#the poison was not something he willingly drank by the way!

[fusionsprunt]

So wait. Gideon k.o himself to be Hunter? Or his organic body still intact? He's pulling a Springtrap??

.

[pippin-katz]

Merlin Was Truly Willing To Die For Arthur From The Start

Okay, I know we talk about The Poisoned Chalice all the time, and how gay it is, but I don’t think any of us truly acknowledges how fucking insane Merlin is. Please consider this.

Merlin drinks the poison not knowing:

what kind of poison it is

how lethal it is

how fast acting it is

if it has a cure

if the cure is something Gaius can make

if the cure is something Gaius can make fast enough to save him

What the hell was Merlin's plan?

He would have died. It's arguable that he does die, but his immortality brought him back.

Gaius couldn't make the cure the key ingredient was in a dangerous location and difficult to get to

the poison was magically enhanced it was enhanced by Nimueh to act faster than normal, effectively cutting their timetable in half

Arthur could've been prevented from going after his fight with Uther, he only decides to go possibly hours later, after talking to Morgana

Arthur would've died without Merlin's aid, he would have died in that cave and the cure never would've made it back

it was already too late Arthur gets the flower back, but he gets arrested and locked up, the flower gets crushed, and only gets to Merlin after Guinevere sneaks in and Arthur hides it in the food

the cure required magic Gaius had to use magic to activate the cure, so if he couldn't have gotten Guinevere out of the room, he couldn't have used it, and there was a strong possibility that he wouldn't have had the strength to do it because of the lack of practice

Merlin possibly died anyway he's immortal, and his breathing and heartbeat stop for a significant amount of time before he wakes up; I've written about it being possible that he's able to die and come back to life

So if Merlin was mortal, he would have died, and there was no way for him to know that they would be able to cure him prior to drinking the poison.

He had known Arthur for maybe a month if we're being generous. They were still on rough, getting-to-know-each-other terms. Merlin was still adamantly opposed to the whole "destiny" thing. Despite all of that, he willingly drank that poison without any hesitation.

That is fucking insane.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

hi, what are ur thoughts on SY!SQQ? do you dis/like him? do you think he “stole” SJ’s body?

Lol stole SJ's body.

No, I don't think he stole anything as "Shen Jiu" ceased to exist as an entity for the story the system wanted to fix. Shen Yuan was the change it needed as well as the other characters to have their fate changed. Shen Yuan is still the technical villain of the work, but that is not out of maliciousness as Shen Jiu, but situational mistakes made by him and misunderstanding that he himself has already altered the world's path.

Shen Yuan was the needed factor to right what even Shen Qingqua acknowledged as regrets over and turning it for the better. Shen Jiu regardless in Shen Qinghua's story would have never changed, regardless of what backstory he had untold and was revealed to Shen Qingqui. His past wasn't told for the reader's to think better of Shen Jiu, but for Shen Qingiu to realize he is not Shen Jiu or obligated to be, for the system or anyone. Shen Yuan has a lot of sympathy but is horribly dense to emotional empathy to others and time and again needs to have it shoved in his face that there are options to choose from that no longer keep hurting Luo Binghe as Shen Jiu had. It takes far longer than it should have to come to this realization as he finally acknowledges.

I will use this as an excuse to use another thought piece I've been poking at to add on as an addition. Due to Shen Yuan's awkward and low empathy processing and what that means that he is a villain antagonist that overcomes that trope:

Exactly what was this System? What was the point of its existence? So he could know exactly how unfortunate these people were? So he could personally witness the most tragic ways the world could screw people over?

Or so he could drive Luo Binghe to insanity?

Everyone said Luo Binghe had gone mad. Even he himself had smiled and admitted it. Xin Mo, which Luo Binghe had finally managed to suppress after a million words of struggle in the original work, had gained the upper hand in this struggle and invaded Luo Binghe’s mind.

This wasn’t a result of one or two events, but a slow accumulation over time, until finally it had completely erupted. Numerous signs had long since made themselves apparent,

but Shen Qingqiu had never noticed.

Or perhaps he should say that he’d never realized that Luo Binghe was actually so insecure, to the point of having an inferiority complex.

First, he’d thought Luo Binghe was unbelievably cruel and evil, then he’d thought Luo Binghe was unspeakably strong and bright. Looking back, the symptoms of Xin Mo’s invasion of Luo Binghe’s mind had appeared as early as Zhao Hua Monastery.

When Luo Binghe heard his backstory, he’d received a massive shock. In his moment of greatest panic, he reached out to Shen Qingqiu, pleading for his shizun to leave with him.

But Shen Qingqiu hadn’t taken Luo Binghe’s hand and instead had made Luo Binghe leave alone first. At that time, Luo Binghe’s psyche started to grow incredibly unstable. What he’d needed wasn’t a path of safe retreat, but to be together with Shen Qingqiu.

Even if he was trapped in Zhao Hua Monastery and unable to retreat, even if he was surrounded and attacked by everyone present—either outcome was better than leaving alone!

To a Luo Binghe in that state of mind, having to leave alone was as good as being "thrown away”—like he had been when Su Xiyan willingly drank that poison.

It was exactly as Luo Binghe himself had said. He wasn’t forcing Shen Qingqiu to choose between two options because he was completely certain he knew the answer, down to his very bones: that Shen Qingqiu would one day abandon him.

His entire mind had flooded with terror of and anxiety from speculating over something yet to happen. How could he not go completely insane?

Shen Qingqiu is not a mirror for Shen Jiu, he is one for Yue Qingyuan. As Luo Binghe in the changed plot is a mirror of Shen Jiu. Like Qingyuan Shen Qinqiu was unable to see what a perceived constant abandonment can do to a person's mind, especially with the "promise", that they would be there, they would make sure nothing would ever hurt them again, while being the catalysts of that continued hurt without acknowledgment. Yue Qingyuan expresses deep regret for just not simply being able to reveal to Shen Jiu what happened to him as well that caused him not to come back, desperately wanting to. Siblingship and what he felt for She Jiu was no less in yearning and love than the romantic adoration that Shen Qingqui had for Luo Binghe.

Shen Jiu:

Some time passed, then Shen Jiu sighed. “Qi-ge, you really gotta be less impulsive in the future. You mess up every single time. This time I was the unlucky one, but if you’re still like this in the future after joining those immortal sects, what are you gonna do? You gotta keep calm!”

He was lecturing someone older than him, and at such a tender age too. It was somehow comical. Yet the other youth didn’t seem the slightest bit unhappy. Instead he said earnestly, “I’ll remember.”

Now that he had hope, Shen Jiu’s voice became fervent. “You absolutely have to remember the things you said! You must come back to save me!”

Qi-ge seemed to be nodding his head hard. “All right,” he said emphatically. “Wait for me. Once I finish my training, I’ll definitely come back—then we’ll leave together!”

Luo Binghe:

Having just entered his apprenticeship, Luo Binghe had been full of joy and gratitude.

But now that he’d been splashed with a head full of tea for no reason, his heart had been wholly chilled and quenched, as if he’d taken a bucket of ice water to the face, complete with ice cubes.

He blankly remained kneeling in place, eyes unblinking. During this silence, two teardrops rolled down his cheeks.

This was Luo Binghe’s first cry since he personally buried his mother. It would also be the last time he cried at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. After this, no matter what humiliation he suffered, no matter what “Shen Qingqiu” did to him while venting his twisted feelings, Luo Binghe’s tears never fell unrestrained in the way they did today.

Shen Qingqiu

Shen Qingqiu crouched before him, but when he raised his sleeves, they passed right through Luo Binghe. He was unable to touch him, unable to hug him. He was completely helpless to even wipe away his tears. His heart ached and throbbed to the point that he wished for death.

Despite knowing Luo Binghe couldn’t hear him, he still said, “Don’t cry, hm?”

Luo Binghe stared down at his knees, and the fists resting on his legs slowly clenched. His tears dripped faster, the drops splashing onto his lapels.

"Shizun will never hit you again.” Shen Qingqiu fruitlessly wiped at his cheeks and coaxed him. “So don’t cry.”

Luo Binghe raised a hand and rubbed at his eyes, then carefully picked up the teacup on the ground before placing it to the side. Clutching that jade pendant to his chest, he corrected his kneeling posture.

Shen Qingqiu knew what Luo Binghe was thinking at this moment. Surely he hadn’t understood the rules and had done something wrong, angering the peak lord. That was why he’d been given this punishment. As a disciple, kneeling for his shizun was also something he should do.

Looking at those subtle movements of his, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but kneel as well so that they were face-to-face. He reached out, tightly enveloping the entirety of Luo Binghe’s small body in a phantom embrace.

Yue Qingyuan:

But Yue Qingyuan’s next words would shake Shen Qingqiu to the core. “I’m truly…sorry.”

Even his voice trembled. “Even though I wanted to return as soon as possible, even though I wanted to come get you immediately…I made a mess of things instead. You were right. In the end, I’m an impulsive person…

"After that, Shizun destroyed all the tendons, bones, and meridians in my body, then shut me inside the Lingxi Caves for more than a year. My entirety was broken down, to be rebuilt anew.

"I screamed, I yelled, but it was no use. For an entire year, inside that pitch-black cave, no matter how crazed I became, how hysterical, no one listened closely to what I said, no one let me out…

"I pushed myself as hard as I could, but by the time I returned, Qiu Manor had already been destroyed for some time…”

It is Yue Qingyuan that is what is able to snap Shen Qingqiu to not continue a path of fake apathy and to actually take a step to fix their regrets. Shen Qingqui doesn't want to be the empty promise of sympathy as resounded so many times despite doing nothing but adding to Luo Binghe's hurt by faking passivity and aloofness to make good on what he says about not wanting to hurt Luo Binghe and leave him consistently. The running thread here is that they both said they would "be together" with Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe respectively yet were not able to, due to awful circumstance for Yue Qingyuan, and for lack of foresight of Luo Binghe's trauma that even Shen Qingqiu added towards.

They admittedly did fail to uphold the larger than life promises they made in the heat of impulse, Shen Qingqiu was just given the opportunity to be able to right his mistakes with the push from Yue Qingyuan. Shen Qingqui was able to show in actions finally that he did ultimately and truly care deeply for Luo Binghe, who had been consistently met with abandonment by those he loved, intentionally and unintentionally committed by Shen Qinqiu the most. His flippancy towards Luo Binghe's traumas are what he needs to tackle himself and make up for, something that Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu were unable to do despite the efforts on Yue Qingyuan's part.

In short, I very much adore Shen Yuan (motions to blog title), I feel he is a great rendition of what it means to be human, he's not amazing, he's smart, but he's emotionally dense, he says hurtful things but can care for someone with his entire heart. But he is not as omnipotent as he thinks to be and has to learn that the one he adored and then vilified wrongly, did not harm him as much as he had harmed the one he said he wanted to protect.

[midnightstargazer]

Not to defend the overall narrative surrounding house-elves, but probably the #1 reason I'm so sympathetic to Regulus is that he didn't make Kreacher drink the potion.

House-elves are the lowest of the low in Wizarding society, and virtually nobody questions or objects to the way that they're treated. The narrative wants us to believe the Blacks were kind to Kreacher, but what we're actually shown says otherwise: his living conditions leave a lot to be desired, he harms himself as punishment for disobedience or failure, and then of course there's the whole beheading thing. I don't blame Regulus for any of this, because he was a child and would've had no say in it. But I think it's important to understand, where house-elves are concerned, his family wasn't that different from the Malfoys.

And yet, while I know some people do interpret his actions in a very uncharitable way (he was just upset that his property was damaged, etc.), I think there are signs that there was more to it than that. Kreacher himself states that "Master Regulus always liked Kreacher" (DH ch. 10), which implies that from an early age he showed him kindness and affection. Regulus described Kreacher's task for Voldemort as an honor for both of them; how many wizards would even consider whether or not something was an honor for their house-elf? And, while it's suggested he loaned Kreacher to Voldemort willingly, I don't think it's a coincidence that he ordered him to come home afterwards. He might not have suspected the task would be a death trap, but he knew it would likely be illegal and possibly dangerous. I interpret the order as an intentional precaution.

The exact reasons why Regulus turned against Voldemort are very open to interpretation. It could be he believed that making a Horcrux was going too far. It could be, as Sirius suggested, that he got squeamish about the reality of what being a Death Eater involved. But I do think protectiveness towards Kreacher must have been at least part of his motivation.

Why? Because he drank the potion himself.

This isn't an accident, either. It's emphasized by the narrative: Harry initially assumes Regulus ordered Kreacher to drink it, only to be corrected. It's portrayed as a shocking twist, and for good reason.

For most wizards, especially ones with Regulus's background, making the elf drink the potion would be the obvious solution. Hermione is right when she says what Voldemort did isn't that far outside the norm. Slughorn, who is generally one of the more positively portrayed Slytherins, used a house-elf to test wine for poison. The Blacks' family tradition is, specifically, "beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays" (OotP ch. 4) - so, they don't just preserve them that way after their death, they kill them as soon as they are no longer useful. Brutal physical punishments seem to be common, and their enslavement is accepted as normal and right by literally every character except Hermione. Wizarding society as a whole does not value the lives or welfare of house-elves.

But in the cave, Regulus prioritizes Kreacher's safety above his own. He drinks the potion himself rather than ordering Kreacher to do it, and once they've got the locket, he tells Kreacher to leave him behind. Regulus could very likely have made it out of the cave alive if he had been willing to sacrifice Kreacher, but instead, he ensured that Kreacher would be the one to survive.

Despite everything he had ever been taught about house-elves and their place in society, despite openly holding blood purist beliefs, despite it meaning the all-important family name would die out, he put Kreacher first. He kept Kreacher safe at the cost of his own life.

[finelyageddragons]

Currently in love with the relationship between the Grey Wardens and being doomed by the narrative, especially with how the HOF subverts that relationship so here's a 3am rant about it. Enjoy! The wardens are ghosts. They are born by letting go of everything you had before and drinking poison to bind your fate to the darkspawn and promise that your life and perhaps more importantly, your death belongs to them. The whole joining is a terrifying experience, you're drinking the blood of monsters and seeing a corrupt god in your mind and waking up to see those who died around you and being told you'll meet the same fate soon enough you've just been given more time to get there because to sacrifice, to die is a warden's purpose. Even if you survive becoming a warden, your best case scenario is sacrificing yourself to end the blight but it's far more likely you'll die fighting darkspawn or even more likely lose your mind and have to go to the deep roads to be lost and have your death be your last act of defiance in the face of this overwhelming wave of evil waiting to rise again. The best thing that can happen to a warden is to die in a meaningful way because you gave away your life the moment you drank that blood. All you are now is a soldier waiting to die in war and hopefully take the enemy down with you. It is tragic and haunting and noble and so full of grief. Grief for the live you gave behind and for the one you'll never have. Every warden spends every day of their life hoping not for a future or any life for themselves but simply to make their death mean something which is an incredibly interesting mental state and I could go on about how that effects individuals and messes with their values so that corruption is rife but what started this whole thing is Fereldan.

A wonderful post by @sapphim (which I don't know how to cite but I wanna give credit so if there's a way please tell me) discussed how beneficial it was for the wardens that the fifth blight occured in Fereldan and how much they lost by it being solved so soon. To put it simply, they wanted to sacrifice Fereldan as a lost cause and use it as an example of why they wardens shouldn't be neglected. They wanted it to be known of how much of a sacrifice they make an how important their duty by letting the country of Fereldan be an example of what happens when no one is there to do it and that the narrative has doomed everyone, that the world's crimes will be paid for unless someone is willing to be selfless and bear the burden to give the world another chance. Andraste would have been a great warden I'm sure. In the eyes of the warden, Fereldan is tainted just like their blood, it is promised to the darkspawn just like they are, willingly or not it bears the duty that all wardens do and must make the sacrifice they do too. For the greater good. To stop the darkspawn. It's better you having a death that matters than a life that lasts. This is the psychology of the wardens and they are applying those same beliefs to all of Fereldan. Why must they be the only ones doomed by the narrative? There is no surviving this story and there is saving the world there is only killing the darkspawn before it kills you. Thedas is at war with the archdemons and until they're all dead, there is no peace, there is only preparing for the next battle. There is no building a life, no building a country, there is nothing to protect because it is all doomed.

The way duty and sacrifice and the promise of the Grey Wardens must alter their values and perspective on life is fascinating and there is so much to explore here but what's important for this post is that the foundation of their entire order is that they are already dead.

