the last thing Yoongi will ever do. In fact, you sometimes have to search for his napping spot because he got lost somewhere in the house. 

He either sleeps or works, his philosophy is simple. If you need him, he does appear seemingly out of nowhere. And, he spends as much time with you as you enjoy, not always prioritizing his producing unless it’s urgent or he’s on an inspiration streak. Which is great anyway, you can sit next to him listening. It’s the right balance of work and play.

Yoongi is not above blatantly showing off. Actually, he goes for an act of stunning pretty often. You know how cats parade around whatever they just caught. He wants to impress you with assets and accolades and appraisals, the boy can’t help it. That you only lightly nod at most of it with a little smile will confuse him but he will get the point later on. You wanna signal Yoongi that you anchor your love for him not in shifting numbers and chunky metal pieces. 

That you don’t confuse his signs of outward worth and fame with the core of the guy you find the sweetest in the world is very important to him. He will take some time to see through that because he’s used to being loved through status and its symbols by people close and afar. 

The way you throw yourself at him to give a big smooch in random situations — especially when he doesn’t feel great about himself— rather than only when he say gets a new car is sending him a message. Again, he has to grow into that. He will retreat at the beginning because he feels worthless of your affection on days where he doesn’t feel big and bold and successful. But since he sees you jumping on him because you need only his kind and squishy presence and see him as no different than usual because he’s always Yoongi underneath, your boyfriend will change his mind about it sooner or later. He learns that your presence makes him feel like a billion dollars yourself.

You don’t wallow in the regrets of other people missing the point of Yoongi and instead focus on always understanding him rather than enabling Yoongi into wrong directions. And there are many of those, his mental health can tell you a thing or two about it. He begins to get that you really know what you’re doing and are in it for the real him which makes him feel really loved far underneath all surfaces and images. You accept his fame and admire his work with music which is what he’s truly doing it for but also don’t forget that the most vulnerable Yoongi is the one that you’re there for and not a facade.

NSFW

I know you’re curious. That Yoongi’s sexual style is more than just interesting goes without saying. To give you an idea. Anything steamy with Yoongi means him taking his time. You know, for making it quality. Yoongi wants to grow into the right balance of activity and staying relaxed. He is good at keeping cool and bringing some focus to the madness. He wants to figure out how to be more casual instead of tense and overly preoccupied which he’ll be at the start of the relationship. But the fast learner he is, his nervousness fades way faster than you think. 

Yoongi is extremely afraid that he can’t please you or starts to become awkward slash clueless so he darts to the opposite of the spectrum and overperforms, even plays a character. You have enough cool yourself to tell him what to do in the pace that works best. That he stays centered in his body is important for you to teach him. When he gets grounded and juggling his confidence is out of the equation, he fucks the best.

His favorite position besides giving oral — with you on your back — will be doggy style. Man, we gotta talk about that. Slow to upper moderate pace, nothing too all over the place. Yoongi moans very slowly, too, all drawn out. Get ready for a frequent session of some anal to unwind. You heard that right. First, Yoongi will get the two of you into the right rhythm with his hands at the sides of your waist, then, ride it out in slow mo with his right hand properly stimulating you from the front. 

By habit, he will add some lube here and there but not use insanely dripping amounts so everything gets messy or he can’t touch you without sliding off anymore. Just enough to slide well. Yoongi is so good at this I swear, it’ll be your favorite thing to relax. He has the restraint and technique to pull it off rather than pulling out, huh. Yoongi is gonna stay inside you for ages. It feels like he’s massaging every spot for some extra time. It’s amazing to slack off your muscles, cool off, and get many a gentle but fulfilling orgasm. 

He’s not gonna put you through the hassle of dealing with an anal creampie cleanup so he keeps it wrapped, and mostly focuses on your movements altogether while keeping his own climax smooth and more relieving rather than something that relentlessly knocks him out in one go. Yoongi is good at observing and doesn’t feel the need to chase a violent high which is why he is so great at sex. Fucking with Yoongi leaves a wholesome feeling and you never feel ashamed or guilty, or a sense of being dirty and ruined. 

He enjoys having sex to make you feel really good and works his hands on you very respectfully. His goal is to have you wet and pulsing after a long while of getting you there, and putting you to a good night’s sleep. He’d feel terrible if he left you sore or disturbed. He is really passionate, especially with his kisses or when you ask him to slide into very deeply, but Yoongi being brash and controlling is an image out of sight.

Besides giving you the number one heavenly assfucks, Yoongi also likes to work his tongue as we know, and he’ll work it all over. Few body parts of yours have not made contact with that glorious mouth and I say that in the best of ways. You can instruct him to do whatever, Yoongi obliges with radiant joy. And here again, he takes minutes upon minutes. Kissing and kissing and licking and maybe even teasing once or twice to make you smile. You know, a little signature wink. Honoring your skin and every shape is not something that Yoongi has to talk about, he will physically show it and I swear it’ll finally get into your head with every little move, Yoongi has totally surrendered his tongue to your body and worships it.

[songofwizardry]

after everything is done, the mighty nein stay with each other.

not all the time, of course—but they have Sending spells, and letters, and at one point Essek gets hold of an extra sending stone, but still. they stay together.

Caduceus visits them all, one by one. makes the long journey down to Nicodranas, and meets Jester and Fjord and Kingsley on the beach. he brings dried fruits from his garden. they picnic in the shade of the Wildmother's lighthouse. he finds work to do wherever he wanders—there are hundreds of people, dozens of towns, in need of a healer, or someone to help with a farm, or someone to listen to them through their grief. the Wildmother occasionally guides him, the winds urging head East, or, find this gnome in this town. usually, though, he lets his feet guide him.

