#once again i cannot do fabric physics for the life of me

[nomizombie]

what i would imagine me (an extrovert) would do to court könig (a socially anxious most likely introvert)

reference image: (totes didnt trace the rose because i HATE drawing flowers :33)

[intynidad]

The cult leader yan fic is so @#*")-/_+&-?! I can't explain it but *eats fic from how good it is*

Also, I would like to know what does the deity think about the influx of followers, but not for him but for them?

-teacher anon (am I really an anon if I don't ask anonymously LMAO anyways)

I hope my fix tasted well lol

I’m glad you like it so much! Welcome teacher anon!! Also have anyone play cult of the lamb? Because this is inspire by it lol

Yandere cult x cult leaver reader x yandere deity pt2

You sink to your knees, your hands clasped in prayer, as your consciousness begins to drift away, transcending to the ethereal realm of your master.

In the depths of this mystical connection, a resounding voice booms around you, its source elusive yet all-encompassing. It speaks with a commanding presence, echoing from every corner of your being, as if the very fabric of existence is alive with its words.

"Little lamb..." the voice reverberates, its power resonating through your core, drawing you deeper into its enigmatic embrace.

“Master, may I speak freely?” You said still looking into the ground

“You may, my little priest…” Only when your master gives you permission do you dare to rise from your feet, no longer in you cabin but in a dark void where you feel the very fabric of darkness crawls and grabbing your body, not in a malicious way but in a way of making sure you don’t fall.

“You did what I asked you…?”your master say with difficulty

“Yes master, your flock is growing and many people have done the oath in your name”

“Yet they do not follow me” your master booming voice rise in volume

You get to your Knees again and put your hands together.

“They are-are just mindless lambs that do not understand the magnificent of your presence my lord, give them some time and they shall learn” you say not fearing for your life, yet for the ones of YOUR followers

You felt an invisible hand take your cheek delicately

“Make them understand, little lamb and i shall reward you with pleasures and salvation that your human mind cannot comprehend yet”

And with a movement of the same hand you were gone,back into your cavin with a small tear falling down your face.

Meanwhile, in the ethereal realms of your master, a powerful figure gazes upon the chains that bind their form. The once unyielding iron seems to have weakened, but its grip remains firm and unyielding. Despite the exertion and relentless struggle, every attempt to break free is met with the unrelenting resistance of the chains that hold them in place.

However, your master is a patient and tenacious being, having endured the weight of captivity for what feels like an eternity. The longing for freedom courses through their veins, fueling their determination and resolve. They refuse to surrender, even in the face of imminent liberation. The shackles may hold them for now, but the spirit of liberation burns brightly within, ready to seize the moment when the chains finally yield.

When he amasses a multitude of devoted followers and receives the offerings and sacrifices needed, the barriers separating the mortal realm and his ethereal existence will weaken. With each loyal disciple and every sacrificial act, his power grows, edging closer to the coveted goal of manifesting in a tangible form. The anticipation of that transformative moment fills him with an intoxicating mix of anticipation for when he finally gains a physical presence in the mortal realm, he will unleash his divine influence upon the world…

And claim you as his rightful spouse, he dreams of the day he might finally claim you and hear you scream but not from pain but from the pleasure he is planning to give you.

Once he get a physical form he will not let you go,his little lamb

[softmeetscreatureplz]

Go full nerd on me, info dump me about time travel (if you'll like) /nf ofc :]

:D!!!

Alright- buckle in hon because this rant is LONG-

Okay okay so the first thing ypu absolutely and utterly need to know about time travel is that it is fundamentally completely and utterly impossible.

There is absolutely 0 way for time travel to exist, in the way that it's written and set up in any and every media.

This is for a few, very very key reasons! First of all, A) the past and the future don't exist outside of memory.

Most people think of time as a linear thing, we have the past, then the present, then the future, right? But that's fundamentally wrong.

Because the world only exists in the present. There is no way to turn the whole world back to when it hadn't been experiencing the current millisecond- there just isn't. That world is gone as quickly as it came, and after that it only exists within memory.

Be it the memory of people, plants, things, energy, all of those know it previously existed, but it does not anymore. Like a slideshow, once that slide is done being read, you move onto the next one, except in this situation the slide dissappear afterwards because there cannot be two earth's in space with that one now just existing in freeze.

However- if it still exists in memory, couldn't we just mass access the memories of people and as such still power enough energy to forcibly change the state of the world??

Nope! That's because of perspective. Everyone, everything, sees the world differently, through their own perspective.

This is a fact that's pretty common knowledge (I think), but the thing with that is that it taints everyone's memories.

Think of it like- a blender. Every second that you live through on this world in put into a blender with your own biases, perspective, past memories, future predictions, and knowledgeable. These all then are blended together and stored in your brain, or forgotten.

Because no two people have the exact same perspective of the world, no two memories of something are the same. As such, there is no way to properly access the past through an unbiased, unchanged memory.

Though- technically you could maybe find your way into someone's head and memories, and then from there change their own memory of the past. Wouldn't that count as timetravel in the most technical, loose sense of it?

Also impossible!! Because 1!) despite how much our brains try, they physically cannot keep every second of memory within them. So, the moment would have too many holes and skips in it, to properly work.

And 2) because once again- time isn't linear! Despite the fact that only the present exists, the memories of the past that every single thing, whether alive or not, continue to affect their day to day.

A couch that is sat in every day by both a cat and a person. The person likes to sit on the left, while the cat sits on the top of the couch. The couch will begin to get imprints on the top and the left- the fabric will degrade faster and the stuffing will become smushed down faster in those areas, while the person and the cat will, maybe subconsciously, form habits to go to those specific spots, from the continuous trend in their memories.

So, the memories can't be messed with, as people both don't have reliable enough memories for it, and the simple fact that memories they do remember continue to affect people long after they happen, be it in small things like what favorite type of socks they have or bigger things like their all time favorite movie, or the way they live their life.

And the actual, physical past doesn't exist in a physical sense anymore, because there's no way for that to exist properly.

The conclusion? Time travel is completely, and utterly impossible.

But the illusion of time travel is NOT.

This is where the multiverse theory comes in. The multiverse- I think- is a pretty well known theory. Basically, despite the fact that in this dimension, the time continues without any physical saves, there are other dimensions, played out over and over and over ontop of eachother and yet not touching eachother.

Im not gonna go too much into the multiverse theories- just because that's not really what the ask is about and because it would make this post too long- but in relation to time travel, it is important.

Because, while there is no copy of our past that is unbiased and accessible, the mutliverse does have copies of the world in a range of slightly to drastically to completely and utterly different.

This means that if you could access the multiverse, there's definitely copies of our world, but slightly different and further behind in their timeline. Theoretically, there's a world out there where everything is the exact same, except two years behind. And the only different between these worlds could just be what type of socks you wore on a Tuesday 3 years ago.

So! While time travel is physically impossible, the fact of the matter is you could pretty much create the illusion of doing so, if you could access the multiverse.

(This ended up being much longer than I thought it would- oops-)

[tokiwarcube]

Genuinely curious!

As unbiased as you can be, which band members do you think have the most boyfriend/husband potential? Like ranked? Maybe with quick, easy reasons as to why you think so? Just something really quick for the flight!

Like I said, I'm just curious where you stand on this since you're my favorite metalocalypse writer atm!

ME? A FAVORITE? You're so sweet, thank you so much!!! <3 Rankings + reasonings below the cut <3

1.) Nathan

Besides Toki, Nathan is the only one who has really shown a desire to get married — and not just with Abigail! It’s been more subtle (e.g. within bonus content for DVDs), but Nathan does think about marriage and long-term relationships quite a bit, even when he isn’t actively dating. I think he’s also had the most normal home life, and while he might not necessarily want a white picket fence and golden retriever, he does have a good idea of what marriage looks like for him. Does he have issues with communication? Yes, of course he does. And that can certainly yield some issues, especially when you’re in a more sensitive state where a bit of tenderness is needed. But he does also show a drive to improve, and when he really cares about someone, it’s clear that he’s capable of shoving down his embarrassment a bit to help.

2.) Pickles

Pickles is complex. He didn’t grow up with a good view on marriage — Not just because of how much he hates his parents, either; even as a young child, he could see just how loveless Molly and Calverts’ marriage was — but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t consider it someday. But honestly, he’s so out of practice in the dating scene. Most of the relationships in his youth were quick flings, and since getting famous with S&B (and later Dethklok,) he hasn’t really had to put in effort for… anyone. You can get into a relationship with him pretty decently, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s a picture perfect partner once you’re with him. There’s hardly a time of day where he isn’t drunk, high, or both — and sure, he can usually function pretty well under the influence, but it’s definitely something to be aware of. And there's also days where he cannot stand to be coherant in any capacity, and it's very... well, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't heartbreaking. Sometimes he's sad. Sometimes he's angry at the world. Sometimes he's just loopy. You're never quite sure what you'll get when he hits that point, but it's never pretty. His parents also continuously yield issues — even after telling Molly to fuck off, they still unfortunately exercise a presence in his life (both through physical means and through unresolved memories) that can lead to some touchy moments. And he’s the best communicator out of the boys, but again, he hasn’t done the whole “relationship” thing in a very, very long time. Re-learning how to communicate in that sense is a bit of a challenge! He gets there eventually, but it takes some patience. He’s a very sweet lover once he settles in, and he’s the definition of a ride-or-die.

3.) Toki

I think pre-season 2 Toki and post-season 2 Toki are two very, very different people (Nevermind pre and post Requiem/Doomstar), and I think timing does play a very important role in his dateability. Death has always been ever-present in his life, a dark curse woven into the very fabric of his being… but his father’s death affected him in a way that he’s never quite been able to heal from. And the unfortunate thing is, is that he doesn’t really connect his current struggles with the trauma of what’s happened. He never fully worked through his childhood trauma, and he hasn’t even touched the present. And so he’s also prone to flipping between an almost suffocating attachment and this very tumultuous, yet yearning, detachment. He struggles to communicate what he wants. He desperately wants a long-term relationship, has always idealized the idea of marriage and kids, but communication is… hard. And there’s a lot of times where he just expects problems — financial, emotional, or otherwise — to just be fixed. Or, he just pretends they don’t exist. He’ll slather this facade of sunshine and rainbows onto the world — everything is fine, even when the falling snow sends him on a week-long binge of daydrinking. Can he recover? Yes, absolutely. But it’s a long road that requires a good mix of patience and firmness. But don’t take this as only negatives — when he loves, he loves unconditionally. He’s the easiest person to get into a relationship with, because he’s just so genuine with you. He’s not thinking about the embarrassment of vulnerability, or his own flaws — he just knows he loves you, and he wants you to know that too. And it’s very endearing! Once he’s committed, which frankly comes very quickly, he’ll go to the ends of the Earth to make you happy. And despite his lavish lifestyle, he has a very deep love for the little domestic things.

4.) Skwisgaar

The whole idea of marriage leaves a very sour taste in his mouth — with how he was raised, how could it not? Getting him to date in the first place, even for a month, is a Herculean feat. He’s used to filling his life with meaningless — fun, but still meaningless — sex. And when he isn’t fucking, he’s busy building thicker callouses, practicing until he can’t anymore. He doesn’t need love, he tells himself. It doesn’t exist. Nothing but a fantasy that normal jackoffs subscribe to to make their meaningless lives feel a little less dull. He’s a good friend, but getting him to even admit that he has feelings for you other than lust is a difficult task, no matter how strong those feelings are. Marriage is a whole separate beast. I think once he’s in a relationship, and he’s started to accept the breadth of his feelings for you, he can be a very good lover. We’ve seen he has very sweet and genuine moments with the boys, and it’s not like he doesn’t care. He listens, he’s thoughtful, he’s funny and sweet. He’s got a good heart on him. But marriage? He might come around to it someday, but it’s a pretty firm “might.”

5.) Murderface

William has entrenched himself in a very, very deep pit of self-loathing. He’s like a rabid dog, fearful, lashing out at the helping hands who want to help him out of that pit. He wants to be free so fucking bad, but he’s afraid. Terrified, even. He’s prone to saying very hurtful things he doesn’t mean — both to get a reaction, and to keep his inner self safe. It’s very self-sabotaging. And he flips very rapidly between this false haughtiness and genuine self-flagellation that honestly, it’s hard not to be pushed away by. Which on some level, is the intended effect, even if he doesn’t consciously acknowledge it. He wants to love and be loved, he just doesn’t know how to do that without being vulnerable. You have to be very patient and observant to date him, nevermind marry him. But do know that when he loves, he does genuinely love unconditionally. He’d do anything to keep you out of harm’s way, even if it causes him inconvenience or harm. You don’t even have to be dating for that level of self-sacrifice, really. But getting him to open up at all is a very, very hard process.

[greentrickster]

So something good that started in my life last December was that I stumbled into a bit of luck and now have a deal with a nearby geek culture shop to sell plush mages I make. This was extremely fortuitous, because I created the design and concept back in 2017, had made about ten before forcing myself to stop, and, other than gifting one to a friend, still had them all, and was planning to find a holiday donation bin for a charity that accepted handmade stuff, because I was tired of them taking up space in my room. Like literally the only reason I still had them was because life was hectic and I kept forgetting to go check for where any local donation bins were.

This is very exciting, the owner's super nice and helped me set some stuff up so I'm selling on consignment, which means I only get paid when someone actually buys one, but I get a bigger cut of the money when they do.

My dudes, I have an income again.

It's teeny-weeny and irregular, but I have one, and, almost more importantly, a bunch of them sold during and right after the holiday rush, so I get to make more, and it's giving me something to actually do besides working on my mental issues and trying to fill my time while I gain the mental health and stability to get, you know. An actual job. I'm currently making a few more to put in the store, then I'm going to focus on making extra stock to have available for when the local anime convention (and it's stale, stale vendor's hall) arrives this spring.

Not only that, it means that I can make as many of these things as I want for now! And while it takes about a day to make one mage, I'm flexing hard on my status as a professional ADHD haver by having three or four on the go at once, but in different stages of completion. So if I feel like sewing I can one on this one, but if I want to do some pinning I can work on that one, and the third one's ready to finish stuffing and assembling whenever I feel like it, now I want to take a break to watch anime, oooo~ sewing mood again-!