This then brings us to the HOF and cheating death. Duncan is like the grim reaper in Origins the way he comes and snatches your soul at the end of each origin which I honestly love and it ties in so well to the idea that wardens are ghosts given you die in every other version of the story without him but that's the story of all wardens. They all die a symbolic death at the joining so that's okay but then Ostogar happens. Flemeth happens. You should have died. Fereldan should have been lost. Remember, the duty of the wardens is dying not surviving but you did survive, snatched away by a god. Every other warden has died thinking their paying the price for an absent god yet this goddess not only favours you, she changed fate for you. Every other warden throughout history has paid the price but not you. Not Fereldan. You get to cheat the fate while it dooms everyone else. Can you imagine how that must have felt for the other wardens? How much they must hate the hero for stealing the martyr Fereldan was set to be and making all their losses naught but a tragedy when it could have been so much more? Not only did you escape your own death but you stole the value of theirs. You survived which goes against everything the wardens are made for.

Going even further than that, you have the dark ritual where you can actively choose to cheat death again. When every other warden has had to give their life, had to sacrifice and lose and grieve and poison their humanity as they did their bodies, you get to escape it all. Wardens have struggled for decades to have a foothold in Fereldan but you'll go so far as to choose their ruler for them without any consultation. You have been a warden less than a year, ended a battle that they prepared for over hundreds of years and sacrificed more hundreds of years fighting in the past and not only have you defied everything they defined themselves by, you have made them look like fools and decided their fate for them. You have stolen the meaning of the death of every warden, you have stolen their martyrs and the justifications for their actions and by keeping your own life and humanity, by resisting their poison you have made them all look like monsters.

The hero was doomed by the narrative as all wardens are but they rewrote fate, they stole their life back so many times and by surviving, they created a whole new narrative that ruined everything the wardens were built upon. The wardens were made to be ghosts, not heroes. They're meant to die and be remembered nobly so they can be redeemed for they had to do to get there but not you hero. You get to shame us all, don't you?

[cowboykind]

Julien Clarke - aka Lukas Barlowe (Trigger warning for religious abuse, child abuse) // not required reading but this is his old Google Docs if you're interested

In the cult he was born into, Julien had a role. He was the leader's son, he (unknowingly, but willingly) perpetuated the cycle of abuse, and people listened to him. At fifteen years old, all of this is stripped away when he is 'saved' from the 'horrible abuse' thanks to several concerned citizens and years of careful undercover detective work.

Suddenly, he is thrust into an unfamiliar and uncomfortable environment, placed in foster care and labeled a 'problem child' for repeatedly running away from his foster parents. He struggles to find an identity for himself or a place in the world, eventually changing his name from Julien to Lukas as a way of reinventing himself (Barlowe is the last name of his mother, who did not make it out of the cult alive.)

Additional information: -another OC that is closely tied to his story is Kris, who belongs to my friend @loveleftbehind. They are around the same age, and Kris suffered abuse at the hands of Julien and other members of the cult. Currently, they are not on good terms -Julien's foster mother is incredibly patient and kind, despite the fact that Julien is terrible to her (running away, completely dropping all contact, causing her to worry, plus he is not easy to get along with). She believes that anyone can change for the better, and he is no exception. He learns to appreciate and love her as he gets older, proving her point. -Julien is incredibly traumatized from things he's seen and associated with being 'normal'. Unsavory behavior was reacted to by instilling fear, and he took that and became a people-pleaser in a negative way. He is rude, dismissive, and cold by default at the beginning of his story, but can't hold down a job or maintain friendships, so he becomes lonely and desperate. The process of unlearning everything he knows is slow, but the other option is a life of solitude and petty crime. -The original name for this story was "When It Rains". The cult leader (his name is Ryan) believed that when the Rapture happened, arsenic rain would fall and kill everything, so he had his followers drink arsenic laced water to gain a tolerance for it (this was a thinly veiled excuse to poison the 'weaker' members). Julien drank and distributed a large deal of this water growing up, leading to mild cognitive decline and partial hearing loss. -Identity is very important to Julien. He was tasked with looking after the younger children to make sure they did as they were told, a job he did well and was applauded for. He was unafraid to dole out punishment if it meant getting attention from the person he looked up to the most. He was cruel and the behavior was reinforced many times, and he loved it. And then it all went away, and he was no one. He will get frustrated if he isn't good at something right away, desperate to find that label again, but not committed enough to actually hone a skill. The problem is, if he finds something he's good at, and actively told he's good at, he will latch onto it, even if its morally questionable or downright horrible. His foster mother worries that she isn't doing enough to keep him from ending up in the cycle again or dead, but he doesn't listen to her.

[fission-mailure]

I mean, on the bright side, with the introduction of Time Fruits, the Fruits That Are Also Time, in the Ever After, RWBY does now have a way to reverse Jaune’s years of isolation. It’s not unreasonable to think that if there’s a fruit that reverses time for everything except the holder, then there’s also one that reverses time for the holder but not everyone else.

On the dim side, I’m pretty sure they won’t do that since the whole theme of this volume is ‘you cannot rid yourself of the bad things in your past, because they’re a part of who you are.’ Like -- Weiss can’t rid herself of Jacques, that’s a part of her; Blake can’t just get rid of her time in the White Fang and her feeling of being caught between two worlds, that’s a part of her; Ruby pawning off Summer’s emblem isn’t really a liberating moment of freeing herself from the shackles of the past, it’s presented as her carving off pieces of her identity.

And that’s ultimately the source of the conflict between the Cat and Jaune, right. To the Cat, it’s entirely reasonable that when the past catches up with you and you start to tire, that you just remove the baggage and refashion yourself into something new (even if, as he points out, your heart still remembers). To Jaune, that’s just dying, erasing who you were from the world.

So we’re still kind of in the position of ‘what happened to Jaune is irreversible’ because even if he does somehow magically get rewound, apart from being a betrayal of his own ethics, his experiences will still be there, engraved on him. Even the Cat admits that you can’t ever fully get rid of who you were. And we’re now seeing that actually, the damage to Jaune is worse than we previously thought. Because the Cat’s right, he’s not entirely sane anymore. His own story shows that: He willingly drank poison because he was terrified that he was somehow ruining Alyx’s story.

(Which also raises an interesting point for either Alyx or Lewis, whichever one of the siblings is the one who escaped. They wrote a story about their experiences, but cut out not just the bad parts, but an entire person, essentially trying to edit their own past, and now I’m even more sure that one of them is part of Salem’s inner circle. After all, Salem can sympathise with wanting to rewrite your past.)

[redroom-rainbowguts]

Baby's First Attempted Murder

(Severance Day)

Word count: 551 | TW: drugging

It was early on after the incident. Each fractured piece of Grey's mind still desperately clung to one another, as though reconciliation could be achieved through sheer force of will. Rather, his mind was cracked, chipping further each day as choices became more complicated and indecision gave each piece more power as individuals.

Through the fog that pervaded his brain, a stray thought whisped its way to the front. "What if?"

He'd recently injected his testosterone. An uneventful task normally; he'd been doing it weekly for a few years at this point, but as he drank from a plastic bottle he wondered if it was contaminated. It should've been nothing more than an intrusive thought, but it stuck with him.

It wouldn't be hard, right? In fact, it seemed laughably easy! Though not common, there were certainly people out there who had no qualms with killing the innocent; yet poisoned food products didn't typically come up in the news, save for a few freak cases. Perhaps there wasn't any news because it was so hard to trace? Grey couldn't take it, he needed to see if it was plausible.

With a syringe full of dyed water, he began the test. He carefully pulled up a bit of the label and slipped the needle into the soft plastic. It crinkled under the pressure for a moment before the sharp tip broke through. Green filled the bottle, dissipating as it became saturated with the surrounding liquid. He pressed the label back down, hoping the adhesive was still sticky enough to seal the hole. Success!

Excitement cast a heavy haze over morality. It worked! Would he achieve the same result with an actual poison? The density would be different, after all, and who's to say this wasn't a fluke? Further testing was needed- for science, of course!

It was a slippery slope after that. Curiosity about what drugs he could viably sneak out of his school's lab. They had no reason not to trust him; after all, he was helping with important research, and vials break all the time. As long as everything missing was logged, they had no reason to investigate. He ensured it wouldn't be immediately traceable either, taking his experience and setting up a rudimentary lab at home to cook weak substances into something a bit more volatile. From there he tested how strongly it tasted when mixed with plain water, then calculated how much would be needed if it was diluted enough to become virtually tasteless. At last he just had to see how willingly people would take a random water bottle so long as it was seemingly unopened.

Through every step he told himself it was purely scientific interest, harmless little tests to sate his morbid curiosity. But that reassurance lost power as each successful test smoothed over another crack in his psyche. For the first time since The Incident, Grey felt whole. And when someone finally took the bait- drinking it right then and there, no less- euphoria cast the final blow. The cord binding him to the person he once was was severed.

His victim fell severely ill within minutes, but ultimately she survived. However something in Grey died that day, and he had never felt more alive.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

my love and my controller

dogboy headcanons ig

gender neutral reader

Dog is a man’s best friend, but fae are far from being a man’s best friend. But the juxtaposition of a dangerous being of the night, a creature that could drain you of your life or enchant you to a madness so sickening that you would have no choice to surrender, and that of a beast that wants nothing more than to lay at your feet and place his head in your lap is one that delights you all the same. There is no reward without risk, no pleasure without pain, and in love, there is no adoration without some variation of war.

Malleus is far from a docile and gentle dog; he demands your respect, and it’s only when he knows he has it that he dares bow his head to you. He’s a prince, and as naïve as he can be at times, he acknowledges his duty before he acknowledges his heart, so this pretense is merely a show for him to soothe over the guilt resting in his heart before he carves the sensation of your hand deep into his skin.

Your faintest hint of domestication is when it’s late at night. If you sit by the edge of your bed and open up your arms to him, tempting him with honeyed eyes and even more honeyed words, he’ll naturally fall into place with you. You can’t even fathom the power you have over him: the prince of the night kneeling in front of you, groveling for your attention like the touch-starved mutt he is, willing to conquer the world seven times over if it means he can feel your lips touch his forehead.

The final sign of surrender comes when something clicks against his neck and his breathing grows shallow. What sort of spell did you cast on him, dearest child of man? How far did he fall in his degeneracy, to let his guard down enough to let you place a collar on him? The fae heir dares to question you momentarily before the possessive gleam in your eyes has him backing down, swapping his dignity for one more warm touch that melts him away completely, transforming the dragon of legend into nothing more than a lapdog for you to entertain yourself with.

“A prince? This is not what a prince should do, child of man. Yet you make me submit to this carnage over and over again, and despite knowing it’s wrong, no complaint rises to my lips.”

You’ve never met someone so capricious before, and it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for you to believe him to be a cat before he was a dog. But the magic of the supernatural exists in a realm beyond your comprehension, and you know all too well that to venture too deep into a place where you weren’t permitted would leave you in the position of the conquered rather than the conqueror. So it was best to take Lilia as he was: mischief and all, secrets and all, mysteries and all.

Lilia loves to tease the boundary, wondering how far he can go under the guise that he’s nothing more than an innocent puppy that doesn’t know right from wrong. Whether that means waking up tangled in your sheets or stealing you away as he must have done with countless other hearts before you were even brought into conception depended on the day, but regardless, like a dog unleashed, he dragged you around to and fro, taking and giving whatever he pleased.

A dog is still a primal animal at the end of the day, bred from hunters that knew danger as if it were the back of their paw, and that combined with his past avarice for the glory of his crown means a nature so monstrous at times that you’re left reeling. The stifling kisses and the carnal taste of a blood-tainted love are testimonies to the darkness swirling hidden by a softer facade, which you accepted without a second thought.

His collar is worn with pride, a means to an end that’ll surely leave you with either the highest of paradise or cast down like humanity thrown out of the blessed garden. You don’t care; Lilia is the best thing you’ve ever known. The way his tail wags, the way he begs for you, the way he stakes his claim on you are all part of the poison that you willingly drank, and it’s only a matter of time before the insignia of ownership that he has on his body transfers from his neck to yours.

“Am I yours, or are you mine? Are you asking because you’re curious or because you want to reaffirm your position? Fufu, you already know the answer to that, don’t you, Master?”

Vigilant, the essence of the moon, filled with aspirations, Silver is all you could ever ask for. He works quietly, swiftly, with a dedication that’s unmatched by anyone else, so long as he can fight off the curse that kisses his eyelids and lulls him into wandering back to the safety and warmth of your presence. How could you rebuke him? He slots himself into your arms, plunging himself into the depths of dreams until you would lure him back into the world of the living with a quiet coo and white promises.

Oblivious to his destiny yet hyperaware of his duties, the living metaphor that Silver is amuses you to no end. You watch him as he stands guard by your bed rather than his liege’s, you laugh at him as he looks to you for validation rather than his father, and you justify yourself with him as he pledges something more than simple servitude towards you. Love is such a difficult, fickle thing; it’s almost like he doesn’t recognize how deeply he’s fallen for you.

But when you pat his ears and whisper about how much of a dearly good boy he is, that’s when he acknowledges that he may be more animal than human. After all, no human would respond to such a demeaning hint of praise with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, lips parted as if to beg you for more, fingers curling around their own flesh in a futile attempt to cling to his pride and humanity, that he remain more of a lover than a pet in your eyes.

When he hears the ‘click’ of the collar around his neck and the feeling of your pointer finger pressing against his lips to shush him, Silver finally recognizes the gravity of his fall. Truly the shining star cast out of Heaven for failing to recognize the slice of bliss he had tasted, the once-noble knight faces his sin and readily gives himself up to you, bowing his head away from the crown and towards the image of you smirking above him, enjoying the spoils of the ruin he had made of himself and presented at your feet as both a sacrifice and a reward.

“I dedicate myself to you, to your safety, to your glory, to your happiness. Use me as you will, Master, for I exist as nothing more than a pet and a tool to carry out your will.”

The line between love and loyalty is a thin one. Sebek’s nothing more than a pup still stumbling over his own feet, let alone know what it means to throw himself into such a tumultuous battlefield like love and expect to escape unscathed. Lucky for him, you’re more than willing to show him the ropes, enticing him into a willing desperation with the promise of true love and an obsession so sweet that he would never come to his senses again.

He keeps his pride, piecing back together what you allow him to have, and you flip the title of soldier and knight and lover between your fingertips whenever you run your fingers through his hair and press your head against his chest, to hear his heartbeat and murmur about how much you love him. He has no choice but to love you with abandon, to cast aside his fae blood and his brilliant humanity to become a dog at your beck and call.

He guards you and protects you like it’s his life duty to do so, watching over you as you sleep and staying by your side in the day and warding off anything. Each hair on your head is precious, and each drop of blood you spill is the equivalent of his own body being harmed. He exists for you, and Great Seven be damned if this is where he fails. But Sebek doesn’t know failure, and he’s not going to change that anytime soon.

The collar is a vow he made to you, a vow that casts a shadow on the once bright light of his determination and tricked him away from the flowery path to the one filled with thorns. It doesn’t matter to him anyway; all he knows and soon, all he’ll ever know, is you. The tug of leather on his neck, right next to his pulse, is living proof of that, and whenever you yank on it to pull him close, he’s more than happy to oblige and take all of the traps and brambles that you’ve strewn around him in a show of both twisted love and tainted loyalty.

“Don’t cast me away, Master. I can do anything you want me to do. I can do so much more than what I’m doing right now for you. Have faith in me, just like you did at the beginning.”

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

[extremelyblackandwhite]

falling.

pairing: carter baizen x reader

warnings: angst, cheating (sorta?)

part 1 / part 2

and it kills me 'cause i know we've run out of things we can say. what am i now? what am i now? what if i'm someone i don't want around? i'm falling again, i'm falling again, i'm falling. what if i'm down? what if i’m out? what if i'm someone you won't talk about? i'm falling again, i'm falling again, i'm falling and i get the feeling that you'll never need me again ...

Stay away from me. I don’t want to see your face.

Those words were burned and scarred onto his mind and no matter how much he drank, how much he smoked, how much he slept, he could still hear her voice echoing those same words which hit him like daggers. She’d meant those words, he knew her well enough to know when she meant something and she had meant every single letter of every single word she had muttered. He couldn’t escape them and the worse thing was, he couldn’t escape her face. He hadn’t seen her in the last three months but he couldn’t forget the look on her face, the look of disappointment and hurt. He was used to disappointing his family, that’s all he could do but he’d never disappointed her before. She’d been upset at him, he’d been upset at her but they’d never been disappointed at each other. They’d always been there for each other but now she was just gone and he daren’t even try approaching her. He knew her threats weren’t empty and he knew way too well not to mess with Y/N. She was sweet but at the end of the day she was a Vanderbilt heiress and if you got on her bad side, you could easily see it. Yet, that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her.