Fjord and Jester make their way up, down, the Menagerie Coast. after so long in the Empire and the Dynasty, they both find they've missed the coast they grew up on. Fjord picks up new crew, sometimes—young people looking for work on the docks, older ones who give obviously-fake names and don't answer questions. he pays them fairly, and teaches them the ropes, and treats them with kindness as someone once treated him with kindness, and lets the salt water and sea-air do their work. Jester finally sees Port Damali, and Feolinn, and Port Zoon, and they are lovely, even if she still thinks Nicodranas is the best. she leaves dicks in temples and on street corners, and once or twice, she sees a green-cloaked figure admiring her work. she sends messages every day, working her way through their family—just updates, about the dragon turtle they just saw, or how Kingsley is trying his hand at painting, or about the new crew members they've picked up.

the two of them find trinkets wherever they go. it starts off as a joke, Fjord saying, oh, we should definitely buy that box of buttons for Veth, I can tell her we found Buttonbeard. but then they keep going—a book of Lucidian folk-tales for Caleb, a strange pepper plant for Caduceus, an ocean-blue set of fighters' gloves for Beau. wherever they go, they find something that reminds them of their family, and they bring it back.

an expositor's work is never done, so Beau ends up back in Rexxentrum or Zadash at least once a year, often more (and maybe she goes back more often than she strictly needs to, but nobody needs to know that). she sees the house Caleb's found, a small place, not on the academy grounds, but close enough. she stays a few nights, and watches Caleb light the stove with a snap of steady fingers, and is introduced to a loud, demanding black cat, who doesn't have Frumpkin's infinite patience for their bullshit.

the seeds Caduceus gave her serve Yasha well. she goes back to the Blooming Grove in the spring, spends time with the Clays. learns more about the earth. gets more seeds. she and Caduceus spend time together, walking the grounds, tending the plants, tilling, and they don't say much.

when Marion goes back to Nicodranas, they all visit. Jester stays for the longest time, bouncing between spending time with her mother and teaching Luc prank ideas catching up with the Brenattos, but eventually, all of the Nein end up there. they take over several rooms of the Chateau, and stay up far too late (and let Luc stay up far too late with them), swapping stories and sharing drinks: Is Vandran re-reading Tusk Love again? You need to introduce him to more literature! and Wait, so when you say you and Essek were stuck in a snowstorm without the tower, that to-tally means you had to cuddle for warmth, right? and Did you actually just... walk to Uthodurn, Caduceus?

they don't let Essek disappear for long. sure, he does eventually drop off the face of Exandria, researching this or that, at one point sneaking back into the Dynasty to see his brother, but he always shows up again. Jester sends him messages. he and Caleb keep up a continuous stream of letters, eventually finding magical means to get them to each other faster. and with Teleportation spells, he's always visiting—a week in Rexxentrum, heavily disguised; almost a month with Caduceus, using his rose-patterned gardening gloves; a brief stint in Nicodranas, helping out at the Brenatto Alchemists. (a few years after Aeor, he spends more time in Rexxentrum. stays a month. then two. then six. then a year. eventually, he and Caleb get a second cat. and he cannot stay forever, but he still stays.)

for the first time in his life, Caleb has time. and so he takes it. slowly, he walks the streets of Rexxentrum, learning to love it again (he's not sure if he ever really stopped loving it). he works, slowly, with Beauregard—it might take their whole lives to dismantle the mess of power and abuse that the Assembly is; it will probably take even longer. but he keeps at it anyway. he goes back and forth between the Academy and the Soul; when Beau combs through questionable documents, Caleb asks questions; when the mages of the Academy and Assembly hold meetings, Caleb goes to them and keeps his eyes on the Martinet.

he starts teaching. he's not sure about it, at first—the Academy hurt, not just him, but so many others. but with Trent gone, he thinks—there can be a change. and he wants to feel the joy of new magic again, to watch new eyes come alight with it, he wants to show people how it can be used to help, and heal, and love, instead of hurt. so he starts teaching. it's joyous, and energising, and exhausting, and he watches his students – his students – all the while, for the slightest hint that they are being hurt, or forced, or coerced, or trained into something they don't want to be. he watches them grow, and learn. he pushes the envelope of treason, just a bit, talks of magic and wonder beyond the empire and its structures. and with every group, he teaches them the spell find familiar.

the Brenattos open up a new apothecary in Nicodranas. it's bigger, and brighter, and busier than the one in Felderwin—they get more herbs and more customers here, and with both Yeza and Veth in the lab, they're soon coming up with new concoctions, experimenting together. when Veth gets the itch in her bones (and she does, numerous times), she tracks down one of the nein, and wanders with them for a bit—visiting Rumblecusp with Beau and Yasha, a trip investigating Halas' halls with Caleb, a few weeks on the Lucidian ocean. she never stays long, and she always comes home. she hasn't broken that promise yet.

Luc grows up on the coast, and learns to swim. sometimes, she joins him.

when they get a house, she and Yeza – by unspoken agreement – find a place with two extra rooms, a sitting room large enough for several people to fit on the floor, and a garden. Yeza's food is almost as good as Caduceus', so it's no surprised that the nein come and visit, often. Yasha helps them grow beds of flowers in the garden. Jester and Fjord bring all manner of strange mementoes from the oceans. when the academy is closed, Caleb stays for months on end, helping her teach the teenagers of Nicodranas basic cantrips and how to pick locks during the day (we are unleashing a menace, he warns her, but he's smiling), and reading to Luc in the evenings.

they gather, together, in her house, too. sometimes for a special occasion (she and Yeza renew their vows in the garden), but often, for no reason at all. just to be together. there is space for all nine of them—she made sure of that. they talk, and laugh, and fall asleep in a chaotic pile in the Brenatto's living room.

in a few days, they will embrace, and separate, and head back to whatever they've been doing. but they will come back together, eventually.

after everything, the mighty nein stay together.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Sooo, I think this is turning into an actual story guys. I have ideas for where this can go and one of them needs names to work so... yeah they are becoming OCs... Whumpee, Caretaker and Whumper are getting names next part because I’m indecisive and need to think on it lol but for this one, since I’ve been giving them more thought and shape: they are all men and the pronouns are ‘he’ now, okay? 

