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vinetae · 2 years

Note

idk if this will spark an idea in your bones but currently im just like thinking of mafia member jimin who finds dog hybrid oc after busting an operation and she's like not okay? and is just like soft and shit for her but like slowly falls in love with her or something idk it's just a running idea in my head and i wanted to dump it somewhere

... so if it inspires you i'd love to see this blab written down 💗

Jasmine and Vanilla - M

Pairings: Jimin x Dog Hybrid!Reader (Ft. ???!Jungkook)

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Yandere!AU

Summary: Life had been well in the labs. As swell as one could get when you're the main subject for a breeding facility. One storm night, your whole routine world is shaken upside down. Left is right, and right is left. When you're finally faced with freedom, you don't know what to do. luckily, you've got the best alpha- ahem. I mean person to help you along in the new world. However, what will happen when your biology is pinned against you?

Warnings: Force-feed, suggestive smut, 18+, mentions of guns, blood, gore, murder, death, and more death, yandere themes, clingy!Reader, HEATS (I know I love those types of tags ;) ), Dog hybrid anatomy, mentions of pills and heat suppressants, Cursing, foul language, and Jungkook's kind of annoyed with reader lol.

The metal doors slide open. Vapors or white and reds smoke the room like a disease. Blurring every sight you could see. Men of all shapes and sizes dressed in white lab coats. A harsh force shoves your arm.

“Get a move on, Seven.”

There’d been plenty of others before you. Each of the girls had different numbers assigned when admitted to the facility. Each color represented every room. Yellow for yard time. That’s when you’d usually be allowed a few minutes outside of the doors, to read a book or something. They had said fresh air had been good for the specimens.

Whatever that meant.

“Ah, good morning my dear.” His face crinkles with age. The lab coat washes out his tones, making it seem as if he’d been a paranormality floating around these halls. The droop in his eyes sign years onto his body. Gravity taking a toll like nothing else.

“We’ve got a special one for you, Juje.” He motions towards the tall figure standing large in the corner of the room. His upper half had already been exposed. Sweat beads drip down his reddened skin, as his chest heaves with anger. Your nose twitches at the putride stretch.

He wasn’t your kind, that’s for sure.

The old man smiled, switching his eyes from yours, back to the feral man’s. A bright and promising grin curls the corner of his lips.

“Well? Go on.” You’d been too caught up in the brooding male’s aura. His body’s light burned with a deep, crimson red. Almost as dark and menacing as the hues of blood. His eyes narrowed, chest rising and puffed from exhaustion. A metal strap coiled around the base of his neck. His pure white ears perked in alert. Body coercing a fighting stance, looking like he’d been ready to pounce at any slimmer of threats that could present.

The professor’s white tinted and unkempt eyebrows raised, motioning you closer to the stranger.

A few seconds drip by, as if the world had taken a pause. Just looking at this person made your head feel like a brick had swung at you. Breath, caught by something dark and coiled. Your legs trembled with slight fear arising. He took quick notice of your prey-like stance, softening his features. A grumbled and raspy voice can barely be audible in your mind. As if someone had paused on a staticky radio station.

“H-Here.” Is all you could make out. Your eyebrow quirks in confusion. What did he mean by this? Obviously he doesn’t want to be here, but that was a weird word to say. Nobody even knew where ‘here’ was anyways..

A clap of the professor’s hands pulls the both of you from your little ‘guess the word’ game. He snaps, pointing at the two of you.

“Let’s get them in the glass.”

–

By ‘glass’ he’d meant the transparent arena. You see, there’d been four quadrants of this place. Sector One held all of the ‘potentials’ as they liked to call it. Sector Two had all of the rainbow rooms. Playgrounds, some toys they think we’d enjoy, reading corners, and the yards. Sector Three had the labs and incubator rooms. Your friend Yuna went missing a couple weeks ago. She’d always been a bit on the timid side. Ever since being brought into this place, she’d become your best friend. You two read together, watched movies when allowed, and slept in the same quadrants. She’d disappeared three weeks ago.

After asking around, some rumor had made its way through the sectors. Saying that she’s been taken to Four. Nobody knew what Four had been. Knew what it held.

You hadn’t seen her since.

The bright fluorescent lights switch on, as a generator grows loud in the back. The whole room lights up with blinding rays of prosthetic glints. Your body flings forward, dropping to your knees instantly.

You knew this routine.

Ever since your first heat had started, you’d been taken to what the other numbers had called ‘the white room’. This was your least favorite of all.

The metal syringe digs deep past the outer layer of your skin. Piercing the nearly-healed scab in the middle of your forearm. Your eyes wince in pain, biting into your tongue muscle as a sort of relief from the pain. Soon, the effects kick in. You could feel the heat rise in the pit of your stomach, pushing your heart rate to a maximum. Every breath felt vile and disturbed. Your vision begins to blur, as you see the previous male’s form curled up on the floor. They’d injected him with the same shit. With each movement of your feet it felt like ten-thousand knives stabbing at your body. Your hands reach out, desperate to try and hold onto something to combat the excruciating pain. Mumbled and rung-drawn voices echo in your ears. This felt like hell. No, scratch that.

This was Hell.

Past the ringing and screams in your head, a few voices drew back into mind. One, being the professor’s shouts to the henchmen. Before they reached the wheezing hybrid, his body went still. Limbs, no longer grasping at the flooring for help. Chest, rid of its dry heaves.

The man dressed in black bent down, and checked his wrist. He sighs, standing up. Taking a glance at the professor.

“Dead.”

–

The grandfather clock stood against the wall. Tall and demanding was its stand. The little point of the hand ticks away, rounding until its final destination. Just to start over once more. Jimin takes in a deep breath while cracking out the pent of air bubbles between the joints in his knuckles. He’d been staring at the paperwork for the last four hours. Back curved into a position unnatural and unhealthy for creatures of any kind. He’s quick to rise, scooting the roll of his chair out from up under him. Back stretched out as much as he could muster, shaking off the aches between his shoulder blades. Reaching to pack up his things to close out the office for the night, until a quick-eyed man bursts through the gold-emblemed doors.

“Boss!”

Jimin lets out a groan, eyeing the out-of-breath male. His staggered beats of his chest, out of sync to his lips. His hair had looke dragged and rough, with the ends all frizzed up from his previous workout routines he loved to do.

“This better be good, Jungkook. Do you know how many papers I just had to sign?”

Jungkooks nods, huffing in a deep breath to calm himself. Once he’s settled down, he continues. “Taehyung’s got something on your emmadyne thingy.” Jimin’s eyebrows quirk up, quickly forgetting all of the grievances of his work he just had to suffer through.

“And?” He ticks, moving closer to Jungkook, crossing the gold-decorated tiles of the floors.

The younger’s face drops to a serious look. Brown eyes flicking with gold specs the way they do when he’s excited about something.

“They’ve got it.”

The two rush past the elongated halls. Meeting in the corridor which held the rest of his group. Yoongi’s head cranes towards the side, spoofing at the dramatic entrance.

“Slow down, you two. Jesus, where’s the fire?” He chuckles, snapping on the belts of his bulletproof vest. Tightening the straps in one go, as he shifts his working hands to the firearm holsters coiled around his thigh.

“In his eyes,” Namjoon quirks back, breaking his usual straight and unbothered demeanor, chuckling at their little joke. He too had been working on the bindings of their protective gear, making sure they'd be no way in penetration from any shot-gunning source.

“Ah, the most beautiful shade of boring brown I’d ever seen.” Hoseok flushes up behind Jimin’s tight figure, slinging around the leader of this operation.

“Shut up, all of you.” Jimin gripes, snatching up the extra vest for himself. They’d all sported some expensive looking attire. Namjoon’s figure had been wrapped in a nice, satin purple suit. The white button up collared shirt paired underneath his broad and built exterior. Jimin had always been secretly jealous of his hyung’s physique. Especially when he heard all of the screams and moans at two in the morning. He could swing anybody, and that pissed Jimin off the most.

“Ah, all’s in a good day’s fun, isn’t that right Jiminie?” Hoseok pokes, flashing a wide smile as he snaps the magazine of his pistol into place, cocking the small firearm before aiming it towards one of the members. Taehyung rolls his eyes at his meaningless threat.

“You do this every time, hyung.” He groans, belting up his jeans to fit around his circumfrenced hips.

Hoseok lowers the tip, before letting one shot echo through the room. He smirks at the shattered window’s glass, now scattered into pieces. They all whip around in shock.

“Huh, looks like someone’s getting more confident in his little toy guys, huh?” Yoongi jokes, letting out a deep breath before plopping into the comforting couch’s hold.

Jimin’s voice yells out, scolding the elder for shattering his windows. “Yah! Take your hoplophile ass out of my house before I bury you where that bullet landed!” The group all lets out a fit of chuckles, teasing at the younger male’s threat.

“Yeah yeah. Sure you would, Jimin-ah.” Namjoon breaks the semi-circle, making a bee-line towards the kitchen.

“Jimin, you rescued a baby bird from your backyard.” Jin comments, throwing the weight of his light bag across his shoulder in preparation. He walks past the younger, patting his shoulder gently.

“Yeah dude. We all know you’re just a big softie.” Taehyung quips, flashing a smile towards his best friend as he laces up his combat boots.

“Fuck you guys. I don’t even know why I let you in on this mission anyways.” Jimin gripes, angrily shuttling his feet into the comfort of his matte black combat boots. The set matches the rest of the member’s attires.

“Because you need us!” Namjoon teases, walking out the door with a little granola bar gripped in hand.

“Like hell I do! I could do this all by myself.” He yells out, sticking out his middle finger to the way that Namjoon had exited.

“No, no you couldn’t Jimin.” Jungkook finally chimes in before walking past his leader, saluting a pat on his back before following Namjoon out the door.

Today had gone by pretty quickly. More than the usual days. Today had just been filled with a white silence. With finishing the rest of your little series you’d started a few days ago. It had been about this cool place that had these things that could tell you all about the world in just a matter of seconds. With so many games that you usually play with the other numbers, but this had been on a little computer. It’s so tiny, you could hold it in your hands. It had shown pictures and drawings of how it worked. Actually, a few weeks ago, you’d try creating a little replica of the ‘device’ (that’s what they called it in your books anyways.)

You went to go show one of the other numbers, but they had just scoffed and walked away. You asked around the cares, who’d been taking care of you all. They had said it wasn’t real though. Saying that nothing that smart could fit into your pocket. She called it ‘fiction’.

You’d be a little sad after those few days. Finally accepting that they’re right. There was no way that something like that could ever exist. You let out a sigh, falling into the comfort of your little white bed. The book held close to your chest, smiling at the dreams you had of all the things you’d read about.

“It’s not real.” A frown peaks your features, fading your smile. You lean over, turning out the little press light that had been screwed to your side bed. You pull the comfort of your thick blanket over your shivering body, sighing as you begin to fall into a deep sleep, enjoying the peace and quiet.

A loud boom shakes you awake. Weird, high-pitched sounds echo the halls, your hands covering your sensitive ears. You whine out, pain feeling as if it was about to burst inside your head. You try to use the thick of your blanket to block out the loud noise, but it has been no use. The rest of the numbers had woken up, sharing the same reactions you’d experienced. A few muffled howls ran down the halls, as the male species had been crying out from the sounds. Your hands press against the shell of your ears, protecting the sensitive things from damage. A bright red light illuminates from the door’s lower crack, as the bolted and pad-locked door pops open. A woman’s monetized voice calls out repeatedly.

“All systems down. All systems down. Sector One, Two, Three and Four. Alert. Alert. All systems down.”

Your feet plop to the white floors, peaking out of the little doorway that had been swung open from the mechanics. Bodies rush past the halls, big and black heavy looking items cross their chests as they march in sync quickly through the corridors. Stomps and footsteps barely even touch the volume of the unfamiliar voice, and sirens blaring out. Your body slips past the groups of guards, head flicking back and forth as a puddle of red liquid pools at the soles of your feet. You gasp, seeing the gasping man’s hand outreach towards your paralyzed body. You quickly kneel down, barely able to keep your food down at his side’s seeping hole. The blood had been soaking through his black padded vest. His head flops to the side. Eyes running cold and lifeless. His body goes still, much like how the other male’s had done in the glass room. An icy shiver runs up your whole body, gagging at the stench of his drying blood puddle.

A door swings open, as more men rush through, not even taking notice of your knelt figure over this man’s dead body. A figure walks into the far away door entrance, coming back out with a large item in grip. A loud boom echoes once more, as the click of the large item pops back into place. He continues those motions, aiming the tip of the unusual object past your kneeled frame. An idea pops into your head.

Sneaking past the groups of people rushing by, you make it to the object room. The light above had been flickering, making your eyes strain from the unpatterned flashes. A man’s deep voice could be heard from the outside.

“She’s not in her board. Find her!”

You flinch, quick to grab anything and everything that you could easily hold onto. Running past those groups, a few yell out, as footsteps follow behind you. You wrap the thin cloth quick around your face, wiping the blood that had stained your hands onto the white of your knee-length dress. Your feet drag along the blood stained and dirty floors, ducking down, hiding from the swarms of officers.

Your stomach felt tight. The knot in your throat was about to burst. Heart pounding in your chest, as you clutch the skinny object to your chest, trying to calm your heavy breathing to keep quiet. The pain from the sirens had died down. Or maybe you’d just gotten used to it. Like everything in this place.

You take in a deep breath, ready for anything that comes your way.

“Damn it, Taehyung! I told you not to push that button!” The three run down the halls.

“Fuck! I knew we should’ve gone with sector B, fucking idiots!” Yoongi curses, as the three teammates rush through the elongated halls. Red lights spin with alarm, making all hairs on their bodies stand up.

“Yeah well if Taehyung hadn’t tried pressing all those damn buttons then we wouldn’t be in this hot shit!”

“Yah! How was I supposed to know that ‘red’ meant that the fucking alarms would turn on!?!”

“Don’t you know anything about the color red? Or buttons for that matter?? NEVER push the button! Especially if it’s red!”

“You two cut it out. We don’t have much time for your stupid lover’s quarrel.”

“We’re not fucking dating-”

“Yeah yeah. The whole ‘I hate Taehyung with everything in my guts and I want him to burn’ really isn’t all that threatening now. Especially from what I heard last night-”

“Shut up! All of you! God, it’s like I’m a fucking babysitter! Joon, you take Exit C. Taehyung, tag along. I don’t need you and Yoongi to kill each other. Just wait ‘til after the mission before you rip each other’s throats out.”

“Whatever.”

“Yoongi, You go check their command center. See if you can disable the alarm. See someone? Shoot them.”

“Damn,” Yoongi lets out a chuckle, popping one of his bullets into the guard's chest cavity with ease as he continues the conversation with his groupmates.

“Our Jimin-ah is growing up now?” He teases as the four of them run down through the halls.

“Hyung, shut the fuck up before-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll bury me next to Hoseok. You gotta come up with better threats, Jiminie. They’re really lacking in-” He cocks the pistol, capping one of the men in a millisecond without breaking eye contact with his younger friend.

“I’ll take Two.” Taehyung joins in, feet trudging behind as his chest heaves with exhaustion. For a bunch of fit looking men, they hadn’t been the best in shape. Well, maybe that had just been Taehyung. \

“Great,” Jimin comments, cocking the grip of his gun back, aiming it towards the floor before following a police officer's stance in firearms. “I’ll take One. Joon, you rush Three. Yoongi-”

“Yeah yeah I’ll take Four.”

The alarms had died down, but what little strength you held onto with that small object never faltered. You knew there had to be a way out of this place, you just didn’t know where. Eyes screwed shut, you try and think back to the very first time you’d been brought to this place.

___

A blinding light beams above, while the sound of clicking shoes echoes the barren halls. The white walls had been stained with an eerie and death-march like tone. Your stomach churned at the feeling.

A small framed woman stands sturdily at the little front desk, as your mother walks up to the counter, leaving you all alone. A few words were exchanged, and soon she’d been bending down to kiss your cheek.