How could he not when she had been around since the very moment they were introduced for each other? He couldn’t really explain what they were and he didn’t want to dwell on it, he’d rather think to himself that she was gone rather than admit he was the one responsible for it. After all, wasn’t that what he always did? Run away from his problems and avoiding them, instead creating even more issues. It was easier after all. However, what he did not expect was to find her doing the exact same and he couldn’t help but admit how angry he was to see her with someone else. At Cotillion, with Chuck, it was easy to know it was nothing; after all, everyone with a pair of eyes knew all Chuck Bass was interested in was Blair and once Nate was off the picture, the two immediately became a thing. But now? Now he couldn’t convince himself of it, he couldn’t tell himself that she was trying to make him jealous as she stepped into a MET exhibition accompanied by someone whom he didn’t know. A Kennedy, he had heard, and how could Carter compete with a Kennedy? He could not but seeing his Y/N with someone else made his blood boil and his grip tight around the champagne glass. Clearly he had forgotten he was here with someone else as well, yet, that didn’t mattered. What mattered was that his Y/N was with someone else. 

He hadn’t even want to come to this exhibition in the first place, he’d even tried to argue it out with Serena yet it was no use, he was here now and he could see it; he could see them. He could see the man pointing to his Y/N introducing her to everyone in the room as if she didn’t already know them. And that smile, that smile that always got him to do anything she wanted. A smile that was for him no longer yet looked his way and faltered. He downed the cold champagne in his glass, staring back at her before she moved her gaze away, hand wrapped around her date’s arm. Carter shoved the champagne glass on one of the floating silver trays before making his way through the crowd like a wolf hunting its sheep until she reached her. Whomever she was with had left her alone, probably to get some drinks but he didn’t care.

      - We need to talk. 

      - No, we do not. - she grabbed a canape from a passing tray, a habit she had whenever she was uncomfortable at parties. 

      - Can you at least give me that? You ruined my family’s appearances at social events, you made your point. You owe me a talk.

      - That’s rich. - she looked over her shoulder, hoping her date would come and interrupt their interaction. 

      - Please. - his eyes scanned hers for any softness which still laid for him, yet he couldn’t read her eyes. They were hooded and hidden by thick black shadow and dark eyeliner which took away from how watery and bright they usually were, from how happy he remembered them. It’d been a long, long three months and part of him hopped all the care she had once held from him hadn’t died. He still held her in high regard and while he didn’t expect her for even care for him anymore, part of him still hoped she wouldn’t let him bleed out if she found him wounded. However, Y/N was much too smart to let her own emotions take over her in public situations and so she walked away.

Her gown dragged away all her insecurities and all the faltering which still seemed to dance around her whenever he was around, yards and yards of fabric dragged all that was bubbling all the way to her throat and she found herself walking faster and faster to the bathroom. Her hands flew to the porcelain sink, holding herself up as if the weight of all she had ignored for the past three months was pushing her down into the centre of the Earth. Her head snapped up, watching her reflection in the golden mirror; she thought maybe if she could see how pathetic she looked, she would snap out of it. 

     - Y/N. - her grip on the porcelain tightened up as she turned her head to see him against the closed door.

     - I hate you. - she almost barked those words at him, voice filled with poison as if she had wanted to say them a long time ago. His eyes softened, corners looking down, a far cry from how unreadable he always was. - With every fibre of my being, I hate you. 

     - Fine. - he made his way towards her, standing by her side. - I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to hurt you.

     - You humiliated me in front of everyone. - her eyes looked into his for the first time that night, old wounds still not completely wounded. - You kissed me in Santorini when you were with Serena. You are a bad person, Carter. 

     - I know but I wasn’t with her like I was with you.

     - Details of your relationship do not interest me, Carter. If you wanna talk about your relationship, I’d suggest couples therapy. 

     - We weren’t a couple in Santorini, Y/N. Did you seriously think I would’ve done that to you?

     - I don’t know you. - she spewed those words, letting go of the sink and walking backwards, away from him. - I don’t even trust you, Carter.

     - I hope you know I’m not asking for forgiveness from you. I’m just apologising. 

     - I don’t need your apology, I need you away from me. I want you away from me.   

     - You’re spoiled, you know that? - he pointed his finger at her. - Just because the whole world revolves around your family does not mean I’ll stop going places just because you don’t want to see me. You don’t get to decide what I do!

    - For someone who hates this lifestyle, you seem so bothered. - she stood there, not completely happy with the adjective he’d just placed upon her. Y/N Archibald was many things, but spoiled was not one of them. No matter how many riches she had, she did not expect the world to bend to her will.  - Why are you here if you’re just going to criticise me anyway? 

The two of them remained in that match, almost to see which one of them could hurt the one the most, as if hurting each other would somehow make the fact they weren’t together hurt any less. The truth was, both of them were stubborn individuals and while Y/N had been the most forgiving of the two, seeing the man she had always hoped would someday be hers with someone else had almost erased all of that. Maybe she was spoiled for expecting him to someday magically want her by his side but he was spoiled too. They were two flawed human beings staring each other, waiting to see which one would break apart first until he realised one thing; he did not want to see her break apart. He was bitter, angry at her even but deep down he knew there was no one to be angry at but himself. He had caused this and he was lashing out at her, hoping that by hurting her, he’d feel better about her hating him so much. However, he did not want to hurt her. At least no more than he’d already done, either willingly or unwillingly. 

    - You win. - he lowered down his hands in defeat. Y/N, however remained still yet if one were to touch her arm, they could feel she was trembling. - I can’t fight with you any longer.

He almost left her there standing, not sure of what to say. He really was going to leave, he was going to disappear for a while yet his decision faltered as his eyes almost too quickly scanned her, noticing the thin gold bracelet around her wrist. He had given her that bracelet, something he’d got from one of his first travels to Europe. It was nothing too special, in all honesty, compared to what she was wearing, it was probably the cheapest thing she had on her person but he remembered that bracelet way too well. He remembered giving her the small little bag, her little argument about how he shouldn’t have gotten something for her, how she promised she’d never take it off. She still had it, she still wore it. 

     - You’re wearing the bracelet I gave you. - he pointed towards her wrist and she immediately covered it, looking at it for a bit before looking up at him.

     - Fine. - her voice almost broke as she tried to undo the clasp.

     - Don’t. - his voice however broke down as she found the clasp. - You promised. 

Her aura softened, shoulders lowering to a neutral position as her hand unwrapped from her wrist, her eyes gazing the shiny gold metal before she looked up and at him. Whatever fire her anger had ignited within her went down, washed away like the waves onto the sand and for the first time she moved forward until she was close enough to feel his breathe on her face. Her eyes heightened up to his, lips half parted as her hands cupped his face, the same face she had seen grow older over these years yet remain the same blue eyes which were so typically his. Her finger grazed his cheekbone, the mere action making him nuzzle his face against her warm. She always had warm hands and the both of them no longer wanted to fight. She was tired and Carter was deadly afraid of not ever talking to her again, he could not lose her. He did not want to lose her. 

There was no sound, not even the soft music outside seemed to break the silence, all that was around was their breathing, soft and slow. Her eyes moved from his to his lips, pink tinted, tainted with the taste of champagne which she could smell from his breathe. Soft emotion filled eyes looked his for a second before she moved closer, closing the distance between them. Her hands moved from his chest to rest against his chest as she tasted the champagne on his lips. His hands held her waist flush to him, before he two broke off the kiss, foreheads leaned against each other.

    - Don’t leave.

[zet-sway]

I wrote something angsty and spicy.

Rated: "E" for "Extremely Spicy" [NSFT] AO3 Link: "Vantablack" Pairing: Thane / FemShep (Unrequited?) Pairing: Garrus / Femshep (Mentioned) Summary: Alone, as only a drell mind could, moments melded together like droplets of dew on grass. The ghost of his mouth over her neck. The taste of her painted lips on a rim of crystal. Hair feathering over his fingers, the scent of her body, and the thrum of her pulse tugging at his heart with longing.

THIS IS NOT HAPPY SHRIOS. Most of my recent work has been very soft and warm feeling - this is not that. But I want ya'll to know I have some soft happy shrios in the pipeline to make it up to you <3

Inspired by @shut-up-alexa's fic Weightless, I drew upon the moment where Thane takes a sip from a glass Shepard had just been drinking from - as was her intention. The fic itself says he tastes her lip print and sets the memory aside for when he is "alone with himself in the darkest part of the night." It was then I knew I had been visited by the smut fairy. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME WRITE FANFIC OF YOUR FANFIC :D

Sleep was difficult enough to claim, most nights.

Thane, ever a man of routine, kept to his nightly rituals like an acolyte. He began with prayer. Verses carved into his mind since his youth, silent and still as he bargained with the gods to mull the chaos of his memories, to forgive his misgivings. Meditation lasted as long as it needed to. Sleep was, after all, fruitless without a quiet mind.

Aboard the Normandy, however, nightly meditation felt like a fool’s pursuit. Shepard, returned from the waves of Kalahira’s ocean, demanded much of a man like him. In her hands, the carefully constructed fortress of his mind was like a house of cards. Reborn into the hands of the enemy, she raged, unable to trust the unfamiliar construct that was her body and searching with grief and heartache for a lover she couldn’t locate. She prodded him with questions, seared him with her gaze and her relentless upset.

Raw, heart-stricken, and reckless, her anger was justified - even if she flung it at him underhandedly. He forgave her always. To be her target was to bear her trust. He could see it clearly; she knew no other way to soothe the guilt and isolation that tore openly at both her body and her mind. In time, he was confident she would heal. Until then, Cerberus was no friend to her.

And thus tonight, like most nights, she haunted him.

At 0300, he decided on a compromise. Troubled sleep was better than none at all. After a calming herbal tea and having tended to his hygiene, he settled into his cot, nude as he so preferred to sleep. If he could sleep at all.

The minutes, and the memories, began to tick by.

"The most important aspect is intent," he’d said to her, watching her eyes follow him while he circled behind her. "A breath of hesitation will get you killed, or worse." Hands alighted on her shoulders - a companionable gesture before they both endeavored to threaten her life.

Shepard didn't flinch when he began the demonstration. Thane flattened himself against her back, one arm winding wide around her shoulders. Pressed into the curves of her body, his sweet torture began. She arched her neck - calm, trusting - offering her throat into the curl of his elbow as he tucked his arm under her chin and sealed his hand on her opposite shoulder. He steeled himself against his lust, breathing in unison with her, taking advantage of his proximity to inhale her scent as he demonstrated the headlock. Carmine hair brushed across his fingers where they were clamped on the nape of her neck, his breath washing over vulnerable, prickling skin.

Thane let the silence linger, writing the lush warmth of her body into his memory, caught in the lethal intimacy of his embrace.

"Weaken the spine by twisting," he murmured, his lips nearly brushing her ear, each word sending strands of hair ruffling on his breath. Thane closed his eyes, enflamed by her closeness, praying for mercy as she tilted back into him - a wordless exchange of scorching intent, however convinced she was to not act upon it.

His voice, barely a whisper, poured forth from intangible parts of him that hadn't known a lover's touch in over a decade.

"Apply pressure in the opposite direction."

Careful, controlled, he flexed the arm around her throat and wristed the palm at her neck. Painful to her, as he knew it would be, but not enough to truly hurt her. Nevertheless, she tensed in his arms, a kinetic shiver flowing from her body into his like the sinful call of a siren. Willing herself to trust a killer's restrained tactile intimacy, a hair-trigger away from dropping her where they stood.

"And snap."

Innate human vulnerability gave voice to her wanting. A single breath escaped her lips when she failed to contain it behind clenched teeth, her carotid artery pounding beneath smooth scales. Thane answered with his own hot rush of air against the back of her neck, a contorted gasp he hadn’t realized he was holding, torn from his throat almost against his will.

He allowed himself a blinding second more before releasing her, but not before stealing a brush of delicate skin across his lips as he pulled away. A parting gift to himself - one he paid for just hours later, when she laid her poisoned trap before him.

With the skin of her neck still irritated from their training, Shepard, mildly intoxicated herself and wrapped in a dark silk robe, presented him with a glass of her own venom. Tequila - amber and potent, an indulgence she knew full well he’d deny -- unless it was laced with his drug of choice. Her.

There upon the rim of the glass was the rosy imprint of her pigmented lips. A well of temptation, spiked with her essence. If this was a test, he'd failed spectacularly. Gods forgive him, he raised the glass to his lips under the pretense of drinking and lost himself to the faintest tastes of her mouth, entranced, savoring the traces of her beneath the mask she painted on every morning to reclaim what little of herself she believed was left. Shepard watched him with a carnivore's eyes, drawn over with night-black daggers as if to warn him. Like a rose garden, she was beautiful and wreathed in thorns. He knew better than to stray too close, but he would gladly take what meager offerings she presented - venomous or not.

This was his penance for opportunity’s kiss, stolen behind her back. A petty theft, to be sure. But even petty sins were still sins.

True to her reputation, Shepard was a fast learner. She played his game, abided by his rules, allowed him to touch her under the guise of training. She wasn’t blind to her effect on him - no. She would use him to find her turian lover. And he would let her. Selfishly, begrudgingly - willingly. What she desired would be hers for however long she allowed him to remain in her orbit.

The temptation of her lingered in his mouth and still, it wasn’t enough. It would never be until he could taste it directly from her lips, sealing his arms around her, a serpent beckoning her to taste of her own forbidden desires.

“What does it taste like?” She’d asked, as he sampled her forbidden offering.

The moment played over in his mind as he savored what little he had of her. Wax and pigment woven through with the fire of her essence. The rubicund flavors of her mouth, lit from within by the burn of tequila. The leash of his desire held firm in her little human hands, ever reminding him that she was not his to hold.

Alone, as only a drell mind could, moments melded together like droplets of dew on grass. The ghost of his mouth over her neck. The taste of her painted lips on a rim of crystal. Hair feathering over his fingers, the scent of her body, and the thrum of her pulse tugging at his heart with longing. Filched moments clutched around and within him, lust coiled like a snake in his gut, rearing its head between his legs. A call of arousal demanding to be answered - painfully, without another to share in his release.

He shifted on his cot, loosely draped in the delicate, tight-woven sheets that slipped over his scales as he rolled onto his back, throwing an arm behind his head in frustration. All the meditation and control in the galaxy would not be enough tonight. Like that sinful sip of tequila, his blood was on fire in a way he could not ignore.

Cool air met his scales as he pulled the sheets back, uncaring when his calves tangled within them. Alone and aroused, he would do as his body willed.

Memories welding together behind closed eyes, conjuring visions to answer his need. A slick tongue traced over his - a kiss. A common intimacy that he burned so brightly for, and had been denied to him for what felt like a lifetime. She might hesitate at the first touch, a breath of uncertainty when she met the split of his tongue, unknowing how much he ached to spoil her with that small perk of interspecies diversity. He drank of her mouth, absorbing her heat as he glided one palm over his length in teasing strokes.

As she so often was on the battlefield, the woman he imagined was demanding. Soft, unblemished hands pushed him back, fisting in his clothes as she, lost in her burdened reality, both pushed and pulled them together. Would she think of her lover? Of endless nights entangled in the long limbs of the famously obstinate Vakarian? In truth, Thane did not care. In his selfishness, it mattered not whose hands she thought of when he finally drew back the long elegant robe she so loved to taunt him with. Watching the fabric slip past her shoulders to reveal skin so bright it was nearly blinding in the dim light of his quarters. She was untarnished, even by the freckles that once dusted the high points of her features. The way she hated her body was something he understood all too well. A product of another's vision, a construct and tool to be used by others, with little regard for her dispositions. A weapon financed and fabricated by Cerberus. She obsessed over her body not out of vanity, but in rage. Such had begun their training.

He wanted fiercely to call upon any memory of her hands on him, but he had precious few. As yet, she hadn't managed to land a single blow on him in all of their sparrings. But little by little, she was getting stronger. Almost imperceptibly so. His grip tightened around his length at the thought - hovering over the phantom taste of her on his tongue, the beguiling wrap of her fingers around the neck of a glass bottle. She knew her strength, knew exactly what she was doing. The way she toyed with him, oh, it made his breath catch. Tempt me, touch me.