CW: needle mention, medical setting, infected wound, restrained and collared, held hostage, lots of angst because this is what this whole thing is about in the end, isn’t it?

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot (please tell me if you want me to stop or start tagging you <3)

Continued from here

-

There was a time when Whumpee could move and not feel pain because of it. When it didn’t hurt to do so much as breathe. There was a time when time didn’t blend together in an endless daze of please help me, it hurts.

He knows exactly where the pain comes from, that spot a knife had gone inside of him… days before? Weeks? But by now, it has spread along his entire body, and it all just hurts so much.

If only he could press his hands against the wound, see if it looks as ugly as it feels. If only he could curl up and sob. If only his hands weren’t tied above his head and he could move at all, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

His fingers have gone cold and numb what feels like hours before. He shifts and squirms but it only makes his wound burst in pain and barely anything for his aching arms. After some time, the pain is in his legs as well and if only he could move, just for a moment, it would be so much better. 

His head hangs awkwardly to the side, unable to move more than a few inches, kept close to the wall by the metal collar around his neck. He can’t sleep with it, because each time he does, his head hangs and he wakes up suffocating. He can’t move, because it hurts. All he can do is hope Whumper doesn’t forget he’s here.

So Whumpee just stares at nothing, wondering if the pain will ever fade, and only when it gets truly unbearable does he allow himself to think of Caretaker.

He’s left him here to rot. As he did before, as Whumpee should’ve known he would. 

But this pain is a lot deeper than the stabbing could ever be, so Whumpee closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing through the molten lava seeping into his bloodstream.

Time passes, or maybe it doesn’t, and Whumpee can’t focus on anything for long enough to know anything but pain. 

It’s a strange combination, the desperate need to move his cramped arms, restless legs, but also the bone-deep weakness he feels, the certainty that even if he wasn’t chained to the wall, he wouldn’t have the strength to do more than curl up on the floor. 

It all comes back to murmured pleas for mercy that are never heard, until even his voice is raw and aching and he just goes back to leaning limply against the wall and relishing the few minutes he gets of sleep.

Eventually, his tiny cell fills with noise and his eyes flutter open to find Whumper towering over him.

He’s only half awake, the other half refuses to swim out of the deep waters of troubled sleep, but as if through a thick layer of glass, Whumpee manages to discern a few words.

“…infection,” someone says, somewhere distant. “Shit, get the doctor, I–“

He only truly wakes up when the chains are unlocked and he’s hauled up, the only thing keeping him standing the unforgiving hands gripping his arms. People keep speaking, but he’s so consumed by pain that all Whumpee can hear is his own desperate whimpers as they move his inert body. 

-

Whumper isn’t smiling when Caretaker enters his office, for once.

“Took you long enough. Do you have what I asked for?”

“What you bribed me for, you mean?” Caretaker bites back, clutching the drive filled with information his team never expected him to leak. “Let me see Whumpee first.”

“We had a bit of a situation while you were gone.” Whumper sighs, getting up and nodding toward the door for Caretaker to follow. Two security guards walk behind them, and Caretaker’s stomach churns when he sees the others standing at each corner they pass. If it was only two, he could take them down. Surrounded as he is, his only hope is to play the game long enough for Whumper to slip up first. “So, apparently having his wrists chained above him wasn’t particularly good for a nearly closed wound. It got infected.”

The world stops for a moment, pauses in horror. And yet it keeps moving, somehow – Caretaker’s legs keep driving him forward, even if his heart turns into stone in his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with fear.

“He’s fine, though,” Whumper continues as if his last words hadn’t frozen Caretaker inside out. “I’ll let you see him, as a treat, before you give me the drive, just because this was not supposed to happen.”

There are no words, no nothing as Caretaker keeps walking, the motion automatic, hammering heart the only sound he hears.

They enter the medical wing Whumpee had been in before he left, and stop in front of a white door. Whumper is frowning when he opens it, but Caretaker only has eyes for the tiny figure lying on the bed.

He was always so stunned by how big Whumpee looked, even though he was always a few centimeters shorter. Loud laughs, passionate ideas, all love and wildness that could never be contained – it all made him so much bigger than anyone else.

But under white sheets, a needle stuck to his vein, and beeping machines all around him, Whumpee looks so small. Vulnerable. Alone.

“See, still breathing,” Whumper huffs behind him.

“If I give you the drive, will you let me take him away?” The question is low, whispered not to wake Whumpee up. Or maybe not to reveal how tight his chest feels. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Just hand it over and I’ll even let you hang around for a while.”

It isn’t reassuring at all, but Caretaker doesn’t even look at Whumper as he hands him the device, eyes still locked on each shallow breath Whumpee takes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. The room is filled with cameras and my men will be waiting outside,” Whumper warns before leaving.

Caretaker is beside the bed before the door is even fully closed. 

His eyes travel down each centimeter of Whumpee’s body, head to toe, from the way his eyes move from side to side underneath his eyelids to the padded restraint around his right wrist to the slight bulge of new bandages covering his stab wound. The wound Caretaker is guilty of.

He sits at the very edge of the bed, leans closer. Whumpee’s hand is cold when Caretaker holds it, but his cheek is warm under his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing his thumb along Whumpee’s jawline. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? And then I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling as the words bubble up, escaping the dam Caretaker had built so long ago, through the cracks Whumpee created with each trustful smile, each careful touch and disarming gentleness. The cracks Caretaker did his best to close, thought he did for a while. And then he woke up to Whumpee tied behind his back and found out his heart had never stopped bleeding for him.

“It should’ve been me. It should’ve never been you. I was the one supposed to be hurt, not you. Never you. I am so sorry, Whumpee, so, so–“

A sharp intake of breath makes Caretaker’s words die in his throat.

He cracks his eyes open and freezes when he finds Whumpee’s green gaze locked on him.

They stare at each other, one instant that lasts one thousand, a million words Caretaker wishes to say but knows he won’t. And then Whumpee’s eyes wander around the room, aimlessly stopping here and there, going back to Caretaker, half-lidded and lost somewhere else.