The woman standing behind the desk had made her way to your side, and reached down to grab your arm. You immediately twist your body around, trying to free yourself of her grip. You watched as the flowing red skirt of your mother’s body had swayed with a final goodbye. Black tall heels clicked against the tiled floors, as the metal doors slam shut. You cry out, biting down onto the woman’s arm to race towards the door. Your young legs are still getting used to the motions of walking, much less running. Soon, they’d given out. Your body fell at the feet of the closed doors, as a set of two heavily armed men grip at your arms, binding your tiny hands with a device-like cuff. Your whole body screams out in pain. Feeling as if your soul was being ripped from your body.

______

That’s all you remembered. The woman you called home. Who fed you. Bathed you. Called you hers, had abandoned you. Throwing you into the closet with all the monsters, instead of telling you there are none. No kisses on your forehead, no being tucked in at night after a nice warm glass of milk.

Just complete darkness.

A deep voice echoes through the halls, as you’re pulled from the horrors of your childhood. Hand firmly gripping onto the little sharp object you’d possessed from one of the countertops in this crumbling place. The blood on your dress, a reminder to keep your mouth shut. No matter who had been in here, you knew it was to bring trouble.

______

Jimin’s hands trail along the counter’s messed up, once neatly filed paperworks, shoving the useless pieces off in search for his prized possession. He sighs, bending at the knees in hopes that there’s a safe somewhere in this dumpster fire of a shit-hole. Feeling all around for some sign of a capsule or armory to keep his family’s heirloom in.

“I swear to God if these mother fuckers- Ah!” A figure lunges from up under the desk as he falls backwards, back hitting the floor with a hard thud. Their hand reaches down, pressing the sharp point of a scalpel to the bottom of his throat. He’s quick to disarm the attacker, flipping the two over until he’s the one on top with the scalpel’s point to their throat. Their hands scratch and grip at his wrists, but it had been no use. His body towered there any day. Whether it be rain or shine, hail or thunder. Their voice whines out, high-pitched and scarred with fear. His thumb presses the tiny, makeshift knife deeper into their throat, watching as a trickle of blood drips down their skin. The figure’s arm's reach out. The loudest and most terrified scream echoed through the halls. Jimin’s quick to cup his hand over their mouth, silencing their cries.

His opposite hand grips onto their wrists, pinning them above to keep them still. His eyebrow quirks in question, feeling how thin and frail their wrists had been. As if they had been starved for days. His eyes flicker back down, a wet substance trickles down onto his cupped hand. The rounding lights had shone on the figure just enough to see that it had been-

Tears..?

His grip loosens, eyes squinting to adjust to the dimmed lights, trying to make out the person’s face. Maybe it had been a worker? His hand that cupped over their mouth had trailed down, feeling how thin their skin was. Half-healed scars stitch their exposed shoulder. His thigh shifts against the figure’s lower body, hand quickly dragging down to feel the hem of a paper-thin like dress.

A dress..

He quickly pulls the figure up from the ground, bounding their wrists to the front just for safe measure. His freed hand fumbled to the pockets inside his jeans, pulling a little flashlight from its confinement.

The small girl flinches, shielding her eyes from the blinding sudden light. She tries to pull away, but he keeps her in place. The blood decorated her neck like a disgusting accessory he’d caused. Though, she didn’t look like she’d been that well looking before this meeting. The bags under her doe-like, glassy eyes droop with malnourishment and exhaustion. His eyes glance down, widening at her gault and thinned proportions. Skin as if it hadn’t seen the sunlight in decades. Her hair was thinned and drab looking. However, the most heart-wrenching thing he’d seen of hers,

The fear, crystal clear in her eyes.

Her mouth fell open as if to say something, but nothing came out. She kept struggling against his grip, kicking and flailing around like a toddler pitching a tantrum. More with fear than anger.

“Hey, hey- easy!” Her whole body pulls back, trying to escape his tight grip bounding her wrists. She hadn’t given up this fight, that’s for sure. Her head was shaking left and right as she was being exercised. However, he could feel her body weakening with each tug and pull to fight what little effort he’d been using in holding her.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, sweetie..” Her efforts weren’t letting up. Extending his freed hand outwards, his palm presses lightly against her burning cheek. He rises to prop up on his knees, lowering his voice in trying to signal peace.

“Easy, girl.. You’re okay.” Her chest heaves with might, but the strength within her body finally gives in. Her lips roll heavy breaths, as the struggles against his hold finally let up. His eyebrows knit together at the sight of her small gash against the base of her neck. He reaches down, using the scalpel to rip a small opening in a blood dripped white button up, tearing a piece of material from the suit’s fabric, folding the little cloth to fit over the open wound. She flinches, leaning back, as far away as possible.

“Look, it’s for your neck.” He holds the little piece of material up to his own neck, giving a demonstration of what he’ll be doing. “It’s to help..” She hesitates a second, before snatching the material from his grip, placing it herself. Her eyes take a glance over, watching as he reaches up above the desk, pulling a roll of tape down with him. His quick and genuine smile flashes, like a peaceful white flag during a war.

“Keep it in place. It’s tape.” He coos, snapping a piece off with the plastic sharps at the end, holding the roll in place. The little flimsy, clear strip sticks to the tip of his middle finger, stilling until she gives consent. Taking the strip for herself, she places it against the cloth, wincing from the minor sting.

“See? Not so bad, huh? Now,” He rises from the floor, taking a look around the room while commenting. “Stay here while I look for something.” His head tilts down, eyes locking onto hers. The wisp of her baby hairs stick to her forehead from a great amount of sweat. A smile curves his lips.

He bends down to prop himself up on one knee, patting the crown of her hair. “Think you can do that for me?” A low growl rumbles deep from her chest, but her head nods nonetheless. “Good girl.” He stands once more taking in a deep breath while stifling through the piles of paperwork scattered throughout the lab. His fingers brush past a few strange dips in the flooring, as a smirk curves his lips.

“Ah, there you are.” He proudly smiles, tucking the small jewel into his zipper pocket. As he turns to round the medical table, her small woman’s body stands tall and straight as the scalpel’s tip threatens to slit his throat. Her eyes burn with passion, greater than he’s ever seen. Voice raspy, but clear enough to make out what she’s trying to get across.

“O-Outside.”

His eyebrow quirks in confusion, tilting his head to the side. “You want me outside?” Her head shakes, taking in a deep breath to build up her confidence once more.

“Outside.” Her voice is clearer than ever. Her tone had touches of confidence, but fear had drenched whatever fire had ignited for even just a few seconds. His hands lower to his side, pressing his bulletproof vest deeper against the tip of the scalpel.

“Are you really trying to threaten me, sweetheart?” He watches the lump in her throat being swallowed agonizingly slow. She shakes her head, throwing the scalpel to the side to grip the collar of his white collar button up. His eyes widen, watching the once neutral colored irises melt into a dark, crimson.

“Take. Out. Side.”

___

The sirens blare loudly into your sensitive ears. The closer he led you to what you could only hope was the end, your body felt weaker. His hand is tight on yours, as you both are running through the halls. Avoiding dips, craters and fallen objects that had ridden more than half the staff.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” He reaches behind, pressing his palm into your back for more support. He could tell you’d become weak, given how much adrenaline you’d been taking on, the loud noises, and the energy you’d used up trying to fight him off. Taken, that it’s 1am as well. He’s surprised you haven’t passed out from exhaustion yet.

His hand extends outwards, pushing on the heavy metal door. Reaching back to pull you with his body. Suddenly, a scream echoes through the halls, louder than any of the blaring sirens that had been going off for the past thirty minutes. Your body collapses to the floor, a high-pitched screech rips from your chest, falling back into the painless comfort of the building.

“What are you doing!? We’ve gotta go-” He bends down, pulling you further into the building until your back hits the front desk. His eyes scan all over your body, seeing that there had been no harm done. Until, his fingers ran over a little lump just above the nape of your neck.

“Fuck..” He curses under breath, reaching into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out his cellphone quickly. “Of course they’d fucking chip you.”

Your eyes burn with tears, hands flying to grip at anything you could get comfort from. That, just so happened to be his barely visible white button up sneaking underneath his padded black vest. Much like the guards had worn. Voice brittle and frail as you repeat the unfamiliar sound.

“Ch-chip?”

His glares soften when met with your terrified stature. “It’s okay.. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

After a dial tone later, he starts talking to someone other than you.

“Damn it!” His voice is uncontrolled with anger, as he slides his phone back into its confinement. Eyes searching yours for some sort of answer, yet he can only think of one solution.

“Do you trust me?”

…

“Hurry up, Kook!” Namjoon calls out, standing outside of the laboratory’s control center.

“It’s not easy re-coding a whole program, Hyung!” Jungkook gripes back, rolling his eyes at his older’s high expectations of their mission.

“Well hurry up. You said that the device would only give us a couple of minutes!” Namjoon groans, trying to calm the erratic beats in his chest, as he reaches into the strap coiled around his thigh, pulling out his phone.

“Hello?” Jimin's voice sounded furious on the other line. “Yeah Kook’s working on it right- wait- slow down. We- lemme ask him.” Namjoon lowers the phone, yelling out. “Kook, can you disable the chips?”

Jungkook’s head peaks out in utter confusion. “Yeah sure hyung. Which ones, Doritos or Lays?” Namjoon’s eyes roll at his sarcasm.

“Not funny, Jimin’s found a hybrid. They’re near Sector B’s exit, but she’d chipped.”

“Why can’t she just, ya know? Leave.” Jungkook's voice is flat and sprinkled with a hint of annoyance. Namjoon groans, holding the phone out for him to have a little chat with the mission leader.

“Hello? Oh, Jimin. Uh- oh shit.. Uhm yeah I’ll see if I can shut it down.” Jungkook’s fingers make quick work on the computer’s keys, tying in every code his older brother had ever mentioned. An error message pops up, making Jungkook groan. He holds the phone to his ear once more, explaining the situation.

“It’s inviolable..”

“English for God’s sake, Jungkook.” Jimin gripes, waiting for the translation.

“It means I can’t break it. The chip’s coding isn’t even here.”

“Then where the hell is it?”

Jungkook squints, trying to decode the coordinates to an exact place. “Somewhere in California..?”

“We’re in SOUTH KOREA.” Jimin yells, making even Namjoon’s slouched posture straighten.

“You’ll have to remove it physically, hyung.”

___

“T-trust..?” You haven’t heard that word since you’d been brought to this place. The nurse who worked the front desk had promised your safety here, asking the same thing he is.

Jimin takes your hand in his, trying to get all of your focus to set on him instead of what’s going down around the two of you. “Trust. It means that you put your faith in me to help you out of here.”

“Why.. trust?” He could tell by the way you’re pulling further away, that you’d been teetering on the edge of just getting up and running away. He knew that’d do you or him no good, so he settled for explaining some more. Not that he had the time for this, anyways.

“Your neck,” He points to the back of your head, finger brushing along the little bump of your spine along your nape. “It has a chip in it that they put, so that they know where you are. You can’t leave without getting rid of it.” Your eyes flick back and forth, trying to process it all.

“How.. get.. rid?” Somehow, you already knew the answer.

“I.. take it out.” His voice is stern and controlled, unlike it had seemed earlier. He’s trying anything he can to make sure you don’t freak out right now. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. He watches the way your eyes guide themselves towards his concealed pocket knife, the lump in your throat thickening.

“No..” Your head shakes. “N-No.. other way.” Looking around, you search for anything else to not have to do this. His hands reach out to steady your shoulders, forcing your eyes to lock with his.

“We don’t have a lot of time here.” Your eyes stung with tears. His heart breaks at the sight, only furthering his determination of getting you both out of here. “It’ll be quick, okay?” Your head shakes sporadically, hairs flying left and right by the motions.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His voice softens, lightly keeping your head still by taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “What’s your name?” His simple question only makes the tears stream faster. The pain in your heart hurt more than anything physical you’d felt.

“I-I don’t know..” Even with everything going on, the sirens, alarms, howls and goans, gunshots and screams, he still had kept his composure. Acting as if this had just been a daily thing to do. Rip out a ‘chip’ from someone’s neck with a knife.

“Okay, okay. What’s something you love?”

Love?

Your memories flush through, skimming over anything that had caused you pain, whether mentally or physically. Then, it stops.

Nothing comes to mind.

You shake your head, silently crying as you realize that you have no good memories. All of your permanent ones are in this monster house.

His brows knit in concern, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing?”

“Okay, then. Your name is..” He looks around the destroyed entrance, watching as a few wires hang low, sparking ever so often. “Uh… Shit. Lilac, okay?” Your head leans to the side in confusion. He stumbles over his words, questioning how he’s gonna explain this one. “It’s a flower. Got it?”

“My.. name?”

“Yes, it’s Lilac. Just until we find out what your real name is, okay?” You hesitantly nod, settling your hands clasp into your lap. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep composed for both of your sakes. His hand brushes over the handle of his concealed pocket knife, mapping out his strategy in his head before putting it to action. “You ready?”

Your head nods, twisting around to allow him access to your nape. Your hair flipped over so nothing would be obstructing his view. Before he presses the tip of his knife to your neck, your hand reaches down to clasp over his free hand, muttering three little words that make his heart sink.

“I trust you.”

“Alright, got it!” Jungkook exclaims in victory, grabbing the little flashdrive he’d bought a few months back specifically for this mission. He quickly paces out of the control center’s door frame, being met with Namjoon’s back against the wall while a little white stick had been caught between his two lips.

“Really? Smoking on the job, dude?” Jungkook scoffs at his hyung’s behavior, stuffing the little flash drive down into his jean pocket. Namjoon’s posture straightens, releasing the little white bud of tightly wrapped nicotine to the floor, his shoe stomping out what little embers burned.

“Don’t dude your owner, dude.” He retorts, as Jungkook’s eyes roll at the rebuttal.

“Legally, you’re only my owner.” Namjoon’s lips tug into a smirk, throwing an arm around Jungkook’s tightened shoulders.

“Such a cute little puppy, isn’t that right~” He teases, ruffling Jungkook’s box-dyed locks that had concealed his ears better.

“Call me a puppy again and I’ll rip your balls from your dick.” Jungkook’s empty threat leaves a chuckle to roll from Namjoon’s lips, leading the two out towards the exit. Just before they were out, Jungkook’s ears perked up to the sound of a familiar screech. They both exchange a quick, worried look before making their way towards the noise.

___

“F-F-MA!” You couldn’t even find the words. Hands digging into the fabrics of your soaked dress, trying to stay still as much as possible as Jimin’s knife cuts deeper past the tissue. One hand stays flat against the freshly opened wound, while the other makes quick work of unbuckling his belt and holding it to your mouth.

“Bite.” He commands.

You’re quick to obey, trying to reach backwards for any support you could get. Your hands land into his lap, your knuckles tinting white from the pressure. His lips fall apart when one of your hands squeezes his cock on accident, making him bite back a moan. He’s quick to remove your hands, and instead place them on his bulletproof vest.

Your whines and moans didn’t help after that, that’s for sure.

“Almost got it,” He adds, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Whatever you do, don’t move.” His free hand reaches into the medical pouch of his mission bag, pulling out two alcohol wipes. Sterilizing his index and thumb, they’re inserted into the medium sized incision he’d made. The high-pitched scream you let out leaves his ears feeling like they’re on the verge of bleeding.

A few footsteps are introduced, as Namjoon’s gruff voice echoed through the corridor. “What the fuck was that!?”

“What does it fucking look like I’m doing!?” Jimin snaps back, trying to focus on detaching the chip. Jungkook’s body comes to sit in front of yours, criss-crossing the same way you’d sat. His hand takes yours, rubbing soothing circles around to ease the pain.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.. Just breathe.” His heart fucking shatters when you look up through glassy and red eyes. The pain he felt just by looking at this disaster had his stomach on the verge of letting go of today’s lunch. Your eyelids flutter to stay awake, as the black leather belt that had been stuffed into your mouth is practically bitten through all the way. Incisor teeth marks press into the lux item. He could feel the way your body was on the edge of just giving up.

“Hyung- Hyung hurry up!” Jungkook’s voice is riddled with panic now, watching as the blood soaked tears stain your cheek like a nasty case of rosacea.

Jimin’s fingertips latch onto the little device, slowly pulling out so as to not cause any permanent damage. “I’ve got it - Namjoon, grab the alcohol” He’s quick to hand the leader the requested item, watching wearily.