Like, this is in no way I can turn this into an actual career, just because, like I said, it takes about a day to make one from scratch, going at a pace that's both productive and physically healthy for me and also, given that they're about twenty inches tall, made of primarily minky fabric, and being done by hand, that means that I am selling them for nowhere near what they're worth, because people wouldn't be willing to pay that much. Like, the minimum wage where I currently live is (a ridiculous) $7.50 an hour. If I made one of these guys in six hours, that would mean they'd need to cost $45 just to cover my time, never mind materials and the fact that this is skilled labour, and that is not the price on the tag, let alone my cut. They look deceptively simple for all the tricks and techniques that go into one (never mind the fact that minky is expensive fabric, the craft safety eyes I use are special-ordered and very good quality, and, oh yes, these little fellows are machine washable). I literally cannot make a livelihood doing this.

But, like I also said, it's giving me something creative to do that isn't just more reading, writing, and gaming. I love doing all those things, but this is a kind of physical activity that I've needed in my life, and making something physical is so different than writing, with the wonderful bonus that minky fabric is one of my favorite textures! As long as I'm strategic about my acquisition of materials, I'm not going to be losing money on this, and while it's something I think is going to end up paying dividends more in my mental health than in my wallet, I will be earning money for this. I'm getting paid to make plushies to my heart's content (or until I run out of materials for the moment) while watching anime/youtube and working on my mental health, and, for now, that's not only enough, it feels really good!

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 90 }

the dark king and his treasure.

barnabas tharmr x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; soft depictions of physical intimacy - minors don't interact.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

once upon a time, a lonely king traveled the world, searching for treasure. as of late, king barnabas tharmr of waloed felt as though there were something missing in his life; something that he needed to feel whole again. it was during his travels that he is led to a quaint village. whilst riding on his loyal steed, he takes note of all the whispers that surround him, almost feeling a sense of pride coursing through him.

"i cannot believe my eyes, is this king barnabas?"

"whatever is such a fearful man doing here in our village?"

"oh dear eikons, the man is utterly gorgeous."

a smug expression paints his features, for he was all too aware of the effect he had on women. upon seeing him at first sight, they salivate like a dog in heat, clawing at his clothes while hoping to get a mere taste of him.

and while he continues riding through the village, he became aware of young woman with a worn bucket in her hands. her clothes were ragged, with her hair a tangled mess. her gaze was unreadable and, dare he even think it, filled with disinterest at the mere sight of him.

which was what made him feel so intrigued with her to begin with.

he gets of his noble mount, telling one of the awed villagers to bring his steed some water and some oats before making his way toward the disinterested maiden. he had never seen such a contradicting sight before, for the maiden was in rags and had such an awful nest of hair-

but her face held such a soft and natural beauty. she was so different from the usual women he has bedded in his life, all of whom had ulterior motives and hoped to gain something from him due to his high status of a king.

yet this maiden- she seemed like the loyal type. one who would fall in love merely once in her lifetime as she remains by her beloved's side for all of eternity.

and barnabas found himself wanting to be the only man in her life.

so he follows her, as if bewitched by her when she leads him to an old and torn down hut, with its wood chipped in several places along with a door that barely hung on its hinges.

"a woman like you should not be living in such abhorrent conditions."

she gasps, finally facing him while keeping the wooden bucket clutched closely to her chest. she was about to question who he was, but immediately felt her words die from within her throat upon seeing waloed's insignia stitched on to the fabric of his deep royal blue cape.

"king tharmr...!" the maiden lets out a gasp of his name, dropping the bucket as she bows down to him. finally recognizing the seal, she felt nervous and unsure why such a dark king had followed her to begin with.

he felt his heart quicken just then. was this fair maiden making it this easy for him? based on her living conditions, it was safe for him to assume that she had no one.

"what is thy maiden's name?"

the young woman could feel her face burn in response to the deep and sensual quality of his voice, answering back with her name in a soft whisper.

"and where are your family?"

"ah...i have none. i was orphaned as a child, with only the orphanage's nun having raised me. i left the orphanage the moment i was of age."

"and how old are you now?"

"i cannot say for sure, but i feel like i may be 26 or 27 in age. i am far too old to be wed and have been alone ever since."

barnabas had to fight to keep his breathing steady. remaining silent, he takes a hold of her hand, keeping his hold on her, "then you have no one who will miss you."

such blunt words escaping from the dark king's lips was enough to send a fresh wave of heartache over her, forcing her to relive those painful childhood years when she was abandoned by her own parents. barnabas, against his usual aloof nature, takes note of the crestfallen expression on her face and reaches out to her, capturing her tears with his hands as he wipes the crystalline droplets away.

"if you have no one, then you have no choice but to come with me."

the poor maiden was given little choice, for the moment he leads her back to his noble steed and places her dirtied form on top, she knew that her fate had been sealed-

but for better, or for worse, she couldn't say for sure.

as the story goes, the maiden is taken to live with king barnabas in the midst of his travels. although he doesn't realize what he was feeling is true affection for the beloved woman, he convinces her to come with him to his kingdom. the moment he brings her back to his castle was when he truly cleanses her. despite how he knew his servants could have done the deed for him, the thought of some other man or woman witnessing her nakedness made him angry-

and he had never felt such a strong emotion before.

so he spends his time cleaning her, allowing her to bathe within the luscious bath while cleansing her hair and face free of any dirt. when she was finally cleaned, and he could see the smoothness of her skin for the first time-

barnabas felt something shift from within him.

the maiden was doing something strange to him, filling him with such a strange yearning-

yes, that's how he should describe such feelings. it was so foreign to him, yet filled him with a desire to have her and call her as his own. his gaze kept burning into her form, even when he dons her in a dress that showed his kingdom's colors. his fair maiden was so lovely, he couldn't help but call out her name.

but a part of him felt undeserving when it came to taking her, bedding her as he had done so numerous times with other women. something about her was different, and he was afraid of tainting her.

so he keeps her at a distance, but still treats her with all the riches he could give her. he feeds her luxurious foods filled with baked breads and roasted meats, ensuring that she will never go hungry so long as she was under his care.

as the seasons pass, they slowly fall in love with one another. the dark king finally feeling at peace while in the presence of his maiden, while she felt utterly protected by his mere presence alone. despite their feelings for each other, they couldn't seem to get over their hesitance when it came to becoming physically intimate.

his maiden is still filled with such purity, not being touched by any man in such a manner. and barnabas, who still feels so undeserving of her due to his past of experiencing such pleasure with other women before he ever met his darling maiden, all while she felt so insecure because of her belief that she isn't beautiful nor experienced enough to be loved by him

it's like they are both waltzing around the thought of being intimate, with barnabas trying to hold back his desires for the woman he is steadily falling for, while his maiden is filled with uncertainty because she feels as though she is beneath all of the other women he has been with.

but oh, if only his maiden could truly know the depths of his heart. how much he basks in the way she gazes at him with such an unconditional love within her eyes. whereas barnabas keeps his emotions hidden behind a mask, his beloved was truly the exact opposite of him, always wearing her heart on her sleeve. barnabas was always able to read the pure emotion in her eyes and swore that he lived for such loving glances.

infuriatingly enough, the lovers were aware for their feelings, yet were both too afraid to do anything about it-

but it all comes to a boiling point one late summer's evening.

the air was thick with its humidity, making the maiden's nightgown clung almost uncomfortably against her, acting like a second skin. she kept tossing and turning in her sleep, making the sheets tangle almost uncomfortably from beneath her legs.

knowing that she could not sleep while surrounded by such heat, she carefully inches out of bed in hopes of not disturbing her beloved king.

she looks back at her love to see that he was still sleeping, his broad chest bare as his ruggedly handsome features appeared tranquil whilst in a deep slumber. her hands ached with a need to reach out and touch him, to trace at his dark hair and get lost in his dark eyes.

but she convinces herself to leave her love be and take a dip in the tiny lake just outside her beloved's castle. she just couldn't bare the heat any longer as she tiptoes her way out of her shared chamber with barnabas.

not a single soul was awake at the moment, and she almost dances with glee at the sight. finally, she could have some form of peace and not have to worry about causing any of barnabas' maids or servants any trouble.

they were always so nervous around her, unsure of what to do to ensure her happiness due to how she held such a special place within their kings heart. this often made them act stiff and strained around the young maiden, something that she never wanted them to feel to begin with.

but now that they were all still sleeping, she leaves the castle walls, ready to escape to the sanctuary of the lake had it not been for a deep voice calling out for her to stop.

"halt, you do not have-"

it was one of the guards, meant to serve and protect king barnabas himself. she sees the way his armor hugs the entirety of his form, feeling guilty for how heated he must feel.

the guard was ready to reach out and stop her, yet when he catches a glimpse of her, he immediately bows down to her. "lady tharmr, i apologize for my rudeness, but you cannot be out so late. king barnabas will have my head on a silver platter if anything were to happen to you!"

she tries to reason with him, seeing how his own brow had become wet with sweat due to him making rounds against the unbearable heat. "please, i beg of you, let me take a dip within the lake. perhaps i shall fetch some water for you as well?"

"n-no, that is not necessary, lady tharmr! however, i cannot- lady tharmr!"

she ignores the guard's cry of her name, choosing to walk around him with her destination clear in her mind.

"i just wish to go for a simple swim, and you dare try to keep me away from the lake? i know i will be safe, since the lake is a part of barnabas' own castle."

"yes, i-indeed, but i worry if anything were to happen to you, my lady. so perhaps, i should stand guard just in case?"

she looks over at him while biting down on her bottom lip, "if barnabas knows that you have seen me naked, that might make him even more upset."

upon realizing the truth within her words, the guard stops his movements, seemingly frozen on the spot upon realizing how terrifying it would be to be at the end of barnabas' blade due to his jealous rage. "y-you are right, my lady."

"i promise you, i'll be fine. our beloved king is still resting, so just let me have some peace- a chance to take a brief reprieve from this heat."

"y-yes, of course my lady." giving her one last bow, she could feel her heart jump with anticipation at the thought of immersing herself within the cool waters. now that she was finally free, she runs toward the direction of the lake, not stopping until she saw her sanctuary with the full moon reflected against its calm waters.

with a sigh, she takes off her gossamer nightgown, tossing it to the side before dipping her toes within the waters. giggling slightly, the fair maiden dives into the depths, allowing the cool and refreshing water to wash away the sweat that had cling to her form.

she was certainly in heaven, with the way the cool water staves off the uncomfortable heat she once felt due to the stifling summer air. in fact, she was feeling so refreshed that she quite literally lost track of time.

and it wouldn't be long until she would find herself no longer alone while in her sanctuary.

the sounds of a horse's beating hooves was what makes her stiffen, standing up to her full height while against the shallow bank of the lake. her heart pounds with fear, but when a dark stallion appears, seeming to blend into the night, did the maiden finally relax her stance.

for standing just a few feet away was barnabas himself.

and oh, what a lovely sight he was to behold. just seeing him dressed up in his armor filled her with daydreams of him rescuing her, protecting her from anyone and anything without hesitation. barnabas seems to be lost in his own world as well, finally seeing the way the moon hit his maiden's soft skin. as if in a trance, he gets off his horse and beckons it to wait for him off to the side.

at first, the maiden was afraid that he might scold her before forcing her back into the castle. however, barnabas does none of those things when he takes off his set of armor, tossing them aside until he was just as bare.

her mouth turns dry at the sight of him and his godly physique, heart pounding in anticipation when he steps even closer to her form. "i have tried everything i could to avoid taking you like a damn stallion as it mounts its mare. but you are making it quite difficult- you are unreal, my love. absolutely ethereal with your beauty."

he brings her into his arms, giving her a searing kiss as she felt his manhood come to life. with him holding her so intimately close, she can feel the way his powerful shaft kept poking at the treasure between her thighs, making her moan in response.

not sure what had come over her, she ends up balancing herself against barnabas' shoulder, rubbing her precious flower against his shaft, coating it with the evidence of her arousal. the guttural moans and grunts barnabas elicits were like music to her ears as she continues her ministrations against him.

"you feel so good, my love, so powerful, i just know that only you can fill me so well- ah!"

unable to handle such wanton behaviors, barnabas picks up his beloved maiden and carries her out of the lake. she was driving him insane, for barnabas was certain he had never felt so hard before in his life.

"you are going to be the death of me, my lady." he admits to her in a grunt, taking a hold of his cape that had been discarded with his armor as he tosses it across the grass still kissed with dew.

allowing her to lay across the expensive fabric, barnabas slowly kisses his way down her form, licking away the droplets of water left over from her swimming in the lake.

and oh how desperate the maiden became for her king! the ache she had once felt before came back with such a powerful force that she felt as though she were going to die if he didn't fill her up so swiftly with his pulsating length.

once he had his fill of licking away at her soft skin did he finally settle himself between her legs. his dark eyes watches with a fascination, seeing her pretty flower clench around air in desperation.

with a sigh of her name, he inserts his middle finger inside her slick walls, groaning at how well it was trying to suck him in. "m-my king...!"

he was quickly becoming enamored with her moans when he thrusts his finger in and out of her. once he introduces another one, barnabas had every intention of trying to stretch her flower so that she may find it easier to accommodate him once he finally sunk into her core.

"you smell delicious my love." he supposes he could treat her to her very first release in hopes of easing her pain, which was what further prompted him to open up her slickness with his fingers before completely engulfing her sex with his mouth.

it was all too much for the fair maiden, now truly feeling like she had finally become his lady tharmr with barnabas' mouth engulfed entirely over her most sensitive part.

the feeling of his coarse beard against her soft skin was sinful, and she was delirious at the thought of receiving such pleasure with his tongue and fingers complete and utter domination on her sex. unable to do anything but grip at his dark hair and ride her sex against his face, the maiden finally came with a shout of his name.