“I ha– I hate it,” Whumpee mumbles, “that you’re still… in m-my dreams.”

Its low, weak, and Caretaker side-glances the bag filled with clear liquid dripping into Whumpee’s veins before looking back at him and smiling faintly. “I know. It’s okay. I deserve your hate.”

“No. Not you. I hate me.”

“What?”

Whumpee blinks slowly, so slowly opening back drug-addled eyes that strain to focus on Caretaker’s face, and leans his cheek against Caretaker’s palm. “I hate me… for still… still… caring.”

And just like that, the world stops in its tracks again. A sob gets caught between Caretaker’s teeth, and he just stares at Whumpee as either exhaustion or medication takes him away again, and his head lolls on the pillow.

When Whumper comes to pick him up hours later, Caretaker is still standing on the same spot, still holding Whumpee’s limp hand, still staring at the peace sleep brings to that beautiful face. The peace he hasn’t seen since Caretaker himself took from him.

He doesn’t complain when he’s told to leave the room. Caretaker simply squeezes that tiny hand that hides under his and obeys. 

They go back to Whumper’s office, and Caretaker strains to focus on now, here, not the man lying on a hospital bed one floor above.

“Good visit?” Whumper teases.

“I did my part. Now let us go.”

There’s a weight inside of Caretaker’s stomach, and it is tied to that sleeping figure, to that lost gaze that’ll never leave his mind.

“I have a new offer.”

He knew this was coming. Caretaker hoped it wasn’t but he knew it from the moment he looked at Whumper’s ambitious eyes.

“I want you to work for me.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, and Caretaker crosses his arms over his chest. “In your dreams. Now do your part and let me grab Whumpee and go.”

“Um no, I don’t think I will.”

“Why should I trust you when you haven’t been true to your word twice now?”

A snorted laugh, a raise of brows. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I have Whumpee. He isn’t in shape for traveling right now, y’know? I’m doing him a favor keeping him here, giving him top-of-the-line medical care. You should be thanking me.”

“What do you want now, Whumper?” Caretaker sighs. Exhaustion is curling around his very bones, helplessness snaking up his throat, and he is just so tired of this. Of being sad and scared and guilty, even if he deserves every single drop of it.

“Go back to your team and feed me relevant information, and I’ll keep making sure that nasty infection doesn’t hurt Whumpee anymore than it already has. Do as I say, and he stays alive. You know the drill, don’t you?”

Caretaker doesn’t have the willpower to do more than close his eyes and fall into a chair, waiting to hear the details of one more betrayal he has no way to avoid. 

-

It makes no sense, truly, but when Whumpee wakes up, he is surprised to find himself alone. There was no one in the cell with him, there’s no reason to expect someone to be with him in the hospital-like room, but a part of him expects a warm hand on his either way.

Pieces of dreams float around his mind, barren rooms with monsters waiting in the dark, a crimson puddle of his own blood, familiar and unknown faces blurring together. And the one that felt the most real, the one dream he holds close to his heart even if he doesn’t want to.

Caretaker’s face, worried eyes, gentle touches, soothing and painful all at once. Murmured words, tearful apologies. A dream he wishes was real, knows it isn’t.

Whumpee closes his eyes when tears blur his vision, and brushes his fingers along his jawline in a phantom touch he hasn’t felt in so long but wishes he had.

(next)

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice Part 5: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: A Festival turns into a *festival* (sort of)

wc: 1.7k

tw: drinking and tomfoolery

masterlist

a/n: y'all. I have been worn out by today and just needed something fun and light to write. I will be adding a 5.5 tomorrow since I couldn't do what I wanted to do with this chapter originally. (sorry, loves) Stay tuned! See you all soon.

“Have you ever been to the Festival of Dragons?” Serena asks, wrapping herself in a black dress with silver bits of glitter scattered about.

“No,” you admit, examining your own black silk gown, and then looking down at your golden slippered feet. “What is it like?”

“Don’t spoil the best parts,” Cly warns, draping a silk shawl around her shoulders before braiding her black hair behind her ears. She gives you a wink, then turns back to the mirror, and you tilt your head at Serena.

“It’s full of food....”

“And fireworks,” Helen interjects, wiggling her mauve fingers around.

“Dancing,” Ariadne adds, and you laugh, wondering if your two left feet would make it through the night.

“Oh! And ambrosia.” Danai breathes, her eyes going wide.

“Ambrosia…” The girls sigh dreamily, and you bite your lip, waiting for someone to explain.

“Ambrosia?” you finally ask when no one says anything, and Clymenestra turns back to you, fully dressed, and proceeds to adjust your dress slightly.

“Ambrosia is the drink of the gods. But since you’re still mortal, I’m not sure that you can have any.”

“I’m sure now that she’s been spending her nights with His Holiness that he’ll allow--” Serena jabs Ariadne in the ribs at the sight of your embarrassment, and she hisses in pain.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine if that’s what he wants her to have, right, Cly?” Serena asks, and Cly nods, smiling at you.

“You’ll be fine.”

_____________________________________________________________

The Festival of Dragons would be held in the realm of the God of Wind, which was a short trip by dragon ride at sunset. Gojo and Geto both waited for you all, fully in their dragon form before you got there.

Your fingers still feel sore (and your head aches terribly) from when you clutched so tightly onto Geto’s mane as he ascended, climbing into the sky with Ariadne and Danai behind you. And yes, you screamed all the way to the Sky Realm, which looked like an open-air marketplace filled to the brim with stalls of food, games, and musicians playing the same song at the same time.

“Toji won’t be attending,” Geto confirms to the group, and you all collectively let out a sigh, then disperse into the crowd eagerly. You look to Geto, who lifts his arm for you to take, and once you loop your arm around his, he leads you along the path of stalls. As you marvel at the vast array of foods, sounds, and people that look somewhat like humans - but if one were to peer closely, they would find small differences from normal human faces - your eye catches on a colorful array of bracelets, and you pull Geto in that direction without words.