Jungkook’s hand reaches up to scratch your dirtied, once cream white fluffy ears, making a high-pitched whine roll through your chest. He smiles, continuing to praise you highly. “Good job, uhh.. Girl?”

Once Jimin’s got the gauze pad secured to the wound, he quickly helps you stand, putting all of your weight against his body, as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You did it,” He whispers, as the other two males hold the door open to let you through.

___

“Should we wake her?” One of the voices is tuned with a filter sounding as if they’d been talking under the water.

“No, guys. She needs rest. I’m literally in shock at how she wasn’t dead yet.” You could move a bit. Wiggling your big toe first, up your leg, until finally you could peel back your eyelids. The room had blurred out, taking a few seconds to clear. Suddenly, you’re surrounded by a whole group of men. Some, you’d recognized already. A man with purple hair comes to stand by your side, reaching down shine a bright light into your eyes.

“Y/n?” His voice calls out, holding up a set of fingers. “How many fingers do you see?”

“She’s illiterate, hyung.” One of the voices retorted, folding his arms across his chest. The man had electric blue hair that looked as if he’d been a rockstar himself.

“No, she just can’t speak English well, idiot.” Another responds. This one looked familiar. Jet-black curly hair, and a bunch of weird drawings on his right arm. He flashes a quick smile your way, passing through all of the other men to stand by your bed. “How are you feeling, Y/n?”

Who’s Y/n?

Your eyebrow raises in confusion, stopping your searches when your eyes land upon his figure. Much more cleaned up and presentable, the man adorned a pair of simple dark-washed jeans, along with a black T-shirt that hugged his prominent muscles. His brown, puppy-like hair lays damp against his forehead, brushing it out of his face. You quickly sat up, making the rest of the bunch yell in protest for your sudden action.

“Woah woah woah! Girly you were just at Death’s Doorstep, I don’t want you making another move!” The man wearing a corded heartbeat thing around his neck commands, but you didn’t care. You’re quick to fumble over the white comforter’s crumbled up fabric, falling towards the blonde hair man. His arms reach out to catch you, as he lets a chuckle roll from his lips.

“Easy, girl.” Your arms snake around his neck, pressing your whole body flushed against his. Tears rolling down your cheeks, as you finally have what you’d been wanting all your life.

Freedom.

“Yeah- we’ll just.. Give you two a minute.” The weird heartbeat tube guy guides the rest of the group out of the room, as he tries to peel you away. Your grip stays anaconda-tight, not letting up.

“Okay- Y/n you can let go now.” Your nose buried deep into the side of his neck, inhaling his vanilla and jasmine scent that you’d somehow missed, even though you didn’t even know this man’s name.

“Y/n, it’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His palm rubs soothing circles into the plains of your back, earning a low mewl from your lips.

You both stayed there for around five minutes. After time passed, your grip started to lighten up, until you’d finally released. His plump lips roll off a cute chuckle, the pad of his thumb stroking a line across your cheek.

“You good now?” He coos, taking one of your fluffy ears in hand to scratch gently. The gentle touch of his warm fingers made your stomach do summersaults. Your head nods, making a smile tug to the corner of his lips.

“Alright, teddy bear. Jin said that you can go ahead and take a bath.” Your head tilts, raising an eyebrow.

“B..Bath?” Now it’s his turn to be the confused one.

“You’ve never had a bath before? How’d they wash you guys in that place?” Your lips fall flat, not know how to answer that question. They did like everyone else, sprayed them down for a few seconds with some water, gave them a soap bar, and just sprayed them again.

His head shakes, pulling you off the bed to help you go ahead and get your land legs back. Your right arm catches onto his forearm, gripping tightly for support. His opposite hand comes down to ground your lower back, making sure that you can’t fall forwards or back.

“Easy, one foot at a time.” You follow his steps, as the two of you count together. Soon, you’re met with a different atmosphere. One much nicer than the bathroom you had back at your home. Or.. ‘center’ as the man liked to call it.

“My.. name.” Your head cranes to the side, as he lowers your body for you to sit on the toilet’s lid. He reaches down to plugging the tub’s drain, turning on the water.

“Your name?” He questions, pacing around the bathroom quickly to grab shampoo, towels, and some plastic wrap Jin had left for the two. He lowers down to the tub’s edge, propping up against the side while waiting for the bath to fill.

You nod. “No.. No. Your name.” Your voice was small and hoarse, hand trailing along the nearly healed scar across the bottom of your throat. Jimin’s eyes soften at the sight, remembering the past few days.

“I’m sorry for that.. and- my name's Jimin.” His hands extend outwards to offer help in standing. Your body resists movement. His lips roll out a deep sigh, tearing off a piece of the clear, thin plastic to keep the water from seeping to the stitches.

“You can’t take a bath with your dress, silly.” His voice raises an octave to try and push away the somber memories from a few days ago. Your head starts pounding, as the sounds, images and smells start to all come crawling back.

“Fuck..” You mumble, making the man let out a deep chuckle.

“That’s a new word, huh?” You nod, moving the lengths of your locks out of his way for him to dress the wounds once more. He backs away, standing tall next to the cracked door. “I’ll be out here if you-”

“No!” You cry out, body immediately trembling at the thought of him leaving you. Not again, not ever.

“But- don’t you want privacy to undress?”

“What.. privashe?”

He bends at the knees, laying down a towel to catch the water when you’re finished. His eyes glance up, catching your own through thick eyelashes. “Privacy is.. Nobody’s with you when you’re.. You know.” Your head shakes to the side, denying the word.

“We.. blue all.” His eyebrows knit together, trying to turn the gears to translate your broken english.

“Blue..?”

You point up to the ceiling, adding “Room.”

“Ah, so you showered in a blue room? All together?” You nod, smiling in victory. His smile however, showed no sign of genuinity.

___

His chin rests atop the tub’s edge, padding the hard surface with a rolled up washcloth. He admires the way your child-like innocence shines through when the bubble of the water starts to form. Hand guiding your hair back to not ruin your fun, a smile pressing his lips/

“So you’re telling me that they didn’t even let you play with cards?” You nod, slipping your under body underneath the bubbly waters so as to not reveal too much.

“We.. like.. Word.” His head tilts to the side, watching as your hands cup into a little bowl, blowing the pop-able bubbles into his face. He flinches away, laughing alongside you.

“You mean read?” His questions make your head do its little ‘definition, please’ tilt. It’s what he liked to call it, anyways.

“Read..Uhm- Yes. I we read.” Your lips crease to a smile, leaning forwards to wipe some of the bubbles onto the tip of his nose.

“No, it’s ‘I like to read.’ Try it.”

“Try it.” You repeat.

“No-” He facepalms, making your breath buble out in a cute giggle. “You say, ‘I like to read.’.”

“I.. like to read?” The sentence felt foreigner on your tongue. Usually you wouldn’t have to know these many words in the center. You’d be able to just communicate through thoughts and howls, but he hadn’t understood any of those. Yet.

“Mhm, good job.” He lifts the cup to scoop up some clean water from the running pipes, dumping it onto your head, as you let out a slight yelp.

“Fuck!” He bends over laughing at your shriek. Lips parted in humor, watching as your face falls confused.

“What?”

“You- that’s not a good word, Y/n.” He comments, laughter beginning to die down for a few moments.

“Why?”

He sighs, resuming to wash your hair. Leaning over, his face is met with yours from the side. “It’s a bad word. We don’t say it all the time, okay?” Your lips curve into a smirk.

“Fuck.” You test.

“Y/n, What’d I just say?”

Your shoulders shrug, silently patting yourself on the back for creating this little game. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

His lips tighten, expression falling flat as the tone in his voice begins to shift. “Stop saying that, Y/n. I mean it.”

With one breath, you lean forwards, lips barely brushing against his as you let the sound flow one last time.

“Fuck.”

…

The living room had grown quiet. Everyone sat sprawled all across the central area, waiting for any sign that it had been okay to rejoin with the newest addition to their bunch.

"I say we order twice the dosage of heat-supressants from Jungkook’s guy.” Jin comments, lips wrapping around the ring of his second soju bottle of the night.

“Well what if she wants to have heats? That’s like forcing a girl to go on birth-control. It should be her choice.” Namjoon adds, turning to the next page in his anthology novel. A warm mug of tea sat perfectly next to him on the side table. Jungkook’s head hangs off the couch, as his body is twisted upside down. His eyes trained on the Television that’d been playing for the past hour.

“Yeah, but we don’t need any hybrid babies around here. Especially since Jungkook’s breed is close to her’s.” Jin’s addition makes a few heads turn, especially that of the maknae himself.

“We’re all at the same risk as I am hyung. She’s half human, too.” Jungkook bites back, a bitter taste in his mouth resides at Jin’s comment towards you.

“I think the little tyke’s onto something,” Out of the small gathered bunch, Yoongi’s voice is next to follow in pursuit of this conversation. His own poison of choice being a chilled glass of whiskey on the rocks. Courtesy of Jimin’s little addiction, he must admit. “We all have the same urge to fuck her.”

Their heads all turn towards the elder, as he raises an eyebrow at the sudden attention.

“Way to be subtle with it, Yoongs.” Hoseok interrupts, sliding the edge of his pocket knife into the safety of its latch. “But he’s right. The maknae only got a little leverage because he’s more similar to her than we are. Biology wins in this case.” Hoseok reaches back behind himself to snatch the little glass from Yooongi’s grip, taking a swig in one go.

“don't high-jack my shit, you damn thief." Yoongi gripes, snatching back his rightfully made liquor from the younger male.

"Don't shit on my high-jack, you fucking sloth." Hoseok bites back, sticking his tongue out at the man he's called 'friend' for the past four years.

"Stick that tongue back at me and I'll rip it out so fast you won't even have time to cry out for your dead mommy." Hoseok's glare hardens back at his hyung's comment, making the whole atmosphere shift.

"Too far, asshole."

"ALRIGHT, you two. Knock it off. We've got bigger fish to fry here." Namjoon cuts in the middle before someone loses a dick. "Tae, what do you think we should do?" The man's head cranes to the side, forcing himself to pull away from the game he's almost won.

"Uhh. What was the question again?" They all groan in unison, watching as Hoseok throws a pillow towards the second to youngest. Taehyung's quick to dodge it, letting out a soft chuckle. "Your aim really bites, hyung. Surprised you've off-ed so many people with that kinda coordination.

"Yeah fuck you too, Tae." Hoseok groans. Taehyung sends a wink towards the elder.

"When and where, baby boy?~"

"Jesus I can't handle all this gay shit." Yoongi stands up, going to himself another drink. Taehyung chuckles, sending yoongi off with a few more words.

"Hyung, you're like the definition of gay. Don't even try it." Hoseok nods, agreeing with the younger male.

"Yea?" Yoongi settles back down, this time plopping next to Namjoon for some familiarity. "Bisexual, people. Ain't limited to one or the other, so taehyung, fuck off."

The commotion paused with a loud bang from upstairs. The group takes a look up, discussing who'll they'll be sending to go check it out.

"One two three NOT IT-"

They look around, laughing at the slowest member. "Damn it! I was waiting for Deadpool to show up guys!" Jungkook groans, pausing his movie to stand and make his way up the stairs.

••

"You are just a little daredevil, aren't you?" Jimin chuckles, watching you struggle trying to blow the tape off from your lips.

"N-uh uh. You keep that mouth of yours shut until you can learn to talk properly, understand?"

Even though you hadn't really, your eyes lulled back in annoyance. Hands reaching up to rip off the tape, but his quick reflexes prove to be faster. "Now that's not how you learn, is it?" A dark aura melts away his once soft and glowy exterior, trailing along something much more intense. His palm wraps around your wrist, a smirk presses his lips. "Don't make me have to tie up these hands too." Something burning inside made you quickly kneel down to submit, not even having time to make a peep. He takes it as a sign of your health depleting.

"Y/n? Get up off the floor, sweetie." His arms come to lift your from the floor, straightening the oversized T-shirts he'd let you borrow, promising to take you shopping in the morning for some of your own things.

Your ears perk up to height, craning your neck to the side quickly. Jungkook's movements hault, noticing what little you'd been dressed in. "Uh- we heard a loud sound and wanted to make sure that you were okay." His eyes trail along your figure, dipping from every hidden curve and wave he could somehow see. The shirt hadn't been translucent at all, in fact.

"Yeah we're fine. Someone taught her a not so nice word so I'm teaching her." Jimin comments, using a black, square shaped brush to comb through your hair, careful to avoid your protruding ears that had been on high alert towards the maknae. Jungkook's eyes narrow with a 'don't look at me like that' kind of expression, making you hesitantly back off after a few seconds.

"Anyways, namjoon hyung wanted to speak with you downstairs in a few minutes." He adds, before making his way back down the steps. Jimin lets out a sigh, taking a few strands of hair, running his fingers along the lengths. "There. Does that feel better?" You nod, turning back around to flash a smile. He mirrors yours, tilting his head down in question. "Are you going to behave now?" Your eyes trail off, pretending to think for a second.

"Y/n.." he threatens, as you giggle through the tape, nodding.

"I don't want you saying that word again, do you understand?" He peels back the tape for an answer.

"Yes."

"What'd you need to speak with me for, hyung?" Jimin questions, as you curl up next to his side, nuzzling into the comfort of a hoodie he'd thrown on before you two made your way down the stairs.

Namjoon's eyes take your strange behavior, lifting an eyebrow. "We need to discuss, well- that." He points towards you, making your face scrunch with annoyance. Jimin glances down, scratching behind your ears to calm you down.

"You mean 'her'. She has a name, hyung."

"Yes yes I know, jimin. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about her behavior."

"Her.. behavior?"

Namjoon let's out a sigh, motioning for jungkook to come over and sit in the floor next to namjoon. "From one hybrid owner to another, you need to start thinking about if you're going to get her on suppressants or not. The sooner, the better." You watch as jungkook's eyes roll at Namjoon's comment, sticking his tongue out at the older man.

"Only legally, dumbass." Jungkook bites back, sticking his tongue out at his owner. Namjoon stares down the younger man, immediately shutting him up.

"Su..press..ants?" You take the words, trying to combine the together. However, they felt weird on your tongue, especially coming from your lips.

"Yes, suppressants, Y/n. When was your first heat?" His question leaves you stumped. What's a heat?

"Today. Bath." You smile, looking to your man to see if you got the answer right. He smiles, thumbing your cheek gently. Namjoon let's out a breath.

"No, Y/n. A heat is where-"

"I think that's enough for tonight."

"Jimin, you know how important this is to discuss-"

"Yeah, I do. Jungkook," his head turns in response, perking up. "Go play with Y/n for a few minutes." Your face scrunched in dislike at the idea. Hands reaching over to lock into place with Jimin’s to keep from leaving with Jungkook.

"No," you protest the thought. "Stay. Jimin." Your lips quiver, begging both of the men for you to stay.

"Jungkook, explain what a heat is for Y/n." Namjoon commands, as the maknae's throat tightens.

"Uh- I don't uhm- I… No." Jungkook stands walking away from this conversation quickly to avoid that conversation.

Namjoon sighs, lowering his head in annoyance. "Jimin, either get her on suppressants or find another place for her."

The night creeper in quicker than day had gone. Bright suns tied into invisible knots in the dark sky, as you sat on the bay window's cushion, admiring the glow of night. A creaking door perks your ears. You turn around, flashing a bright smile when you notice who it is.

"Whatchya doing?" He questions, settling down next to you on the cushions. Your hands drag along the cold winter's window pane, a slight chill running up your spine from the temperature drop. Head tilting to the side, your eyes trail over the moonlights bright illuminates shining upon his features. The chocolate brown irises glow with amusement to match your own.

"You know, they say if you wish upon a shooting star, then your wish will come true." Your head peaks at the idea. Immediately knowing what you'd wish for.

"Shoot..ting star?" He nods, pointing out towards the night's chilly blanket of curiosity.