"mmph, that's it, my woman. give me all of your sweetness. give it to me." she shivers, hearing his guttural whisper against her sex as her arousal kept flowing out of her in waves.

it felt as though he were sucking the very life out of her, with his tongue tracing at the edge of her womanhood, collecting every bit of her release with his mouth alone.

the sheer intensity of her release was what makes her slump back against the cape settled below her, eyes appeared hazy once barnabas lifts himself away from the spot between her thighs.

she could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment at how shiny barnabas' lips had appeared, still wet from the evidence of her release as he wipes it away with the back of his hand.

using his large hands, he brings her form even closer to him by gripping on to her thighs, spreading her legs even further for him as he teased her flower with the tip of his erection.

"are you sure you want to continue?" it was obvious barnabas was trying to hold back for her sake. he was just too big, and despite his maiden's slender and healthy form, it might be too much for her.

usually, he was all about taking all he could get from the women he beds. he didn't care about their pain at all-

but his lady was different. he genuinely loved her and couldn't bare the thought of ever harming her. so if she were to tell him to stop now, then he would.

with a gasp of his name, his maiden ends up surprising him, taking a hold of his cock before perfectly lining it up with her precious flower, managing to place the tip of his erection inside of her gummy walls.

"fucking goddamn it...!" he curses, feeling like he was a teenager all over again who just had his first taste of a woman. "don't you dare stop barnabas!"

despite her pants, his maiden seemed to have a hidden naughty streak. unable to take how he wasn't moving, she seemed determined to take him all in herself had it not been for the way his large hands kept her hips still.

"barnabas please, why aren't you moving?! i need to feel what it's like to truly be a woman, to be your woman!"

"i know, but fuck, dear eikons, it's taking every ounce of me to not come inside of you like a cursed virgin...!" barnabas confessed to her, making her head spin.

this absolute beast of a man, who could have any woman fall to their knees for him, was acting in such a manner because he felt so good whilst inside of her?

the epiphany was mesmerizing, and it was enough to make her still her hips and stop her naughty movements.

instead, she takes this chance to admire her dear king, seeing something so adorable in the way his eyes remained closed and scrunched up in concentration. with a maddeningly slow pace, he finally manages to fully sheathe himself inside of her walls, allowing her to feel every pulse and throb of his cock.

she ends up giggling at him, delving her fingers into his dark hair while telling him, "i love you so much."

the fair maiden could suddenly feel him twitch from inside of her, listening as he let out a list of curses before fully spreading her legs as he thrust like a madman in and out of her. "i won't last a full minute inside of you. i need you to come before i embarrass myself by losing myself in you...!"

the sudden pace was making her head spin, and she found that she did not feel any sharp pain from losing her virginity to such a powerful man.

why was it? was it because she trusted him wholeheartedly? or was it because the strength of her love was truly that strong?

whatever the case was, she felt so much pleasure, with her breasts bouncing with each powerful thrusts as her nails raked themselves down his back. she was addicted to the velvety feel of him, the power of his thrusts being enough to have her seeing stars.

the fair maiden couldn't count the number of times she had reached completion while barnabas was still tucked so tightly deep inside of her, pumping his manhood into her at such a rapid pace that she found it hard to even breathe.

and truly, what a beast her dark king was.

"barnabas...barnabas! i feel....i feel so full of you. i don't think i can last much longer, my darling king...!" she kept clinging to him, hanging on for dear life against his biceps as she could feel her entire form drowning in pleasure.

he lets out a roar of her name, "come then my queen. soak my cock in your sweet arousal, become mine and mine alone as we reach heaven together this time!" with one final thrust, she could feel her walls clamp down on him, as if urging him to release his seed deep inside of her. "eikons yes, milk me, milk me for all i am worth...!"

barnabas watches in fascination the way his cock pumps itself into her, shooting his seed deep inside of his maiden as their respective releases mix and escape out of her flower. the sheer amount of it was enough to make barnabas' eyes darken with lust.

despite how much he wanted to give her another round, he knew that his woman was surely exhausted now. he could feel the way she fell against him, a tired but dreamy look caught in her gaze as she cuddled herself even closer to his bare chest.

"i'm tired, my king."

he lets out a rich chuckle, "i know you are, my queen. but first, let me wash you."

keeping her in his arms, he pulls himself out of her, earning a whine from her as he makes his way toward the lake. due to his sheer height, he was still able to stand in the midst of the lake while gingerly placing his maiden within the waters.

she sighs, still clinging to his naked chest as he allows the water to wash away their respective releases. taking her in his arms, he sits back against the lake while keeping her in his lap, wanting to bask and bathe within the waters for a few more minutes before he takes her back within the castle.

"you know, i was ready to kill a man and head to war for you if you had been taken from me."

she lets out a sigh of his name all while gently hitting at his shoulder. "barnabas, don't be such a brute. i am perfectly fine...truly, you needn't even bother with donning your armor. you just need to trust me."

"i do trust you, it's the other men that i don't trust."

she replays his confession back within her mind, feeling a sense of warmth fill her at the thought of her latest epiphany.

"you would have started a war for me?"

barnabas scoffs, "i would burn through hell for you."

she smiles, lifting up her tired gaze to meet with his dark eyes. she frames at his face, gently tracing at his beard before leaning in to kiss him on his gorgeously crafted lips.

"i love you. thank you, for showing me the depths of your love- ah!!"

barnabas truly couldn't help himself when he thrust himself back inside of her, allowing her legs to rest against either sides of his waist as he continues pumping himself into her heat, allowing her to cling on to his broad shoulder for support as he made love to her within the lakes waters.

"you have turned me into an insatiable man, my love. let me show you how much i love you by bringing you pleasure all morning long?"

he keeps thrusting himself in and out of her walls, quickly becoming addicted to the way she clung to him so tightly. barnabas knew that he was a man of few words, but dammit to hell if he wasn't willing to try for the young maiden in his arms.

he knew that his love language would be simply to bring his maiden pleasure as they lost themselves in each other. and he was willing to gift her with all the pleasure in the world. it takes every ounce of his willpower to not release so quickly, willing himself to keep making passionate love to his maiden until she came once more. with a cry of his name, she kept holding on to his shoulders, telling him over and over again how much she loved him-

how much she was so grateful for being wanted by someone-

by being wanted by him.

"aye, you are my greatest love. i have never been subject to such a pure love before." he chuckles darkly, continuing his fast pace as he continues pounding himself deep inside of his love.

"i bet you would follow me to the depths of hell. i bet you would do anything for me." he finishes his sentence with a few more powerful thrusts from within her core, making her cry out once more as her walls convulse, milking him for all he was worth.

as barnabas empties his seed deep inside of his lady- his queen, he keeps his lips pressed against the side of her face damp with sweat and tears caused from the sheer amount of pleasure she felt. "but not to worry, for i would follow you through hell as well. i'll do anything for you, even if it meant i had to kill."

"b-barnabas..." his maiden lets out a dreamy sigh of his name, finally succumbing to her exhaustion while remaining slumped within his strong arms. with a grunt of her name, barnabas slides out of her, finally allowing his woman to rest as she fell asleep in his arms.

finally coming out of the depths of the lake, he keeps his lover pressed close to him all while taking a hold of his cape and draping it over her naked form. later, he will send his servants for his armor and her gossamer nightgown,

but for now, all he wanted to do was take this chance and rest with her back in his chambers, all while thanking fate for giving this dark king his greatest treasure.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[bushs-world]

Circular Theory of Time and Loki series

There was this question that has been the bane of my existence for 2 years now and seeing the promo art only made me think harder about it. That is

If HWR set up the TVA after winning the multiversal war, then how did it still exist after Sylvie unleashed the multiverse. Why didn't it just cease to exist until HWR set it up again?

Now this question has always made me scratch my head in confusion because imo, the TVA shouldn't have existed until after HWR won the war and Sylvie had just opened the multiverse so how did we make such a big jump?

I know many people would just call it #bad writing or a plothole coz the writers didn't know what they were doing, but I did try thinking about it and that's when I started researching the circular theory of time which I think can explain it.

If anyone is interested, this is a good article that kinda gives an idea of what it is without confusing it further. Also if I make a mistake, let me know ☺️

(*it's going to get super confusing and scientific so strap on or dont lol).

Linear Theory of Time

Ok, the way we usually experience time in the physical form can be summed up by the Linear Theory of Time. According to this theory, time passes in a straight line. Everything has a beginning and an end, and often one action leads to another. Hence, once you do something it creates a domino effect for future events but the future events cannot occur until the present action is done.

For eg, if you slip on ice, you sprain your ankle but your ankle can only be sprained after you have slipped on ice. It can't be sprained without the slipping of ice aka the butterfly effect

Circular Theory of Time

The circular theory of time states that time is actually a circle. It is cyclic and repetitive. The end is the beginning. This is how time passes as we measure it. The day leads to night which again leads to day. The end of the year is also the beginning of the year.

Brad Skow's Block Universe Theory of Time

Brad Skow, a professor at MIT (check link) has proposed a theory where he states that time does not pass as we assume it to. Instead it's like a stretched fabric of space time continium where the past, present and future all exist at the same time but we only experience the time in which we exist. He compares it to a spotlight, highlighting a particular thing and that the spotlight could be moved to another thing.

TVA and Time

Now, the fun part. How does time work in the MCU and specifically in the Loki series?

Now, time in the series is circular in the series. The sacred timeline is a circle as shown in episode 6. The window behind HWR is a symbol of the circularity of life representing life, death and rebirth. Even his gambit is circular where his end restarts the war so that he can win again and repeat everything.

But despite this, the agents in s1 were made to believe time and the sacred timeline was linear. All the TVA videos show it as a straight line instead of a circle. When Loki asks Mobius how it all ends in episode 2, he saws the time keepers are toiling in their chambers untangling the future. Ravonna takes about the end of time where it all ends.

But when we think about it, the end of time in the void is also the beginning of the next multiversal timeline after Sylvie unleashes it. The place where it ends is the place where it starts.

Another thing to notice is that the TVA can access all of time at their will, just like how Brad Skow proposed in his theory by locking the location to that particular time period. The past, present and future all exists at the same time for them and they can access any point of it since they reside outside of space time.

So how does the TVA exist?

This theory supports the fact that as soon as Sylvie unleashed the multiverse everything pertaining to the multiversal war started happening all at once. So we didn't need to wait for HWR to win it since there's a point in time where he already won and set up the TVA whereas another point of time (the one we are following in the MCU) where Kang has just appeared. This changes the scope of the multiversal war imo coz if Loki and the heroes can go to the exact monent the war starts or HWR wins, they already have knowledge of what's to happen and can just change its variables

Another thing I just realised is that there has to be a significant portion of the sacred timeline and the looped multiverse where TVA are just pruning and killing off the multiverse to create the sacred timeline.

So yeah, that's that.

[stopthatfool]

3, 77 :333

YAAAAA FENTOMY ILYYY

77. Do you have a favourite scene you've written from Your jeep. Your teeth. The coffee that you bought me.?

omg ummmmmm... i think it's this scene from chapter 3 about Mav's mom (whom I made up, she is not 'canon') idk i was just really proud of like.. the imagery? i think that's the word. I was also proud of how much this short scene tells you about Flo Mitchell as a character and as Mav's mom.

Pete had watched as his mother parked haphazardly, crooked, and partially on the dead grass on their front lawn. He watched her fling open the car door and slam it shut, clearly on some mission toward the front door. The flag next to the door hung static and still, like a dead animal strung up on a line waiting to be slashed and skinned, waiting to be picked apart and eaten, waiting for its entire life to come full circle and rot in some hunters stomach, waiting for its own bones to be thrown out and picked apart by the maggots. The flag hung dead, unsentient, while Pete’s mother– she was anything but. She walked up to the flag, shoes clacking on the cracked pavement, her arms swaying at her sides. She unhooked the flag from its stand, her hair billowing in the sudden wind. It turned alive as soon as she touched it, flowy and slippery, squirming and wriggling through her fingers. Flo balled up her fists in the fabric to stop the movement, the life that erupted from it transferring from her to the flag. As she walked back to the car, the flag slithered and moved with the waves created by Flo Mitchell. Then Pete watched as she opened the back door and threw the flag into the back seat. It lay there, dead and unmoving once again, sprawled out against the leather, the stripes overlapping and the stars crumpled and muddled. Flo picked up Pete from the passenger seat and cradled him against her side as they walked up to their new house. Pete yawned, “Why did you do that–? To the flag?” His mother only steered her head forward, eyes serious and focused, “That flag keeps your daddy away from me– from us–” She looked up to the setting sun, the sky all orange and yellow, “Why should I fly the thing that keeps him away– that puts him in danger?”

Flo Mitchell supremacy!! Anti-war queen and Tammy Wynette fan! She's just like me....

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic.

i thought you'd never ask (this is going to be long sorry (im saying this as if it's not already long))!!

i cannot, for the life of me, work directly from the computer. I am a "traditional artist" (whatever that even means) at heart, meaning that I have to do everything on paper </3. So for the first idea of Your jeep. Your teeth. The coffee that you bought me. i mapped it out very loosely in my silly little notebook.

(i blocked out spoilers (maybe) for future chapters...) check out my terrible handwriting! and check out how different the plot was! What was i thinking? "Mav bumps into Ice with Bradley after visiting Carole" yeah... sure. But once i had that loose idea i started writing in that same notebook and things kind of went from there.

And then i realized that i should probably plan out the chapters on paper so there's some consistency. so that leads to the little list-like mind maps that i make--

This is from before i learned TOP GUN moved to Nevada (sigh). In these list-like mind maps is where i come up with some of the important dialogue that needs to happen between characters ("I don't need to see a fucking shrink, Kazansky") and it was in these that the plot really began to change from that first mind map. I've made these mind maps for every chapter that needs to happen for the story.

Then after the mind map, I actually begin to write all the scenes out. after i physically write them out, i type it all up in google docs (sigh). AND THEN i copy and paste it all paragraph by paragraph into Grammarly (free edition i am not paying for that) and edit it all. And then i do it again. and then one more time. and then i post it. im crazy.

Thank u for putting in the ask!!! ily fentomy!!! i love talking about my fanfic (as you have so kindly suffered through these past weeks, thank you.) <333

[a-tortured-poets-quill]

Comfort From The Eldest

Content: depictions of depression; depictions of anxiety; old men adoring you; no pronouns are used for reader.