“FIve strands to protect you from evil,” the man behind the wooden counter smiles, and you finger a rainbow-colored one, then turn to Geto excitedly.

“Can I get one for all of us?” you ask, and he chuckles, waving his hand at the display.

“Have your pick, my lady.” You choose six more, and then - upon realizing you have no money to pay for the things - you set the back on the counter, much to Geto’s confusion.

“I have no money,” you reply when you see his face, and he blinks twice, then whispers in your ear,

“Y/n, everything is free.” You frown and squint your eyes.

“But how…”

“I’m the Dragon God, remember? This festival is for me and my counterparts.” The stall owner seems to have tuned you both out, focusing on weaving his strings and minding his business while you two discussed the logistics of the unnecessary payment.

As you take your prizes to the next stall, the scent of something meaty catches your nose and you sniff about, which makes Geto laugh earnestly. “I think you’re smelling kamuth.”

“What’s that?” you ask, looking at the spinning wheels of meat in the booth.

“It’s a delicacy among the immortals; it’s said that this rat-like creature first crawled from the bottom of the Earth to the highest mountain in order to reach the Sky Realm.” Geto plucks a slice of meat from the wheel and presents it to you, placing it in your open mouth. “But now, it’s just a rodent we fatten up to cook for festivals.” The salty meat slides down your throat easily and you hum in delight, reaching for another piece.

“Ambrosia?” a woman offers, and as you consume another slice of kamuth, Geto secures two cups full of yellow, shimmering liquid.

“Drink it slowly,” he warns, and you take a sip of it, letting the sweetness of it wash away the salty aftertaste of the meat.

“This is delicious,” you mention before you hear two voices call out behind you.

“Suguru!” The pink-haired boy from before and a man with black hair and a red stripe over his nose appear out of the crowd, beaming at Geto with admiration.

“Yuji, Choso,” Geto begins, smiling widely. “You two look like you’ve had your fair share of ambrosia.”

“Fifteen glasses before Choso here upchucked all over the floor,” Yuji states proudly, thumbing over to the unsteady Choso, who hiccups and covers his mouth. Choso’s eyes slide your way, and when he looks at you, you feel as if he’s looking into your soul.

“A human?”

“For now,” Geto holds out his hands to stop his protests. “Toji has already--”

“There you two are,” Two hands float out of the crowd and yank on the collars of both Yuji and Choso at the same time. “I look away for one moment and you two go staggering off into the crowd like dogs without leashes.” Megumi fades into view and you watch as he drags the two off into the crowd after muttering, “Sorry about these two idiots, Your Holiness.” You bring the cup to your lips again as you watch them disappear, then swallow the ambrosia for courage.

“Shall we continue?” Geto holds out his arm again, and you take it happily.

_____________________________________________________________

You had to admit, you were having so much fun watching the boat races, the dancers, and the speed-weavers that you forgot to drink your ambrosia slowly. By the time the cup is empty, you’re slightly unsteady on your feet and feeling sluggish. Geto immediately notices your slight impairment and frowns at your empty cup, gripping your arm tightly.

“Oooh,” you drawl, head tilting to the side slowly as you examine the colored lanterns around the grounds. “I want some lanterns like those,” you state. “All around the bedroom. Will you do that for me, Geto?”

“I’ll get you whatever lanterns you like, my lady,” he replies, and finds a place for the two of you to sit away from the crowd. You try to sit up straight, but your body keeps angling back slightly, so Geto has to catch you and sit you upright each time. “Y/n, do you feel tipsy?”

“I feel…” You stop to think for a second. “I feel warm and fuzzy all over, like a blanket,” you laugh, and Geto has to catch you again.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs, and you straighten up, trying to make yourself appear more alert.

“No! The fireworks haven’t happened yet.”

“There will always be next year, my love.” You grasp his hand abruptly and tug on it once.

“But I’ll only be human for a few more weeks,” you plead, but he doesn’t look like he’ll give in. Not with that concerned look on his face.

“You’re under the influence of ambrosia; I’m taking you home, y/n,” he states, scooping to pick you up easily and walking back to the field where he landed as a dragon earlier. You watch him go to the edge of the cliff and step off, and for a second, panic sets into your bones as you scramble to see where he's gone. But a massive dragon shoots up from the edge as you peer over, landing on the grass with precision. A soft snort means “get on”, and you shakily do so, clutching onto his mane with all you had.

When you settle onto his back, he slowly begins his ascent, lifting off into the sky easily. One circle around the Sky Realm and then you’re off, speeding through clouds and air, the wind sailing past your face and making your once-tidy hair unkempt. At some point, you feel the overwhelming fear pass and you look up at the sky, reaching a hand up to touch a small cloud. Despite the cloud feeling like nothing, you contain your disappointment and yell,

“Why did you go so fast earlier? Did you want me to scream my head off?” The choppy growl Geto gives sounds like a laugh, almost, and you roll your eyes, sinking back into his mane as you descend to the palace. He shifts back into a man when you dismount, and then scoops you up again, carrying you past the front doors and to his bedroom.

“This is so romantic,” you croon jokingly as he places you back down, then begin to fiddle with your dress so you can slip into bed. But as your fingers slip on the clasps, Geto takes over, brushing your hair to the side so he can see the back of your gown. When his fingers ghost on the exposed skin, you shiver slightly. After the dress slides down your figure, you step out of it and turn to face Geto, covered only in a silk slip that reaches the top of your thighs.

Even under the influence of the drink of the gods, you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over you appreciatively; drinking in every curve, dip, and slope of your skin. His inventions are clear when he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, and you’re not sure if it’s the ambrosia or the newfound confidence that makes you bold, but your fingers drift to the tie at his waist, undoing it deftly. You walk back to the bed, Geto still pressing kisses to your skin and you the same, articles of his outer clothing being left behind in a trail leading to the large mattress. Once he’s down to his pants and those alone, he speaks softly.

“I want you to be fully sober when we…” He leaves the rest up in the air, and you pull away from him, blinking slowly.