"It flies across the sky like a really fast rocket.and when you see it, you make a quiet wish and poof! Your dream comes true." A 1,000-watt smile brightens up your face, as you deeply squint towards the sky, trying to look for anything that moves. Jimin lets out a chuckle, reaching up to drag his palm along the curve of your head. Fingers combing through your halfway dried strands, a smile similiar to yours peaks up. Only this one hadn't been towards the flying stars.

"I SEE!" You exclaim, pressing the tip of your finger against the glass. He's quick to sit up, nodding and points as well.

"Quick, make a wish!~" your hands clasp together in a prayer-like form, eyes closing as your lips mumble a few simple words.

"I wish to stay."

Morning peaks through like a little kid waking up bright and early on Christmas morning. Your eyes peel open, watching as the little dust particles float for a bit in the sun's bright rays. Everything had felt perfect.

You quickly rush down the stairs, eager to greet everyone a warm hello, only to find an empty house. Feeling as if some hadn't woken up yet, your feet trail along the halls like Anna from Frozen, just to be met with silence.

Knocking upon each door with no answer. The final door you knock upon is the one who you'd been wanting to see the most. Twisting the knob, you decided to take a peak in.

"Jimin?" You call out, watching as the sun's similar rays shine into his room as well. The gray comforter laid neatly on top of the bedsheets gave a sense of emptiness. His room hadn't been that outdone. With a large king bed placed on the side, and a huge desk sat in the middle facing from the window, it looked almost as if he was the most well-off man alive. The chrome outlines of his bed frame screamed 'look at me, I have money', which made your heart sink.

Had he been out with someone else?

The thought made your stomach churn with angst. Closing the door back, you decide to go make something for the boys to enjoy when they return. Switching on the old gramophone Jimin kept in his living room, you dance around the kitchen while whipping up a good stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

After about an hour's worth of cooking and baking, you'd felt worn out. Clearing the kitchen of any mess you'd disrupted Jin's wonderful organization with, you take a stroll through the rest of the place.

"Get her to take one dose every morning and every night. Keep track of when her heat will be too. On those days, you double the dosage, because her body will be fighting extra hard against them." The doctor extends out a white paper bag with further instructions and your prescription embedded inside. Namjoon pats Jimin on the back, as they make their way out of the hospital. When they're in the comfort of their vehicle, namjoon continues.

"It's for everybody's good, Jimin. Plus, the doctor said it will regulate her emotions better." Jimin's eyes drain off into the distance, blocking out the drowning sounds of Namjoon's Pros list for getting to take the supplements.

It was for your own good, he reminded himself.

Your feet dangle off the side of the bed, while one of his books held tightly in your grip. Your voice sounding out the words for better comprehension. Suddenly, your ears perk to the sound of a car pulling into the drive. You twist off the bed, rushing down the stairs as quickly as possible, falling into the first person's body you see.

"Uhm- I'm not Jimin, Y/n." Jungkook whines, feeling the grasp of your hug squeeze him like a boa constricter's lunch. You release, head peaking behind his body in search for the man you'd been desperately needing to see.

Jungkook sets the groceries onto the counter, letting out a sigh as he watches you pace back and forth between the two front door windows. "How long has he been gone?" He questions, popping the tab on a Coke to take a sip.

Your feet rush back and forth, head and eyes swiveling every which way on hopes that he'd be here faster. "Too long." You're quick to reply, not really caring in the conversation with the other hybrid.

"Y/n, I think you should back off a bit." His comment makes your body twist with anger. Turning on a heel, your face immediately falls straight.

"You, back off." Biting back, you're head turns to face the two large front doors, pacing once more. Jungkook let's out a sigh, shaking his head, making his way up the stairs.

After a few seconds drip by, there'd still been no sight of your man. Well, not your man- fuck that yes he is your man and if any other bitch tries to come at him you'll rip their-

"Y/n?" Jungkook's voice makes your thoughts hide for a second. You groan, already pissed off enough from the stupid wolf-hybrid.

"What?" Turning around, you're immidiently caught with the sight of Jimin's shirt in his hand. Jungkook holds out the peice of cloth, making your nose twitch in excitement.

"How does this make you feel?" He questions, shoving the shirt closer to your nose. Fuck, is he trying to kill you? Are you going to kill him? Probably.

"F-fine." You hesitantly answer, knowing damn well that ain't just making you feel 'fine'. Jungkook's eyebrow raises in suspicion, swaying Jimin's shirt in front of you like a little fucking serpent.

"Mhm, yeah sure." His nose scrunches in disgust, tossing the shirt into your lap. "God, Y/n. You don't think I can't smell how wet you are right now?" Your throat clumps, desperately trying to swallow the dry spell caught. Jungkook scoffs, plopping down onto the couch adjacent to you. "Jimin went with Namjoon to get your supplements. I'd suggest you go take a shower before he gets back."

You'd been too busy smelling the whole damn shirt to notice Jungkook's last few comments. The scent of Jimin's masculine bur delicate vanilla jasmine had your stomach aching for more. Body no longer in control, as you begin to succumb to this unknown power that had overcome you.

Just as you were about to finally go take Jungkook's advice and leave the shirt, a small slam of a door perks your ears. This time, you're more desperate than ever for Jimin to finally come home.

"Yeah man, that whole show was crazy. Did you see how Lee suk-yun made that field pass?" Hoseok's voice made the fire in your stomach recoil with disgust. He and Jin both make their way through the door, as you stand in the corner, waiting patiently by the window. Hoseok's eyebrow quirks in confusion at your strange behavior, glancing over to the maknae who'd been trying to avoid the pup all along.

"She's in heat."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP I NOT" you scream out, slamming your hand against the window pane. Watching as the whole frame shatters into a thousand pieces. They all turn in shock. Watching as your body heaves with anger.

"What the hell, Y/n??" Hoseok gripes, echoing a low growl from your chest. Jungkook quickly rises, interfering between the space of you and the rest.

"Easy, Y/n. Jimin will be home in just a few minutes." Jungkook's voice is calming, yet all you had felt was rage. Then, a wave of emptiness washes over you. Your body fall to the floor, glass cutting deep wounds on your shins, but you didn't care. It didn't feel nearly as bad as the pain you felt from Jimin absen-

"Woah, who did this?" His voice makes your spring up, running to the side of the door, jumping into his arms. He's quick to catch your weight, arms holding you up by just your thighs. The prescription bag dropped to the floor, as they all watched in curiosity at your nose nuzzling into his neck, scenting the fuck out of him.

"Nice to see you too, Y/n." He chuckles, leaning over to set you down. You don't budge an inch. His eyebrow quirks, taking a glance over to jungkook who'd been standing right infront of Hoseok and Jin. "What's going on with her?"

"She in heat, Jimin." His eyes blow wide at the realization.

"N-Now?" Jungkook nods.

"She punched the stain glass window because you were taking too long." Jimin cranes his head to the side, trying to get a word from you about all of this.

"Y/n, is that true?" You nod, moaning against his neck, trailing bites and suckles along his skin. This side of his neck practically turning purple in just a matter of seconds.

His throat clears, trying to pry himself from your grip. Jungkook lets out a chuckle.

"Good fucking luck trying to get her off, Jimin. Took me 6 hours to finally get Yenji off my back." He comments, walking away from the whole situation. In all honesty, the stench of your love for Jimin made his nose burn.

Namjoon picks up the bag from the floor, popping open the pill cup, handing Jimin a tiny capsule. His hand reaches to the side to try and coerce you to take the pill, but your hand is quick to swat it away, watching in victory as if flies across the room to land somewhere far away hopefully.

"Y/n, that wasn't very nice." Jimin scolds, making a smirk press your lips even more. Heavy breaths roll from your mouth onto his collarbone, licking a path from end to end.

"Mmm, more" He swallowed thickly, silently giving the guys a look saying 'help me'. They're hesitant to assist. Coming up with lame excuses instead.

"Uh yeah man I gotta go wash my goldfish." Hoseok walks away, trailing upstairs.

"I have to start on dinner. Anybody want pork belly?" Jin adds, quickly making his way towards the kitchen.

"Fuck no." Yoongi comments before making his way back upstairs. None of them even know when he'd come down in the first place.

Jimin's eyes meet Namjoon's, who'd been watching the whole scene unfold with hesitancy. "Yeah, uhm- I'm rather fond of my head jimin, so have fun with that." Namjoon trails behind Jin into the kitchen, assisting in the first load of dishes.

Jimin makes his way up the stairs with you latched on like a little turtle hanging onto it's parents' shell. Once you're both in his room, he shuts the door. You're quick to hop down from hold, pushing his body up against the door, reaching over to turn the lock. His hands come up to press against your shoulders, pushing you back to give him some breathing room.

"Woah woah- Y/n you've gotta chill out." Your head tilts to the side, lifting on your toes to whimper out the most desperate of things you could possibly get out. However they only exit your lips with your mother language, one in which he knows nothing of. From the other side of the house, you could hear Jungkook's voice speak back, telling you to shut the fuck up with that.

Eyes rolling, your hands find their way down to his belt, making quick work to rid him of the damn thing. "Y/n, wait-" he lips part open, moaning out from the way your fingertips trail over the clad of his boxer briefs. Mouth pressing open kisses to the side of his neck, tongue flushed flat onto the heated skin as your swirl the tip around.

"Je- Fuck.. Y/n.." His head falls back, before you're lifted from the ground, cornered against the bed's end. His body forces yours down, happily to oblige. Hands coming to pin your wrist to the side of your head, his breath falling down in gentle brushes, as if he'd been Bob Ross himself.

"My rules." He growls, making your whole stomach flip a million times. The heat between your legs, burning with need. His body leaves yours for a second, as you let out a whine.

"Just grabbing something." He makes clear before coming back into sight with a few ties of rope.

Holy fuck.

A smirk presses his lips, as his body stalks over yours, falling flat to tower.

"Are you going to be good for me?" He questions, securing the knots around each of your limbs to the bedpost. Your head fervently nods, mind too clouded with nothing else but the neediness you felt for him.

"Good girls follow daddy's instructions." Holy shit.

"Are you a good girl?" His tone leaves every inch of your skin on fire, as if you'd been thrown into a burning building.

"Yes! Yes!" Is all you could cry out. The anticipation is too much for your aching self to handle.

His lips lower to meet your ear, hot breath rolls down the lobe as he whispers.

"Good."

In just a split second, his lips crash to meet yours. Tongue was already fighting for dominance, but he'd won that battle so easily, it hadn't even been a fight at all. Your every desire was filled by him. Every thought, touch, smell, sight, was to belong to him-

You felt the push of his tongue forcing you to swallow a small gulp of whatever he'd hidden between his lips. Once the foreign object was pulled down your throat, all of the pleasure ceases. His touch burning against your skin retracts, the knee he'd been rubbing against your aching core had been no more. Your head whipped left and right to find an answer to why he stopped all of this. Was your tail in the way? Did you bite his lip too hard? Are you not fuckable??

Then, it sets in. Your eyes trail to the opened pill bottle that had been popped open, propped on his side table. Suddenly, you felt the passion, the fire, dwindle down. Your vision became clearer, as his irresistible body and scent became just..

Average.

His hand came up to thumb your cheek, hadn't even noticed that you'd been crying. Your hair messed and knotted with all the movements. Cheeks flushed, and lips swollen from your kiss. His eyes softly gaze into yours, a solemn smile pressing his lips.

"I'm sorry.." He coos, stroking your hairline lovingly.

"This was the only way."

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I don't know if this will continue or not, depends on how popular it gets. Hope you enjoyed it! Took me all day to write this. My cat made my laptop fall off my dresser when I went to go and get something, it cracked and ruined the touch screen option. My touchpad doesn't work too well either, so that's just greaaaat.

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177 notes · View notes

ihatesocialmedia45 · 22 days

Text

Chapter 11: Ultraviolence

gm!! Homelander and Reader FINALLY say I love you!! Ignore the gif, this is a love story!

The woman clung to Homelander as he breezed above the crowd at Voughtland, grinning alongside him as the cameras flashed and the masses screamed his name. She didn't need them, but watching the world give him the praise he deserved filled her heart to bursting. Yes, she thought, pressing a kiss to Homelander's cheek. This is exactly how it should be. The two of them, soaring above them all, collecting their worship and kissing the traces of it from his mouth. The people below could spend the rest of their lies trying to match her devotion to him, to see what she'd seen in his eyes, but they'd never do it. Still... it warmed her from within to watch them try.

As he lowered them smoothly to the ground, she kissed him one more time, an indulgent grin lighting up her face as Homelander dipped her dramatically for the crowd, giggling when his lips graced her throat. He could feel the spike in her pulse, Homelander marveled, nibbling at it lightly. She was excited - not even for her own brush of fame, but for him, finally receiving his dues. She was happy, for him.

They rose to a standing position, looking around the amusement park, a mile-long bundle of tickets in her hand. Homelander had scoffed ('I can get us into any part of Voughtland,' he'd said, exasperated), but the woman had insisted, fixing him with a puppy dog gaze that had broken down his defenses ('yes, but it's about you having the most tickets!' she'd cajoled) And so he'd bought $500 worth of them, fighting the boyish grin on his face as the Voughtland attendant had to replace the ink in the machine to print them all.

She grabbed his hand, making a beeline for the photo booth and slipping inside, feeding the tickets into the machine and selecting the romantic border, Homelander's hands hot on her waist.

Snap! Homelander and the woman, beaming into the camera.

Snap! The woman's mouth opened in mock surprise, pointing at him as if to say, Can you believe it?

Snap! The couple, wrapped in an embrace.

Snap! Homelander, his face the picture of delight and surprise, as the woman turned to him, drawing her tongue up his cheek, the lascivious glint in her eyes unmistakable.

Homelander turned to her, a growl building in his throat, pressing her against the wall of the photo booth, his hungry gaze raking over her fully. "Don't start," he whispered dangerously, licking his lips when her pulse raced in response.

"I can't help it," she murmured, taking him into her arms, kissing him deeply. "You'll have to take me in hand.. make sure I behave myself..."

Homelander kissed her hard, fingers tangled in her hair - but the moment would not last. At the sound of a child's petulant whine, they parted, rolling their eyes, and exited the booth, collecting their photos, Homelander's copy burning brightly in his pocket.

The woman unfolded the map of the amusement park, pursing her lips. "Where to, Captain?" she asked him playfully. Homelander grinned.

"Hmm... I don't know, my intrepid explorer. What say you to... the Whack-A-Moles?" A flash of something dark crossed over her eyes when she grinned, and Homelander felt his own pulse jump. She really was... just like him. They walked over to the Whack-A-Mole station, pushing past people in line, each grabbing a mallet and smiling warmly at each other, before attacking the moles with a voracity that made the attendant eye them warily. The woman set forth valiantly, smashing down on the plastic moles like her life depended on it, eyes narrowed, a cruel little quirk on her lips. Homelander paused in his appraisal of her; the way her hair flew around her, the chaotic glimmer in her eyes, the thud of her heartbeat... it was like he was watching a mirror of himself, incensed from the heat of battle. She panted out her breaths as she raised the mallet high above her with both hands, bringing it down with a force that rattled the machine.

Not to be outdone, he smashed the moles on his side in turn, teeth bared in a wolfish grin as he heard the squeal of the metal beneath. The woman looked over at him, breath catching. He looked like a god of war, like Mars' reincarnate. A vision of him, covered in blood, flashed before her eyes, and she swallowed down a moan. There would be plenty of time to divulge this fantasy to him later, she thought, returning to her mission.

Finally, the game was over, and the attendant handed them their tickets, which, added to their comically large reserve, slipped out of her hands as she reached for it. A child behind them watched, eyes wide - and the woman was struck with an idea, turning to give him her share of the tickets.

Homelander quirked a brow. "Why'd you give him our tickets? He didn't even win," he pouted. The woman graced his arm with her hand. "Because... I'm with the richest, kindest, most generous man alive, who takes such good care of me. I don't need to worry. And besides," she said, jerking her thumb in the boy's direction, "Look how grateful he is." Homelander looked, annoyance fading, as the child jumped up and down, waving heartily at Homelander, eyes shining.

"Better to let them see you provide - it's good for them, in the long run."