Laughing Jack

You promised to tell Jack when things got bad again. When you felt like crying because life seemed hopeless. When you felt trapped. When people were cruel for no reason other than the fact that you were the first warm body in their line of sight.

Regardless of what you did. Or what you said. Because you’re inconsiderate and ungrateful. Can’t do anything right. All those little words swirling around your head, screaming at you and clawing at your mind, until you shove it back down and smile the next day.

So you tell Jack. Leaving a little sticky note on the fridge where he can see it, a routine the two of you had established for when it became hard to communicate.

You don’t even think ten minutes passed since you got home, only having time to slip into a comfy set of clothes, before he’s knocking on your door. His face is so soft, yet wracked with concern, his eyebrows pulled down so fiercely you want to smooth them out with a finger. He smiles when he sees you.

“Were you busy?” you ask with concern, nervously pulling at the oversized tee you were using as a pajama shirt.

“No!” Jack says, ushering himself into your room. He walks toward your bed and begins fussing with the covers. “I was just thinking about how lonely I was without you.”

“And my note had nothing to do with it?” you ask, a smile already beginning to play at the corners of your mouth. Jack notices.

“Ah, well, you see, it is in my mind,” he responds, tapping a clawed finger to his temple. “We are connected. I was just thinking these things and then I found your note! I know when you need me.”

Your smile grows, and you let out a breath, like a gasp of relief. Jack’s body physically deflates as if he was bracing himself throughout the conversation, unsure of how it would go. But of course, you are the master of pretending things are alright.

“Alrighty then, come on. Come to bed,” he ushers, pulling back your sheets. You approach the bed, his eyes watching you with hawk-like intensity. Through the jokes and teasing, you see agony in his gaze. The way his hands shake. And when you are carefully under the covers, Jack full body grabs you and drags you across the mattress into his embrace.

His much longer legs lock around yours and his arms cradle you against his chest. Having successfully lured you into bed, he’s not smiling anymore. He’s not teasing. He looks mad, more than anything. Even as he tucks you so gently under his chin.

“I love you,” he says, and when you go to speak, he shushes you. “No. I need you to listen. I love you. I think the world of you. I think you’re perfect. And for someone not to think so? Blah. They are not worth your time.”

He grips your chin with gentle fingers, angling your head to look at him.

“I understand. I have never been truly seen. But not you. Not my love. You see me and I am free.” His claw brushes your bottom lip. “Let me free you. If they cannot accept us, we accept each other, okay? We love each other. And we make it through.”

Tears slide down your cheeks and he tsks gently, a soft coo escaping him as he wipes them away.

“And one day we’re going to look back and see nothing of them. But only of what we built together. Because that is what matters. What you do matters. And you will be loved for it.”

Jack draws you close once more, dropping tiny kisses to your skin, whispering his love, and being everything you have ever wished for. And as you fall asleep, you know that in his arms, you will be okay.

Isaac Grossman

Isaac’s cloak falls off his body in a rush of fabric, pooling at his feet. His gloves come off in equal measure, tossed to the floor carelessly. He removes each layer of clothing with hurried hands, stopping only when he’s standing before you in nothing but his underwear. He slides into the seat next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist in a firm grip as he drags you across the plush couch. You don’t say anything as his hands lift your shirt and usher you out of your pants, joining the heap of his own clothes on the floor.

“Isaac,” you finally break, your voice small, and he shushes you. A long finger slides beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are warm as he regards you with a concerned and adoring smile.

“I am here, love,” he whispers, bringing your hands flat against the expanse of his chest to feel his heart beat steadily against your palms. “Do you feel me? I am here. I am here with you.” He continues to murmur this as he pulls you into a more comfortable position, cradling your head lovingly into the juncture of his neck as he reclines on the couch. “Feel my skin against yours. And breath, my love.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. He smells like lavender. He smells like your favorite candle. He smells like a warm pie baked in the chill of fall. He smells like home. You turn your nose into his skin and nuzzle against it, and Isaac almost coos, a sweet noise leaving his lips as he pulls you closer.

“Oh, what did I do to deserve you? My sweet dove.” He squeezes you to him for a moment. “I will have to try harder.” He’s smiling, a contentment to his voice that you don’t think you have ever heard before.

“No,” you murmur into his skin. You feel the brush of his lips upon your forehead and you grow quiet, sucking in a short and shaky breath.

He hums, lips fluttering against your skin, before saying, “I was worried you were falling too close to the edge, and I could not catch you. My only choice, you see, is to fall with you.”

“I don’t want you to fall, Isaac.” Your voice is quiet, sad. Your fingers draw through his chest hair, expression thoughtful as you rest skin to skin against him. His fingers copy your movements through your hair, his right hand sliding down to glide a gentle thumb across your cheek.

“But that is the beauty of our love, is it not? We are clumsy together. We fall. And then we kiss each other’s bruises. They hurt a little less each day. Turn from black to yellow. And then they’re gone. Perhaps we shall look back on them, but they won’t hurt anymore. We will just remember the kiss,” his accented voice, melodic and warm, washes over you like a blanket.

You start to sit up, Isaac following you, his fingers grasping at your skin. He is nearly desperate for you to understand. To help you through whatever melancholy is stuck to your precious heart. There are many things Isaac would admit to failing at in his existence. This would not be one of them.

“Let me kiss them, love. Please,” he begs softly, hands at your waist, massaging the soft skin there. “With you is where I am safest. Let me be safe for you.”

The face of the man in front of you is gorgeous. His brow furrowed, divot between them deepened with age. Crows feet stretch from the outer corner of his eyes, marking a path of laughter across his face. Wavy blonde hair framing his face, a few stands catching the soft light of the sunset outside, bathing his face in an ethereal glow. He is the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

“I love you,” you tell him. Honest and hopeful and raw.

Isaac’s hands are on you, pulling you firmly back into his lap, wrapping arms and legs around you until any outside viewer wouldn’t know where you ended and he began. He’s heaving great breaths, bordering on a sob as he holds you so tightly against his flesh.

“I love you. I love you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you. Thank you,” he whispers fervently, pressing kiss after kiss against your temple, your cheeks, any inch of you he can reach. It has you giggling, and then he laughs too, and you’re both smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

Life is hard sometimes. Scary, even. But in this moment all of that fades away and it’s just you and your Isaac, safe and happy in each other’s arms.

Divider link

[milkytheholy1]

Hello hello hello!

I was hoping you could do headcanons about the batch would react when their enemy tells them that their s/o is dead and shows them proof of their demise. Whether it be their clothing, a small gift that was given to them from a member of the batch. I need to know their reactions and I’m feel oh so angsty darling!!

Star wars masterlist. Ultimate masterlist.

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

Hunter:

Hunter didn't believe it at first, he was bound by chains, the newly formed Empire had captured him and his crew. He knew his brothers would be fine, they could save themselves. But nothing took up more space in Hunter's mind than the thought of you being hurt. When he couldn't see you in the cells with his brothers, he began to panic, yelling out your name.

"Silence, you filthy clone." one of these new troopers told him, hitting him with the blunt end of his blaster. Hunter spat out some blood, some of his hair covering his face, "Where are they?" he asked again, voice gravely.

"Dead." the trooper simply replied, his voice matching the emotionless tones of his helmet. Hunter's heart stopped, no, that can't be right "You're lying." he huffed. The trooper shook his shoulders with a laugh, turning to face the clone kneeling on the ground, "Killed them myself this morning, they begged for their life, didn't save them though."

Hunter tried to pounce at them but was held back by the chains, "Oh, did they mean something to you?" the trooper feigned sympathy.

"You're lying!" Hunter yelled out, growling under his breath. The trooper reached behind him, pulling out a rag of fabric, charred at the ends. Hunter recognised it well, it was a perfect match to the same coat you had on before all this shit went down. That's when he broke, tears pouring from his eyes, face turning red out of anger. When he'd break free, he promised to kill every single person in this building.

Tech:

He simply didn't believe it at first, chose to ignore the mathematical outcome that you were gone, taken from him. Tech had always been a man of logic, but right now he wanted to live a fantasy, wanted to believe he was on another planet with you by his side.

But the longer he looked at the necklace, the chain that once belonged around your neck, all bloodied and broken; he had to keep up hope. His fingers slowly but surely crept over to the chain, your blood staining his gloves as he threaded it past his fingers.

"They didn't have to die, but alining themselves with your kind led them on a path that the Empire cannot allow." the commander spoke, her voice was sympathetic to the clone, she could tell he loved them.

"You mean a path the Empire wants to wipe out, a path of hope and resistance to your tyranny." Tech hadn't given the commander a single look the entire time he had been there, forced into a cell for the umpteenth time.

"Aren't you going to give up? You're clearly not as strong as your fellow 'brothers', you won't be able to handle the probe droid for any longer than ten seconds." She seemed proud, boasting almost. But Tech ignored her, he was strong, he had brains and an undetermined amount of brawn.

"You're wrong. Though I physically look disadvantaged, you took the one thing I loved away from me. And now I possess their strength as well as my own, and I will do nothing but fight for them."

Wrecker:

"I ain't tellin' you anythin'!" Wrecker roared out, barred behind a cell, fists clinging to the bars. The Empiral officer watched him with squinted eyes, quickly growing tired of the clone's subordination.

"You came with someone else, yes? A friend, colleague, a partner perhaps?"

Wrecker's attention peaked at the close mention of you, "What have you done with 'em?" he huffed out, his form growing in size much like his anger. The officer shrugged his shoulders, feeling pretty confident, "Tell me what I want to know and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"If I agree, how do I know ya tellin' the truth? You could be lyin'!"

"Aha, you're not as dumb as I had thought you to be. But very well, I'm sure this will suffice," he called over a trooper guarding the cell, in his hand laid dog tags. The officer swung them in Wrecker's face, just enough to catch the name. Wrecker growled pounding his fists against the cell, "What did you do to them."

The officer beamed, an evil gleam in his eye, "They refused to talk, so we made it permanent." Wrecker nearly went animalistic, he couldn't lose you, he just couldn't.

Crosshair:

"I'm growing tired of your arrogance, clone. Speak now or face the consequences," she growled under her breath, the lone empiral commander's patience was running thin. Crosshair smirked, the toothpick perched in his mouth moving along with his smirk, "Do you speak to your mother with that mouth, commander?"

"Ugh, answer my questions or end up like your partner!" she roared out, face red with frustration. Crosshair's relaxed stance wobbled for a moment, she was bluffing, "You're bluffing." he huffed.

"Oh, really? Does this look familiar at all, clone?" she became joyful, showing him a small trinket no bigger than the palm of her hand. It looked like a patch, hand-made and from somewhere further than here. But Crosshair recognised it easily, you had gifted it to him after a long mission together. The mission itself had been gruelling but you did get to spend some time within the market afterwards, you had found a woman selling hand-made accessories and found it amusing to give Crosshairs a patch that said 'happy camper' on it.

He wasn't so amused, though late at night it would bring him a small smile whenever he glanced at it. But right now that patch was covered in spots of blood and frailing at the ends.

"I told you, clone, I wasn't bluffing." the commander mused, throwing him the patch. He caught it easily, crushing it with his fist. He slowly shifted his head to face the commander, glaring at her, "You'll be the first one I kill when I get out of here."

"I look forward to it."

Echo:

"I've already been through somethin' like this, you're not gonna break me that easily." Echo huffed out, hanging from the chains, dangling like a puppet.

The commander laughed, a mighty chuckle even, "Oh, we know all about you, clone. We thought you might grow tired of much older methods, so just for you we thought we would try something different."

This peaked Echo's attention, with a brow raised his expression stilled. Thrown to the floor was a single flower, it fluttered to the ground, the petals that were once white were now stained with red splatters. Some of the petals had been charred, a few missing.

Echo fought back the tears, this could mean nothing, this could have been any old flower. The commander continued to talk while Echo stared at the crumbling plant, "It's such a shame this flower will go to waste, fortunately, it won't last much longer." he watched Echo carefully.

"Flowers are awfully innocent, wouldn't you agree? Not meant for war, to see a battlefield. It's such a pity when nice things are stomped over by the harsh realities of life." The commander then proceeded to crush the flower under his boot, dragging his foot back and forth to really add salt to the wound.

"Such a pity, indeed." he finished, a faint whisper under his breath. Echo was enraged, all his training was gone in an instant all that was left was blind rage, "Flowers can grow after a battle, replace what was bad." he still had hope.

"Not this time." the commander smirked. The sound of chains crashing rattled down the corridors, screams of fury and pain soon following after, then a silence like no other; soft cries finished a symphony of misery.

[cloudteawrites]

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

what is hybrid marking

8.2 million results. 

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

“How do I look?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s been a change of plans.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Jimin-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you were his attorney.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t you just have him apologize?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And his mother?” You ask, quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ms. Y/N-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room is a veritable Eden. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m not-”

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

“I’m not here to deliver your food.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach turns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need time to pack, or-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fourteen.” He bites out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Joonie-” he pleads. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unknown Sender [7:13 PM] where are you

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

Unknown Sender [7:14 PM] it’s yoongi

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

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

Unknown Sender has been changed to Yoongi 

Yoongi [7:14 PM] can i call

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

“...Hello?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

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

“...Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sondepoch]

HC: MC is more flexible than them!