“But--”

“I need full and enthusiastic consent,” he asserts, and you nod once, understanding his meaning.

“Then just kiss me until I fall asleep,” you counter, and he gives you a half-smile, his hands coming back up to your face and his lips pressing against yours as you sink into the pillows and sheets.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @nostaren @sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious @missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sasahime @ggotgame @just4readingfics

[dabi-does-cocaine-fight-me]

Hallucinations

Dabi x Shigaraki One-Shot

Warnings: So ooc, bugs, slight gore if you squint really hard, swearing, rOmAnCe, fEeLs, omg cliché

Shigaraki strolled into the League of Villains’ bar, wiping the blood off his hands with a discarded, musty towel. His gaze swept over those present in the room, hidden by the obstructing hand on his face. Toga was sitting at one end of the bar with Spinner, giggling obnoxiously at his dramatic hero imitations. Twice perched on a barstool at the opposite end of the bar, staring sullenly into the distance while puffing leisurely on a cigarette. Meanwhile, Kurogiri stood behind the counter, polishing glasses in a dutiful, restless manner, while Dabi lounged on an old moth eaten couch. Across from him, Compress made a move on the chessboard the two shared.

All of them eyed Shigaraki as he stepped further into the room, clearing his throat to get their attention. The effect was immediate. Toga and Spinner fell silent, Twice came out of his trance, and Dabi’s posture straightened slightly.

“News, Tomura?” Mr. Compress questioned. Shigaraki’s head turned in his general direction and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Different factions of the yakuza are still at war, competing for control now that they’ve removed Overhaul. One of the factions was delivering me a shipment of illegal drugs…I was expecting to use it to create more of those quirk destroying bullets, but it was intercepted by Ryukyu, Selkie and a few U.A. brats,” he reported in a bitter tone. He clearly wasn’t happy about how events had transpired.

“And all that blood on your hands, you slip and fall into Kool-Aid, boss?” Dabi snickered. Shigaraki turned to him and flexed his fingers, the unspoken threat apparent.

“How would you like to find out?” Tomura intoned quietly. Dabi scoffed, unfazed by the hostility.

“Well, you know, if you weren’t an insufferable dick and gave us straight answers…” he shrugged maladroitly. An unsteady and tense silence had fallen over the room, and everyone present was waiting to spring into action, should the need arise. Kurogiri inched closer, recalling the volatility present in the two’s previous encounters. Shigaraki and Dabi were continuing to stare at each other, Tomura’s demeanor calm and collected, Dabi’s wary yet relaxed. As they eyed each other quietly, Dabi realized Shigaraki was balancing all his weight on one leg and holding-no, more like nursing- his right arm. His gloves were absent. Tomura detected his examination and shot Dabi a nasty glare as their eyes met, daring him to say something. Kurogiri observed this interaction and decided it was time to step in, before things went any further.

“Tomura, where did all the blood come from?” he inquired, making sure to keep his tone level and to keep from sounding interrogating so as not to anger Tomura further. Shigaraki tore his gaze away from Dabi, muttering a response.

“One of the yakuza factions at war with the one I employed recognized me. Overhaul followers…one had a paralyzing quirk,” he seethed. It had hurt his pride immensely to have been surprised so easily, pinned so effortlessly, paralyzing quirk or no, and having that scarred idiot examining him only pissed him off worse. Kurogiri’s mist blew slightly, a draft from the open door causing him to dissipate and then reform as he spoke again.

“I see,” he soothed, “why don’t you go lie down, I’ll prepare you some food.”

Tomura nodded, looking rather beaten. He began to shuffle off to his room, Spinner and Twice both averting their gaze out of respect to their boss. Dabi sat thoughtfully on the couch, sweeping a hand through his hair as he rendered Compress checkmate.

~

A few hours later, Dabi was sauntering to his room in the evening, but as he passed Tomura’s room he heard muffled cursing. He turned around and rapped the door. The sounds quieted, and Tomura muttered gruffly for him to enter. Dabi obeyed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You okay in here?” he interrogated, already knowing the answer. Tomura was in bad shape. His food sat untouched, his laptop shut on the desk, no online gaming visible. He was sprawled on his bed, sweatshirt hood up, panting slightly.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his face obscured by his hair in the dark of the room.

“Cut the bullshit handyman, what’s got you sitting on tacks?” Dabi shot back. Tomura huffed.

“Why the fuck would you care? Get out,” he barked. Dabi scoffed.

“No wonder no one wants to be around you. You’re so kind,” he murmured sarcastically, turning to leave. He was halfway to the door when Tomura spoke again.

“The attack….there were three people. One paralyzed me, another rendering me mute, I’m assuming those were their quirks…”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “The third?” he questioned.

“The third…didn’t move until the other two started leaving…as they walked away, he threw something at me….I flinched, so I didn’t see what it was but I felt it hit me…like…worms eating into my brain. I didn’t think anything of it, because there were no unusual effects but now I…”

He trailed off, glancing at his food before quickly turning his gaze elsewhere once more. “When I try to eat the food is all…full of maggots, and mold. When I try to patch up my injuries from the encounter, all I see is…blood. So much blood…gushing, squirting, blood. Bugs. Lots of…”

He shuddered. “In the mirror…my nails turn to beetles and crawl away…my eyebrows, spiders…worms for-for lips. My gloves…they’re rats…”

His voice broke slightly, and he stopped speaking. Dabi sighed, observing him quietly. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that Shigaraki was trembling, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was scared. The kind of fear that you know is irrational, but it’s bone-chilling anyway. He knew that fear, he felt it roll through his body, consuming his thoughts every time he heard his father’s footsteps near his bedroom door when he was a small child. Something inside him tugged at his consciousness, telling him to comfort the man in front of him. He gave into it, strolling over to Shigaraki and perching hesitantly next to him on the corner of the bed. He clenched his fist, opening it to reveal a small, flickering blue flame.