He wanted her to overpower him, to trail those supple human fingers over the hard planes of his body as she took her pleasure from him any wretched way she chose. Her soft hand coiling around his shaft, a thumb smoothing his own weeping seed over the head of his length. He gripped himself harder, scales beginning their familiar bite into his flesh.

It wasn't enough. No. He wanted more.

Alone, yet weighted down with the shame of indulgence, he paused and reached beneath his cot, searching the small compartment that contained his personal effects. From it, he produced a single leather glove, turning it over in consideration. He disliked wearing gloves, the material impeding finer sensations he preferred to feel through his bare hands when striking for another's life. But they were a tool like any other in his arsenal. Useful for eliminating evidence and now, apparently, for self-gratification.

He couldn't have her hands on him, but he could have this. Soft and worn from wear, the material slid over his palm and fingers and he reached back into the darkness for himself.

It was different. Not quite what he imagined of her hands, but different enough from the texture of his own scales. He squeezed, a quiet sigh drifting from his throat as he tested his grip, repositioning his fingers, letting the sparse fluid of his sheath accumulate in his palm. Touch me, he willed her. Take from me what you please.

In the long years after he'd failed as a husband and a father, the pull of guilt and desire was but an old companion to him. He bore his sin on strong shoulders, praying to his gods, to his wife, to Shepard, for patience and the gentle hand of forgiveness. But even he, merely a man, could succumb to the base desires of sentience. She was imperfect and wracked with loneliness just as he was.

In the maelstrom of his thoughts, her beautiful, terrible wrath and desire descended on him like a drug.

He found it to be true that Shepard did, as he had heard, “fight like a krogan in a bar fight." That tactic had carried her this far, but there was much more to learn. With each day spent in rigor and training, he showed her how to control her fury. It wouldn't be long before she would learn to recognize an opening when he gave it to her. Beneath the lust of his own touch, he could think of little else than to tempt her with feigned vulnerability, if only just to see how far she would go. To let her catch his feet with a sweep of her leg and knock him flat on his back, all for the opportunity to peel him out of his training leathers and shatter the last barriers between them.

Such a union would destroy their delicate alliance. But here in his thoughts, any perceived fragility was his alone to endure. His mind raced with the thought of her entrapping him on the sparring mat, giving himself over in sweet surrender just as he’d done with her lipstick-imprinted well of liquor. How eagerly he would be her captive, submitting his pounding heart and body to her exploitations until she arrived at the manifestation of his need, screaming for her touch, twitching beneath her hands.

He cared little for how she took him. In his heart of hearts, he wanted to worship her, to show her how even reborn into a frighteningly reconstructed body she was still everything he ever saw in her and more. He wanted to taste her lips, her flesh, to map the broad expanses of her with his hands and tongue, to see her skin darken with the distinct human blood-flush of wanting…

But she would never let him. That privilege was for her lover alone, the handsome turian with indigo clan markings the same color as Shepard's lacquered fingernails. Thane's place was beneath her, and even that very thought lit his nerves afire with wanting as he drew out his pleasure with his gloved hand, aching for her to make him dance in her palm as she did when he bested her in combat drills.

If he couldn't worship her, he would more than willingly submit to her control. How he wanted to be the one to satiate the desperate woman within her. To see the visceral spread of her thighs around him, luscious hips rolling like waves over him as she shook loose her robe, and with it, the shackles of her desolation. His eidetic memory pulled forth every gasp and cry she had unwittingly fed him as they trained together. Her sonorous human voice played over his nerves, singing into his blood with every pump of his hand, a soundtrack to the Shepard he'd constructed in his fantasy. Her wide-shut eyes, wanton in the throes of pleasure, drawing him into her depths to answer the sanguine howl in her blood. The feral woman he knew, unleashed and longing to fill the void of two missing years with just a single shred of affection as she held out for her chosen lover.

Even if she overlaid him with vivid imaginings of turian plates and talons, Thane trembled to be the vessel of her desperate need. How badly he wanted to give her this. Heart pounding, he painted her in his mind with too-smooth skin the color of sun-soaked Rakhana sands. Speckled with tiny beads of sweat that carved trails down the valley between her unbound breasts with every rise and fall of her body. Her hair stuck to her dampened, vulnerable throat, still wrapped in a delicate lace of scale-borne irritation from their training. Her eyes fell closed, darkened lashes sweeping across flushed cheeks as she reached between her legs to galvanize her pleasure.

He lost himself to the vision of her face as she used his body to reach her peak of ecstasy. She was wild, clawing back her humanity through animalistic impulse that shredded her reality for what few blissful seconds her biology would allow - and it finished him. Buried to the hilt inside her, he surrendered with every nerve in his body. He choked back a shout, neck pitched back, vicious sparks of need pouring through the conduit of his lust and claiming her in a torrent of screaming, feral possession. For a split second of eternity, he was lost, trembling before the avatar of his own carnal lust, wondering if he could ever be forgiven for wanting her so savagely.

And then it was over.

Minutes drifted by as he laid still, assuaged yet afflicted with the sin of indulgence. Gods forgive him, he wanted her. And perhaps even more forbidden than the pleasures of her body was the thought of holding her.

Indeed, the simple intimacies of loving someone seemed by far the most out of his reach. To stroke the sweat-slicked skin of her back, nudging his face into her damp hair as she laid atop him panting, satisfied, permeated with his essence and high on his venom. The rosy, burning flavor of her venomous gift lingered in his mouth. So close and yet nearly further away than she had ever been, pushing and pulling him in heartache.

Slowly, as he tidied himself, his phantom lover evaporated. Away she wisped, searching for the embrace of her wayward lover, wherever he might be.

His heart rate slowed as the seconds slipped by. 0400. Training in two hours.

[quietmyfearswith]

new year’s day ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 3,960 words

warnings — swearing, mentions of active sex life, SMUT, degradation, sir kink, choking, oral smut (receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (pls use protection), slapping, name calling, drinking champagne off of one’s body, fluff at the end?? porn without plot lol

pairing — andy barber x fem!reader

a/n — HAPPY NEW YEAR! im still high on my andy feels so yeah,, lmk what yoou think!

masterlist

“Fuckin’ hell my eyes hurt,” Y/N groaned out as she rubbed her palms on her eyelids, as if she was massaging the stress away. Rose could only chuckle at her friend’s distress, “Well I did warn you about how you shouldn't have gone to work today; you deserve to take a break once in a while you know?”

Cracking her knuckles once she was done rubbing her eyes, Y/N retorted, “Well it’s not like I had any New Year’s Eve plans so I decided why not go to work?” As she continued to torment her eyes with the light emitted from her desktop. Being her only real friend at the workplace, Rose took it as a responsibility to look after her; for she knew how she wasn’t really close with her family and her other closest friends were on the different side of the country. “Hey, I invited you to that party me and Agnes are going to!”

Tearing her straining eyes away from the screen, Y/N gave the brunette a pointed look, “You mean to say you invited me to party where I don’t know anyone but you and your girlfriend; which definitely guarantees that you’ll both leave me alone so you can fuck.”

Rose didn’t find it in herself to deny her allegation or defend her and her girlfriend’s active sex life; instead she could only give her a sheepish look as she joked, “Guess you’ve been spending too much time with Mr. Barber since you’re incredible at drawing conclusions and noticing patterns huh?” Seeing how much time she had spent with the mentioned lawyer over the past year, Y/N couldn’t help but nod and agree with her.

The soft chime of Rose's Favorite song rang and a cocky, “See! Can’t even wait an hour before you two get to be together,” was quickly being hushed by her friend. “Okay you have a point, we have a high sex drive — but can you blame us? And I need to leave early, stupid bitch burnt herself as she was baking.”

Chuckling without tearing her eyes away from the documents in front of her, Y/N greeted, “Yeah, yeah; don’t need to rub it in. Happy New Year’s Eve, babe.” Before heading to Mr. Barber’s office to sweetly ask to leave early, Rose went to where Y/N was seated and let their cheeks touch as their way of bidding adieu.

Andy was more than generous to allow Rose to leave the office early, “Go ahead and enjoy, you deserve it for being one of the few ones who chose to come in today,” He told her smiling form. Once she left his office, he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his button down shirt and let out a loud groan. Usually, this time last year he would be rushing to go home — if ever his work demanded his presence — in order to celebrate the New Year’s with his family. But now as he mourns the family he once had and lost it as his son was brutally killed by his ex-wife that had gone insane in disbelieving her son’s innocence was now serving prison for her crimes, he had nowhere to be.

After a couple of hours filled with silence and burying his head with paperwork, Andy noticed how there was a soft, melodious hymn coming from the other side of the office. The lawyer wasn’t necessarily alarmed, but he was curious about who was left working since there had only been 7 other people who decided to come in to work today; and to his knowledge they should have left by now.

He decided to check out who was left — but it really was an excuse to stretch his long, lean legs as he felt them cramping up a bit from being seated for too long — and was surprised to see the most diligent employee he’s ever met in his years of practicing law, “Ms. Y/N, what are you still doing here?”

Hearing his deep voice snapped her out of her concentration; seeing her boss in his less than organized state had her taken aback, “Oh Mr. Barber, I’m just doing some work on the Richards case.” Looking at the watch on his left wrist, he took note how it was a mere 15 minutes before the new year dawned on them. “No plans for the new year then?”

Deciding to test the waters she cracked a joke, “Are you talking about the holiday or the actual year? Because I have no plans for both.”Covering up her remark with a nervous chuckle, she was glad to see the older man wrinkle his eyes as he laughed out loud, “Well that makes the two of us; why don’t we grab a drink in my office?”

Eyes going wide and gasping silently, Y/N was pleasantly surprised at his offer but nevertheless nodded in agreement. Quickly shutting off her desktop, she moved out of her chair and decided to leave her footwear and floral kimono by her desk as she somewhat felt restricted by the light cloth. As she entered his post, she settled herself on the gray sofa he had placed near the office’s wall. Grabbing a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses, Andy sat beside her then poured them a drink.

“Never pegged you as a champagne guy, Mr. Barber,” She thanked him as he handed her a glass which she took a sip of; letting out a small moan of appreciation at the taste, the  sound causing Andy to cross his right leg on top of the left in an effort to conceal his erection. “Please, call me Andy,” He cleared his throat as he took a sip of the liquor, “And whiskey and bourbon are my usual choices of poison; but since it’s the New Year, figured this was more appropriate.”

Y/N surprised the man beside her by drinking all of the champagne in one go and placed the now empty glass on the coffee table in front of them before turning to his gobsmacked expression and giggled, “Sorry, really need that one.” With his hooded eyes watching her intently, he drank some of his before answering, “Don’t be Y/N, it was quite a show.”

She could feel her wetness dampen the panties she wore with how good her name sounded as it left his lips, “Don’t think I ever heard you call me by my first name before.” Worried he crossed the line he was quick to fumble out an apology; but quickly stopped as he felt her hand on his thigh, “It’s okay, I’m not mad or anything. I really like it, actually,” She trailed off once she noticed how he seemed to have let out a quiet, but aroused purr. Tilting her head to the side with an amused expression plastered on her face, “You alright, Andy?”

Years of practicing law and appearing in courtrooms taught him not to lose composure; but with a simple touch and mention of his name had Andy forgetting how to remain calm and collected. But can you fucking blame him when the girl who walks around with so much grace and confidence — who also happens to be the subject of his filthy fantasies — is so close to him that he can almost feel her warmth piercing through his long-sleeved shirt. In that moment, he wasn’t sure if it was a wise or dumb decision to discard his suit jacket, but as their arms touched and he felt a surge of electricity run through his veins, he thought of himself as a fucking genius.

“I am, yeah,” Deciding to test the waters, he grabbed her hand that rested on her thigh and intertwined their fingers together; when she made no attempts at removing her hand from his he smirked, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but something tells me you want more than just this champagne I offered.”

Feeling her inhibitions disappear, she gave him a smirk of her own as she untangled her hands from his, “Well, I do want some more champagne,” Her finger was now tracing his lips as she moved to sit closer until she was now straddling his lap, “Maybe taste it from your lips?”

Silently, Andy brought the glass to his lips and downed the remaining sparkling drink; his free hand settled itself on the back of her neck, pulling her close to him until her lips touched his. As he bit her bottom lip, she opened her mouth and moaned out loud as she felt the alcoholic beverage enter her mouth. Both her hands caressed his bearded cheek as she drank up every last drop that he offered her. Groaning out loud when his mouth was now devoid of the drink, he let his tongue enter her mouth and asserted his dominance; something she willingly conceded to him. His hand on her neck traveled lower and rested on her bum, squeezing the soft flesh which emitted more moans from her.

“Been dreaming about this for so long,” His staff silently, mindlessly let out as she kissed him desperately. “Is that so?” He asked once he broke away their kiss, Y/N whined at the loss of his lips and confused with his question. Chuckling at her groggy state he squeezed both her cheeks with one hand, forcing her to focus on him and answer his question, “You said you’ve been dreaming about this, baby. Is that what you daydream about at work? Me fucking you so hard your dumb brain can’t even think straight?”

Letting out a pathetic whine, she could only nod her head enthusiastically, “Want that so fucking bad, sir.” He felt his cock harden even more at the title she called him; but he wasn’t even done with teasing her yet. “And that fantasy will come true; but first, stand up and strip for me, baby,” With a soft smack on her cheek, she stood up quickly and unzipped her dress. Andy watched her present her body for him as he poured another glass for himself.

Resting on the arm rest was the hand with the sparkling champagne, while the other was palming his erection as watched her push her dress down to the floor. “No bra? Just that poor excuse of underwear?” He moaned out as he observed the fabric that parts at the middle, teasing the paradise that awaits for his cock.

Lowering her gaze, as if bashful, at his filthy remarks before resuming her previous position of sitting on his lap with her hands moving to unbutton his button down. “Such an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue at her; to which she pouted as she stared at him with want written on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. What do you want me to do?”

“Ride my thigh like the slut you are, baby,” He commanded her without even thinking about it, which turned her on even more. Situating herself on his thick, lean thigh she moaned out loud as the fabric of her thong added even more friction. She began to ride him with slow but sharp movements, throwing her head back when she felt her wetness taint the fabric of his slacks, “How does it feel, baby?”

“Good, so good,” Her broken cries turned him on even more as he sipped on the champagne, enjoying the tingle it left on his tongue. “Do you trust me, baby?” Surprised at his question, she opened her eyes to look at him, her hip movements not faltering one bit. Upon seeing how serious he was she answered, “I do, Andy. I trust you.”

With a smirk, he then tipped the glass just above her breasts, allowing the liquid to run from her collarbones and down to her breasts. Gasping out loud when Andy runs his tongue on her skin, following the trail that the champagne took, “Don’t stop grinding on me, love,” He reminded her as his lips drank the liquid that landed on her nipple — subsequently sucking on the pebble-like flesh. Seeking purchase on his dark hair, Y/N continued rubbing herself on his thigh — his assault on her breast encouraging her to ride him even harder and faster.

“Time to drink some more,” Andy huskily spoke out as he poured some more of the beverage on her opposite breast  causing the girl to stiffen a bit as she was taken aback by the sudden coolness on her breast. His tongue flattened against her skin, now more focused on kissing every inch of her skin instead of drinking up the liquor. His hand held her breast firmly, raising it a bit so he could suck on it and slurp the booze.

“Fuck, the champagne tastes even incredible on you, baby,” HIid praise got her flustered and she could only whine as she felt herself getting closer. “I’m so close, sir. Can I cum, please?” She fluttered her eyes at him sweetly, hoping he’d show her mercy; but his wicked smile and wink got her thinking she’d be shown the opposite of it. “Not yet, baby,” He was quick to shut her wails up with a smack on her breast, “Sit down on the sofa, baby.”

Even though she denied him her release, she followed his orders without a complaint — working with him provided her a clear picture of what happens when you don’t follow Andy’s orders, and it didn’t end well for everyone involved. As she sat down, she watched as the lawyer placed his glass on the table and reached for the bottle; poured some on her pussy. Y/N watched closely as Andy licked her clit, down to her hole. Without tearing his eyes away from hers, he inserted his tongue in her and tried to reach as far as his long tongue can go. “So good, Andy,” She grabbed onto his hair, pushing his face closer to her. The man was quick to smack her thigh, causing her to press her thighs more into his frame, “You know what to call me,” He warned.