Homelander felt something within him swell at her words, her acknowledgement, and licked his lips, and the thought came to him that she'd picked such a public place for Valentine's Day on purpose, to tease him until he lost control, and pulled her into a dark alley somewhere. He grinned darkly, hand snaking around her waist. There would be time for that later, he thought, pressing a kiss to her temple as they carried on.

They visited the hot dog eating contest, their lips curled in equal parts fascination and disgust at the contestants, cheering all the same when the man they'd betted on won, sat in on the theatrical rendition of the Seven's first battle as a team (' I hit that guy way harder when it happened,' Homelander whispered into her ear, grinning when she laughed), and won another bushel of tickets that Homelander made rain from the sky when they guessed the weight of Porkchop, the city's largest pig: 2,500 pounds. Homelander reveled in the sound of the crowd's cheers, thinking that maybe the woman had been right about letting the masses see him as benevolent; it was different from their fear, or their subservience. It was almost akin to... love. Adoration. He twirled in the air, the woman's arms wrapped around his neck, drinking in their cheers, kissing her deeply as the descended.

I'm in love with you, Homelander thought, the force of it shaking him - and he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and onto his back, her weight solid against his back, a shimmer of something softer in his eyes as he faced the amusement park.

When she'd suggested coming here for Valentine's Day, at first, Homelander had been derisive - almost angry. She'd claimed to know everything about him, tracked his every move for years... and yet, she'd wanted to go to a place that only filled him with the memory of his solitude, his exclusion from public life. He'd been to Voughtland so many times that he thought the idea of returning would make him sick; all those events he'd hosted, leaving backstage because he couldn't stand to see the couples embrace... all the times he'd watched the Seven huddle into that photo booth without him... he would have chosen to get as far away from this place as he could. But she'd changed that ugly memory into something precious, something worthwhile. Maybe that had been her plan - to bulldoze over the memory of those who'd hurt him, and plant the garden of their love in its place. To tear it all down, to make room for the effigy of their union.

She'd done this for him, as much as she'd done it for herself, Homelander realized. The world seemed to go silent as the thought travelled through him. He looked up into her face, the back of her head eclipsing the sun, closing his eyes contentedly when she bent to kiss his forehead.

The woman pointed then, eyes sparkling at the scene before them; the kiosk section, a mini marketplace within the amusement park. Homelander craned his neck, looking to see what had caught her eye, when he finally saw it, a slow grin lighting up his face. He lifted them off the ground, speeding towards the stands.

"I'll take this one, please!" the woman said, pointing to the biggest shirt on the rack, a replica of his suit, with matching shorts - and Homelander almost pulled her off of him and laid her on the concrete. His suit. She'd wanted to show the world she was his.

The man at the kiosk traded her the shirt for her tickets, and she bent down again, lips grazing Homelander's ear. "We should go somewhere more private. I don't want to wear anything else," she whispered to him, tone dark and honeyed. Homelander swallowed, flying them into the changing stations.

They clambered into the changing room, shooing guests out of the stalls and locking the door behind them - and instantly, they were on each other. Homelander stripped the clothes off her body, letting them flutter to the ground, when he felt a spike of anxiety grip him at she worked at the collar of his suit. At his reticence, she relented, and he let out a small, relieved sigh. It wasn't that he didn't want to; he did. It was just... he was Homelander. The thought of shedding his suit, especially in public, filled him with a deep sense of unease. In the dark of her apartment, it had been different - safe. But under the fluorescent lights of the Voughtland changing room, he stopped cold. A flit of worry crossed his mind - would she push him? Or worse - not see his disquiet and try to strip him anyway? Homelander buried the panic in his eyes, waiting.

But she didn't push; she kissed him, slowly, removing her hands from his collar and pulling him close instead, and he moaned out his relief, pressing a hand to the wall as she mouthed at his pulse, her lips kitten soft. She palmed at the tent in his suit, eyes ravenous now, bending low to kiss him there, too, before the whisper of her pants sliding off her body, like sand in the wind, sounded in his ears. She stepped out of them smoothly, tongue laving across him as he shuddered, licking up to his neck as she rose to her full height, before she looked him in the eye.

"I want you to burn it off of me," she whispered, tugging at her shirt. Homelander licked his lips, a question in his eyes. Use his lasers? On her? He almost refused, imagining her flayed corpse, smoking and gruesome, crumpled on the floor beneath him, the idea like a nightmare. But then she reached forward and kissed him, murmuring of his power, her desire to see it, to feel it... and he felt that hunger from before return, swirling viscous in his eyes. She trusted him.

So, fixing her with a heated glance, he started, the red glow of his eyes dancing across her face, between her eyes, down her cheek, her lips... settling onto her pulse, growling when she bit her lip.

Come on... she thought, rubbing her legs together. Please...

Homelander let out a gusty sigh, kissing her once, before pulling back, and painstakingly dragging his lasers down the front of her shirt, the hint of heat grazing her flesh as he went. He couldn't stop the gasp that left him as the article ghosted off her body, peeling from her skin and onto the floor, his lips parted as she stood bare before him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he unzipped himself quickly then, sliding into her and chasing the moan that poured out of her with his lips, kissing her open-mouthed and reckless.

Cradling her in his arms, he rutted into her, her hands in his hair, gracing his cheek, her lips all over him - he nibbled her earlobe, pressing into her tightly. She moaned for him, the sound unrepentant, as he worked them to the edge and back. Usually, he wouldn't go so far as to take her in public - but she'd wanted this, wanted him. Pushed him, really, Homelander thought ruefully as he tweaked her nipple. She was right; he would have to take her in hand - she was trouble.

"Burn them," the woman whispered hotly, gesturing to her clothes on the floor. "I never want to see them again."

Homelander's jaw dropped, brow furrowed as she pulsed around him, voice threadbare and reedy. He held onto her tighter; in that moment, as he looked into her flushed, gleaming face, he saw the rising of the sun, eclipsing all else - and he pressed his lips to her jaw, floating away from the tangle of fabric, before incinerating the last vestiges of her clothing into dust, biting his lip till he tasted blood when she moaned into his ear at the sight. He kissed her, once, twice, three times, the room's tension fading with the delicate curl of smoke, dancing from the ashes of what once was.

They stilled then, breathing in each other's pants, before he deposited her lightly onto her feet, smiling dazedly as she donned the Homelander set, delivering a small steam of saliva onto the pile of ash before they unlocked the changing room door and left, laughing boisterously at the long line of patrons who'd clearly heard the commotion in their wait.

Homelander carried the woman bridal-style in his arms, sweeping her into a dizzy circle, her laughter weaving around him. "I can't believe we did that!" she squealed, grinning wildly. Homelander chuckled. "Me, neither - you're a terrible influence," he teased. She batted her eyelashes. "Who, me?" He dipped his head to kiss her, lips soft. "Yes, you..." he murmured, sighing when she looped her arms around him. "Just terrible... downright rotten, really. Someone should stop you."

The woman feigned remorse, pouting her lip as she looked up at him. "There must be some way to resolve this..." she said teasingly. Homelander pecked her on the lips again. "Maybe there is," he breathed, lowering his feet to the ground and looking up at their destination: the Tunnel of Love. "But... we'd have to negotiate at a location of my choosing... that's standard business practice, after all."

The couple made their way to the Tunnel's seats, and strapped in, the woman's eyes glowing with warmth as the soft, rosy lights engulfed them. They sailed slowly along, the faint churn of the water beneath them, and the woman faced Homelander, taking his hand in hers.

"You know... I've never told anyone this, but... I've never celebrated Valentine's Day before." Homelander raised a brow. "Really?"

He remembered, in the beginning, in those searching days, imagining a life for her in the wake of her absence online. She had no following, no platform but a lonely blog, her voice faint as vestiges of perfume on the breeze - and so he'd crafted, envisioning the full image of her. She was... private. Quiet. Loyal. Perceptive. Perhaps she owned a cat - something to love. Enjoyed sipping her coffee on the balcony in the early morning, had a favorite book store, rapport with the employees. That had angered him - the thought of a shy smile shared between her and this mystery bookkeep, maybe one day, his number scrawled on her receipt, in the corner of the book's page.

But as he'd come to know her, to let her know him... he realized: It wasn't true. None of it. She hadn't been the girl he'd imagined, the one with the warm get-togethers, the bookkeep lover... she walked into an apartment that she'd stuffed with furniture that would hold her, because nobody else would. A vision of him, frozen and alone, on his Mount Everest settlement, played through his mind. She held him close, because she knew the bite of the winter.

"I... me, neither," Homelander said quietly, holding her close. He sat his chin on her crown. "This... was the best Valentine's Day I could have asked for. You.. really did this for me, didn't you?"

The woman nodded, her smile soft. "I wish I could give you everything," she breathed. Homelander felt his eyes grow hot.

You do. You already do.

I love you, she thought, pressing him closer.

Homelander felt a quaking within him, the same as when she'd shut the door on New Year's. He'd wanted her to see him then, he recalled, chest tightening. Even now, even as they'd merged into a new being entirely, he felt that longing, resting heavy on his heart. He bent to kiss her instead, a soft croon escaping him at the feel of her pulling him in.

Call me John, he thought, heartbeat crashing into hers. Say it now. Please.

They lost themselves in each other, her hands carding through his hair, murmuring her love for him into his mouth, the hushed whisper of his fingers across her skin making her shiver. She held him in her arms, first with him resting his head on her chest, the lull of her heart melting him - and then, with his head in her lap, eyes closed as she smoothed his hair.

The ride came to a gentle halt then, and Homelander reluctantly rose, his face warm as she smiled at him. He stood, offering his hand to her, and they walked out of the tunnel together - to be met with a swarm of fans, cheering, applauding.

They clamored for them, shouting their support, their love, Homelander thought, face split in a genuine grin as he took photos with the fans, the woman. He held children on his shoulders, kissed babies, posed with men and women dressed as him - but in the hoard of the Americana-colored commotion, something caught his eye: a flash of darkness, a glint of black steel. All of a sudden, all was wrong; one moment, the woman was in his arms, grinning up at him, and in the next - she was gone, whisked away and banished from his sight, like she hadn't been there at all.

Homelander wheeled around at once, the once-wanted throng of fans now suffocating in their unwelcome embrace. He spun wildly, pushing past them, calling out the woman's name - but to no avail. She was nowhere to be seen.

Not that the fans, the fucking fans, seemed to notice; they clambered for more of his time, someone even having the gall to touch his face in their desperation. He bored his gaze into them, shoving them away and stalking hurriedly through the crowd, heartbeat racing.

Where had she gone? Homelander craned his neck, bursting free from the masses and into the sky, scouring the area. Fuck! They were all wearing that damn costume - she was wearing the costume. Regret pooled in his gut, cold and suffocating. Why had he burned her clothes? It had seemed so sensual before, but now she was just another face in the crowd. He swooped lower, calling for her again, fist clenching at the crack in his voice.

Had this been her plan? To teach him the meaning of love then disappear, like some fucking Ghost of Christmas Past?

Had someone taken her?

Was she even fucking real?

The thought pierced him, and suddenly he saw it - him, sitting at the coffeeshop alone. No wax warmer on his mantle. Him, lying his head on the cold seat in the Tunnel of Love, his heartbeat the sole, lonesome sound echoing in the rosy chasm.

His eyes burned hot for the second time that day - and fueled by that monstrous ache within, he unleashed a torrent of aether from them, the warmth radiating from him like rays of the sun. Instantly, blood erupted onto the scene beneath him. He veered dangerously low, shutting off the blast, searching for her again, finding nothing, and hissing in rage. His vision sparked red as he zoomed by, skating a hand along the ocean of carnage as he went.

The screams of the patrons rang in his ears, so similar to the praise from before - just as useless. He listened for her voice, her call - and grit his teeth only when the terror of the people answered him.

He blasted through the crowd, viscera flicking across his face and into his hair, and for a dark moment, the thought that it was her blood raced through him. He bit back a moan, a sob, and fired on, a growl building in his throat.

None were spared from his wrath in the wake of this theft - theft of joy, theft of love. Theft of her. Homelander hovered then, a dying remnant of his soul begging her to call to him, pleading with his thoughts, lip just shy of quivering.

Please, answer me.

Please, at least have been real.

But no answer came, the silence ripping him apart, leaving him mauled and bloody. Homelander climbed higher, his face twitching, eyes trained on the roller coaster thirty feet away - and sent a jet of heat in its direction, the thunderous echo of its collapse tinny in his ears. All at once, the screams stopped.

Homelander let out a ragged breath, running a slick hand through his hair as he took in the destruction, gray smoke billowing into the sky. He sat on a ruined chair, head in his hands, the orange sky the sole witness to his despair, when the cry came, desperate in its shout.

"Homelander!"

Homelander whipped his head around, heart clambering up his throat, and rose at once, eyes wild. He hovered, calling out the woman's name, the ghost of hope flickering on his voice.

"Homelander!!"

He flew to the sound of her voice, skidding to a stop before her, taking her in with disbelieving eyes. She walked to him slowly, her wide eyes trained on him. She looked hesitant - afraid.

No. Please.

She couldn't be afraid - she'd promised him. And yet, there she was, shivering and withholding - scared to touch him.

No...

Homelander closed the distance, hands on her cheeks, his plea just shy of bursting from his lips, when she launched forward, kissing him hard, wrapping him in so tightly he could feel the pulse in her wrist against his neck.

"Where did you go?" he whispered frantically, eyes searching hers. She panted into his mouth. "The Seven. They took me. Just outside of the Tunnel of Love. Sage, Maeve, Noir, Deep... they took me, and told me all of these horrible things, told me I shouldn't have come here... trying to take me home. Trying to take you away from me."

Homelander darkened, his grip on her tightening.

"That won't happen. Never."

But even as the thought calmed him, the memory of the horror on her face unsettled him, left him raw. It had been one thing, to tell her stories of his destruction, fables of the monster within... but now she had seen it, smelled the rotten tang of blood in the air as he pressed her to him.

She thought back to just moments earlier, the fantasy of Homelander as Mars, adorned in blood like so many droplets of rubies, clinging to his face, running down his chin. Had this really been what she'd wanted? Was this the fantasy, actualized?

No, she thought, wiping a freckle of blood from his cheek. It was better.

Because she hadn't lied to him - not once. Not about the asylum, or her hatred for the cold, or the shrine... but especially not about the murders.

Maybe she saw it as inevitable, she remembered, taking him into a kiss, the shower of blood sprinkling around them, turning the world rosy. Maybe she was angry for him.

Or maybe, she considered, pulling back to face him, heart pounding. Maybe...

"I love you," she breathed, eyes shining like the birth of stars. Homelander exhaled, crushing her to him. Her heartbeat found his then, and they stood, the slickness of the blood clinging them together.

"I love you," Homelander whispered, nodding. He pressed his forehead to hers.

The woman took a deep breath before she spoke again, eyes... almost amused. "You know... there's still one last thing we didn't get to do," she said, looking up at him. Homelander quirked a brow. She pointed to the Ferris Wheel.

"I also didn't win you that teddy bear..." he said almost sheepishly. She chuckled. "That is true... but I seem to recall someone saying something about getting me the world's largest teddy bear." Homelander laughed. "Oh, you recall, do you?" The woman pecked him on the cheek, face glowing.

Homelander wrapped his arms around her again - she was real, he thought, soothed - and flew them to the top of the Ferris Wheel, where the faint sound of sirens reached them. The woman turned to him, worried.

"Vought will likely stage the scene - oh, look! There they are!" he said, pointing down at the Vought personnel who'd arrived, cleaning up scorch marks, framing the carnage into something new.

"Probably a terrorist act," Homelander mused. The woman giggled. "They're like... worker bees," she said thoughtfully. Homelander felt something in his heart give at her words, the glow of the setting sun ethereal behind her head.

He leaned to kiss her one more time, the hint of blood on their lips, and she melted into his arms, sighing into him.

Best Valentine's Day ever, indeed.

#homelander #the boys amazon #the boys tv #homelander x you #homelander x reader #diabolica writes #don't save her

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judgementdaysunshine · 1 year

Note

Can you write something about readers dog running away, and jey is there to comfort reader?

Yess!