“Focus on it,” he suggested quietly, softly nudging Shigaraki with his shoulder. Shigaraki turned his head, hyper fixating on the fire, anxious for his mind to be anywhere but on the events of the day and their effects. After a while, he sighed softly.

“Thank you, Dabi,” he murmured, looking up at the raven-haired male. His shivering had eased, and he felt slightly calmer. Dabi noticed the hand wasn’t on his face, as usual, and was surprised by how red Shigaraki’s eyes were. He’d been crying, for a long while. Dabi nodded.

“Anything for you, boss man,” he replied truthfully. He may act abrasive towards Shigaraki, but there was a fondness for him, somewhere deep inside. Shigaraki had accepted him, however slowly, and had given him a place to stay, a family, somewhere he belonged. Maybe that platonic feeling of respect and devotion had turned into something else…something more serious. Seized by a sudden inexplicable urge, he tucked a small portion of Shigaraki’s hair behind his ear. The smaller male turned to him, a soft vulnerable in his eyes that Dabi had never seen before. It made Shigaraki seem…almost fragile. Dabi slid his thumb over a scar on the man’s cheek, frowning slightly. Two imperfect beings, two scarred, broken creatures, adapted to the circumstances of the cruelty they were subject to…so perfect. Almost poetic, how they were frozen together in anarchy, yet the world kept spinning on its axis around them. And they were safe. Safe from it all, because, all though unspoken, now, they had each other.

He never thought Shigaraki would be so soft, so fragile, so carefully built. He wanted to accept Shigaraki as a part of him, to take him in, take his bones, his flesh, his mind and make the two of them one. To protect him through anything and everything, always. He’d break himself to keep Shigaraki intact, he’d never let the world touch him again. When his thought process broke, he looked up, only to find Shigaraki’s face mere inches from his own. The blue haired male exhaled slightly through his lips and Dabi could feel it on his own. Unconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet them.

“Why are you such an ass to me?” Shigaraki questioned bluntly. The flame in Dabi’s palm flickered once, twice, and blew itself out.

“I’m…afraid of what I feel.” The hand that had been holding the flame came to rest on his upper thigh.

“What do you feel?” Shigaraki asked, a note of gentle yet earnest curiosity in his voice. Dabi licked his lips once more, swallowing heavily. Shigaraki seemed much too close…

“Tell me,” he whispered when Dabi failed to answer. Dabi hesitated, visibly struggling before leaning in to capture Tomura’s lips in a gentle, tender kiss. Shigaraki gasped softly, but didn’t pull away, instead lifting his hand to hold the back of Dabi’s neck, pulling him closer. Finally. Finally, they both thought. Shigaraki’s hand came up to brush the stubble on Dabi’s jaw gently, and they were no longer aware of the passage of time. The stars whirled, the sun rose and set, a million years passed, and it made no difference. Their souls merged, never to be torn apart. They pulled away as one, exhaled as one. Their gazes caught each other, holding each other in a silent embrace, one that said everything…and nothing. They never left that place, that space of eternal bliss, where for once, everything was right.

THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE I’M SO SORRY- If you like this story, drop a request for part two, and if you like my work so far, send a request in for another story!! Remember to name the characters (or if an x reader story, who you wish to be paired with) and a situation I can build on; i.e hanging out at the mall. I love all of you, regardless of whom you are and I hope you all have a wonderful October!!

[wornoutmouse]

Baby Daddy Shigaraki fanfic pt2

It was a miracle that no one questioned the name put down when Shigaraki had to sign the birth certificate. You summed it up as fearing for their lives but it could be many things you try to convince yourself as the reality of your new life truly set in.

The after birth pain, though constant, was numbed whenever you looked down on your son's face. He had yet to do anything more than sleep, much to your annoyance. And was aggressive when breastfeeding  much to Shigaraki's enjoyment, "Just like his father." 

Dabi was the second one to hold Daiki after Komugiri but the look of horror on his face when you fully released the baby into his arms was one that deeply concerned you. "It's breathing." He whispered to you eyes wide.

You signal for Komugiri to stand close behind Dabi just in case he really lost it. "Yeah Dabi.....he is breathing...cause that's what living things do." 

Time skip

You sigh as you finally set Daiki down inside his new bed for a nap. His small face looked so delicate surrounded by soft lavender blankets. His whole room theme was a soft purple as preferred by Komugiri. 

You closed the door till there was only a sliver of light coming in just in case he woke up again, then you headed to your living room. 

Shigaraki sat on the couch shirtless and flicking through TV channels. "Why are you still here?" You ask as you walk to the kitchen to find your tea. "What do you mean?" You stir four teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. "I got Daiki under control, you don't have inconvenience yourself."

Tomura flicked through the channels once again. "You and Daiki are not an inconvenience, you're both my responsibility now." You release the spoon causing it to clink loudly against your ceramic cup. "I don't want you to force yourself to be here, you've obviously proved that you don't really want to be apart of this."

"Y/N come on now this again?!" "Yes this again!" Shigaraki groaned scratching idly at his neck. "I've already missed the hidden trailer off Daiki's life I'm not going to miss the prequel sequel." You groan softly, "Stop talking in video game terms you know I don't understand!"

Shigaraki stands up and walks to the kitchen now leaving only the island separating you. "Look you can hate me all you want, I don't care, hell I'm used to it. But you are not keeping me from my son." You shudder at the tone Tomura spoke at.

There were very few times when you've heard this voice and luckily it was never directed to you. This voice meant that what he said was final and he would not go back on it no matter who got in his way. "I would love to have you in his life Tomura, but I don't want what comes with it." You finally say, making Tomura throw his hands up in defeat.

"What do you expect me to do woman?! Make him tag along on "Bring your child to work day?" You turn away trying to contain your annoyance in fear of waking up the baby. "I'm giving you one chance to get your shit together, don't mess it up." Behind you, you could hear the steady steps of Tomura retreating, "And I'm giving you a chance to see how stupid you're being right now."

Before he completely walked away he stopped, "I am going to check on Daiki since it seems like he's the only one that appreciates my efforts."