“Sir,” She panted out, “Feel so good, sir.” Pleased with that, he rewarded her by rubbing his right thumb on her clit, making her moan even louder. Loving her blissed out sounds of pleasure, Andy began licking her ferociously; he drank up all of the champagne he poured and all the juices she had to provide. He inserted his left pointer and middle finger in her, taking her aback with the sudden simulation. Her thighs were shaking with how good he was making her feel, too weak to even grab onto his hair and her arms were now limp on her sides, “Sir, please! I’m so fucking close, please let me cum.”

Without tearing his mouth and hands from her he replied, “Then cum on my fucking tongue, you slut,” The vibrations adding more to the pleasure she felt. After a few more thrusts of his fingers, kitten licks of his tongue, she felt apart with a scream. Her thighs wrapped themselves around his shoulders, squeezing him so tight that she felt his beard tickle her delicate skin. Andy pulled out his fingers that were in her, replacing them with his tongue so he can gather all of her juices and drink some of them in. “You taste like fucking heaven, baby,” He groaned as he parted from her pussy, his fingers pushing her juices back inside her so he could use it as lube.

“Wanna kiss you, sir,” Her fingers touched the patch of facial hair above his lips, surprised with how it had her juices. Andy complied, giving her a brief, but sweet kiss. “Want you on your hands and knees, baby. Hold on to the back of the sofa okay?” Y/N couldn’t help but feel mushy with how gentle he was bossing her around — when she knew his next actions would be far from gentle.

Holding on to the back of the sofa, she used it to steady herself on her knees, bending slightly so she could arch her back to accentuate her ass. Andy quickly discarded his clothes before rubbing her pussy again and pushed some of her juices in, before entering in her pussy in one go. His forehead rested on her back as he groaned out, “Fuck baby you’re so tight. Been a while huh?” Anchoring himself on her hips, he slid in and out of her at a steady pace.

Y/N moaned out loud as she felt the back of her thighs meet Andy’s hips; he was thrusting into her with no remorse. Her hand travelled to her breast, switching between pinching the nipple or pulling on it. Grabbing her hair with one hand, the bearded man pulled her so her back was pressed firmly against his chest. You’d think that this would give Andy a difficult time to rut into her but it didn’t; instead it just made him drive his cock in her harder and faster, falling into a drum-like rhythm.

“Why are you fucking touching yourself, slut?” Feeling his breath on her ear turned her on more than she cared to admit and she couldn’t even string together a coherent response since the tip of his dick pushed into her g-spot, causing her to moan out loud. “You’re such a fucking mess that you can’t even think straight huh?”

Nodding pathetically was all the response Y/N could offer as she clawed on to Andy’s toned arms; the lawyer then decided to go all the way with his fun by wrapping his big hand around her neck, applying gentle pressure. “You don’t mind this do you, sweetheart?” Shaking her head no, Andy then smiled as he put more force on the sides of her neck as he rammed his cock in her until the tip of his cock repeatedly hit her bundle of nerves that made tears leave her eyes with how good everything felt. The other hand that wasn't wrapped around her throat then lowered itself on her clit, rubbing the hardened nub.

“If only you knew how hard you got me every time you came to work with a tight skirt or pants,” He breathed out against her ear, tickling her with his breath, “Giving me a perfect view of the shape of your ass,” And to emphasize his point he thrust so hard until his cock was all the way in and spanked her ass. “Walking around the office with so much fucking confidence,” He recalled the time wherein she called out an officemate for talking lewdly about her — that caused him to jerk one off in the office bathroom. “But now you’ve been reduced to a dumb cock hungry whore for me,” She wailed out in agreement as his hand squeezed her throat so tight to the point she was now gasping for breath as his other hand wrapped around her tit, loving the weight and feel of it on his hand, grabbing onto it to move it up and down his hand.

“Are you gonna cum again, baby? Gonna cum around my thick cock?” He could feel her walls clinging on to his cock even more, making it difficult to thrust in her but he was determined to keep on sliding his cock in and out. “Yes, so close, please let me cum,” She trailed off as he abandoned his hold on her tit and throat and returned to her hips so he could maneuver her and ram his cock swiftly and harder. “Cum then you, slut. Let me feel you milk my cock,” Was all the permission she needed before she dug her nails into his forearms as came with a scream, “Thank you, sir!”

Even as she was cumming, Andy thrust in and out of her; though his thrusts weren’t as powerful and quick. Once he felt her spasms die down, he slid all the way inside her and came with a groan. They both could feel his cock twitch as it released his load inside her, filling her up with his hot semen. Littering kisses on her back, Andy could feel his regular breathing return — as was hers.

Carefully, Andy pulled out of her, “Can you stand up for a bit, baby?” She nodded and stood up from her position, the lawyer guiding her to sit by the arm rests. Still stuck in her post-orgasm haze, she watched as he moved the coffee table away and transformed his sofa into a bed. Grabbing the spare bed sheet, blanket, and pillows he kept in the office — in case he had to spend the night in the office — he quickly made the bed before he helped Y/N to lay down with him, wrapping the blanket over their naked bodies.

“How you feeling?” It was amazing how he had a quick change of demeanor; Y/N was lazily tracing over Andy’s face with her finger, making the most out of this intimate moment. “Feel good, really good. Always wanted someone to fuck me the way you did.”

Her curt response had him chuckling, loving the way she was being open with him and the way she traced over his features. “Well I’m glad I fulfilled this fantasy of yours.”

Suddenly, Y/N felt small and insecure; was this a one time thing? Just something to release his frustrations and a fantasy of hers that's been fulfilled? Furrowing her eyebrows, she failed to mask her worry as she wondered, “So this is just a one time thing then?”

Hating what she just said, Andy kissed the wrinkle in between her eyebrows as he spoke, “I don’t want it to be. I really want to be with you; if you’ll have me, of course.” A small smile rested on her lips as her eyes brightened up, “I’d want that and you. You’re so amazing, Andy. I admire your strength, resilience, and determination. For someone who could easily give up in life you choose to carry on and look forward to what the future holds. It’s just a bonus that you have a thick cock and know how to use it.”

Her small speech had him chuckling and kissing her nose, pulling her close against him, “What I said earlier was true; I love how you walk around the office like you own the place. You take no shit from people and do your job damn well. Plus, I love your music taste as well.”

Grinning at him she jeered, “Wow can’t believe you still sweet talk your way even if it’s not in a courtroom setting.” Andy laughed at her retort and just grazed his fingertips on her sides, tickling her so he can hear her giggle. Once both their laughter died down, their lips met for a sweet, passionate kiss. “We have quite a mess to clean up tomorrow, Andy,” Y/N reminded him as she referred to the champagne bottle, glasses, their clothes, and his sofa bed — their whole situation, really.

“I don’t care,” He whispered as smiled at her, feeling so much lighter and better having been haunted by his personal demons for so long, “I don’t mind doing anything as long as it’s with you.”

Her heart fluttered with his simple statement; she was then reminded of the new year countdown. Reaching out for his wrist, she checked the time and noticed how a few minutes had passed 12. “Happy new year, Andy,” She greeted him with a peck on his lips.

A short, sweet kiss was returned to her as he planted his lips on hers again — quickly getting addicted to her, “Happy new year, baby. Can’t wait to spend this year with you by my side.”

[giggles-and-freckles]

febuwhump 5: ‘take me instead’

“This is boring,” Anakin whined, slicing through the underbrush with his lightsaber.

“Is it normally the job of a politician to keep their Jedi escort entertained?”

He turned over his shoulder and shot her a grin. “Only when she’s his wife.”

Padmé rolled her eyes at that, but laughed nonetheless. “Well, I don’t know that the Council or the Senate would approve of your idea of entertainment.”

“What are you suggesting, milady?” he asked in his most scandalised tone, hacking away at another bush. He wasn’t anxious for another scolding like an hour ago when the hem of her dress had caught on a bramble and ripped. He’d pointed out that maybe she shouldn’t have worn a dress for negotiations that required a couple klicks of walking through forest. She’d pointed out that he essentially wore a dress, too, gesturing to his knee-length tunic. “I only meant a game of I-Spy or Guess-What-I’m-Thinking, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, stepping over a particularly large branch. “But okay. What are you thinking?”

He shot another grin over his shoulder. “That this game is boring and we should find something else to entertain ourselves.”

“Ani,” she laughed, shaking her head. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly in lo–wait.” He stopped abruptly, holding out a hand to motion for her stillness. “Something’s not right.”

“What are you–”

“I feel…” Anakin closed his eyes, willing himself to focus and concentrate. On something other than Padmé’s perfume. His eyes shot open and his lightsaber was ignited within a second. “Padmé, stop–”

He was on the ground before he could finish his sentence.

The world was upside down and pink and purple, like that time he’d drank a little too much and had to call Obi-Wan for a pick-up. That was a low moment for him, but this...this. This was something else entirely.

He lifted a weightless hand to his neck and fumbled around until he found the small, feathered needle. Iktochi poison dart. He’d only ever seen pictures of them.

Muffled yells surrounded him and he became vaguely aware of someone kicking at his hand. His lightsaber; gone. His fingers clenched as he summoned the weapon back to him, but the Force was silent. Inhibited.

The colours around him became more vibrant and his mind cleared.

Padmé.

He tried to stand up, but his joints were like noodles and he didn’t make much headway. Rough hands came to grip his shoulders. Pathetically, he tried to pull away.

“Careful Jedi,” a voice growled in his ear.

“–the girl?” another voice was saying from somewhere to Anakin’s side. He strained to catch a glimpse of the voice...a glimpse of her...but the pink and purples overwhelmed him and he could barely keep his head from hanging limply in front of him.

“No. She’s not armed.”

Ha, Anakin thought wildly. Shows what they knew about his wife. Not only was Padmé armed–she had weapons built into every layer of her clothing. And she had so. many. layers of clothing.

He’d know.

“Let him go,” she demanded from somewhere in front of him. He should be able to see her or feel her, but he can’t.

“You’re not in a position for negotiations, girl,” the man holding Anakin chuckled darkly.

“On the authority of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, I demand you let him go.”

“The Galactic Senate of the Republic? Well, why didn’t you say so?” the man sneered.

The pinks and purples began to clear again and Anakin finally saw her. She was okay–not drugged like him. Still on her feet and only being mildly restrained by an Iktochi man.

He tried to move his mouth, but his tongue felt heavy and large in his mouth.

“What is the purpose of this?” she demanded. “We are here on a diplomatic mission to meet–”

“Shut up,” the Iktochi holding Padmé hissed. “We don’t care why you’re here. We’re taking the Jedi with us...then, you can get back to your diplomatic mission, for all we care.”

Anakin tried to speak again, but his words were incoherent and garbled. Immediately, he bowled over in pain. The man with a grip on Anakin–also Iktochi, he could now see–was holding an electrostaff, still sparking with the energy that had just jolted through Anakin’s body.

“Don’t!” Padmé cried, before covering her mouth with her hand. She shut her eyes tight and steeled herself, looking as she always did when she was about to propose something to the Senate.

“No.” he managed. Tried to lunge toward her.

She stood tall and took a breath. “Take me instead.”

“Padmé...what are you–”

“I’m a Senator,” she said, her voice even and poised. “A highly effective one, in fact. Surely my ransom would be higher than one of ten thousand Jedi knights.”

“No, you–” His voice became a strangle as another current of electricity coursed through his body.

Padmé watched him with seeming indifference, but Anakin caught the way her eyes widened at his cry of pain. He shook his head violently, unable to form words. Urging her not to do this.

“The offer will not be on the table indefinitely,” she said sharply, with all the composure of Senator Amidala. But Anakin knew her. Panic. She was panicking.

“No,” he croaked, before another shock brought him to his knees.

Her voice pitched the slightest bit higher. “Your answer?”

Anakin felt the bounty hunter tense at his side. The Force went static as the Iktochi man considered his options. If this was any other situation, Anakin would roll his eyes. Iktochis were, generically speaking, some of the most self-serving, deceptive scumbags he’d ever encountered.

Padmé huffed impatiently, her posture stiff and erratic. “Fine, if you–”

“Wait,” the Iktochi growled. “You would willingly...trade places with this Jedi?”

She nodded shortly.

“Why?” he said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“You can continue to senselessly question me or you can accept my offer and let him go.” She peered at Anakin and a sliver of her cool countenance fell. “I know this Jedi. He will not go quietly with you. Take me instead.”

“Padmé, no–”

“Foolish girl,” the man sneered. “Your Republic will not come for you.”

“I don’t think you understand the state of the galaxy,” she said evenly. “We’re at war. The Republic will do anything.”

The Iktochi holding Anakin hesitated again, then grunted in frustrated acceptance. “Here,” he shifted behind Anakin, grabbing something from his waist and throwing it to the man holding Padmé. A rope. “Tie her up and take her to the ship.”

Anakin took the distraction as leverage and slammed his shoulder into the man’s side. His movements were still clumsy and spastic, but he hit his mark. The Iktochi hissed in pain as he fell to the ground and Anakin took his moment, running at Padmé’s captor. 

Her eyes widened as he ran toward her. “Anakin! No! Don’t–”

He collapsed to the ground in a heap, his body shaking as current after current of electricity was shot through his body from the blow point on his lower back. 

“Say goodnight, Jedi,” the bounty hunter rasped above him, before stepping on his flesh hand. Anakin heard the bones in his fingers snap before he felt it. He picked his head up to look at Padmé.

She was scared, he could tell. She opened her mouth, words forming on her lips. He strained to hear and see–

The Iktochi swiftly kicked him in the head and his world went black.

febuwhump 2021 prompt list

[here4theheartbreak]

An Inconvenient Attachment (myg+jjk+pjm)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Jungkook x Yoongi, Jimin x Jungkook, Jungkook x Yoongi, minor Hoseok x Seokjin Genre: smut, fantasy/supernatural au, fluff, enemies to lovers, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers Final Rating: Explicit Word Count (Chapter): ~15k

Tags (more added as needed): werewolf Jungkook, vampire Yoongi, human Jimin, kumiho Seokjin, selkie Hoseok, snowed in, handcuffed together, friends with benefits, polyamory, past violence, past murder, past abuse, discussion of murder, semi-graphic descriptions of violence, blood drinking, threesome, sharing a bed, multiple partners, dirty talk, oral sex, coming untouched

Summary: When Yoongi agreed to go on a two week winter getaway to the mountains with his roommates, he expected peace, quiet, and plenty of alone time with his roommate with benefits Jungkook. What he did not expect was to be handcuffed to his worst enemy for the duration of the trip. He figured it couldn't get worse... Until it did.

A/N: This fic was written for the @thebtswritersclub​ Fic Exchange for sujigguk! Sorry it was so late, I hope you enjoy it! | This fic also fulfills the July Prompt for X to Lovers! A/N 2: Banner made by @imyourhobiii - thank you so much!  A/N 3: This also fills  the square Road Trip for @bangtanwritingbingo​ 

As a vampire, one would think the worst thing about living with a human would be the temptation, the bloodlust. But for Yoongi… The worst part of living with Jimin was that he was the most fucking annoying, ridiculous human that Yoongi had ever had the misfortune of meeting in sixty years of life. Draining him would be a welcomed reprieve.

However, the man Yoongi had – rather surprisingly – fallen in love with was also in love with the trifling human and his stupid pretty mouth and his horribly adorable hands, and – no. Yoongi was not wandering down that path again.

Jimin was the son of vampire hunters. Murders of so many of Yoongi’s kind. And though Jimin had sworn that he had renounced their way of thinking and was estranged from them… Born into a family of killers made him just as untrustworthy, in Yoongi’s mind. Certain crimes simply could not be repented for and yes, sometimes the son did need to bear the crimes of the father.

Yoongi tolerated Jimin for Jungkook’s sake, the dopey wolf boy that had wriggled into his undead heart; and for their fourth roommate – Jin – a Kumiho with an odd affection for the human. In fact, Yoongi often felt like he was the only one that didn’t like Jimin. 

And recently, more and more, Yoongi was starting to wonder if Jimin hated him as much as he hated Jimin. Especially lately; it seemed like everything Jimin did was done specifically to annoy Yoongi.

Which is likely why Yoongi ended up in a car, sitting next to his mortal (literally) enemy, on the way to an isolated cabin that Jin’s boyfriend, Hoseok owned. Jin had suggested it a few days after a particularly aggressive fight between Jimin and he, where he not only showed his fangs, but may or may not have thrown an open bag of blood at Jimin. 