Dog day blues

Pairing: Jey Uso x GN reader

Description: Your boyfriend is by your side when you are upset about your dog running away

You cry after spending the past hour looking for your dog Titan after letting him out in the yard for a bit. You were scared of what people would do to him because he was a pitbull, you cry sitting on the couch as your boyfriend walks in from running errands and training with his brothers for the day "What's the matter baby?" he hugs you as you lay your head on top of his shoulder not caring that he's sweaty during that moment, "I can't find titan, I looked everywhere in the yard and I'm so scared of someone hurting him because of him being a pitbull" he rubs your back as you cry until he gets up and showers, after showering he calls both of his brothers and cousin to come and help look for him "I'll go find him baby don't worry" you stand at the backdoor looking outside as you hope he would be back in the yard. The boys meet up in town and begin their search from town, the alleyways, and highways to the nearby neighborhoods, the local dog park, and gas stations feeling bad that they were likely to return to you without knowing where titan was or what happened to him until the twins and Roman hear Solo yell out with a very familiar dark dog wagging his tail which makes jey smile big as they head back to the house with an excited and affectionate titan, who takes turns licking and begging for petting from each of the boys as they each walk in with titan behind them so you couldn't see him at first "What are you guys doing here?" Jimmy pulls you into a hug as they all look at each other and nod. "We have a surprise for you" you raise a brow as they each smile and the next thing you knew was seeing titan next to jey, he runs and you hug him as he licks all over your face "Oh I was so worried about you boy! You scared the shit out of me, thank you boys all of you" you hug each of them and thank them as they leave, you smile at jey after watching the boys leave "You got them to help?" he chuckles as you feed titan "They would have helped anyway once they knew if I hadn't called them after I showered" you giggle as you hug each other "Thank you baby it meant a lot that you all did that for me" he kisses your forehead as you slowly sway side to side "I know how much he means to you and I know you would blame yourself if something had happened to him" you and jey make dinner and eat with titan laying by your feet.

#jey uso x reader #wwe #jey uso #wwe x reader

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marlesbian · 9 months

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The Lupin Family: a story (and headcanons)

The Lupins were a family of three: Lyall, Hope and Remus. They lived on a small farm in the town of Mold, Wales. Their house was small and simple, but incredibly warm and cozy. They were happy. Now let's start where their story starts: When Lyall met Hope...

He always saw her at the public library in a small town in Wales, she practically lived there, always with a history book in hand. He never did have the courage to talk to her, until that night. He was on that city for a mission, and it was to catch that vicious boggart, Hope had took the trail through the woods that night, after leaving her boring office job. She always had a very fertile imagination, so the boggart quickly took shape, and she started screaming, Lyall went running to her aid. He helped her and asked her out on a date. They fell in love rather quickly, the kind of love that felt like two were teenagers again, even though they were both into their thirties. They married quickly, within a year they were both married and moving together to Mold, their son Remus was born shortly after.

Hope Howell was a short skinny muggle woman, she had brown slightly curly hair, dark eyes and a kind smile. Her voice was sweet but spikey and she had a thick welsh accent. She mostly wore flowery dresses, in blue and greenish tones, she wore lots of braids and almost never let her hair down. She loved wearing the tichel to do her gardening, it was when she felt closest to God. She was a very kind mother and teacher, a great listener, even though she looked short and weak, she gave the strongest most suffocating amazing hugs

Lyall was very tall and skinny, like Remus, he had long fingers and a bony hand, he kept his brown hair short and beard visible, trimmed and organised. He had to look respectable, he had to keep appearences. He usually only wore earth tones and was almost all the time wearing the same brown suit and light washed jeans. He smoked a pipe but almost never drank. He was an atheist, like most pureblood wizards. they were really great parents, they didn't have much, not many people surrounding them, but they managed to give their son the best childhood a child could want.

They were literally SO FULL OF LOVE you could feel it in the way they looked at each other and that child was their whole lives. Their lives were basically all around Remus, Lyall loved taking him on walks and teaching him about animals, Hope always read him books, and before bed, the both of them read something for their son to sleep, that's why he started reading at a very young age. No matter how long they were married, they still remained completely in love and passion.

Lyall loved giving his wife theatrical kisses in front of Remus because he looked like a tomato whenever they showed affection in front of him.

Every Sunday night, after Remus went to sleep (or just up to his room) Lyall put out the radio on his favourite station, where they played the most romantic slow songs and he and his wife danced cheek to cheek in the living room until they got tired.

They also had a dog, a chocolate labrador named Luther, and Remus when he was little played w him like a pony, mounting in his back and running around the farm.

Their house was incredibly full of books, there was a book in every corner, everywhere you looked. the house had cranky stairs and always signaled when someone was going up or down, only Remus knew how to use them silently. Lyall was a great cook so he always made their dinner. hope had a huge green thumb and she took care of all the plants on their farm (her favorites were the flowers. They grew all sorts of vegetables on the farm and raised a few chickens but they mostly didn't eat meat. Hope was in charge of the plants in the house and Lyall of the animals, they raised chickens (for eggs), some ducks, they had a cow for the milk, and their dog, of course. hope always left some fruit outside and seeds to feed passing birds.

When Remus got bitten, just before he turned five, Lyall did everything in his power to change his mind about werewolves, he tried to distance himself from the wizarding world and only work as a farmer, working with magic when it came to treatment for Remus. They didn't have much money, but still, Lyall spent it all on research. In the beginning, he searched for a cure, a way to heal his innocent little boy, but when Remus was almost 9, he just looked for palliatives, medicine, and just the best way to take care of him. Lyall felt extremely guilty for what happened to his child, he was in a shocked state the first two days and distanced himself from his family because he didn't know what to do, he felt he had doomed and ruined his baby's life forever, but he shook it off pretty quickly, and spent every minute since, trying to make it up for what he felt he caused. But don't think that Hope and Lyall's marriage wasn't shaken by all of that, they fought a lot when Lyall spent all their money, when he couldn't look his son in the eyes, but they never even once thought of separating. They decided that even if nobody could love their child by being who he was, they would be the ones to, werewolf and all, they loved all of him. That's why they were actually okay when Remus started dating Sirius because they saw that Sirius loved their boy the way he deserved, loving all of him.

Hope wasn't very close to her family, they were either dead or lived in Cardiff, and they didn't visit often because they did jot approve of her life with no ambitions. Lyall’s family was almost entirely dead, saving for his lesbian sister (closeted) and his mother (who died when remus was 4)

After Remus started Hogwarts Hope decided to dedicate more of herself to studying and her career, so she started some research for University, so she could work full-time as a historian and researcher. Lyall worked most of his life in the magical creatures department. Still, after everything with Remus, he decided to leave the magical world and started working full-time as a farmer, selling their produce in the city. After Hope's passing, he returned to working in the Ministry of Magic. (I am not getting into details bc I don't want this to be sad.)

Lyall played the acoustic guitar, and some nights when he wasn't too tired, everyone stayed in the kitchen to listen to it. Hope knew how to play the piano and she was an awesome singer. Remus loved it when everyone was happy at home, he loved the summer days when he woke up and went to get the eggs, listened to music in the living room, watched his mother reading, waited for his father to get home from work, then they all stayed in the kitchen. Lyall pulled out the guitar and Hope sang. These were the best, and they happened almost every summer night

The Lupins adored music, they listened to the Beatles, Billie Holiday, nico, the Beach Boys, Chet Baker, Ella Fitzgerald, and anything jazz or blues (then, when Remus was a teen, he slowly convinced them to start loving rock)

The house was full of trinkets and had random things everywhere, they were somewhat accumulators because everything had a meaning or a memory to it Hope loved making jams and compote from the fruits she grew and she always sent one to Remus, she was also an amazing baker.

In the summers, Remus went to help them to sell the produce in the city, and that was when he made some friends, but honestly, he didn't really want any friends, he had his books, his parents and music, and to him, that was more than enough. It was a bit surprising that he actually made friends at Hogwarts, but his parents were delighted to hear so, even if they were a bit scared at first. They always wanted Remus to bring his friends to the farm and they were just such cool parents!

They befriended the Potters when their sons were 12 and visited basically throughout the whole summer.

They were the most supportive loving parents, they were sweet and caring. Hope showed love through food and quality time, Lyall was a man of few words but showed love through actions, he always moved mountains to make them happy.

I made them a Pinterest board because I ran out of space for photos, you can access it here

#remus lupin #remus john lupin #remus x sirius #wolfstar #remus lupin headcanon #marauders headcanon #marauders era headcanons #the marauders era #marauders #the lupins

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easyeat · 1 year

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For the general health of our pets, a proper diet and sound digestion are essential. By utilizing an elevated dog feeder, you may help your dog's digestive system in an efficient way. We'll talk about the advantages of raised dog feeders and how they may help your dog's health in this post. A raised dog feeder has several benefits, including better posture and a lower chance of stomach problems. Let's explore the subject and learn why buying an elevated dog feeder may significantly improve the digestive health of your pet.

#Dog Feed Station #elevated dog bowls #raised dog feeder #raised dog bowl stand #single raised dog bowl #large raised dog bowls #raised feeding bowls for dogs #raised dog food bowl #best dog bowls #best bowl for dogs #raised dog feeding station #flat faced dog bowls #dog bowl and stand #dog feeding stand #dog bowl with name #elevated dog feeder #personalised raised dog bowls #Feeding Trough For Dogs #best dog feeder

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fluentmoviequoter · 10 months

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White Boulder Christmas

Day 5 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Stu Redman x fem!reader

Summary: You experience your first white Christmas in the Boulder Free Zone.

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Warnings: spoilers for The Stand (the book & the miniseries), fluff, angst, vague description of injuries.

A/N: The Stand is one of my favorite books of all time and I think about Stu a concerning amount, so I am very excited to try writing for him! He may be OOC but I'm planning to keep writing for him so I can improve. I used Gary Sinise's portrayal of him in the 1994 miniseries because he was amazing (I could talk about the 1994 adaptation and the book all day so if anyone has requests, feedback, or comments please please please send them to me!!)!

The last 200 miles into Boulder are the hardest. You thought the trip would be easier once you crossed the state line into Colorado. It isn’t. You haven’t seen another person in days, you’re tired, and the dreams are getting more intense. As the sun sets on a state you always wanted to visit - granted, it seemed more enjoyable before the virus, but it’s still beautiful - you break into a jog as you see the flickering lights of civilization. The town is tiny, and the only reason you know where you are is the small sign reading “Kiowa Creek Church.” Trying the doorknob of what used to be the municipal police station, you sigh as it opens easily. You thoroughly check the building before setting your backpack down, leaning it against a cell door to keep it open, and collapsing onto one of the cots.

“Boulder, here I come,” you whisper to the dilapidated ceiling before drifting to sleep, visions of corn fields and black crows invading your mind.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up, there’s a wet nose pressed to the pulse point under your jaw. You jerk away from the unexpected and unwelcome touch, raising your hand to your neck. As you turn your body, you see a dog wagging its tail as it looks up at you. Your eyes widen as your hand falls into your lap before you squeal and lean forward to hug the dog.

“Kojak!” a deep voice yells outside.

“Is that you?” you ask the dog, scratching behind its ears as you stand. “Are you Kojak?”

When he hears his name, Kojak’s tail wags harder as he walks beside you, sitting at your feet as you gather your things.

“C’mon, Kojak,” you summon, snapping as he trots to your side to walk beside you.

The main door is barely open, proof that Kojak pushed inside to find you. Opening it the rest of the way, Kojak bounds out before you, stopping on the porch and looking between you and a man standing in the middle of the dirt road separating the buildings of Kiowa, Colorado.

“You find him yet?” another man, taller and younger than the first, asks, turning the corner.

“Kojak here found me,” you interrupt, waving shyly.

The younger man smiles a crooked grin that makes your heart drop as you forget why you’re in this deserted town in the first place.

“Well, then perhaps I owe him a thanks. I’m Stu Redman, this is Glen Bateman, and you’ve met Kojak,” he introduces, climbing the first step as he extends his hand to you.

You place your hand in his, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Where are you going?” you ask, your hand still in Stu’s.

“Boulder. You?” Glen answers.

“Boulder,” you inform with a firm nod. “Not that I really had much of a choice.”

Stu smiles again and says, “Did any of us? I’ll assume you’ve met her then?”

“And him,” you add.

Stu drops your hand and steps off the stairs, gesturing with his head for you to join him.

“We have room for one more, right, Glen?”

You look down at Kojak, squatting to pet him again so Glen doesn’t think there is any pressure to say yes.

“Would it matter what I said, East Texas?” Glen replies; you’re thankful you can hear the teasing in his voice.

“East Texas?” you parrot, looking up at Stu.

“Born and raised in Arnette. Seems to have stuck.”

“Just like Kojak seems to be stuck to you,” Glen says. “What’d you do? Feed him?”

“No, he found me. I was asleep. I’m just glad to see another dog!” you exclaim cheerfully.

“Just the dog?” Stu clarifies, his brows raised playfully.

“Just the dog,” you agree, shaking your head as you smile.

“Well, then, who’s ready to get to Boulder?” Glen asks, pulling his backpack straps over his shoulder.

“Me,” you and Stu say together.

He slips his hand into yours to help you stand up, and you instantly know that the last 100 miles will be the easiest yet because you’re not alone.

✯✯✯✯✯

Stu turns to you, and you look away, harshly wiping the tears from your face. He steps to you, gently grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands away. He drops his head to catch your eyes, but you refuse to look at him.

“I won’t say bye,” you mumble, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just giving you a hug to hold me over until we see each other again when I get back. Can you do that?”

“Only if you promise to come back.” You finally look up at him, and he releases your wrists to cup your face.

“I can’t make that promise.”

“And I can’t keep fighting without you.”

“I promise to do everything I can to come back to you. That’s all I can do for now.”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, your face in his hands. “I love you,” you whisper.

Stu’s eyes are glassy, but his smile is anything but sad as he looks at you. “That goes right back to you, ma’am,” he replies, leaning his forehead against yours after kissing it. “Wait for me?”

“Forever.”

You can’t stay with the other girls and wave them off because you know you’ll end up chasing him. Stu likewise doesn’t turn around when Larry does, instead keeping his eyes on the horizon as he promises himself and anyone else listening that he will do everything he has to do to get back to you. After he finishes the fight, he'll return to you, even if he can barely stand and has to fall into your arms.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Teddy, can you put me on the volunteer rotation for December?” you ask after a free-zone meeting. “It’s been the same people since we got here, and it’s almost Christmas, they deserve a break.”

Teddy smiles as he scribbles your name on a piece of paper before slipping it back into his pocket. “Absolutely. And thank you, they’ll really appreciate that.”

When you get a call the next day asking you to take a security post at the border of the Boulder Free Zone, you jump on the opportunity to help (and try to get your mind off Stu). The women in town are busy trying to do something small for Christmas but are worried that the scouts won’t be back in time, so there’s a debate as to whether or not it should be delayed until they return. In the anonymous vote, you chose to wait because you can’t imagine celebrating anything without knowing where Stu is. For tonight, though, you focus on your surroundings, not Stu’s crooked smile or East Texas accent. Or the moment he told you that he loves you.

Because of the low number of volunteers, the shifts are long. You’re five hours into a twelve-hour night shift when the first snowflake lands on your nose. You look up to the sky, unfamiliar with snow, especially in December. Within twenty minutes, snow is powdering the ground and continues falling, getting heavier each minute.

“A white Christmas,” you say quietly to yourself.

Then you laugh. Although your first white Christmas is in the Boulder Free Zone, surrounded by fear, fighting, and uncertainty, those little snowflakes are piling hope into your heart that everything will turn out fine.

Shaking your head, you return your attention to the night to protect your new family and temporary home, but you keep smiling as the temperature drops and the once-hopeless world turns white just in time for Christmas.

As the first rays of sunlight peek over the horizon, barely visible through the snow clouds, you hear an engine rumbling in the distance. The radio has been silent all night because no one else heard anything. As the noise gets louder, you’re positive someone is racing toward the Boulder Free Zone. You raise your rifle, looking through the scope to aim where the road twists around the hill. As the truck approaches the curve, it suddenly stops, and the engine dies. The night goes quiet, the sound of two doors closing the only proof you didn’t imagine the truck. When the first figure enters your sight on the scope, you drop your gun and run toward him.