Perfection is certain. Perfection is solid. Perfection is the body of a demon or an angel, where there is no room (or need) for bones to crack and muscles to stretch. You and Solomon, though? You’re human. Not so “perfect” when compared to the other inhabitants of at RAD—but that just makes it all the more interesting when they finally see the way the human body can crack and bend

Word Count: 5.5k

SFW + mild descriptions of cracking body parts

Characters: All brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

Instant panic mode

Man just learned that it’s possible for humans to break bones, so when he hears you casually crack your knuckles, he instantly assumes that all your fingers are broken

Finds it even more terrifying when you lean your head back and crack your neck 

Honestly, the look of sheer horror on his face would be terrifying if you didn’t find it so funny

Is actually super confused when he realizes that you’re 100% fine but will not lower himself to actually asking you about it. That is not the Lucifer way, and so this man instead decides to secretly binge Satan’s collection of human anatomy instead

But uh, he gets scarily into it

Seriously, you’re starting to get concerned when it’s been nearly two full weeks of Lucifer ignoring you to bury his nose in a book, eyebrows furrowing every goddamn time he finishes one, and still has no clue what that cracking sound is 

It’s only when you casually do it at the dinner table and Asmo cringes, complaining about how weird it is that humans get pockets of gas inside certain joints and they actually have to crack it out, to which all his brothers nod their head and cringe when you do it again, that he understands what it is

Has never been more relieved

He isn’t as disturbed by the sound as he was before, so it’s not as fun to tease him with it - but you can count on the fact that if you ever crack anything in his presence, he will pause whatever he’s doing to study you for a moment and make sure your face isn’t contorted in pain or anything

After all, he needs to be completely certain that you haven’t broken a bone

But someone help this man when he realizes how much more flexible humans are compared to demons

The first time you do a backbend in front of him, he actually flinches

Man can’t help but imagine himself in those poses - and no matter how sexy you look when you’re winking at him and stretching your body like it’s glue, his bones would have to be shattered to bits for him to do the same

Quietly asks you not to stretch yourself into such positions in his presence

On the bright side, you can shut him up in the middle of any lecture by “casually” stretching your arms back until the demon is so disturbed that he stops in the middle of his sentence and asks you to leave as soon as possible

All in all, not a big fan - but he can tolerate your antics (if only to save face)

But if you ever show him videos (or even pictures) of a contortionist, he may actually be scarred for the rest of his almost-eternal life

Mammon

Man really needs to learn how to knock

He barges into your room without warning, as usual, only to see you all but straddling the ground, legs spread wide apart as you lean to one side and touch your right toe

It’s the most basic human stretch there is - but it’s terrifying to Mammon

You don’t even get the chance to say hi to him before he’s lifted you onto your feet, pulling you up from under your arms, desperately asking why you weren’t screaming for help 

Cannot process the fact that you were actually in that position willingly, much less the notion that it felt remotely good

Of course, you respond to his obvious aversion by showing him all the other ways your body can bend, flopping onto your bed and bending your body into a perfect bridge position

Mammon’s screeches when he sees the arch your back makes

It lowkey gives him nightmares the next night

Also becomes very touchy after he sees you move your body around so comfortably

In his eyes, you’re now the equivalent of a giant teddy bear - and really, what are the differences, now? He uses you for cuddles and hugs, can seemingly bend your body in any way and you’ll bounce back, and your skin is so soft compared to the hardness of his own body

Man actually grows used to your body after a while, holding a strange fascination for the way you can move

Begins to think that it’s cool when you show him how you can crack your knuckles and such

Absolutely makes use of the fact that some of his other brothers hate the sound, casually walking up to them with you by his side and asking them (while you crack your knuckles) to forgive his debts

Works 90% of the time

The 10% when it doesn’t work, though, he gets into trouble

In his free time, though, he actually likes lying with you and trying to figure what other body parts you can crack

Courtesy of Mammon, you learn that you can crack your hip if you stretch at a certain angle

(Bonus:) He one day tries to stretch his body the way you stretch yours and does a basic hamstring stretch on the ground, trying to touch his toes, but the exertion is too much for his inflexible body and he sort of locks a joint, so he’s left on the floor for nearly half an hour until you find him in his room and help him out of it

(Bonus bonus:) After his trauma from the above incident, he immediately goes back to assuming that you’re in great pain every time he sees you do a particularly difficult stretch and instantly lifts your body out of the position, no matter how you protest and say that you’re fine

Leviathan

"What a normie”

That’s the only reaction you get when you crack your knuckles in front of him, eager to see what he’ll do after realizing how much it disturbs his other brothers

Needless to say, you’re disappointed by his utter nonchalance

But that’s only because you have no clue what happens to Levi when he runs to his room and closes his door, jumping into his bathtub with a shook expression on his face

“Oh my god!” He squeals. “iT wAs LiKE iN tHe aNImES”

Nah, fr tho

Man has seen more than enough human-world shows which feature characters cracking their knuckles before getting down to work, so he’s pretty familiar with the concept

Like many things in anime, he was only 60% sure that it was real

But you actually did it

And it was in real life

Man is practically fanboying over a perfectly normal phenomenon

While you’re sitting in the living room, thinking that he was utterly unfazed by it :(

But when the two of you have a whole year to spend together under the same roof, it’s honestly inevitable that the truth comes out

“You like it?” You ask, pure confusion settling over your faces. After all, he’s the first of the brothers to not be utterly horrified by your little habit

“N-no!” Levi shouts, hiding his face. “I mean, maybe...just a little...sort of...but not in the normie way!”

Boi is too cute for his own good

Of course, you humor him and proceed to crack every single joint you can think of, sending a wink Levi’s way 

It would be so easy to tease him, wouldn’t it? To mess with him and call him strange, to compare to his brothers and remind him that you’re not an anime character - and that anime is, in fact, based on humans, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that humans could crack their knuckles the way he’s seen online

But, he’s too precious. And too cute. And he’s too adorable, staring at you with that utterly captivated expression, so you can’t help but humor him again, asking if he wants to see some of the other differences between humans and demons

And when you show him how you can bend your body, man is shook all over again

He 100% thought that the absurd stretches (like a split? how preposterous) were merely fabrications of animation - flourishes added in by animators to make the visuals more interesting

But seeing you move like that? And when you show him the other stuff?

Congratulations. Boi is officially convinced that humans are more interesting that anime can ever be.

Satan

One of the few demons who was already familiar with the fact that humans are ridiculously flexible and can crack nearly everything in their body 

He was actually the one to approach you about it

“Stretch for me, human.”

Or well, the same thing but in less blunt words

Actually invites you to have tea with him where he first broaches the subject, confirming that you'll be fully comfortable with everything he wants to study

Lmao man really arranges to have a safe word in case he pushes you too far

Once you’ve agreed to letting him study how the human body can bend and crack, the two of you set a time and meet up in his room (and yes, he does clear his books out of the way to make room for you)

And so the stretching begins

It actually feels quite awkward at first with Satan showing you pictures from human world yoga books and asking you to mimic them, taking notes in a book on everything 

Gets really excited when he realizes that your flexibility is a function of how often you stretch, and once he realizes that you’re able to go a little farther each day, he becomes lowkey obsessed with finding out whether there's a limit or not

Boi may or may not secretly try to stretch in his own room in case demons are just naturally less flexible and need to stretch regularly to become like humans

Also almost breaks his arm attempting that, so he never tries it again

The whole ordeal fits itself into your routine after long enough: after school, you go to Satan’s room and do yoga while he jots down notes on how your body moves, and after everything is done the two of you have tea

Satan never touches you while you’re stretching for fear that he’ll physically push you into something uncomfortable, but when you explain that certain positions are easier to hold if someone helps, he’ll definitely try to be a helping hand

He starts out really tentatively, hesitant that he’ll be too strong and will push you to the floor or something, but he’s pleasantly surprised to find that humans are more resilient than he’d initially thought

After his notebook is filled with notes and he’s suitably convinced that all his questions are sated, he’ll express his gratitude and tell you that you don’t need to continue 

But if you tell him that you’ve been enjoying your time together, man will 100% clear that space in his room permanently, so that you can spend time there together while Satan asks you calming questions about your day and you stretch the tension of the day out of your muscles

Asmodeus

Jelly boi

Nah but fr

Man couldn’t care less about your ability to crack your knuckles and neck - if anything, he finds the habit to be irritating

But boi is jealous when he sees how easily you can bend your body and stretch into positions that even he can’t

Obviously, his mind is in the gutter when he’s thinking about the way your body can bend - but he’s equally furious of the fact that human skin is so much softer than demon skin

Like, yes. Most demons have near-perfect skin because of its taut texture - and yes, that gives them the illusion of perfection

But human skin, blemished as it is, is like a teddy bear next to a rock when compared to demon skin

And obviously Asmo’s skin is softer than everyone else’s (this man is NOT skimping out when it comes to his skincare routine), but it infuriates him that his skin isn’t as soft as yours 

Of course, man bounces back quicker than anyone else (as expected)

He grows content with the texture of his own skin the moment he realizes how easily penetrable human skin is - namely when he’s doing homework with you and he sees your skin get sliced open by paper, of all things (man nearly chokes when he learns that this is a regular occurrence for humans)

But he never quite loses his fixation for the human body

It’s highkey the reason why he likes touching you so much - your skin is softer than some Devildom blankets! If he could fall asleep with your arms wrapped around him every night, he absolutely would

But he won’t genuinely request that of you unless you explicitly offer, so he’ll settle for simply hugging you at every opportunity

Ofc, the moment he grows content with the texture of his skin, he’s jealous of your flexibility all over again, so it’s kind of nuts

You eventually have to sit him down and tell him all the downfalls of being able to bend yourself into awkward positions (ex: getting stuck in said position or causing a cramp) for him to finally be content with his own body once more

The moment he’s back to normal, all the usual flirtatious jokes come back and he’s offering to let you show him the ways your body can bend

You deny instantly

But if he ever takes you to a club and has the opportunity to dance with you, do a body roll

Man will get on his knees if that’s what it takes to have you do it again

And then he’ll whisk you off to his room, stubbornly ignoring his brother’s protests, declaring that he needs to “reeducate” himself in the art of dance, and that you’re going to be his teacher

And hey - give him a private show while you’re at it ;)

Beelzebub

The first time you crack your knuckles in front of him, he’s eating

Man doesn’t really register it, just assumes that he bit something crunchy 

The second time you do it, it’s in his and Belphie’s room - and Belphie is taking a nap

Man gets a little suspicious, because the sound definitely came from your end, but he dismisses it and decides that the sound must have been a hitch in Belphie’s breathing

But the third time, the two of you are alone

And Beel’s protective instincts come rushing to the surface when he realizes that you really are the one making that sound

“Are you dying?”

First question, no matter what. Man has heard of medical conditions that cause bones to become brittle and crumbly, so he needs to know

Then again, he won’t really believe you when you tell him the truth

“You can...crack stuff at will?”

beelisconfuzzled.exe 

You have to show him methodically, portion by portion, which of your body parts you can crack

He isn’t disturbed by the sound (he’s eaten things which sound much worse, he can assure you) but man is intrigued

(”But how?” He’ll inevitably ask, struggling to yank his own knuckles off in an attempt to crack them and get that feeling of satisfaction you kept talking about)

All in all,he has a decent reaction - probably one of the only people who won’t overreact about the information

But then the fateful day comes

And he cracks your back

It happens while he’s giving you a big bear hug, proud of you after you came running to tell him about a good grade you got in Devildom Literature - and he places his palm on your back in just the right area, pressing down as he hugs you

And pop

Man is so mortified, he almost drops you

You, on the other hand, cannot be more pleased with this development

“Again! Again!” You shout, trying to get him to repeat the action - but while Beel loves hugging you, cracking your back is something he’s not willing to risk

“It’s okay when you do it, because you know how much your back can take” is his biggest argument. "But I don't."

And unfortunately, calling him a chicken won’t work when you try to convince him otherwise :(

What will work, however, is convincing Beel that this can be a sort of strength training - because he needs to have full control of his body to do it right

He’ll agree to do it once (mainly because you’ve been begging for so long)

But, obviously, “once” means as many times as you want, from there on out ;)

Belphegor

It’s one of the few times where Belphie isn’t in tune with his brother

And he hates it

He doesn’t understand how Beel isn't disturbed by the sound - every time you crack your knuckles, it sends a shudder straight down Belphie’s spine

And it’s not the ick factor taking place. It’s just that Belphie can’t help that his mind wanders to darker places whenever you do something like that, the sound abruptly reminding him of his time in the Celestial War and all the awful things he heard there

Like others, the sound reminds him of how weak you really are

And so, if you ever crack your knuckles around him, expect him to leave instantly

He’s the one brother who will never learn to tolerate it - not when he can remove himself from the situation so easily

And honestly, it’s kind of amazing how sharp his ears are

Is he taking a nap on your lap? If you think you can subtly crack anything without his eyes shooting open, you’re wrong

Is he preparing dinner with you in the kitchen? Nope, the sound of boiling water will not cover the sound of your body stretching too far, and Belphie will shoot you a glare before swiftly exiting the room

Is he simply doing homework with you in the RAD library? You’d think that the sound of chatter from the table next to you would hide the noise you make when you subtly lean back to crack your back, but Belphie is gathering his things mere seconds later, huffing and muttering under his breath

So yeah

Not a fan

On the other hand, he loves how accommodating your body is in terms of how flexibly you are

It brings him great joy, honestly, to just watch you flop your arms around aimlessly because humans’ movements are so fluid, so smooth, so unhindered by the rigid joints of demons

And, obviously, your flexibility makes for better naps

He likes to sleep next to you with his arms wrapped around your waist while you latch onto him in whatever position you deem comfortable

Without a doubt, the position you find is something that would be wholly impossible for a demon (how are you bending your legs that much?!) and it sometimes scares him to realize the full extents of your flexibility (can all humans twist their arms like that, or is it just you?) but he loves that you use your body’s oddities to pull him closer

And he’ll never deny you a comfortable nap if you’re willing to cuddle so readily

Never

Unless you crack your knuckles, that is

Solomon

Life is war and cracking body parts is your only weapon

Aka nonstop competitions between you and our resident wizard boy, both of you cracking body parts back and forth until one of you either fails or runs out of things to crack

Knuckles? Come on, are you even trying? Give him something less basic

Back? Oh yeah. Both sides, too - and the loud ones

Hips? You didn’t think it was possible, but Solomon will look you in the eye and hit one side of his hip, the movement a prelude to an instant CRACK which rings out oh-so-gloriously from the other end

Ribs? You realized you could crack them once and never stopped - you’re actually the one to teach Solomon how to do this

Neck? Always the finisher. So loud, and so satisfying

Neither the House of Lamentation nor Purgatory Hall ever wants to have the two of you over at the same time, because the residents know that you and Solomon will have these competitions. And they absolutely hate it.

So what do you do?