The trip hadn’t been so bad so far, Yoongi had to admit. They were driving straight through, and the drive was two days away from the city. Jimin was forced into a seat next to Yoongi, but was keeping to himself, reading and staring out the window or talking to Jungkook. Jungkook was in the front with Jin and was, at that very moment, pestering the hell out of the fox shifter.

Normally Yoongi would jump in and soothe the excitable wolf’s mood, but at the moment… Let them both suffer. This diabolical idea to get him to play nice with Jimin was likely both of theirs, so they could deal. Even immortality could not cure Yoongi’s sense of petty revenge. 

Yoongi reached into the small bag next to his feet, withdrawing a bag of chilled blood. He grimaced. A microwave would have been nice; but they weren’t scheduled to stop for quite some time – and only really to let the more humanlike ones stretch their legs. He pinched open the tip of the bag, tilting it back into his mouth. The sticky, sickly sweet fluid hit his tongue. Cold or not, it was the most refreshing thing he’d had in hours. He was able to go quite a number of days without blood, but dammit if it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

As he drank, he glanced over at Jimin from the corner of his eye. Jimin was reading a book, paying him no attention. How could a human pay someone no attention when they were drinking blood right next to him? Yoongi righted the bag, scowling down at it. Why did he want Jimin to pay attention to him? He hoped to disturb the human, perhaps. That’s what it was. Make Jimin uncomfortable and prove he secretly hated vampires just like his parents. Maybe then Jin and Jungkook wouldn’t love him so much. 

“Jiminie,” Jungkook whined. He turned in his seat, leaning into the back. “Yoongi…”

“What?” Jimin and Yoongi answered at nearly the same time.

“Will you two go for a run with me in the woods next time we stop? I’m itchy.”

Yoongi scoffed. “Why bother asking the human? He can’t keep up with you like I can.” 

Jimin shifted a little. He smiled softly. “He’s right.”

“So? I’ll let you ride on my back,” Jungkook offered.

“That’s not running with you then. Yoongi can go with you.”

Jungkook pouted a little but nodded. He wriggled himself further between the seats, grabbing for Jimin. Before he could get him, Jin’s hand emerged. He grabbed the collar of Jungkook’s shirt and yanked him back. “Stop distracting the driver!” He snapped.

“You bully,” Jungkook complained, smacking at him despite his warning. The two very quickly fell into another playful bicker, leaving Yoongi in peace with his thoughts. Next to him, Yoongi felt Jimin shift, and then again, before hearing him sigh. He looked over. Jimin had curled up onto the seat, bunching a hoodie under his head against the window to rest. He was getting on toward nighttime, Yoongi supposed. Day and night blended for him these days – and Jungkook was naturally nocturnal. It must have been hard to be where Jimin was, he thought as he watched Jimin sleep. A home with three creatures so different from himself. And in love – or at least lust – with one of them. A pang of sympathy shot through Yoongi’s chest. He grimaced at himself. What was he doing. Maybe there was something in the car, poisoning him. Pitying the rotten human? Never. Yoongi scoffed to himself. He nuzzled himself into the other corner of the seat, pulling his legs up under him. He “accidentally” let one slip, kicking Jimin squarely in the thigh. Jimin shot upright, grimacing. From his mostly closed lids, Yoongi could see Jimin look down at his leg where he’d been kicked, then over at Yoongi. Instead of getting angry, much to Yoongi’s surprise (and discomfort), Jimin smiled. He shook his head and laid back down, snuggling against the hoodie. 

Being technically undead, Yoongi didn’t require sleep. He had periods where he needed to rest, usually early in the morning around sunrise, but not necessarily sleep in the human sense of the phrase. But boy, did he like it. Sleeping was great. Six to eight hours of just not existing, having fun dreams, waking up to a new day – Yoongi couldn’t ever imagine willingly not sleeping like some of his vampire friends. However, much like a human who slept away a third of their hours, sleeping made Yoongi absolutely ravenous upon waking. Which wasn’t normally a problem. 

Except when he was in a car. With a living being that was filled with his only food source. And somehow in his sleep had wound up snuggling against said obnoxious human’s stupidly soft neck. 

Yoongi felt his fangs poking his bottom lip before he realized it. He inhaled sharply. Oh, that smelled delicious. His mouth watered in response, and he inhaled again, opening his mouth instinctively. 

His eyes fluttered open and he shifted, hunting for the source of the bittersweet, rich aroma. Instead of a particularly juicy steak or even a cup of blood warmed thoughtfully by Jungkook, Yoongi’s gaze fell on Jimin. The human’s shaggy black hair had fallen over his eyes as he slept, his plush lips wet and parted. His pulse was throbbing firm and steady by Yoongi’s ear. 

He shot up, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car. 

Jin glanced back. “Maggot bite your ass or something?” He teased.

“I’ll bite you,” Yoongi grumbled. He wriggled as far away from Jimin and his stupid sweet smelling blood as he could before digging into his bag and pulling out the other satchel of blood he’d stored in it. It should be all he needed until they reached the cabin, and once there they had packed a solid supply of blood bags for him. Good too – because based on the weather as the car climbed into the mountains, Yoongi wondered if they might not be snowed in for a few days. 

The final rest stop was only a few more miles. Jin pulled in, stepping out to stretch his legs. Jungkook bounded out himself, taking a quick peek to make sure they were alone. He stripped shamelessly out of his clothing, piling it on the seat and seemingly unaware of the brisk chill in the air. 

“Yoongi!” He called, nearly bouncing with excitement and wiggling out of his skin.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Yoongi grumped, crawling out of the car himself. He watched Jungkook shift from a two-legged ball of energy into a massive four legged one, unable to keep from smiling. In wolf form, Jungkook was just as stunning as his human form. Dark black fur streaked with blonde, massive paws and bright hazel eyes that shone in the light. He barked sharply before taking off toward the tree line. Yoongi followed, catching up and keeping up easily as they darted through the trees. 

The two ran for a solid twenty minutes, looping through the woods and back toward the rest stop. As they neared the tree line, Jungkook skidded to a stop, his large paws kicking up dirt and leaves as he did. Yoongi stopped next to him, walking at a slower pace out of the trees. The rest area was still empty, save for their vehicle. Jin was nowhere to be found; probably had taken the time to have his own running session in the woods. 

In the fading light of the sunset, Yoongi could see Jimin. He’d wandered a few yards from the car and was lying on a picnic table. His shaggy hair flopped back from his forehead, toned arms up and bulging just a little as he cradled the back of his head against the cold wood. One knee up, leg of his shorts falling back to reveal his smooth thigh, thick with well-defined muscles. He had to be freezing, lying outside in shorts – but they all had weird temperature mechanics after living with Jungkook so long

Next to Yoongi, Jungkook shifted, and Yoongi scoffed. “All that working out the human does, and he still can’t begin to keep up with you.”

When Jungkook didn’t answer, Yoongi glanced over, a little surprised to see Jungkook scowling. 

“What? I’m not wrong. He’ll never give you all you need – You love running.”

“What makes you think I need a running partner to have a happy relationship? Jimin can’t run as fast as you or me, but he supports me in other ways.”

“A relationship now, huh?” Yoongi sniped. “Since when was he more than your human toy?”

“Yoongi—” Jungkook hesitated then shook his head. He grabbed his clothes from the car and began tugging them on. “You know I’m fucking both of you. It’s never bothered you before.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Fine. You’ve never been so malicious about it before. Why are you so mean to him anyways? Jimin’s never done anything but try to be kind to you.”

“You know why, Jungkook. If his family were wolf hunters, maybe you’d understand.”

“He’s never hurt one of your kind.”

“Sins of the father, just like his family believes.”

“And he disowned his family because he believes all creatures, living or undead, deserve a chance to be happy. Jin would have never let him into our house if he sensed even a whisper of hatred from that man. And I’m not as stupid as you think either. I may not be some wise old vampire but I am half canine. And we can sense intentions pretty well. You’d do better to try and get along with Jimin.” Jungkook yanked his shirt on, patting his hair down. “Never know, maybe you’d learn something you didn’t expect about him.”

“Oh, like what?” Yoongi grunted, leaning against the car.

“Not my place to say,” Jungkook said simply. “But you’ll never find out if you keep being a needless jerk.”

He blinked in surprise at Jungkook’s unexpected snap, watching him pad off toward where Jimin was lying. Yoongi opted instead to get back into the vehicle, sensing that he’d pushed his annoyance a bit too far with the younger this time. 

When Jin returned from his own jaunt in the forest, Jimin and Jungkook returned to the car. Jimin slid into the seat next to Yoongi, offering a soft smile at him. Yoongi remained stone faced. Did he feel a little bad for what he said? Not that he’d ever admit. 

Jungkook wriggled in next to Jimin, forcing him over closer to Yoongi.

“Wh—” “Wanna sit back here for a bit,” Jungkook said simply.

“I can move up front,” Jimin offered.

“No. I wanna sit by you both.”

“Then get between us.” “Jin’s about to start driving. I’ll crawl over later. I can reach you both.” Jungkook reached over and grabbed Yoongi’s hand for emphasis. Yoongi frowned but said nothing more, though he did twine his fingers with Jungkook’s, squeezing firmly once. 

Yoongi let his mind wander as they began to drive once more, staring out the window as the last rays of the day slid down below the horizon. He felt Jungkook’s hand shift away from his, resting on his thigh for a moment before disappearing. There was a slight shuffle, and then Yoongi felt something thin and cold hit his wrist and click. He looked down, brows shooting up when he realized his wrist now had an accessory… A steel handcuff. And said handcuff was attached to someone else… Park Jimin. 

Yoongi looked over at Jungkook, who was grinning in his sheepish, bunny-rabbit way.

“Kook…”

“What did you do?” Jimin asked, lifting his wrist gently. He tugged Yoongi’s wrist up as he did.

“Well, you two avoid each other unless you’re fighting. And you’d do that even while we’re up in the cabin. Which is the literal reason we’re going up there, to try and help you two find a common ground. So, now you have no choice but to play nice or end up not being able to do anything.” Jungkook crossed his arms, looking smug as he spoke.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi grumbled. He grabbed the bracelet of the cuffs. “I can’t just snap—” As he spoke, he tugged and twisted at the metal, expecting it to bend open in his grip. 

“I can break—” He tried the chain. 

“No, you can’t,” Jungkook said simply. “I got monster proof cuffs. Amazing what you can find with a little clever digging these days.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin whispered. He shook his head. “Don’t do this to him.” He offered his wrist as well as he could. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be, Jimin,” Jungkook said, his smile fading. “You’re my best friend. So is Yoongi. And you both know my feelings run much deeper than that for you both.”

“Then let yourself have those feelings, you don’t need to stress him out like this.”

“I can’t. Even though we may share those feelings… I can’t date one or both of you knowing you hate each other. It doesn’t feel right to me, and I’m not going to have a peaceful relationship knowing that.”

“Date?” Yoongi perked up. “You want to date us?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Maybe. I guess it’ll depend on how this goes. How hard you’re willing to try to get along. I won’t lose either one of you. Whether it progresses from our current sort of friends with benefits deal to more…” Jungkook drifted off. “I’ll unlock the cuffs when we’re back in the car on the way home. Not a minute sooner.”

Jimin sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. 

Yoongi bit back a sharp remark about how disappointed he looked – he was disappointed too. Despite the true point of this trip, Yoongi had been looking forward to a little quiet time with Jungkook. Perhaps even, yes, pushing the idea of taking their relationship from friends with benefits to a little more. He knew Jimin felt the same – or at least very similar – he wasn’t blind. He also knew Jungkook was unlikely to choose one over the other. He hadn’t in the three years they’d kept up this quirky triangle.

Yoongi tugged at the cuffs once more, weakly, pulling Jimin’s wrist along with it. 

Jimin looked over at him, his plush lips stuck out in a bit of a pout. “I’ll try not to be too much of a bother,” he mumbled. Rather demurely, given what Yoongi knew of his normal sparky attitude. 

“I’ve got a vampire hunter hanging off my wrist,” Yoongi snarked. “It’s already a bother.”

Jimin’s cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw. He ground his teeth for a moment, eyes darkening. He wanted to say something. Yoongi almost wished he would. Let them start to fight – Jungkook might see this was a stupid idea if he did and take off these god-awful cuffs sooner. 

But Jimin’s jaw released at the same time his shoulders relaxed again. He faced forward, holding his cuffed wrist delicately on his leg, as close to Yoongi as possible without touching him. Probably to give him more freedom of movement; not that the six-inch chain offered much room for that at all without yanking on one another. 

Yoongi huffed, glaring around Jimin at Jungkook, who looked far too smug for what he’d done. He offered a wide, crinkly nosed grin and wriggled down in his seat, snuggling up against Jimin’s shoulder and burying his nose in his neck, his preferred sleeping position with anyone. 

Yoongi slouched as far away from Jimin as he could and glared out the window. The weight of the cuff on his wrist made it impossible to relax, sleep, or even let his mind wander to anything except that. And the stupid human. He hated how calm Jimin was about this whole thing. And his pleading. On Yoongi’s behalf. What the hell was that? 

Don’t do this to him.

Yoongi didn’t need the human defending him. He was able to stand up for himself. Why did Jimin sound so genuinely stressed out? Oh.

Yoongi scoffed. He looked over at Jimin. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna fucking eat you.”

Jimin blinked at him owlishly. “What?”

“You panicking about the cuffs. I’m sure you think I’m gonna lose my mind and become some blood lust crazy monster just because I’m in proximity to a human.”

“No?” Jimin frowned. “You live with me and have never acted like that. Why would I think that?”

“You know why,” Yoongi tried to cross his arms, only succeeding in tugging Jimin’s wrist onto his lap. 

Jimin let himself be tugged, still frowning in confusion at Yoongi. “I really don’t,” he finally said.

“It’s the reason you people kill my kind. You’re scared of us.”

“Maybe,” Jimin said. He shrugged. “I can’t say why humans kill vampires. Or wolves or selkies or any creatures. It’s not for food. Maybe it is fear. Maybe it’s sport.”

“Why don’t you just go ask your dad?” 

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s voice was soft, gentle – as if he were talking to a scared animal. “I understand why you hate me. I would too, if I were in your place. I know you’re not happy with this.”

“Can say that again. Can’t even itch my fucking nose. At least your dominant hand is free, what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, what do you actually do that you can’t do with your left?”

Yoongi turned a glare onto Jimin, who grinned. “You weren’t intending to jerk off with me right next to you, were you?” He teased.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Like I could get it up with you breathing down my neck, hunter,” he muttered. 

“I told you I’d try not to be much of a bother, and I will do my best. I know you love Jungkook. We just need to keep it together for the week up here, for him. That’s it. Then we can go back to comfortable avoidance.”

Yoongi looked out the window. Jimin was right – he knew that much, but he refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing Yoongi say it. So, he said nothing. They were climbing in elevation now, the trees thickening around the road as it became progressively bumpier. Patches of snow began to appear along the sides of the road and through the trees, and – entirely unsurprising to Yoongi – flakes began to drift down around the car. 

The flakes were coming down in far larger clumps, piling a few inches thick by the time they pulled into the cabin. Jin sighed heavily, letting go of the steering wheel. He shook his hands out, rubbing at his palms. 

“Those last few miles were hell,” he commented.

“We’re not going to be able to get back down if this keeps up,” Jungkook agreed.

The cabin door burst open as he did, and out rushed Hoseok. Jin climbed out of the car just in time to catch the leaping man, pressing a deep kiss to his mouth. Jungkook leapt out as well, grabbing Hoseok in a tight hug the moment Jin released him. 

Yoongi watched the trio, his heart giving an uncomfortable little clench. All shifters. He and Jimin were the oddballs out in this group. He looked through the window. The trees were thick, and heavy with snow, obscuring the view almost entirely around them. Behind the large cabin with a friendly tendril of smoke rising from the chimney, was a stunning, still lake. Despite the grey coloring of the slowly rising sun, it was breathtaking. The water was crystal clear, nearly mirror like. A crust of ice had formed a few feet from the shore toward the center, and Yoongi assumed it would nearly encompass the lake within a few days if the snowfall kept up. 

“You should probably get out first,” Jimin mumbled, pulling Yoongi out of his admiration of the scenery. He yanked open the door and climbed out, his left arm trailing back as he waited for Jimin to climb out behind him. 

This was going to be dreadful. Everything would need to be done at a snail’s pace, compared to his normal speed, having the human hanging off his wrist.