“Tom!” you yell, fumbling to get your radio out of your pocket.

Tom looks up and says your name twice, first as a question, then an exclamation of joy. He drops his voice again to say, “He hurt his leg real bad.”

You look to your left and see the one man you’ve been waiting for since the moment he left.

“You waited,” Stu says, smiling as you rush to him and wrap your arms around his waist.

His arms loop over your shoulders and grip you tightly, pulling you against him like he’s melting into you.

“Let me radio for help,” you say into his chest.

Pulling back, you call Teddy and tell him that Stu and Tom are back before requesting a truck. He doesn’t answer with a yes or no, but the radio is full of cheers, yells, and crying, so you assume someone is on the way. Turning back to Stu, you let him lean against you and look down at his leg.

“Are you alright?” you ask quietly.

“I’m great now,” he answers, meeting your eyes when you look up.

“M-o-o-n, that spells great,” Tom says beside you.

“Is it just you two?” you whisper to Stu.

He nods, tightening his grip on you slightly.

“They saved our lives,” you add.

“It’s not just us,” Tom calls, “there’s one more. Laws, yes!”

You glance up at Stu, who furrows his brows. He catches on quickly and whistles. You look past him as Kojak runs around the corner and straight to you.

“Kojak!” you cheer, reaching down with the hand not supporting Stu. “I’m so happy to see you, buddy!”

“You didn’t get that excited about me,” Stu grumbles.

You look up at him and begin to say something, but the sound of a truck approaching cuts you off. The headlights on Teddy’s truck fall on you as he parks, helping Stu into the passenger seat while you, Tom, and Kojak get in the back. You can’t see much of him, but you watch Stu the entire drive to the hospital, holding Kojak as you smile, glad to have your boys back.

Once you get Tom home and settled, you and Kojak return to the hospital, checking on Fran before taking your seats in Stu’s room, Kojak on the end of his bed and you at the window, watching the snowfall. When Stu wakes up, he smiles at Kojak before looking around the room.

“First time seeing snow?” he asks.

You turn when you hear his voice, smiling as you walk to his side. “No. But it is my first white Christmas,” you answer, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve always dreamed of a white Christmas. Dreams change though.”

“Meaning?”

“I would trade a white Christmas for a Christmas with you,” you admit shyly.

He kisses your knuckles before shifting in the bed, inviting you to sit beside him. You watch the snow and each other as you talk about your Christmas traditions pre-Captain Trips. The doctor comes in to check on him several times and gives you updates on Fran as well. When he finds out he can be released in a day or so, he starts walking through the hospital on his crutches, taking you and Kojak with him, determined to walk on his own by Christmas.

✯✯✯✯✯

December 22, three days before Christmas, you and Stu are walking out of the hospital with no crutches needed. He suddenly pulls his hand from yours, and as you turn around to ask him what’s wrong, a snowball hits you in the middle of the chest. Your jaw drops as you look at Stu, two more snowballs in his hands.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” you call dramatically, kneeling to make a snowball.

“You love me,” Stu yells.

“Luckily for you,” you reply as you throw a snowball, hitting him in the shoulder.

As you exchange snowballs, laughing and yelling with more joy than you thought was possible to feel given the previous year, you’re glad Christmas is on schedule. The people around you need it more than ever.

“Ow!” Stu yells, falling backward into a snowbank.

You drop your snowballs and run to his side, kneeling beside his uninjured leg. “Did you hurt your leg again?” you ask.

He raises a hand to your bicep and rolls over, pushing you into the snow as he hovers above you, smiling.

“You’re okay?” you ask, breathless. Stu nods, and you release a sigh before shaking your head at him. “You scared me.”

His eyes are locked on yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. More than I can say.”

He leans down and kisses you, smiling against your lips as he slips his gloved hand between your head and the snowbank beneath you. Your hands rise to his shoulders as you pull yourself toward him, shivering against him. He breaks away, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before standing and helping you up, your hand secure in his as he walks you home.

There’s a small Christmas tree in your front window, and Stu smiles when he sees it. Kojak meets you at the door, circling your legs as you take your coats, hats, and mittens off.

“Stu?” you ask as he stands, wiping his hands after starting a fire. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“I couldn’t leave you. Especially now that I know you’re celebrating your first white Christmas,” he responds, walking to stand in front of you, the Christmas tree on one side and the warmth of the fire on the other.

“So, what now? I mean, what happens after Christmas? Are you going home, East Texas?”

He cups your face, just as he had before leaving, and smiles when you lean into his touch, his warmth. “I don’t care where I go,” he answers, “As long as you’re by my side for this Christmas, and every Christmas after.”

“Even if they’re not white?”

“Say you want them all white and we’ll go wherever you want, ma’am.”

“I want to go wherever you are,” you state, wrapping your fingers around his wrists.

He drops his hands and grabs your waist, pulling you in to kiss you. He whispers against your lips, “We’ll figure it out after Christmas.”

You nod against him, waiting until you break apart to say, “I love you.”

“I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, and I will love you until there is no such thing as a white Christmas.”

You smile, ready to say more, but his actions speak louder as he pulls you in again, Kojak curling up at your feet as the snow grows heavier and Boulder turns white, just in time for your first Christmas with Stu.

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #stu redman x reader #stu redman #the stand #stephen king #fem!reader #stu redman fluff #fluff

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fruitless-vain · 6 days

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hey!! dog training question. i want to teach my puppy a freeze command to put staying still on a cue to communicate better what i want from her while grooming her and putting on gear. how would you approach doing that? im currently trying to shape/capture when she’s intensely focused on something and stays still for two seconds and then build duration once she has that, but i was wondering if you had any other ideas?

Cuing a formal stay for gear and grooming is something I avoid doing since it could cause the dog to suppress feelings of discomfort they have with the process. Suppressing discomfort can cause an immense aversion to grooming/ gear which can either make application even more difficult or result in a bite down the road!

I would setup a start and stop button sequence instead that allows the dog to perform a behaviour in order to initiate the start of the application and when that behaviour ends the application stops. This allows you to get more stillness while still giving the dog ample agency over the situation to avoid accidentally suppressing discomfort.

The most common start button behaviour for grooming is a chin rest, the dog lays their head on a target (typically a towel) and holds the head there while you groom. When the head lifts off the towel the grooming ends. To reinforce this you’d teach your chin rest with increasing durations then move to cuing the rest, brushing one stroke, reward, and toss a treat away from the chin rest target. The dog should begin to run back over and “opt in” to the grooming session by placing their head on the chin rest target themselves over time. You can then build up to multiple brush strokes and more complex grooming elements.

You can do the same behaviour for gear, if using a harness you may need to have them walk their head through the hole on to the chin rest target as a minor modification to the process. When the head lifts up you’d remove the harness if it’s partially applied.

When the head lifts off the chin rest target you’d still toss a reward away from the station, I typically then wait for about a minute for them to return and if they don’t then the session ends. If you’re training and they keep lifting off over and over then the process needs to be simplified further so that the dog can succeed and not repeatedly feel the need to opt out of the session.

Here’s an example of me using a chin rest for Yoshi to opt in to getting eye drops, noting that I do not directly cue the behaviour. I present the eye drops very obviously to her so she knows what’s happening and what she is opting in to. She places her head down to say “okay I’m ready” and I reward away from the station. If she were to raise her head I would move my hands away from her and wait for her to opt back in or not. If not, I’d toss a treat away and end the session.

When it comes to initially building duration for stillness in the chin rest position you start by continuously feeding in position. Feeding treats back to back to back while the chin is placed down. Then you’d reward, pause, reward, pause, reward increasing the amount of time between each treat so they’re inclined to hold their head down on their own for longer times. Ensuring to “release” the head position by tossing a treat away from the chin rest target throughout the session.

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stevishabitat · 28 days

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One of our ferals was hit by a car today.

Mercifully, his head was clipped, so it was instant death and not prolonged suffering and we didn't have to do anything but collect the body.

We had seen him in the yard moments before, and I reminded kiddo to refill the front porch water since we have a heat advisory. When kiddo and Grandmummy went back out, he was laying in the street.

Blaze was one of Franklin and Mama's litter from spring of 2020. As a "teen", he helped raise the next litter, since Mama was terrible at parenting and always handed her babies off to someone else as soon as possible.

He had moved out of the main colony to run around with his aunt Cinnabon, who was a bit of a loner. They'd been getting fed elsewhere for awhile, but this year they came back to take advantage of our front porch food & water station.

We put a shelter on the porch, but they never felt comfortable using it and came and went from somewhere across the street. The backyard colony cats made it clear they could come to eat but then had to get out of the territory.

Our street is one block that dead-ends at a creek, but that doesn't keep cars from zooming like it's a freeway. In spite of the "slow down: kids and pets at play" sign I bolted to a tree earlier this summer.

This is one of the toughest parts of caring for a feral colony. You wish you could protect them and just bring them all inside. But they aren't house pets. They may get used to seeing you around, but they will always be too wild to be made a pet.

We do what we can to make their lives better - neutering and vaccinations whenever possible. Food and water and shelter. Trying to stop the kitten cycle and adopting out any that are people-friendly. Decreasing the numbers while trying to improve quality of life for those who remain.

But we can't make their choices for them. And although they have some level of street smarts, it's still dangerous out there. Cars, predators, dogs, people, injury, illness... They aren't likely to live as long as an indoor cat. All it takes is one moment, one decision, and they're gone. Loss is an inevitable part of what we signed up for.

It's especially hard when it's one you've known for years and watched grow up.

And Blaze was one of the most beautiful we've had. Very petite for an intact tom and he never got involved in the tom cat fight club so he wasn't battered and scarred like some. Lovely tuxedo with a distinct blaze that inspired his name and big green eyes. And he knew his name! He always looked up when we talked to him.

After we packed up the body (giving him many gentle pets and telling him how very soft he was) we saw Cinnabon watching from under a car on the nearby driveway. We can't explain to her that her nephew, her buddy Blaze isn't coming back. I'm not sure what she'll do on her own. It's been just the two of them for a very long time. Maybe she'll try to rejoin the main colony, but I doubt it. I feel bad for her.

Grandmummy came in and gently told Franklin that one of his sons was gone. And what we didn't say, but were all thinking, that a year ago it could easily have been him.

Y'all, I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to keep cats inside. Get them neutered. Get them vaccinated.

And if you feed strays or ferals, find out if there's a TNR group nearby that might help you trap & neuter.

Reducing the number of street cats (pets, strays, and ferals) is the best thing for everyone.

Let Blaze be your reminder.

#cw animal death #Brewhouse Cats

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furby-organist · 1 month

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Random Local Alastor Facts!

He has a drawing tablet (like, a bamboo) hooked up to his computer in his radiotower.

He barely uses that OLD ASS COMPUTER except for accessing music that isn't available physically, and sometimes some research. Marina (@/killstreaming) set him up with her drawing tablet back when the Tumblr crab game first came out, and he liked it WAY more than a mouse! So he kept it and uses it instead of a mouse.

His pet raccoon (aka his Raccoon Son) has his own radio station!

He hooked a mic up to that little guy, so you get to hear broadcasted chattering and Raccoon Livestreaming, I guess. Sometimes the mic battery dies, though.

He knows how to make vegan food!

Not for himself, but for some the radio students. (Marina is vegan.) He used to feed them human meat (with full disclosure) bc like... they're college kids, it's free food, they weren't saying no;;; but after a reality check, he got his shit together and actually feeds them properly.

He does have a furby organ.

and sometimes he plays it on air in the morning. Monday morning hangover cure, probably.

He likes to read!

It can be anything! Fiction, nonfiction, academic work, if it's good, it's good! The last thing he read was the Wre/tched of the Ea/rth by Fra/ntz Fa/non. He's currently reading Bl/ood Meri/dian.

He does not like sweets very much.

He has permanent Keto Palate (not from doing keto though. It's just the way he is.) Refined sugar really does taste like battery acid to him! But he likes making sweet things sometimes, so, y'all get to be taste-testers. (Especially his husband.)

He's scared of dogs but does a decent job of hiding it.

Unless it starts barking and jumping at him. Then he needs to Leave. If it's just chilling, he'll be cautious + tense and keep a distance between them, but it's fine.

He's not the kind of serial killer who hurts animals.

He doesn't love animals like some serial killers who swing wildly in the opposite direction, though. He's just cool with them. They're just kind of out here doing their own thing. He thinks it's perfectly fine to eat them, but you're kind of a weirdo for hurting them for fun, the same way you're a weirdo for hurting a weaker perspn. And if he gets positive attention from one (NOT a dog), that's pretty cool too. He doesn't get a lot of positive attention from people, so, hey, he'll take it.

He's a Pick Me ass serial killer

Lol. He's "not like other serial killers" and he doesn't respect any of these freaks! People who kill others who don't stand a chance? You're weird for that. People who use axes and shit? You're a neanderthal. Look, it's not hard to kill another human being, especially a kid, kids are always out here inventing new ways to die anyway -- you're not special! You're weird as fuck actually

He still won't go to the doctor.

Even after Adam nerfed him! He will NOT see a medical professional. He'll just keep chewing on ice when that iron deficiency pica hits and he'll keep secretly dyeing his grey hair (don't metagame this)

He doesn't want kids of his own but he loves being a funcle!

What it says on the tin. He was born to be a funcle. He doesn't have the patience or selflessness to properly raise his own kid. It's good that he recognizes this.

His favorite kinds of jazz music are the experimental kinds!

Which flows in to why he's a big fan of modern-day experimental & noise. (That entire genre is inspired by jazz, btw.) His fav artist Of His Era is Cab Callaway, but, he also really likes Coltrane & other similar artists.

#a ritual in the garden soil (headcanon)

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triplesilverstar · 10 months

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A rather smelly Stampede

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Pre-Canon, Established Relationship, Canon typical violence, fluff and humor, domestic fluff, bathtubs, massage, Vash really does have bad luck

Word count: Roughly 4.3K

A/N: When you and Vash had rolled into town you just wanted to get into the room and sleep. Not be dragged along to help him repair a plant and then have some bandits show up trying to steal one. At the end of the day you regret having to deal with one smelly Stampede. This one came about because as someone pointed out there aren’t a lot of care fics for Vash.

“I don’t like this plan” Vash’s voice is registering high enough that you’re certain the dog barking outside the hotel can hear the whine in his voice.

“Well the other option is we do this outside, which I think will be worse for you.” Snorting as you keep back from him just enough to ensure you don’t touch your boyfriend who’s currently covered in a gelatinous mess of Toma feed, rotten food, engine oil, and who knows what else. “Just strip and get in the shower and leave your clothes by the door.” Looking back, what led to this moment had been kind of funny.

“You said the red cable!” Yelling out from under the raised platform of the plant container, on your back jammed into the small space.

“No I said the red and black cable” Vash is calling out to you from the control panel, even though he can’t see you, you mock his words feeling your body shake. “Come on Mayfly, I thought you said you’d help me with this.”

“Yes help! Not be wedged underneath part of a plant container while you yell at me to plug and unplug cables. I mean this whole plant engineer thing is very much your thing , mine is catching criminals.” You and Vash upon arriving in the town and after having gone into the hotel heard of the town problems, one of the plants had been having issues, and Vash being Vash volunteered to check it out. Arrangements were made and the mayor brought you and Vash to the station and you could tell Vash was concerned about one of his sisters.

The mayor had been suspicious at first but once the two of you started working the man relaxed to the point he seemed more than excited to have both of you there. And well, the mayor didn’t know about the connection between Vash and the biology energy generators known as plants, aka Vash was one. And he seemed to be content to leave both of you alone as once it was confirmed Vash did indeed know how to fix them, and you weren’t actually there to try and steal it. “I’m not yelling at you, but I need you to be careful while we reset the system.”

“It feels like you’re yelling at me, I'm not good at this!” This time as you undid the cable you were being admonished “cables unplugged!”

“Now unplug the blue one and connect it to the red and black one” moving a few items out of the way you see the cable he means coming up from the floor and connected to the panel under the plant. Unplugging it and waiting to see if a voice is going to call out to you, at nothing you plug them together.