Go to the library and disturb the demons there, of course

It actually becomes a pretty sick form of payback to all the annoying demons that look down on the two of you for being humans, because they always cringe so hard when you guys do this

The two of you have deduced that the sound of knuckles cracking is the demon equivalent to the sound of nails on a chalkboard

And you fucking run wild with it

No one wants to piss either of you off, because you’ll both glare at the demon in question and proceed to crack every body part known to mankind (like seriously - it’s reached the point where you guys can crack your TOES, and if that isn’t absolutely amazing, then you don’t know what is)

It actually highkey annoys the demons in your classes, because you guys always crack everything right before an exam and while it helps you focus better, it effectively ruins their concentration

Ofc you guys don’t really care so they can suck it

But uh

Okay so the demons at RAD may or may not get fed up of you both one day and petition for Diavolo to instate a “No cracking body parts” rule in school

So yeah your primary source of entertainment sort of disappears after that point

But no worries, you and Solomon head to the downtown shopping districts instead and become the BEST hagglers in town

“Hey, can we get these shirts on a discount? Huh? You don’t do discounts? 

*Aggressively cracks everything until the demon just wants them out of the store*

“How about now BICH?”

Simeon

You’re actually not the one to introduce Simeon to the idea of humans being able to crack their body parts at will

No, it’s Solomon who steals that pleasure from you

But will Simeon ever let the sorcerer know just how much it unnerves him? Absolutely not. So what does our beloved angel do?

Why, there’s only one option

Come running straight to you.

Man is disturbed. Honestly, disturbed is phrasing it lightly. If he were in his angel form, you’d be able to see how his feathers ruffle and flutter at the very thought of that sound

Needless to say, he hates it

(You 100% consider cracking your knuckles in front of him, just to tease him, but you decide against it)

See, Simeon is an angel. And that means 99% of the time, he’s surrounded by other holy spirits, all of which have bodies molded to perfection that simply cannot crack the way yours can. Whereas demons are forced into human interaction a little more (oft when they're summoned), Simeon really isn’t used your fragility, no matter how much he tries to remind himself of it

So yeah

He hates it

On the other hand - man loves how flexible humans are

The first time you flop down onto your bed, assuming a position that would be impossible for any demon or angel to take but is deemed “comfortable” by you, Simeon is enraptured

It’s not sexual, he just thinks it’s really amazing that you have so much control over your body when he can hardly do a standing glute stretch without breaking a limb

It’s almost funny, his fixation

Actually no - it’s not almost funny. It is wholly and completely hilarious, and you will not stop leading him further down this rabbit hole

When you send this man picture of an contortionist, he’s utterly mesmerized

Show him human ballet, and he will not stop watching it

So yeah

He appreciates parts of the human body, hates others - but as long as you never crack your muscles in front of him, he’s down

Also - after you’ve thoroughly interested him in the art of being a human, he may just write about it in his next book. If you read the next set of chronicles detailed by Christopher Peugeot, you already know who the “feisty but good-hearted human who can bend themselves into a pretzel” is based on

(Bonus: Do a body roll in front of him and he might faint - man knew the human body could but like that? You might just have corrupted an angel)

Luke

“So...cool...!”

Boi loves it

He cheers you on like a champ, laughing merrily as you crack your knuckles into oblivion, scaring away the other residents in Purgatory Hall

And no matter how many times Simeon warns him not to urge you on (”The human already has no sense of self-preservation, and you don’t need to help that along,” he said), Luke can’t help but watch with excited eyes as you show him how different the human body is

He’s almost like Levi with his ardent admiration, and he honestly finds nothing disturbing about the sound of you cracking knuckles

Just finds it cool

It actually serves as a catalyst for his relationship with Solomon, because Luke will 100% go up to him and ask him whether he can crack his body like you, and obviously, the man will laugh and prove that centuries of knowledge have made him better than the average human - even in this area

But yeah

You can really see his inner child come out

(Though don’t say that last part out loud - he’ll ignore you for three days in an attempt to be “mature” before you convince him to accept your apology)

But really - he may be the only person who can not only tolerate the quirks of your body, but openly endorses all of them

On the downside, though, he’ll also try to crack his knuckles...which won’t bode too well, given that his body was built to perfection by God

Boi almost rips his finger off

Simeon proceeds to instate a no-cracking-knuckles rule within Purgatory Hall to discourage any further attempts from Luke

But you know what he didn’t ban?

Backflips.

It doesn’t matter if you can or you can’t do them - Luke will happen to see a video of a human doing one (ahem, Solomon showed him it in an attempt to stir up trouble), and now he’s begging you to do the same thing in real life

Which doesn’t work out too well, given that backflips are hard

And you may not be successful 100% of the time

And obviously, Simeon eventually finds out that the two of you have moved onto a new fixation, and so he instate the no-backflips-in-Purgatory-Hall rule

But you know what he didn’t ban? 

Cartwheels.

And so it continues on and on, indefinitely because the only way to cease your and Luke’s shenanigans would be to ban humans in Purgatory Hall, and Solomon is thankfully preventing him from doing that

Barbatos

Hates it, hates it, hates it

More than any of the brothers, more than any of the angels - this man loathes every oddity of the human body that makes it different from a demon’s

But not for the reasons you’d expect

See, it’s not the sound that bothers Barbatos

No, he’s heard the screams of the damned before. You cracking a few measly knuckles hardly makes him flinch as he pours your tea

But what Barbatos does hate is the fact that he doesn’t know what it means

Every single time you crack a knuckle in his presence, it doesn’t matter if the prince himself is speaking, because Barbatos’s eyes will fly straight to you

And yes - you guessed it:

Barbatos can’t tell the difference between the sound of you cracking your knuckles and the sound of you breaking a bone.

And for that reason, he hates it

It’s hardly his fault - he doesn’t even know if there is a difference between the two sounds. But this butler has no faith in you and no faith in humanity as a whole, so every time you crack your knuckles, it sends a rush of worry straight to his stomach, and the demon has to watch you for a solid ten seconds to make sure that you haven’t actually hurt yourself

Poor man

He’s the kind of guy to take everything in stride, so he'll probably never tell you how much he hates it when you crack your knuckles (and honestly, what would he say? “Hi, can you please stop cracking your knuckles because I care about you and it makes me concerned for your health???” No, that’s not going to work. And he doesn't know what will work, so he suffers in silence)

Seeing you stretch is even worse

It can be a casual stretch, simply pulling your arms above your head just slightly beyond what would be physically possible for a normal demon, but it sends a chill to Barbatos’s heart, and he’s worried all over again

See, when you crack your knuckles, at least it’s over. But when you stretch? Sometimes you hold your position for a minute, if not more - and Barbatos simply can’t turn away because he’s terrified that he will, and you’ll somehow hurt yourself

So yeah

No rest for this butler, not as long as you’re going around with that weak body of yours and are cracking and stretching your way into oblivion

On the bright side, it means that he’s almost always watching over you when you visit, an added layer of protection 

The only difference is that while the others are focused on protecting you from other demons, Barbatos is preoccupied with making sure you don’t hurt yourself

Diavolo

Timing is everything

And indeed, you just happen to be in the midst of cracking your knuckles and neck the moment you’re transported to the Devildom, every single one of the most powerful demons in the land staring at you in horror as your body pops some more

"Oh no,” Diavolo whispers, frowning as he looks at Barbatos. “We got a defective human :(”

Nevermind the insult you feel at his words (who does this strange, unfairly-attractive redhead think he is, calling you “defective???” He might be correct in his judgement, but he had no right to voice his thoughts!), you are shook

Definitely not the best first impression for either of you to make

Of course, Lucifer is quick to pick things up with his explanation of what this place is and who he is, and the whole situation is mostly forgotten as you come to realize that you’re standing in front of a literal prince

But the past has a way of resurfacing

And obviously, several months later, you crack your knuckles once more in the presence of the demon lord

The immediate wince on his face is more than enough for you to read his mind

“You’re thinking I’m defective again, aren’t you?”

“YOU REMEMBER THAT?!”

Poor bby

He’s honestly such a brilliant ruler, but when it comes to maneuvering the minds of humans, it’s just not his strong suit

Anyway, the two of you have a long talk (aka you rant and Diavolo listens) where you explain to him that cracking knuckles is a normal phenomenon, and that - look, you can even crack other parts of your body

And the prince is fascinated

He knew humans were built differently than demons, but he’d simply assumed that your body was just as perfect as his, and that yours could simply handle less extreme conditions

Clearly, though, that wasn’t the case

Man decides that, as the ruler of hell and the man spearheading efforts to unite the three realms, it is his moral obligation to learn about the other ways humans differ from demons

And so the shenanigans begin

It’s honestly time-consuming, but Lucifer doesn’t mind because if you’re with Diavolo, you’re out of trouble, and Barbatos doesn’t mind because if Diavolo’s with you, then he’s out of trouble

All in all, it becomes the prelude to a LOT of time spent together, and a LOT of differences between demons and humans come to light. 

Aka various iterations of “What do you mean, humans can’t bite through steel?”

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

"Tom Riddle effectively destroys the country from the inside out, which I believe was his true goal the entire time" (c) wait a second, so you think that he wasn't going to really take over or anything, just destroy the fuck out of w britain?

I have avoided this ask long enough.

I’ll start by saying that asking me about Tom Riddle is like staring down into a bottomless rabbit hole. We could travel down that path, but it is a dark and perilous journey, and by the end of it I will come out looking like the Mad Hatter.

It also requires a few prerequisites that you’re just going to accept as true (or else got off the crazy train here).

We know very little about Tom Riddle or Voldemort

What we do know of Tom Riddle comes to us from suspect sources

I’m just going to go out there and start with the basis that Tom is not crazy

Elaborating a little on number 1. We never actually see much of Tom Riddle or Voldemort directly. He’s a bit like Thanos in the MCU, or Palpatine in the first two movies of the Original Trilogy, he’s this looming threat that we pass by and glimpse every once in a while but never really get quality time with.

Generally, Voldemort makes an appearance in a moment of crisis.

He and Harry fight over the philosopher’s stone for Tom’s very survival. He and Harry fight over the diary for Tom’s very survival. He resurrects himself with Harry as a witness. We get those very strange dreams from Voldemort’s perspective (half of which we later learn are fabricated).

None of these really lend to our, or Harry’s for that matter, understanding of Tom Riddle. There’s too much going on, it usually happens far too fast, and there’s usually something Tom Riddle desperately wants or needs that eclipses all other concerns or else he has an audience.

This is part of the reason we get those Halfblood Prince pensieve lessons: Harry knows nothing of Tom Riddle and doesn’t understand him at all.

Which leads us, of course, to number 2, most of what we know about Tom Riddle comes from Dumbledore. I’ve talked about this before, so I won’t spend much time on it, but Dumbledore has a very clear agenda in relaying these memories to Harry. Dumbledore already has strong suspicions of what objects are horcruxes and where they’re located, he already has Snape as a very reliable agent to continue work when he’s gone, his job here is to convince Harry there is no path but suicide. And that involves portraying Tom Riddle as the most evil man who ever eviled, was born eviler than the antichrist, and will die eviler than the antichrist. 

Now, does this make Tom necessarily good or bad? No.

However, it does mean when Dumbledore tells us things like, “See, Harry, an impoverished child was upset when I lit all his belongings on fire! What a monster!” (especially given that, in a similar situation, Harry thought it was hilarious when Hagrid gave Dudley a permanent physical deformity and Harry was told he was an angel child) we should take it with a very large grain of salt.

Right, so, with all that backdrop what I’m getting at is that a) we can’t take Dumbledore at his word b) even if we could he could be wrong c) Harry doesn’t have the introspection to be able to figure himself when a or b is happening. I won’t elaborate on this last much, suffice to say that Harry’s world is very black and white, divided into the camps of those who personally like him and those who don’t.

So, why do I think Tom’s goal was not to rule the wizarding world but instead to destroy it?

A few things.

First, there are so many easier ways he could have ended up ruling the wizarding world. More, even when he effectively does rule the wizarding world in book seven, he takes very strange actions so that he’s never directly in power.

Second, I never really bought Tom’s racism. It’s too convenient and too contradictory with his backstory.

The second first, because we’re going out of order today. I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t believe Tom had minions early and I think he was effectively treated as a muggleborn (see here and here) until he took on the Voldemort persona many decades later. I’m hard pressed to believe someone as intelligent, angry, and proud as Tom Riddle would willingly believe and accept he was inferior to the likes of Abraxas Malfoy. More, even if he wished he was a halfblood, I think the evidence of him being muggleborn would be stacked too high against him to deny even to himself (and when he finds out it’s not true, he has maybe a month or so before he realized that he’s the bastard son of a squib). 

And it’s just so convenient. All the people with the power, with the money, who are itching for a cause against a threat that doesn’t really exist believe in blood purity. Ergo, Voldemort shows up suddenly espousing over the top blood purity rhetoric (rhetoric that directly clashes with his “there is only power” philosophy at that). 

In other words, I think Tom Riddle gave himself a line that he knew would get him places very quickly.

And now for the first. For a guy who has had the entire country in the palm of his hands twice, one time taking it over in a bloodless coup, he’s really big on causing collateral damage and really small on actually doing the ruling thing.

The first wizarding war, Tom Riddle as Voldemort has the backing of the heirs of the most prestigious and wealthy noble houses save a select few. These are people with seats in the Wizengamot, which has a frightening control over the government itself (including the minister of magic). I imagine, in 1980 had Tom Riddle wanted to be elected as Minister of Magic, he would have been elected as Minister of Magic. If he wanted a friendly face in office then he probably could have made that happen to.

More than even this though, by this point, Tom had already won. By having control over the majority of the Wizengamot he owns the government. He’s done, it’s over, it’s finished, and many of the characters admit as much which is why Harry Potter was such a miracle. So why all the seemingly random, exceptionally pointless, terrorism? 

One answer is that Voldemort is crazy bananas. And sure, I guess we can go with that, except for someone insane he’s oddly effective and very consistent. 

I believe Tom was systematically destroying the very foundations of the country through its core aristocratic families. Within a few short years Tom decimates the Black family, it goes from having five heirs to none, and while some of this isn’t Tom’s fault he does take care of quite a few of them. He brands Lucius for life, while Lucius rises high in politics he never escapes the stigma of being a known Death Eater and in the end cannot escape the consequences for his actions. The Malfoy family is very nearly destroyed by the end of the series, had Draco died in the Fiendfyre. The LeStrange family, presumably decimated as well.