Hoseok came around the side of the car, stopping short. His eyes drifted down to the cuffs connecting their wrists. Yoongi opened his mouth, about to warn or threaten the seal shifter away from a tease, when Hoseok began to laugh, nearly doubling over in pure joy at the predicament the two had found themselves in. 

Jimin sighed heavily. “Lay off, Hobi,” he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over Hoseok’s cackling. 

Hoseok righted himself, still holding his stomach and wiping tears. He shook his head, small titters of laughter emerging even as he tried to contain them.

“What a situation, eh?”

“It’s not funny,” Jimin stepped forward. “This isn’t fun for us. The least you could do is not laugh at us.”

“Oh come on, you won’t mind it all that much,” Hoseok slapped Jimin on the shoulder. “God knows you’ve been fond of living dead boy for ages.”

Yoongi looked over fast enough to see Jimin’s eyes bulge. He swiped at Hoseok with his free left, baring his teeth in the universal sign for ‘shut it’.

Fond of the living dead boy? Well the only undead here was Yoongi… But Jimin wasn’t fond of him. Jimin could barely tolerate him, in the same way he could barely tolerate Jimin…. Right?

“Let’s just unpack the stuff,” Jimin said quickly. He turned to circle around the car, jerking Yoongi’s arm.

Yoongi glared, and Jimin winced. “Sorry. This is… Taking some getting used to.”

“Why don’t we take out the luggage,” Jungkook offered. He and Jin had come around behind Hoseok. “You two go relax.”

“When you pull out the cooler, I need to get a bag. I’m starving,” Yoongi said. He stepped up to Jimin and looked at him numbly. “You need to walk now too.” He tried to sound patronizing, but it came off as far more gentle than he intended.

Jimin obeyed, walking with Yoongi toward the cabin. Yoongi could feel him shiver, and scowled. 

“You shouldn’t have worn shorts,” he scolded with no venom, pulling open the cabin door. “You knew it was snowy.”

“I didn’t figure I’d be outside much without Jungkook,” Jimin said, entering. He headed immediately toward the fireplace, once more yanking Yoongi, who’d stayed behind to shut the door. Yoongi hissed, baring his fangs.

“Would you stop that?!”

“I’m sorry!” Jimin snapped back. “This is an adjustment for us both. Stop yelling at me and learn to work with me, dammit.”

Yoongi smirked. That was the Jimin he knew better. 

“Now,” Jimin continued before Yoongi could speak. “I’m cold. I want to go sit by the fire and warm up. Is that okay?”

“Fine.” Yoongi nodded. He walked with Jimin toward the fire, taking a seat on the ground with him. Jimin wrapped one arm around his knees, resting his chin on them. He let his other arm hang outward awkwardly, trying not to disturb Yoongi’s positioning. 

Yoongi frowned. “You can put your arm down, it’s okay.”  He tugged lightly as he spoke, setting his arm on his leg. Jimin let his arm drop to the ground. He continued to stare at the fire. Yoongi took the opportunity to look openly at the human. He really was quite striking; neatly sculpted brows and soft, plush lips, a gentle, sloping jawline that had just enough definition to trace. Light shadow and contour decorated his nearly flawless skin; Yoongi knew he spent quite a good chunk of time perfecting a casual makeup look despite not needing it. He must have touched up during their last rest stop. A simple earring – some dangling gold chain, sprinkled with tiny gems on each link. And – despite a two-day drive – smooth, perfect hair, shaggy enough to fall over his brows, but currently brushed back from Jimin’s own nervous twitch of carding his fingers through his locks. His throat was smooth – and Yoongi could trace the patterns of his strong veins and along the curve of his neck. How soft the skin looked behind his ear, how strong and dark that one particular vein looked… 

Yoongi’s fangs poked his bottom lip, snapping him out of whatever fantasy he’d fallen into. He drew in a sharp breath and straightened up, drawing Jimin’s attention.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yoongi mumbled, covering his mouth.

“Something wrong? Do you feel sick?” Jimin paused. “Can vampires puke?”

“We can,” Yoongi mumbled. “But I don’t feel sick.”

“Oh.” Jimin gasped then. “Oh!”

“What’s that oh for,” Yoongi mocked, glaring over at him.

“Are you hungry? Your voice is muffled – your fangs. We should see if Jungkook has grabbed your cooler yet.” 

Jimin rose into a crouch. “Come on.”

“You can’t go back out in shorts,” Yoongi argued, letting his hand drop. He saw Jimin’s gaze drop to his mouth, where his canines poked from his top lip. He had always hated his fangs – their size was almost comical in his small mouth. Jimin’s heartrate picked up.

“I’m not going to bite you.”

“I trust you. I’ve just never been so close when you’ve had them out,” Jimin confessed. “They’re… Big.”

“All the better to eat you with, as the big bad wolf would say.” Yoongi hissed, but Jimin only laughed. 

“That’s our Jungkook. You’re a little less intimidating.”

“How is a vampire less intimidating than an overgrown puppy dog?” Yoongi asked, offended. 

“Because you won’t hurt me. Jungkook could hurt me accidentally just jumping on me too hard when he gets excited. He forgets his own strength. You’ve had years to practice control.”

“How do you know I won’t hurt you? I eat your species.”

“You drink human blood. But I know damn well that doesn’t mean you eat or even hurt humans. You drink bagged blood.”

“Oh, do you think they had easily accessible bagged blood when I first turned? So, what, that I woke from my grave and trotted to the local monster shop and ordered a pint of A positive over a sundae? No. I woke up and I ripped out the throat of the nearest human I could find.”

“You were newly turned. You were ravenous. Nobody would blame a hungry bear for attacking.”

“Oh, so I’m nothing more than an animal to you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m on your side, Yoongi, when will you see that?”

“Do you know how to kill a vampire, Jimin?”

Jimin seemed to freeze at that, his lips parted just a bit. He looked over at Yoongi, who sat still, waiting.

“I—”

“Answer me honestly. Do you know how to kill a vampire?”

Jimin hung his head. “Yes, I do.”

“Not so easy, is it?” Yoongi pressed. “Not like the movies. A stake to the heart, sunlight. We don’t die easy, do we, Jimin?”

Jimin shifted, pulling his knees tighter to his chest. “It’s horrible,” he choked.

“Oh, is it? Have you seen it done?”

“Yes.”

“And did you have any part in it?”

Jimin looked over. “My father brought me hunting on my sixteenth birthday. It was his gift to me. He handed me a knife, and he told me that I was going to become a man.” 

“I bet he did.” Yoongi looked away.

“She only looked about twenty,” Jimin continued, staring at the fire. “Gorgeous, honestly. Her eyes were big and dark, and her hair was long – it looked so soft. I was meant to be the bait. I was so scared, when I went up to her in the cafe. I grew up hearing the tales about how even the smell of a human could make a vampire go crazy. I thought for sure she’d try to rip my throat out.”

“What happened?” Yoongi asked. He looked over at Jimin. He wasn’t sure why he asked. He knew what happened. She died. And Jimin and his father killed her. Maybe a sick pleasure, knowing firsthand how brutal the human attached to his wrist was. Jimin continued to stare at the fire. 

“She bought me a fucking soda. To this day, Cherry Coke makes me nauseous. She bought me a soda and she talked to me while I drank it. She offered to walk me home, because it was getting late. So, I let her. I figured now. Here is where she’ll try to rip my throat out. Dig her claws into me and show me her fangs and hurt me.”

“And did she?”

“No.” Jimin swallowed hard. “She walked me almost all the way home, polite as can be, when my father came up to us. She knew, I think. When she saw him – what he was. She looked so… Scared. She tried to run. Not attack – run.

I stepped between her and my father. I knew it was wrong, right then. But he shoved me down and told me I was a disappointment. That he’d give me one more chance. And then he caught her. She was fast but he… He had a bow. It was dipped in –”

“I know. A paralyzing agent.”

“Yeah. She went down and he caught her and dragged her back to me. She was pleading for her life. Swore she didn’t eat humans. He didn’t listen. He grabbed me and he dragged us both into the woods where he’d set up his work space. Tied her down to a bench… And told me to start cutting.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurched. He wanted to scream, to run, to strike. He looked over at Jimin, ready to snap a cruel comment, but froze. Jimin was still staring at the fire. But as Yoongi watched, he saw wet streaks running down Jimin’s cheek. He was crying. 

“I told him no,” Jimin choked. “I told him I couldn’t. She wasn’t a danger. She was nice.” Jimin sniffled. “He hit me. And he shoved me against a tree. And he told me if I was too big of a pansy to do it, I could watch it.”

Jimin wiped his cheeks with his free hand. He sniffled again and looked over at Yoongi. “The night of my sixteenth birthday I watched him cut her to pieces with a knife. The sound of her flesh and muscles tearing still haunts me. I tried to stop him over and over, and all he did was push me back. Hit me. Tell me to man up. Remind me of how monstrous your kind is. And then he handed me the matches. To burn her body. I threw them into the woods and I ran.” 

Jimin smiled weakly. “The fact that I couldn’t save Siyeon still haunts me.”

“What happened after?” Yoongi asked.

“I got a bus ticket to Seoul. And I found a nice couple that took me in. Let me finish school, gave me a space to hide. They were vampires, Yoongi. Ages sixteen and seventeen, I lived with vampires – and I thought of them as parents. A—” Jimin swallowed hard. “And then my actual parents found me. And I watched… Once more… The brutality of hunting your kind. And once again I couldn’t save them. I was too weak. But I disowned my parents at that very moment. I told them I supported vampires and I would never pick up a weapon against them. And that I wasn’t their son anymore. Oh… They thought I’d been turned, even tried to prove it. For two weeks they waited for my fangs to come out. And when they didn’t… They left me. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Yoongi remained silent, unsure how to respond. Part of him wanted to pop off with something smart and sassy – but he could feel the waves of emotion coming from Jimin. His story wasn’t a lie to gain sympathy. He believed what he was saying. So Yoongi said nothing.

Jimin looked over. Despite his eyes, red rimmed from the tears that streaked his cheeks, he was still stunning. “I’ve never told anybody the whole truth. Not even Jungkook knows.”

“Why?” Yoongi asked. His mouth had gone strangely dry. 

“Because it’s not something I like to relive. It’s not something I want people to know. How weak I was. How helpless… To save them.”

“Hunters are brutal,” Yoongi said. He shrugged. “If you’d done more to interfere… Parents or not, I don’t know that you’d be here now.”

“Probably not. My father always said I was too weak to be his. So that’s my story, Yoongi. That’s why I’m here, living with Jin and Jungkook and you.”

“Why did you tell me? We aren’t friends. We aren’t even that close.”

“Well, for the next two weeks – maybe three – we’re literally stuck together. I know you hate me. And that’s fine, I get it. But I wanted you to know what really happened.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to respond when the door burst open. Jungkook entered, lugging the cooler that housed Yoongi’s meals for the next few weeks. “That snow is intense,” Jungkook commented, shaking the snow from his shaggy brown hair like cold dandruff. 

“It is,” Jin agreed, lugging in a pile of bags. Hoseok followed after and kicked the door shut, his own arms full of bags. 

“You three are gonna be out here at least three weeks based on this – it’s cold enough in these mountains that we don’t melt fast.”

“Will you have enough food?” Jin worried, looking at Yoongi. He nodded. 

“The supply I gave you to put in there should last comfortably two and a half, and I can go without for about a week without losing my mind, so I’ll just space the bags out. Would you put it in the snow outside though? The ice is probably melted by now so you’ll wanna keep it cold. And I don’t think Hoseok wants gallons of blood in his fridge.”

“Rather not,” Hoseok agreed, padding past them into a bedroom with some of the bags. “So Jin will sleep with me, and I did have two rooms set up for you and Jimin, but seeing as you’re sharing,” he smirked at them from around the door, “Jungkook can take the extra room as needed.” 

“Do you wanna get some?” Jimin asked. Yoongi looked away from the cooler and nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“Let’s go. Jungkook, hold on a sec,” Jimin called. He and Yoongi rose and headed over. Jungkook turned around, setting the cooler on the ground with a thud. 

Yoongi crouched and opened it, scowling. Inside – rather than his pint bags of blood, floating in a pool of water, he saw nothing but vacuum sealed packages of… Meat. 

“Jungkook…”

Yoongi reached in, pawing through the meat. Jimin crouched with him, reaching in as well.

“Jungkook, you didn’t—” Jimin whispered. Jungkook looked down. His eyes bulged.

“No—Oh no.” He sank down next to the others and began yanking the meat packages out. “No, no… Jin!” Jungkook whipped around. “You grabbed the wrong cooler!”

Jin turned from where he’d been talking with Hoseok, his smile slowly fading. “No – The red one. Yoongi said the blood was in the red one by the window.”

“The living room window, Jin,” Yoongi hissed. 

“My meats – My dried and cured meats – they were in the other red cooler by the kitchen window,” Jungkook said, holding up one of the bags.

Jin’s smile disappeared completely. “Oh no,” he whispered. He looked at Yoongi. “We have to go back down.”

“You can’t,” Hoseok said, grabbing Jin’s arm. “Look at that snowfall. You’d wreck in a heartbeat.”

“He can’t go without food, Hobi,” Jin cried.

“I’ll be okay,” Yoongi said. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he would. The very thought of starving sent a chill down his spine. He knew what happened to vampires who were too deeply starved. 

“I can head down the mountain,” he suggested.

“You’d freeze to death,” Jimin argued.

“I’m already dead.”

“You’d still never make it. Dead and immortal doesn’t make you immune to dying in other ways. And freezing solid and shattering is a pretty shitty way to go.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi said softly. “You know better than anyone…”

“We might not be up here three weeks. Maybe the snow will melt faster, and we can get you back to the city.”

“Can’t you eat an animal?” Hoseok offered. “Surely Jungkook could catch something—”

“I can’t drink animal blood. Old vampire myth to make us seem less scary. It makes us very sick. Monster blood is worse, so don’t get any ideas there either.”

“But you drink human blood,” Jimin said softly.

“From a bag.” Yoongi looked over as he spoke, his voice firm. He hated the way Jimin was looking at him. “I’m not even that hungry right now. Jungkook…” He looked to Jungkook, who looked close to tears himself. “I promise I won’t fight with Jimin. Would you please unhandcuff us?”

“Well that takes the fun out of it,” Jungkook pouted.

“Jungkook… You need to uncuff me from him.”

Jungkook scowled at that, looking between Jimin and Yoongi. “But—”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi strained. “I am a vampire. Who is in an isolated cabin with no food. Potentially for multiple weeks. You need to uncuff me from this human.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a little as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Oh God, of course. Right, hold on.” He scrambled to his feet and rushed to where his bags were, beginning to dig around in one. “Yoongi…” Jimin reached over, setting his free hand on Yoongi’s upper arm. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

“Jimin—”

“I was going to offer anyways. You know… If you were hungry…”

“Don’t.”

The small smile that had been curving Jimin’s mouth disappeared immediately at Yoongi’s tone. Yoongi looked away, hating the way his heart did a little flip at the idea. Sinking his fangs into Jimin’s smooth neck… Tasting that sweet blood… Hearing Jimin’s breath pick up… Yoongi shook his head slightly to knock the image from his mind. He was supposed to hate the stupid human, not want to feed off him. 

He hadn’t bitten a living human since he was turned. The shame he felt even now, after all these years, when he thought about what he did when he first turned… Once he was in his right mind he swore he’d rather die than feed from a living human. And he’d kept that promise to himself all these years. Easily, really. Even when blood was hard to come by – the simple thought of feeding on a person was enough to turn his stomach. 

So then why did his mind keep drifting to Jimin? The way his veins painted delicate, abstract art on his neck… The sweet, rich scent of his life fluid just… There, right under the surface. The way it made Yoongi’s mouth water, his fangs slipping down, his own pulse – slow and lethargic most of the time – picking up like a horny schoolboy…

“Jungkook,” Yoongi snapped. Jungkook looked up from where he was digging in a second bag. His hair was plastered over his forehead, a look of desperation in his eyes.

“Still looking, it’s a small key. Give me just one more minute, no worries,” he said. Though, any monster in the room could hear his panic… There was a definite need to worry. 

“What if we drove down slow?” Jin offered. “You and me could go, Yoongi. You won’t bite me, and even if you get… very hungry—”

Yoongi nodded. “That could work… But if the car gets stuck, you’ll die a hell of a lot faster than I will. It’d be safer for me to creep down on my own.”

“Except the the gas station on the way up the mountain will be closed and you’ll use far more than usual creeping. You’d be on empty long before you get to civilization,” Hoseok argued. “Not to mention, when you get around people again, then what? You eat the first one you see?”