“Done. What now?” You have to admit for how long you’ve been on your back you’re starting to get sore, the metal digging into your shoulder isn’t helping either.

“You can crawl out for now, I think that should be it.” Rolling your eyes, and trying to not be caught up in the cables you start to slide out, wiggling and shifting as you go. Once out you sit up, turning towards where Vash is typing away on the panel. You do have to admit he does look pretty cute with the way he’s staring at the screen, fingers tapping away at the keyboard, eyes focused and brow furrowed.

“So, things are going good then?” This time he’s the one rolling his eyes, fingers typing something quickly before hitting the command key.

“That should do it” rolling his shoulders and turning towards you as you grab your rifle from where it was propped up against the console beside him and sling it across your shoulder.

“So no more crawling under panels for me?” A laugh from him and a soft smile, yea he is way too cute when he smiles like that. True to the fashion of your life with Vash, something goes wrong. In the form of an explosion near the entrance to the station “that never bodes well” you deadpan.

Vash locks out the control panel, you aren’t sure why but you know he wouldn’t do it if he didn’t have a reason to. Both of you nodding to one another before running towards the entrance. And running into bandits. It’s a short exchange where you and Vash are able to at least get them from heading inside and stealing a plant, as for some of them one look at you and they bolted.

Most of them caught by surprise they’d been easy to deal with, at least for you and Vash, all but two of them tied up and left for the sheriff to find. Then you were off after the two that were running away, ending up near the waste facilities of the town. One of the goons deciding to rip pieces of the facility away to throw them at you, the other cackling and edging them on.

“Oh shit” shouting as you dodge one piece, right into the path of a length of pipe coming right towards you.

“Snipes!” If the pipe had hit you, it would have been right through your stomach, the jagged edges no doubt ripping through the muscles of your flesh and possibly your spine. Yea that would have been a bitch to heal if you even could heal it. Instead, you were blessed by the form of a red clothed Vash tackling you to the ground, covering his body with yours.

A barrage of bullets suddenly raining down on both of your prone forms “Ya know, I really want to know how we’re going to fight back right now.” You snarl at the blond above you who seems intent on being a shield for your body.

“Maybe we can talk this out?” You really want to smack him with that chuckle that he lets out, yup that’s a solution, talk with the two bandits that came to steal a plant and were shooting at both of you.

“Oh yea? Well you can talk but I think they have something else in mind.” Screw a canteen, there’s enough venom in your voice to fill a bucket. Trying to look up to see the bandits, the chest pressed above the back of your head making it a little difficult. “Ah shit!”

“Huh?” While you could sort of see, Vash could not and ended up being plowed off your body by the larger bandit ramming into him. More than likely trying to take you with him as well, clearly having underestimated your ability to stick to the floor when you wanted. With the speed that bandit had rammed into Vash at, you watched in almost slow motion as the momentum carried both of them to the edge of the garbage vat, and over. Into the grim below.

Wincing for your boyfriend you turned back to the remaining bandit who was looking absolutely flabbergasted that his cohort had done that to himself. Taking advantage you lunged towards him, legs burning as your pushed yourself to the limit of your running speed, swiftly grabbing his revolver and holding the cylinder so it couldn’t spin and punching him in the solar plex watching as he crumbled in front of you. Just in time for you to notice the local law enforcement show up, handing this bandit off to them before walking towards the garbage vat.

Greeted by the view of a sludge covered Vash and bandit, at least Vash doesn’t look to be as badly covered as the bandit that is being dragged out of the garbage while Vash is just standing there, trying to keep his prosthetic out of the gunk. Even from here you feel like barfing at the stench wafting from the thing, how the hell can Vash stand down in it.

Making your way to where the bandit is being lifted out you see the mayor standing there fretting, at the sight of you rushing over and thanking you and Vash for fixing the plant and stopping the attempted theft of any of the biological generators. Noticing Vash being pulled out you step away from the mayor, people pleasing was more Vash’s thing you still weren’t all that good with people. No matter how much the blond nagged at you about it, people just weren’t your forte unless you were one on one with them for a while. Well unless you were pointing the rifle at them.

The second the blond’s feet are on the ground and you’re within 3 feet of him you stop, if you thought the smell was bad before your nostril hairs feel like they’re burning now. It’s taking all your control to not empty the contents of your stomach on the ground in front of you. “You smell foul!” Pinching your nose and trying to not gag, while Vash’s entire demeanor seems to crumple in on himself and a part of you feels horrible.

Seeming to notice the discomfort the Mayor was quick to offer up a hotel room for the two of you that had a bathroom attached as a sort of payment for your assistance. Keeping enough of a distance and trying to stay upwind of him, once back in the hotel it was a flurry of activity. Workers moving your items from your old room and being brought up to the room. The words room not really doing it justice, it seems ornate and the only thing you can think is this must be a room used for when VIPs of some sort come to visit.

Vash stalking for the bathroom the moment it was pointed out to him while you take in the room, and the giant king sized bed. Oh that is going to be nice to sleep on later, the mayor and innkeeper and both chatting away, turning to ask them to leave you find the innkeeper shoving a basket full of cleaning products, some of which you had no idea what to do with into your arms.

Which brings you back to the present, standing outside the bathroom door, waiting for your very smelly boyfriend to strip.

At the sound of him shucking his clothes you remove some of your own as well, leaving your jacket hanging on the coat rack near the door. “Mayfly?” muffled through the door you call out an answer. “Even my underwear is drenched in this stuff.” Snickering, at his discomfort, the mayor had told the hotel to let you use their washer and dryer to make sure the smell was gone from his clothes. Wedging the door open and grabbing the pile of clothes, doing your best to keep any of the goop from touching your own clothes and skin.

“Gross” breathing through your mouth you still want to gag, being careful with the noxious load as you get to the area the Innkeeper had showed you, his clothes tossed in and the wash cycle started, all the while wondering just how well off the owners of this hotel are to have such a nice machine like this, far more used to hand washing your clothes and leaving them to air dry. Returning to the room you notice your shirt was not spared from the disaster and strip it off before heading into the bathroom.

You whistle, finally getting a good view of the bathroom noticing a stand up shower and a bathtub. Damn. Vash is still in the shower trying to get some of the sludge off his body “How you doing Sunshine?”

A yelp from the shower and a few thuds of things being dropped, after a few moments his voice calling out like a squeaky toy. “I still smell that stuff everywhere.” Looking at the bathtub you get an idea.

“What if I helped you wash yourself?” It makes sense in your mind, you’d be able to get a good lather going and hopefully get him cleaned otherwise you might not want to cuddle with your lover tonight. At the sound of the taps turning off, a sopping wet head appears making your heart stutter in your chest. He just looks so soft.

“How?” Some of the water is dripping from his hair down onto his face and making you smile. Not just because of his hair but the fact he’s trying to keep his body hidden from sight. It’s only been a recent development for him to let you see him naked, he’s still nervous in regards to taking your physical relationship to the next level. Yet he still has no issue letting you give him either a blow or hand job with his pants still on.

“You sit in the tub here and I’ll scrub that pretty little head of yours of course, and well anything else” you shrug your shoulders before heading back to the room and grabbing the basket. You might not know what a lot of the products are but you see some salt scrubs and bath oils, those might help.

“Anything?” You snort, of course he’d be getting cheeky now that the two of you are alone.

“Yea but it’s to get the smell off your body so you might want to think that one over” teasing him right back you start running the bath water. Opening the bottle of oil and being hit by the smell of vanilla. That takes you back. Tipping the bottle over and letting a few drops fall into the water.

“Where’s your shirt?” Oh right. You’d sort of forgotten you’d taken it off, turning back towards him and his eyes focused on your fabric encased chest that gives him a nice view of the swell of your breasts.

“Get your head out of the gutter and get in here! And my shirt is in the damn room. It didn’t survive its run in with your clothes.” A whine resounds from somewhere deep in his throat as you watch him step from the shower hand over his crotch and you have to grin. Clearly your words have caused an effect, but with his current predicament you decide to not draw attention to it. “Here, hopefully the waters not too hot.” The tub also isn’t a normal tub, it’s nearly twice the size meaning both of you could lay down in it if you want. An idea you tuck away for tomorrow possibly.

“It’s not too hot” he still seems tense and hunches in on himself as you lean over him taking a whiff of his hair and reeling back. It smells better but not by much, not by much at all.

“We need to wash your hair before we do anything else, Vash.” Another whine as he turns to look at you and trying to give you an expression you can only describe as puppy eyes. “Vash, don’t be like that. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” As the water in the tub keeps rising you look around, not that you’ll complain if you have to sit on your knees to help him but a stool or something would be nice.

And sure enough in the corner is a small stool, it makes you think of a kids one as you grab it and return to the tub grabbing the shampoo bottle that had been in the basket. Opening the lid and taking a sniff, hit once more by the smell of vanilla. Stool behind Vash, but before you sit down Vash is still looking at you like you're going to hold him down and do something terrible to him. “Vash you just smell, I'm not going to hurt you or anything.”

His shoulders are still around his ears and he ends up muttering so low you have to ask him to repeat it. “I just don’t want you seeing my scars in this much light.”

You feel your smile grow, placing a hand along his jaw and trailing it along the edges “I don’t care about them right now, I care about you not being a smelly Stampede baby.” His face is warm under your skin, the blush creeping up his neck as he turns away from your hand and quickly dunking his head under the water.

“Let’s get this over with please” his voice is so low and wretched it almost hurts your heart, sitting on the stool and working a lather of suds on your hands before starting to work your hands through his hair.

Being as careful as you can, you get to work grinning at the noise he makes as you start to work the shampoo into his roots, digging your nails in lightly against his skull. Watching as the tension in his shoulders starts to melt away. “See this isn’t too bad” you have to admit, this is rather enjoyable, sitting there with him and taking care of him. The longer you work away the grim and knots in his hair the more he seems to sink into the water, relaxing.

“I think this is making me think I like playing with your hair” you laugh, taking your time with the soapy strands, letting them slowly run through your fingers. Watching the light shine through the blond locks, and it was doing something funny to your heart.

“I like how it feels” his voice is so soft and it breaks you from the daze you’d been in, getting closer to him and taking a sniff of his hair.

“At least it doesn’t smell horrendous now.” As you drag your nails along the crown of his head, a noise of satisfaction passing his lips. “Want to dunk under so we can rinse the soap out?” He does and as the water engulfs his head you ruffle your fingers through the thick mane hoping it gets all the soap out.

Coming back to the surface you’re happy to see most of the suds gone, the only residue left trailing down his undercut. Using a hand to scoop some of the water up and drop it away. Taking advantage to press your palms and fingers into the meat of his neck working through the tension sitting along there. “Any other parts of you that need a good scrubbing?” You are genuinely curious since if he had that much trouble with his hair, were there other parts of him that he hadn’t been able to properly clean.

“Well” at the teasing in his words you slap his shoulder, able to see from the reflection of the water his eyebrows waggle.

“Not there! Sheesh Vash, what happened to the bashful disaster I met a few years ago?” Suds all removed you smile, looking down at his shoulders in all their damaged glory.

“Well, I started dating this bounty hunter who happens to be a terrible influence” he’s leaning back, waiting to catch your eye trying to be serious. Once he does meet your gaze he can’t keep the grin from spreading across his cheeks. “But in all seriousness, could you do my back?”

“Of course I can Sunshine” standing up and heading for the pile of towels and washcloths you grab one of the smaller ones which is thankfully soft, wondering if the Mayor realized just how much of luxury this was . Soap and cloth in hand, you return to your boyfriend sitting in the tub, working up a thick lather before taking it to his skin. Watching him flinch, even if he was expecting it, when the cloth presses to the nape of his neck.

Taking care to use just enough pressure to clean his skin, working the cloth gently across, extra care given as you drift over the scarred skin. A masterpiece of patchwork skin and metal keeping him together, each part cleaned like he’s a priceless work of art. “You don’t have to be that gentle ya know?” his voice has that wistful note you know has to do with his self depreciation.

“Yes I do.” Quick to shut him down as you rub the soap over the cloth again “for once Vash, let's not get into it about how you feel about your scars. Just let me take care of you, I'm not always good with words, so let me show you” that seems to have done the trick getting him to shut his mouth as you continue your gentle actions against his back. As you reach lower and press against one of the small metal plates near his spine and watch him shiver.

“Sorry babe” you whisper into his ear, starting to make wider passes just above the water line of the tub. Catching on one of the lines of metal wires along next to his spine, and hearing him hiss from the cloth pulling on his skin. “Damnit, I really didn’t mean to do that baby” you whisper in his ear gently removing the fibers hooked on the edge.

Surprised when one of his hands reaches up behind him to reach for you, allowing the cloth to fall into the darkening water and grasping his hand and intertwining your fingers. “It’s fine, Mayfly.” A turn of his head and you lean closer to press your forehead against his, letting your eyes slide shut. After a few moments you feel his warm breath fan across your face “the water is starting to feel cool.”

Keeping your eyes closed you grin “I guess you should rinse off, and we can drain the tub. And refill it if you’re still smelly.” A quick response of hey and you're laughing, before you feel him laughing along with you.

Releasing his hand you lean back, and watch as he sinks under the water to remove the suds from his skin. When he comes back up, you smirk, darting your head forward to stick your nose into the crook of his neck and taking a deep inhale. While you’re first hit with the smell of Vanilla, your nostrils are then filled with a smell you know is Vash all by himself. “Do I still smell?”

“Nope.” Grinning and pressing a quick kiss to his skin “no more smelly Stampede.” Sliding back on the stool and standing, rolling your shoulder. “I’ll leave you to get dried off, but I’d prefer if you came out with only a towel on.” Spinning back around and raising your eyebrows at him “I might have an idea for after you come out.” You don’t give him a chance to react, grabbing a jar of lotion from the basket and skipping out of the room.

Hearing the water drain you laugh tucking your fingers under your nose to try and keep your giggles from being too loud. Even if he had been pretty smelly, and maybe the exhaustion from the day is catching up to you, but you are feeling pretty giddy at the moment. Cracking the jar and unsurprisingly the smell of vanilla coming from the opening once more.

It’s not long before Vash appears, a towel around his neck and one around his waist. Right. Clothes. You could have at least pulled some underwear out for him but it makes what you want to do all the better. “Come sit on the bed baby” you point out where you want him to go, standing before him and towel drying his hair taking the same care you had while washing it. Feeling his hands come to rest on your hips and hearing him let out a satisfied hum.

“So, what did you have in mind?” Vash is trying to sound suave, but you can tell he’s faking it from his posture, still trying to keep himself hunched over and smaller. The towel he’d wrapped around his waist was also almost long enough to reach the floor. Not answering him you keep working at his hair until it feels dry to the touch, removing the towel and tossing it over your shoulder.

Digging your fingers into his head and scrapping your nails along his skull, “a few more moments of pampering I think baby. Then you get dressed and I go check on our clothes, and maybe throw a load of our travel clothes in that washing machine.”

Digging his fingers into the side of your hips and looking up at you with that soft smile you know is him being shy. Leaning down and pressing a kiss to his beauty mark. “Now lay down on your stomach for me.” A grumble from him but he does as you ask, settling on the bed and sticking a pillow under his head so his arms are crossed under the fluffy object, body tense.

Once he’s done situating himself you move, so your hips are settled over his butt jar in hand, scooping enough out to cover your hands. Pressing them against his shoulders and rubbing into the muscle of his trapes, a noise not unlike a pleased animal rising from him. You don’t comment, just slowly work your hands down his back and working the kinks you find out of the muscles as loosens up. “See babe, this is nice and relaxing right?”

A happy hum from him as a response, and you keep working, stopping when you hear him starting to snore softly. It’s been a long day for both of you, going and throwing the laundry over after ‘borrowing’ one of Vash’s shirts. Almost all of your and Vash’s clothes going through the washing cycles, and dried before you head back to the room.

All the while wondering how successful this town was given all the amenities you don’t normally see and curious if there is something simmering under the surface. Getting back to the room in time for Vash to wake up, once again bashful to have his scars on display but at least not hiding as much this time around. Both of you getting changed and cuddling under the covers, a few soft touches, both too tired to try anything beyond cuddling and giggling while you speak in low voices.

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp

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