More, this is mostly me headcanoning, but I imagine Tom fuels an extremism that the Wizarding World had never contemplated. I imagine, previously, anti-muggleborn sentiment was probably fairly rampant among purebloods. Oh, some were very pro-muggleborn I’m sure, but I think most were fairly “eh” on the people and felt they were a drain on society (such as requiring constant funding for the obliviation department).

However, when Diagon Alley starts getting blown up every other week, when muggleborns start being tortured and murdered, when purebloods who aren’t anti-muggleborn enough are being tortured and murdered, this starts wigging people out in a way they’ve never wigged out before.

By the time we get to Harry Potter’s canon, it is now only a minority that are anti-muggleborn, and they’re perceived as raving lunatics. Nobody wants to be grouped with these people. Which, just goes to show, how much Voldemort rattles the wizarding world in a very small amount of time.

Then there’s Deathly Hallows, rather than become minister himself Voldemort installs a puppet minister. He shows no signs of wishing to change this and instead does things like destroy the sorting hat (which again shakes the very foundations of the wizarding world as whta will we do if we don’t know who’s a Gryffindor anymore?!)

So, where is this ramble going?

Given the results we see, that more than any others it seems to be the purebloods and often Tom’s own followers that suffer colossal losses, I think Tom’s actions are, in part, a means of vengeance against the entire damn wizarding world (but especially the purebloods).

He makes fools of these people, brands them as his slaves, and has them participate in the most over the top ridiculous rituals (the cloaks, the masks, the entire theatrics of it feels like Tom got drunk one night and planned this whole thing out). He destroys them entirely, and better, enables them to completely destroy themselves and the country they believe they’re trying to save.

Basically, I think by the time the series begins Tom is fueled by a nihilist rage that knows no bounds. But dammit all, the wizarding world is going to burn.

[captain-kinda-trash]

Hi! I wanted to request some headcannons for rottmnt boys with a reader who gives great hugs and gets a plush hoodie this winter, so hugging them feels like hugging a teddy bear now

Of course!! Thank you so much for the request!!

Teddy Bear (ROTTMNT Headcanons)

This was what I had in mind while writing 🤔🤔⬇

Leo

Let's just be clear about one thing

Leo LOVES your hugs

CANNOT get enough of them

Long night of fighting for justice? Huggies

Gets into an argument with Donnie? More huggies

Hell, even walking past you in the lair, he'll do little grabby hands and act like a whiny baby until he gets his daily hugs 🙄 😩

But then you get a super soft, super fluffy, super warm sweatshirt?

Dead

He's dead

You're basically like a human heater for this cold-blooded blue boy

Since you've gotten it, you can hardly stop wearing it, because it's the most comfortable thing ever-

And Leo has gotten even more excuses to hug you

"Leo, im cooking!"

"bUT YOUR SOO COMFFYYY 🥴"

Will, without a doubt ask you to carry his lazy ass, just because he wants to snuggle into your sweatshirt

And don't even get me STARTED on movie nights with him

Because what begins as a cold-blooded turtle hanging onto your arm like a baby koala

Ends up being Leo curled up in your lap or somehow wrapped around you with this hot sweater

So while he's practically purring with comfort, you are sweating like a dog

Not to mention, this bitch is just heavy

like 200+ pounds of straight muscle, so I hope you don't have to use the restroom any time soon because it's going to take a while to pry this big baby off of you

I'd also like to mention, that you don't need to tell him not to steal your hoodie

because he’s gonna do it anyways 😎💙

You discovered this one day, when you slipped the article off to bake with Mikey

After a nice batch of cookies was made, your jacket was gone and you began parading around the lair to find it 

Only to see Leo, snuggled in his bed and playing on his phone, with your hoodie practically swallowing him whole

If he hadn’t looked so comfortable, you would have been angrier, and just settled for scolding him playfully for stealing it

it was hell trying to pry it off of him,  though...

This turtle knows how to wrestle and he will not hesitate to kick your ass over this fluffy sweatshirt 😤

These two things (hugs and your hoodie) combined just make Leo melt into a puddle, and he couldn’t be happier to have all of your teddy bear hugs :>

Mikey

um, have you met this turtle?

KING of hugs

It’s so great how both of you share the same energy

Though he’s more cold-blooded, like Donnie, he needs all of the hugs

It’s just your thing

With Raph, you have fist bumps, Leo, you’ve got a cool handshake, Donnie is more for high-fives 

And for Mikey, it’s hugs 

He practically tackles you to the ground in tight hugs whenever you get home from school/work and come to the lair, like a happy little puppy

Speaking of puppies…

That’s what he says your hoodie feels like whenever it first arrives in the mail.

Immediately, you throw it on, and Mikey is all over it, petting the soft fabric and squealing in excitement 

Can he please wear it?? 🥺

Little Mikey didn’t even have to ask before you shed the hoodie and let him try it on

And OH

MY

FLUFFY...

The amount of cuteness that this turtle radiates when he’s smiling like an idiot and flapping the oversized arms around is just-

He vows to get his own since it’s so warm and comfortable

But he’s very respectful and gives it back to you

Only to attack you in another hug and lift you off of the ground because you look so adorable

“You’re like a little teddy bear!” *excited squeal!*

Mikey 100% respects your space so if you’re ever snuggling, he’s instantly aware of your getting sweaty or uncomfortable and will let up or loosen his arms

Winter days?

Snuggles all day and night

when Mikey (politely) asks to wear your jacket, he’ll throw it on and give you piggyback rides around the lair, because we love fun

And for Christmas, you get him his own, and he’s IN LOVE 

Sweater buddies 

He gets one in his favorite color and little ears on the hood and once a week, when they need to be thrown in the washer, you’ll keep him warm while he waits.

(Leo gets jealous of all the attention you’re giving Mikey >:o)

Donnie

we all know that Don isn’t the biggest on physical affection

If he wants a hug, usually he’d be the one to initiate, which is totally cool, since usually he’s forced into a hug by his brothers (secretly loves it tho)

He does enjoy your hugs, though he can be a bit awkward and stiff with them at first

If he’s feeling down, needs to be warmed up a bit, he’ll immediately seek your comfort

Even out of his brothers, you’re secretly his favorite 

Sure he loves Dr. Delicate Touch, but sometimes Donnie would rather go to someone who isn’t very pushy with solutions, and is willing to listen

And we can also all agree that he has an immaculate fashion taste ✨💜

When he sees the fluffy sweater draped over your arm, he’s immediately running over, analyzing the fabrics, and rushing to get you to try it on

Why? Fashion show 

Loves the warmth of your hoodie

And I because “it’s so soofff”

Donnie’s blood runs the coldest out of all of his brothers and he has the most sensitive shell, so he just adores your sweater

Is definitely contemplating on getting one for himself, though he wouldn’t tell you at first, because you might think he’s trying to copy your awesome style, and that would just destroy his massive ego 😩💅

He enjoys it when you sit in his lab with him, maybe rested against his side with your hoodie on, as you play on your phone/read/draw

Also up for snuggles when it’s extra chilly in the Lair, or when his brothers aren’t around, because once again, damaged ego

Movie marathons?

Hell yeah

Donnie will always make sure your comfortable before he gets comfortable on the couch, so you won’t shift around while watching the movie

He’s also very vulnerable when he takes his battle shell off, and in more ways than one

You know he’s got real, strong trust when he does so and will let you carefully hug him from behind with your hoodie on, since it’s so soft

Donnie will also snatch your massive jacket if he gets the chance, and disappear into his lab for days with it on

And he’ll never tell a soul this…

But he loves it the most, because it smells like you, 💜

so it’s like having you right beside him while you’re gone, or when he’s busy building something 

Also, tries to use his classic and sarcastic charm when it comes to asking for your hoodie back

“Come on Don, it’s cold outside! I need it!”

“But would you take it from such a luxurious face as this?” 😏

“😒”

“Right, giving it back-“

He totally gets his own hoodie, by the way

Purple (obviously)

But it just isn’t the same as your own, so Donnie might just have yours on and then wrap his own around his waist

Yep

He sure does love his teddy bear 💜

Raph

Okay but Raph is an actual teddy bear-

A big, mom-friend, weapon-wielding teddy bear

He LOVES giving hugs, and most would recognize this, seeing the various pictures and instances where he pulls all three of his brothers in for a great big group hug ❤

He's constantly reminding himself that you are much much more prone to injuries than his brothers, so he holds you like a little baby when he hugs you

(Unless he gets super excited or has a really rough night, so just be aware that you might be restricted of breathing privileges in that case-)

Usually so gentle 🥺

Just picks you up and wraps those huge freaking arms around you like giant pillows

And he LOSES HIS SHIT when you come back with this fluffy ass hoodie

Has this infatuation with petting the fur and running his fingers over it

He has never felt something so soft in his entire life 😩❤

And then when he hugs you with it on-

aUGGGH ❤❤

"Why are you a like big teddy bear?!"

"Buddy, you're just getting a taste of my own world-"

Poor Raph, being the size he is and having such a spiky shell, can't just wear your hoodie like his brothers :(

I mean, sure he could take it so easily

But he doesn't want to disrespect your things, or make you upset, because this man is The Gentleman™

So, rather than asking to wear it, he'll ask to spend more time with you

Not just for the hoodie ofc, but because of your sweet gentleness and warmth

Better quit your job babe, because your new occupation?

Raph's cuddle buddy

He refuses to let you become uncomfortable, makes sure there are the right amount of pillows, blankets, and room for you to move around while you snuggle together etc.

Raph is also a heavy sleeper, so once he gets comfy and warm enough, he'll probably doze off and trap you in his big "arm cage"

Really, his nature is pure and gentle and everything you could ever imagine when it comes to hugging his little teddy bear ❤🐢

@getacactus @turtle-babe83

Hope you enjoyed this little ditty! I LOVED writing these!! 💜💜

[ilalos]

Mine (Hvitserk x reader)

Summary: Hvitserk buys his own slave saving you from your horrible owner.

Warnings: mentions of slavery, physical ab*se, tiny mention of sex*al ab*se if you squint (nothing actually happens, it´s just Y/n’s fear), let me know if you see anything else that might be triggering.

Word count: 1,8k

You woke up suddenly from the cold surrounding your body and making your skin wet.

"Rise and shine sl*t" sang your master placing the, now empty, bucket on the ship's floor.

You quickly stood up and waited for whatever order he may have for you, and after being given a dress you quickly changed and ran to stand beside your master who was at the front of the ship. As he spoke with his men you allowed your mind to wander to your home life, when you were happy and free.

You were born in a very rich family and had been treated like a princess until your father passed away. When your father died your mother had to get married again quickly because she had no idea how to manage the many lands your family-owned, so she got married to Maqsud and he turned out to be a terrible man; he had his own daughters so for him you were an unwanted presence and due to that he decided to sell you as a slave and told your mom you disappeared. He sold you to Canute, your current master, who beat you at the smallest mistake and always woke you up with a bucket of icy water, he said it helped to keep you clean.

"Answer!" You awoke from your thoughts when you heard your master shouting "When I talk to you, you listen! Understood?!" he grabbed your face so hard you could already feel the bruises forming.

"Yes, master" you nodded as best as you could in his strong grip, he then released you with a push so hard you fell on your back, all air knocked from your lungs.

"As I was saying" he continued as if nothing had happened "You are being offered in this town, and hopefully I can get at least what I paid for you" he spat.

You didn't know how to feel at his words, you should be happy that you were finally getting rid of your abusive master but there was also the fear of having an even worse master that could do unspeakable things to you. You stared at the horizon and watched expectantly as land got closer and closer.

When the boat arrived your master quickly tied your hands together, so tight you could feel your hands becoming cold and numb. You were pulled towards a market and as you got there you saw a line of many girls tied just like you with their master behind them offering the girls as if they were meat. Your master pulled you harshly until you stood at the end of the line and he started shouting along with the others, offering his 'pure, virgin slave!'. You tried your best not to let the situation affect you and you held back tears and bit your lip.

"How much for this one" you heard a man ask but didn't dare to look at him for more than a second, he looked young.

"30 gold pieces" Canute offered smugly, almost sure that the young man would try to lower the price to at least 20 gold pieces and that would still be a good deal.

"Deal" the man answered simply and handed him a bag with the payment inside, your master counted, and when he confirmed he was given the right amount of gold he gestured for the man to take you.

"She's yours, take her" he pushed you towards him as if you were nothing.

The young man held your shoulders before you fell on your face and when you regained balance he held your chin and tilted your head upwards, so your eyes would meet his.

"I'm Hvitserk" he smiled "And you are...?" he questioned.

"Y/n" you whispered looking into his beautiful eyes, almost getting lost in them.

"Nice to meet you" he caressed your cheek softly "You are going to warm my bed every night from now on"

Your breath got stuck in your throat when you heard his words. What your master had said wasn't a lie, you were indeed pure and untouched, and you were terrified of what Hvitserk would do with that information, or worse if he didn't believe those words and treated you as a commonly experienced slave.

Hvitserk started walking and you just stood there staring at your, now almost black, hands. He turned around and looked at you signaling for you to follow him, and just as you approached him he took out a knife making you yelp and drop on your knees begging for mercy.

"Please, master don't hurt me" you cried "I'll be good, I promise" you finished sobbing, waiting for him to hit you or stab you.

"I won't hurt you" Hvitserk assured and reached to cut the rope that was tied around your wrists, allowing the blood to flow in that particular area "I promise you, I will never hurt you on purpose" he took a hold of both hands and kissed the insides of your wrists softly.

You looked up at him in awe and quietly stood up and followed him after he got up himself and started walking towards the great hall. Once you got inside he walked to his room without looking at anyone, and once there he told you to sit in the bed.

"This is my room and where you are sitting is my bed" he explained "Your duties are simple, you wake up, get ready, wake me up, braid my hair and go to breakfast with me, you sit on my lap and feed me and you can eat in between bites too" he paused, waiting for you to show him you understood.