Once you heard the familiar creak of Daiki's bedroom door you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "How did I get like this?" 

It of course was on a Saturday, as all good stories do. You were working a waitress job at Denny's as a way to earn some pocket money for your first year in Japan. 

"Table 3 we got your Bourbon Chicken skillet, Fish and chips, two waters, and a cherry sprite." Your say setting down all your items before walking to the booth next to them. 

"Hello welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you all tonight?" Dabi at the time, had a nonchalant hand over Twice's mouth most likely to stop his internal bickering. Komugiri was navigating the kids menu with a then 15 year old Toga. Spike ordered some Fish and Chips as per usual and Shigaraki was starting at your tits.....

Shigaraki was staring at your tits.....

He was STARING- I think you get the point

"Hey birthday bitch what are you ordering?" Dabi said snapping Tomura back to the present. "Uh.. get me a steak skewer." Dabi gasped, "I spent all my time and hard work scrounging up money and you get a damn steak skewer for your birthday?!" 

The five stages of grief came over you internally as you had been standing there way past your recommended time. "If you guys aren't ready to order, I'll just come back-" 

"No no no, we are ready. Can we get chicken on a stick with a side of grapes and fries for the young lady. Steak and eggs for me...Dabi? Dabi leaned back simultaneously releasing twice. "We would like a 3-egg omelette-with some cock!" 

You didn't get paid enough for this.

"I'll get you the omelette but I'm afraid I'm out of stock for that last part." You smirk, putting down the orders so far. Dabi snapped the menu shut, "Do y'all have chicken tenders?" Dabi asked, looking at you hopefully. You nod and he fist bumped Twice for some unforeseen reason. 

"Uh get crusty over there a Supreme Sizzling Skillet." "Wait why can all of you get chicken but I can't?!" You wrote down the orders and glanced at Shigaraki who was now looking directly at you as if you held all the answers. "Okay for drinks?"

   As you got off work, you took the back alley entrance to the bus stop. "Hey." Your scream and toss a punch into the darkness effectively making skin to skin contact. "Ow what the fuck?!" "What do you mean what the fuck you're the rapist!"

Shigaraki's signature light blue hair appeared from the shadows almost glowing from the dim alley light. "Rapist? No, I'm more on the lines of stalker." You stand there for a moment rethinking your life choices. "Yeah okay well I'm going to go-" "Wait!" 

You feel half of a hand grip onto your wrist stopping you in your place. "I uh... Think you're cute and, ah crap what did Dabi tell me to say?!" 

As he mulled over his choice of words you hesitantly reach into your purse for pepper spray. "Uh I was wondering if I could get to know you?" He finally ended off staring at you expectantly. You looked back at him expectantly.

"I know this seems creepy but I'm not exactly good at talking to people that are not my friends so you're kinda boss level interaction." For a while your stare at each other as the cold fall wind blew past the two if you. Giving up, you sighed and pulled out a price of paper, "Look, if I wake up tomorrow and none of my underwear is missing and window is not mysteriously open, I'll give you a call, but don't expect it!"

And he didn't expect it. To your surprise, you never found any ominous signs of entry into your substitute home, and he never 'conveniently' showed up at your job. 

Even so, the very fact that you called him was during a moment of weakness. You were extremely home sick and you had just moved into your new home that was only equipped with a fully furnished bedroom and a microwave. 

When you heard the hesitant knock on the door you quickly put your cup of noodles down and opened the door. In your face was a rose...a single rose in a pot. 

Thats different

"It was short notice and it's not like any flower places were open.... So I stole it." You gingerly take the plant into your hands, "It's the thought that counts (?) Come in." You shut the door behind him and set the plant in the kitchen. 

"You must forgive the dryness of my home, I just moved in so there isn't much going on." Tomura hummed as he felt his bones relax as the warmth of the house filled his body. You stared at each other for a while, awkwardly sweating back and forth. Finally, you both opened your mouth to speak up.

"I didn't know I'd get this far so.."

You blink at each other before you double over with laughter. "Uh okay, well how about we watch a movie, get comfortable. The TV is in my room so I hope that doesn't bother you." 

You put on Wall-E for lack of better mood as Tomura hesitantly settled on your plush bed, hands clasped tightly between his thighs.

You two watch these movie in silence and shared popcorn. It wasn't awkward silence though, it was needed. A unspoken message saying that you both acknowledged that this was weird but it was a good weird. Both of you were willing to give it a try.

"Hey pass the popcorn." Tomura said blindly patting the air in front of you. "No you've ate most of it already!" You opted to keeping the bag as far as possible. "It's good popcorn now hand it over." You continue to resist but he was more stubborn.

Unable to think of any other way to save your beloved popcorn you clench your eyes shut and deliver a small peck to the tip of Shigaraki's nose. 

Almost as if shocked, he slides away holding his nose gently. You huff with airy laughter at his flushed face, "Told you, this is my popcorn." 

You smile softly at the memory wiping away a stray tear from your face. "One chance... I'll give him one chance."

You tiptoe to Daiki's new room and peek inside. It was too dark for you to see inside so you opened the door completely. You blankly look into the empty room before falling to your knees. "SHIGARAKI TOMURA I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" You scream into the night air as you glared into the baby less crib.

"Man are you sure you should have him here? He's still a newborn and nothing's baby proof, hell this is a bar so it's far from sanitary!" Dabi said glancing into the baby carriage. Daiki sleepily gazed up at Dabi and babbled. 

"Y/N and I are going through a small set back so I decided to give her some space." Tomura unclipped Daiki from his carseat and picked him up holding his head in a four fingered hold. "We decided to give her some space isn't that right?" He cooed at Daiki who gingerly hit his nose.

"Dude stop, seeing you with a baby is giving me the creeps." Shigaraki glared as Dabi took a shot, "Ignore your uncle Dabi he's just mad he's not as cute as you."

Komugiri was washing dishes until a shiver went down his mystical spine, "I feel a disturbance in the force.