"Yes, master”

"You will go with me everywhere and you will not look at or talk to anyone but me, every meal I have you will feed it to me and I will always allow you to eat from my plate" he insisted watching you nod to his words "every night I expect you to lay with me, for the first couple of nights I don't intend on using your body for my pleasure, instead I wish to use you mainly for the company" you let out a breath you had been holding since he told you you had to warm his bed "You are mine and only mine, not even the queen can take you away from me, and I hope I am clear when I tell you that you cannot even glance at another man's direction, am I clear?"

"Yes master, I'm completely yours from now on"

"Call me Hvitserk, master creeps me out" he fake shivered to amuse you and got a small giggle which made him smile.

That night you sat on Hvitserk's lap, just like he had ordered, feeding him every course from soup to ale and he allowed you to eat from his plate in between bites, just like he promised. His brothers tried to ignore your presence and act as if you were just another slave, but you weren't. Normally the one who bought slaves was their mother, Hvitserk was the first one to buy a slave for himself, and they were all attracted to your odd presence.

"Who is the beauty sitting in your lap, Hvitserk?" inquired Ivar.

"She is my slave, brother" Hvitserk stated simply.

"And who said you could have your own slave?" demanded Sigurd with a frown.

"I bought her with my own money, earned by fishing and hunting" he stated proudly squeezing your waist a little and taking the piece of meat you offered.

"And are you planning to share her anytime soon?" asked Ubbe curious lifting a brow and hiding his smirk behind his cup, clearly noticing the way you tensed.

"No" Hvitserk deadpanned "she is mine" he finished feeling you relax on his lap and continue cutting some meat for him.

After that the table got silent and everyone finished their meals in silence, no brother dared to look at Hvitserk and much less at you. After everyone finished each one went to their respective rooms without anything more than a 'goodbye' to their mother and Hvitserk waited until they left before getting up and leading you to his room. Once in his room, Hvitserk started taking his clothes off and as he sat on the bed he heard water being poured into his bathtub.

"What are you doing?" he asked turning to look at you emptying a pot of warm water into the tub.

"I'm preparing your bath, mast-Hvitserk" you quickly corrected yourself, fearing his reaction at the dreaded word "You can relax and get cleaned while I undo your braids" you suggested with a hopeful look, you truly appreciated being treated well and wanted to show him how grateful you were for his lack of mistreatings.

He nodded from his spot and watched you as you continued pouring pots of warm water into his tub until it was almost full. You announced the bath was ready and stood with your back turned to him as a sign of respect while he finished undressing. After that he got in the bath, hissing as he felt the warm water colliding with his cold skin.

"Is it too hot?" You asked concerned.

"It is perfect" he mumbled sleepily.

You smiled a little as you watched him resting his head on the edge of the tub with his eyes closed. Quietly, you walked around the tub until you stood by the back of his head where you started unbraiding his hair with soft brushes of your fingers, hearing him sigh and moan every now and then.

"After this bath, we are going to sleep" he announced in a low voice "Your gown is over there" without opening his eyes he pointed towards the bed where you could see some white fabric folded next to the pillow.

When you were both changed and ready to bed he laid down and patted the spot next to him, you laid on your back not knowing how he wanted you to position yourself. You heard him chuckle before and yelped when you felt his arms wrapping around your shoulders and with a quick pull he had your head laying on his chest.

"You are here to comfort me, not lay there as stiff as a tree" his chest vibrated with his laugh.

"Sorry" you mumbled, sleep evident in your voice.

You both remained silent and in a matter of minutes, he felt your soft breaths caressing his skin. He knew you were there just because he had bought you, but for a sweet tiny moment, he convinced himself that the girl in his arms was not a slave, but his lover who was there out of adoration for him and only him. His own beautiful lover.

"Mine" he whispered kissing your forehead before finally slipping into a peaceful slumber.

-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘-‘

Hi! Thanks for reading!!!! I hope you enjoyed it and I’m thinking about making a part two so…let me know if you’d be interested on that.

[littlemissnoname13]

The life he always wanted (D.M.)

Summary: Draco’s life after the battle of Hogwarts

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

A/n: I wrote a multi-chapter a few months ago that never made it on here. This one shot has been pulled out of it and posted as a one shot just like “You and your green apples.” Which was supposed to be a part of that same multi chapter too.

Warnings: angst, Multiple mentions of avada and death so please read at your own discretion. Also please feel free to message me if I need to add any more disclaimers.

Word count: 2100+

The only thing illuminating the dark room was the flickering light from the television. 

Draco thought the muggles had really outdone themselves with that one as he had spent one too many nights in front of the television with a bottle of fire whisky.

Some nights he’d be too wasted to realise he’d been watching static for hours. 

Faint, fuzzy music could be heard all around the room even though the volume was set to a minimum and Draco took this opportunity to waltz you across the living room of your cozy one bedroom home. 

The house wasn’t too big but it was just the way you’d always wanted it to be—big glass windows, hardwood floors and a small spiral staircase leading to the roof. 

“The life we’ve always wanted.” You sighed and placed your head on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Draco.” 

One of his hands was placed securely on the small of your back while the other held your hand as you moved together with the music. Your soft, flowy hair bounced as he twirled you in his arms. 

“Oh really?” He smirked and watched you nod your head in response with a sad look in your eyes. 

“Yes really.” 

“Well I’m here now Darling so there’s no need to worry about all that.” He whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that don’t you?”

“I know Draco.” You whispered and he pulled you closer to him. “I know.”

Draco couldn’t begin to imagine what his life would be life without you in it. 

Shuddering at the dark clouds forming at the top of his blond head, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply to make the clouds drift away. 

“Don’t you have to be somewhere tomorrow?” You asked tilting your head upwards to look at him. Draco noticed that your eyes brows crinkled a little as you said this—the look of worry somewhat prominent. 

“Oh yes.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at you. “I really wish you didn’t remind me.” 

“But you haven’t met our friends in so long.” 

“Your friends. ”He corrected you curtly. “And it’s only been a few months.” 

Well, it had been more than just a few months but It wasn’t his fault that he’d rather spend all his time with you. 

Draco noticed that you giggled when he said that as if you knew before taking his hand and guiding him towards the bedroom. 

He decided to not utter a single word of protest as he quietly followed you into the bedroom. 

“Come lie with me, Dray.” You whispered as he watched you slip under the covers. You looked so peaceful, so content and the whole moment seemed so fickle like it would fade away if he moved too quickly or blinked too hard. 

He hastily removed his shirt slipping under the covers next to you—his head on your chest as you lazily played with his hair. 

This was everything he’d ever wanted. 

“I love you y/n.” 

“I love you too.” 

~~~~~~~

“Glad you came, Malfoy.” Ginny smiled the best smile she could smile, opening the door to let him in the house.

“Well hello to you too Weaslette.” 

“Come on inside. We were all waiting for you.” Ginny said she led the way towards the living room filled with familiar voices and faces. 

“Potter. Weasel. Granger.” Draco muttered as he gave all three a semi polite nod of acknowledgement. 

“I uh—like your hair.” Harry commented looking at Draco’s unkempt blond hair now growing towards his shoulders. 

Upon hearing Harry, Draco ran his fingers through his hair and fought an urge to say something snarky. 

“So, may I ask why I’ve been summoned here?” Draco finally said as he sat down on an armchair opposite to Harry. 

“We just wanted to see you. You have been gone for a…bit...” Harry replied, clearing his throat. And we thought you might want this.” 

Draco raised his eyebrows suspiciously as Harry stretched out his hand to hand him a sealed envelope. 

“Cup of tea?” Ginny asked. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

As soon as he reached home, he tore his clothes off and jumped into the shower. 

He let the warm water wash away the ache he felt all over his body. There was no tell tale sign indicating the pain was physical or emotional. 

Nonetheless, the warmth of the water helped. 

To some extent. 

After what felt like hours in the shower, he finally stepped outside and wrapped a towel around his torso. 

The bathroom had fogged up and the fog had travelled all the way into the bedroom. 

In an attempt to get the fog to disappear, Draco cracked the surprisingly large bedroom window open and let the crisp night air flow into the room. 

“Someone’s back home early.” He heard you  mock in a sweet singsong voice making the tiniest of smiles appear at his lips as he turned around to face you. 

You were wearing a flowy satin dress and were perched on the top of his desk—dangling your legs. 

He paused to admire and remember every detail about the sight in front of him. 

The way the gust of wind coming from the window blew your hair towards your face. The way that flimsy satin fabric hugged your body. The way the flickering table lamp casted shadows on your features. 

Everything.

“I just couldn’t stay away from you.” He shrugged and watched you chuckle and get down from his desk. 

He patiently waited as you took long strides towards him before finally wrapping your arms around his neck—stretching on the tip of your toes and bringing your face close to his. 

“Open the envelope Draco.” You whispered softly into his ears. 

A flash of lightning lit up the entire room with a blinding white light as the sky roared. 

Draco nodded as he slowly reached for the crumpled envelope he’d left inside his coat pocket.

Taking a long breath, he looked up at you and you gave him an apologetic yet reassuring smile while he ripped the envelope open.

The opened seal of the envelope brought along with it, a familiar scent of cedarwood and vanilla. It was the smell he could smell on his clothes after spending the day with you. 

A small photograph fell out of the envelope.

It was a Polaroid you’d unintentionally taken one summer. Both of you had questionable expressions on your faces because you were both trying to get the Camera to work. 

You were chewing your lip in confusion and his nose was scrunched up; you both were not ready for the photo at all. 

His hands shook violently as sporadic rain drops started to pour down from the window leaving tiny splatters on the worn out photograph.

“Why?” He spat in anger. “Why did you have to throw yourself between me and that killing curse?” 

You smiled an apologetic smile at him once again; you did that a lot. 

“You’ll get drenched Draco—close the window.” You said,  dodging his question completely while you reached towards his hand again.

“Stop dodging my question.” 

“It hadn’t rained for a while.” You said making him heave a sigh and look up at the night sky.

One rain drop and become two and two had become three.

Draco took a wobbly step towards you and fruitlessly wiped the drops of rain that were falling on your cheeks. 

“And now it’s raining.” He pointed out with his voice shaky. 

“Excellent observation, my love.” 

The way you said it, the nonchalance in your voice made him furious. You were gone but he had to wake up every single day in a world where you no longer existed. 

In a stupor of grief, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you towards him. “Don’t you see?— even the sky is grieving the loss of what could have been! The life we could have lived!” 

“I like to think it’s the universe washing away the hurt and pain.” You whispered, staring deeply into his steely eyes. “You’ll see. It’s going to be a beautiful morning tomorrow. I can feel it.” 

“Why y/n? Why didn't you let me die instead?—you are gone and what am I left with? A worn out photograph of you?!” 

“Draco—”

“Every damned day, I feel further and further away from you.” He began sobbing. “The smell of your perfume is fading from my sweater, I cannot picture the way you used to laugh anymore—for the love of Merlin! I don’t even remember what life was like when you were with me y/n. It all seems so far away..so distant.”

“You have to let me go, Draco.” You whispered as you pressed your forehead to his. 

He physically felt the pain of his breaking heart all over his body. The sharp pain brought back all the trauma he had suppressed over the last few months. 

“No…No. No. No—Please don’t leave again.” He pleaded as angry tears started to roll down his cheeks. “Please. I—I don’t think I can handle it.” 

“You’ll see me again. I swear.” You said softly as he began to laugh an ominous kind of laugh, knowing deep down that you weren’t even there in front of him to begin with.

Everything was all in his head. 

Twenty seven months.

He’d been talking to the voice in his head for twenty seven whole months while the world moved on without him. 

“When? When will I see you again? In another life? Merlin!” Draco said in between his hysterical laughter. 

“Maybe.” The figment of his imagination whispered caressing the side of his face till he calmed down. “Maybe in another life I won’t find myself having to jump in between you and the killing curse.” 

Draco gave you a disapproving glare before he leaned down to find your rain soaked lips. 

With his index finger and thumb holding your chin up, Draco kissed you gently while his own tears and the acidic grey rain continued trickle down his face. 

It took him every ounce of strength he had left but he nodded like he was saying his final goodbye and took a step back— releasing you from his embrace and releasing him from his grief. 

You slowly turned on your heel and walked towards the door. 

“I’ll be waiting for you Draco.” 

He closed his eyes because he wasn’t ready to see you leave. 

So after what felt like centuries, Draco slowly opened his eyes. 

He was all alone. 

~~~~🍂🍁🍂~~~~

Autumn. 

It could be seen in the rustling trees and the gust of wind that made the amber colored leaves that were once bright green fall down onto a winding pathway beneath trees. 

A young woman strided along the winding path. Clicking her heels. Head tilted upwards, taking in the pinkish purple sky in all of its glory. 

A few books were tucked underneath her arm and a cloth bag loosely hung on her left shoulder. 

She was so occupied by the pleasant weather and whatever thoughts were circling her head, that she didn’t even realise that she had collided with somebody.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

She apologised profusely before she knelt down on the ground to collect the books she’d dropped. 

The stranger hummed in response and helped her gather the contents that had fallen out of her book bag. 

An oddly familiar smell tickled her senses. It was the smell of cologne and fresh mint. 

The smell of the cologne was so foreign to her. It was like nothing she’d ever smelled before and yet, she found herself feeling awfully comforted by it.

The smell sent her into a state of déjà vu. 

She looked up through her lashes and saw a boy with steely grey eyes making an eerie sense of familiarity washed all over her body. 

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” 

The boy blinked a few times before cracking a small smile. “I think we’re in the same Art history class. Judging by where you’re headed.” 

“Right.” She nodded as they slowly walked down the path together. “Don’t mind me. It’s just.. it’s just that you seem oddly familiar to me.” 

He shoved his hands into his pocket as they quietly walked next to each other. The silence wasn’t an awkward one. 

Not for him at least. 

It felt almost as if they’d always been walking together for years—in another timeline, in another life.

It all felt habitual. 

“Tell you what? He finally said looking down at the girl he’d just met. “How about we get coffee after class and discuss this further. You seem oddly familiar to me too.” 

“I’d like that.”

Her eyes pierced a million daggers into his heart.

“I’d like that a lot.” 

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

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Love you all,

Vi