“Hey!” Jimin’s sharp tone surprised Yoongi. He looked over.

“He’s not going to go feral.”

“Jimin…”

“You won’t. You guys keep talking like you have no food.” Jimin tilted his head a little, exposing his neck. “Hate me or not, I’m still a perfectly viable meal. And you can easily feed from me without hurting me. I know you can control yourself.”

“No.” Yoongi shook his head. “I won’t eat live meals.”

“You’re not eating me. You can just drink a little… Every few days, just enough to take the edge off.”

Yoongi scooted back as far as he could, his arm jerking forward with the cuffs. “Jungkook!” He snapped. 

Jungkook made a small noise and flopped back on his butt. “I can’t find it.”

“Can’t find the key?!” Yoongi cried. He rose, grabbing Jimin’s wrist and lifting him up easily to drag him over. He sank down in front of Jungkook’s bags, beginning to dig through the piles. 

“I’ve looked three times now,” Jungkook said softly, looking near tears. “I can’t find them. I—I must have lost it or left it at home or… Something.”

“Then we pick it!” Yoongi said. He looked to Jin and Hoseok. “Pick it for us.”

“I can’t pick locks,” Hoseok chuckled. “You have far too much faith in me.” “I could try,” Jin said, “but I’m not very good.”

“I don’t care. We have time.” 

“Yoongi,” Jimin tried as Yoongi hauled him up once more, dragging him over to where Jin stood. 

“Why aren’t you more panicked?” Yoongi asked, seeing Jimin looking incredibly calm… And a little sad. 

“Because there isn’t a reason to panic.”

“You’re tied to a thing that fucking eats you.”

“Who I’ve already offered my neck to and he won’t bite. Literally. Yoongi, I’m not scared of you. I’ve said it once and it still stands. I would, however, like you to stop hauling me around like I’m luggage. I can walk. And while I enjoy being manhandled at times, we are both far too clothed for the type I enjoy.” Jimin tugged their cuffed wrists for emphasis. 

A series of titters erupted from the other three in the room, and Yoongi scowled. “You crack jokes as if this isn’t serious.”

“Just lightening the mood.” Jimin shrugged. 

“As if you’d be able to handle me in bed anyways. Or would want to.”

Jimin shrugged. “Says you.” He looked to Jin. “Wanna try to pick it?”

“Sure. Do you have something I can use, Hobi?”

“Lemme look.” Hoseok headed around the counter into the kitchen and began digging through the drawers.

“Go sit down,” Jin said. “It’ll be easier.”

Yoongi moved to walk, but stopped. He motioned for Jimin to lead the way, feeling a little guilty for dragging him around. It wasn’t his fault they were in this situation, after all. And yeah, Yoongi thought as he walked with Jimin and settled onto the couch with him, after learning the truth… Maybe he was beginning to feel some sympathy for the human. Not that they could ever realistically be friends. They couldn’t stand each other. Jimin was scared of him, or hated him… And he disliked the human. It was just how it was… Or how it should be. But maybe, now that Jimin had shared something with Yoongi about his history, they could at least become tolerant of one another.

Yoongi tried to pretend Jimin wasn’t sitting far too close to him. He wasn’t all that hungry. He’d gone about twelve days without food before, and it was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t feral. So, there was no real reason why he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than Jimin’s pulse. His infuriatingly slow pulse. How could someone so soft and breakable be so calm hanging off the arm of a predator? And so eager to offer his throat?

Jin came around with a handful of slender items. He crouched, grabbing the cuffs and beginning to try the different things. Brows furrowed, Yoongi could tell he was trying. But as the minutes passed, the pile of untried items grew smaller, and the pile of useless, bent, or broken items got larger and larger. 

Jin sighed, picking up a steak knife – the last item in his pile. “There’s no way,” he said.

“Just try it,” Yoongi mumbled. He knew Jin was right, no way would a steak knife open the cuffs. Jin did as he said, jabbing at the hole in the cuffs, trying to get it to release. Nearly a minute of fiddling, and he finally sat back, shaking his head no. “I’m sorry guys, I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin said. “You tried.”

Yoongi grabbed his cuff and yanked, grimacing when it tugged the skin of his hand. “Did you have to make it so tight?” He growled at Jungkook. 

“I wanted to make sure you couldn’t pull it off,” Jungkook said. He came around the side of the couch, looking sheepish. “I know I have a spare key for it… It’s just in my room.”

“Well that won’t do any good up here!” Yoongi snapped. Jungkook flinched, his eyes widening a little. 

Yoongi took a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s my fault. I deserve it.”

“No… You were trying to make us get along. It would have been funny, honestly, if things didn’t turn out like this,” Yoongi said. There is a final option… I just would like to not have to try it until things get… Bad.”

“What are you thinking of, Yoongi?” Jin asked, trepidation clear in his tone.

“Hoseok has a wood stove. A fireplace. Which means he has an axe.”

“No.” Both Jimin and Jungkook spoke in unison. “We’re not cutting any body parts off.”

“Well if I go feral and am still attached to Jimin, you’ll be doing a lot more than cutting off something. You’ll have to put me down.”

“You aren’t a dog!” Jimin cried. “If it gets to that point, we can just dislocate my thumb. It’ll hurt like a mother but the cuffs can come off. But you could prevent getting to that point if you’d just drink from me.”

“I will not let you hurt yourself for my sake,” Yoongi argued.

“Why not? You hate me, don’t you? A stupid hunter’s son.” Yoongi should have said yes. His brain told him that he should say yes. Yet the word wouldn’t come out. Instead, he just shook his head, looking down. “I just won’t let you,” he muttered.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Jin said. He rose, setting his hands on their shoulders. “Come on. This is a setback, but we’re still up here, let’s try to have a good time, right?”

Yoongi smiled softly, nodding. “You’re right. Hobi, how long until the lake freezes over completely do you think?”

“A day or two, why?”

“I know Jungkook’s been dying to take a swim in ice water. Mostly because he’s a lunatic. Want to?”

Hoseok grinned brightly. “I’d love to. You know me, never turn down water.”

“What about you?” Jin asked. He looked at Jimin. “He won’t have the same tolerance to cold…”

Yoongi glanced at Jimin, who’s smile - which had grown at the mention of a cold swim, was sinking.

“Yeah, maybe not, but I don’t much like the cold either. I’m sure I’ll be ready to be done when he is. We can still have fun. I won’t let you drown.” 

Jimin looked at him, that sweet smile returning. He nodded. “Deal.”

Yoongi regretted that deal the second they hit the water. Not at any fault of Jimin’s, oh no. But more because Yoongi had forgotten just how much he hated the cold. He was shuddering nearly instantly. Jimin laughed brightly next to him, a high, tinkling sound on the cool wind. Yoongi looked over. Jimin was shivering just as hard as he was.

“This can’t be safe for humans,” Yoongi worried.

“A few minutes is fine. It’s good for the body,” Jimin assured him. “Can we go deeper? I wanna try to get to where Jungkook is.”

Yoongi looked across the lake. About fifteen feet ahead, closer to the center of the unfrozen part of the water, were their three friends. They’d jumped in as humans – but now Yoongi could see a wolf, a fox with many tails, and a seal, all bobbing along the water. 

“We’ll try – but remember they are all furred animals. You may not make it that far.”

“I still wanna try.”

Yoongi nodded. He and Jimin set off carefully, their swimming motions needing to be perfectly aligned due to the cuffs. They made it nearly as far as Jungkook when Jimin whined softly. Yoongi glanced over, concern furrowing his brows. Jimin was shivering less, but his arms were covered in gooseflesh, and his lips were turning a startling shade of purple-blue. 

“We need to go back,” Yoongi said. 

Jimin nodded, not bothering to argue.

“Can you make it?”

“I c—can t-t-t-try,” Jimin chattered. 

“Ah, you soft humans,” Yoongi teased with no real venom. He got them turned around. “Here, go over my head so you’re hooked around my shoulders.” He brought the hand with the cuff across his chest. Jimin moved his arm over Yoongi’s head, dropping it against his back. 

“Good, try to help me paddle a bit with your free hand okay? And kick some.”

Jimin nodded. Yoongi could barely feel heat from his skin despite their closeness; a rather concerning feeling. He swam them back as quick as he could manage, Jimin doing his best to help. When they reached the ice patch, Yoongi moved to dislodge himself from Jimin’s arm. “Okay, get out.”

Jimin nodded. He braced his hands on the ice and hoisted himself out, spinning around and crouching as he helped Yoongi up and out. 

Unfortunately – their wet skin on the ice did nothing in terms of support, and as soon as Yoongi was out of the water, a single step sent them both flying. Yoongi landed on top of Jimin, clearly knocking the breath from his chest. Snow that had puffed up around them in the fall now drifted down, speckling Jimin’s face like glitter. They laid nose to nose for a moment, Jimin’s eyes wide as he looked up at Yoongi. 

“I—”

“Sorry,” Yoongi whispered, though he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not because of the ice… But mostly because Jimin felt so good under him. 

“It’s okay,” Jimin breathed. His eyes darted down to Yoongi’s mouth, and Yoongi froze. Was he about to kiss him? He jerked back, panic bubbling up in his chest. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be okay with that idea. Carefully, he moved off Jimin and rose, helping Jimin to his feet. Jimin clung to him, shivering harder than ever. 

They entered the cabin. “You should strip,” he said.

“S—” Jimin’s eyes bulged. 

“As we melt we’re gonna soak the floor. And it’ll be easier to warm up if you’re in just a pair of dry pants than if you’re in soaking wet clothes.

“Right…” Jimin glanced down. “Shit.”

“What?” 

“The cuffs. How am I gonna get my shirt off with the cuffs?”

Yoongi looked down as well. He swore under his breath, glaring in the general direction of the lake. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Jimin laughed a little. “Didn’t think that one through, did he?”

“Let’s get to the bathroom. We’re dripping.” Yoongi led him through the cabin into the bathroom. He guided Jimin into the tub. “Okay, so we could cut them off, but then we’d be shirtless for the next three weeks and I’d like to go outside at some point, so…”

“Yeah, no.” Jimin tapped his chin in thought. “What about just letting them hang over the cuff chain to dry? If we set a towel under them, squeeze them out as much as we can here, they should dry in front of the fire too, and we can put them back on?”

Yoongi thought for a moment, his eyes darting from Jimin to their cuffs as he tried to determine if it would succeed. Finally, he nodded. “I think that’ll work. Try it?”

Jimin nodded. He pulled his left arm free, apologizing softly when he tugged Yoongi over so his right hand could be used. Over the head, over his right arm, it dangled on the chain, as predicted, dripping into the tub. 

“Perfect!” Jimin said. 

Yoongi nodded. He wasn’t sure what he was nodding about though, as he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from Jimin’s bare chest. Though Jimin was slender, under his clothes he was very clearly hiding a lot. A toned chest and firm muscles, the cold water had tightened his dusky nipples to hard little points. His belly was slim, with the faint outlines of muscles that Yoongi knew were probably far tighter than a quick glance. And his hips – cut almost ridiculously perfect into a v shape, visible over the top of his waistband. Though he was clothed from the bottom down, Yoongi could imagine very clearly where that v pointed.

“Yoongi?” Jimin’s voice drew him out of his staring. He looked up, clearing his throat. “Right. Perfect. I’ll do mine.” Yoongi moved a little quicker, yanking his off and adding it to Jimin’s dangling from the chain. After seeing Jimin, he felt a little self-conscious. Though strong – it was all his inhuman nature; he was far less fit and chiseled than the human. 

“We should wring them out now.” Yoongi grabbed his own shirt and began to ring it out, twisting it this way and that to get as much water out as he could. Jimin did the same, the water splashing between them like a mini waterfall. 

“Great,” Jimin said when they could wring no more water from the shirts. He moved to step out, but Yoongi grabbed his wrist. “Shorts and shoes too – you’ll drip everywhere.”

“Oh—” Jimin hesitated, looking down and then up at Yoongi. “Uh… Naked?” He squeaked. 

“Well, yeah.” Yoongi chuckled. “What, you shy about something?”

Jimin looked away, his cheeks pinking up delightfully. “Well, no, I just…”

Yoongi sighed and grabbed a towel from the nearby rack. He turned away from Jimin as well as he could and hung it over his shoulder. “Here, just change and wrap it around your waist. I won’t look.” 

He heard a shuffle and felt a tug on his wrist. He was distinctly aware of the fact that if he shifted his right hand at all he would likely be brushing against Jimin’s bare skin. His wrist was pulld again, and this time he felt a towel skim past his fingers.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Alright, I’m taking mine off now,” Yoongi said. He pulled his hand back, quickly tugging his shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers off. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his own waist. 

“Okay, come on.” They stepped out of the bathtub and walked into the room where their bags had been dropped, the wet clothes dangling awkwardly between them. Yoongi let Jimin grab clothes first, looking away politely while he pulled on sweats. He pulled on his own sweats and handed Jimin their towels. Out into the living room, he grabbed a blanket from the chair as they settled onto the loveseat nearest to the fire. He slung the blanket over their shoulders.

“The wet—” Jimin began. “I know, here, just wrap them up with the towels.” They worked together with surprising efficiency to wrap the clothes. Jimin relaxed a bit, pressing closer to Yoongi to get further under the blanket as they sat.

Jimin’s body was warming quickly, radiating heat into his own normally barely lukewarm bones. It was… Comfortable, if Yoongi was being honest. Yoongi felt his head drooping, soothed by the sounds of the fire and the warmth. Jimin shifted, snuggling next to him and resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi quirked his brow, peeking around Jimin’s head. Sure enough, the human was sleeping. Yoongi smiled a little. Yeah, Jimin wasn’t so bad, maybe… 

Yoongi was amazed at how much he could simultaneously adore and hate a singular person. If Jungkook hadn’t been a werewolf, Yoongi may have considered feeding on him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t have heard that right.” Yoongi repeated for the second time, staring at Jungkook in the dark bedroom. Jungkook pouted, his bottom lip sticking out and making him look far younger than his twenty-three years would imply. 

“I said I’m bored.”

“And you proceeded to grab my dick.”

“Well, what better way to solve boredom?”

“Jungkook, we’re cuffed.”

“Which makes it less sexy how?”

Yoongi’s face remained stoic. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Jungkook. I’m still upset with you.”

“For what?!” Jungkook cried, seemingly offended that Yoongi would dare.

Yoongi blinked at him before lifting the cuffs, inadvertently dragging Jimin’s arm up and making Jungkook’s head hit the pillow where he’d been cuddling between the two of them. He gave it a shake.

“Also for losing the key. And for whatever other harebrained ideas you get while we’re up here.”

Jungkook’s pout returned full force. “Well fine. Your loss.”

“My loss?”

“Jimin will keep me company, right?” Jungkook turned to look at Jimin, his grin broadening. 

“I—I can’t say no,” Jimin mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry Yoongi.”

Yoongi gaped at Jimin. 

“So what, you two are just gonna fuck next to me? Could you be any more obscene?”

“Oh it’s not like you’ve not seen it before, you prude.”

“I haven’t! Not with Jimin.”

“Just go to sleep then.” Jungkook stuck his tongue out at Yoongi. He rolled over, facing away from Yoongi. A shift on the bed, and Yoongi heard the soft sounds of kissing. He scowled at them for a moment. He hated the way his stomach was making those nasty little knots, the way he wanted to reach out and card his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, pull him back from Jimin and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. Hated the way he wanted to feel Jimin’s mouth too. Sink into his tight heat and find out if his moans were as pretty as his laugh. The days spent cuffed together had done a number on Yoongi. More and more he found himself enjoying Jimin’s company, laughing with him, conversing with him willingly. And more and more he found himself staring at him, wondering more about him, noticing his subtle (and obvious) beauty. 

Yoongi shut his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of their kissing, the soft breathy sighs from them, and the shift of fabric as they moved together, slowly stripping.  

It worked, for a while. Yoongi managed to remain feigning sleep (how could he actually sleep?) through Jungkook very clearly giving Jimin some amazing oral sex, and through Jungkook prepping Jimin’s soft body for sex. He even managed to feign sleep when Jungkook slid into Jimin, but felt Jimin’s hand grab his own for the briefest second, paired with a sharp, pleasured cry from the human. 

But Yoongi’s strength only went so far. He could feel a stirring in his groin as the bed shifted rhythmically, hearing the slick sounds of their skin slapping together as Jungkook thrust into him, their muffled panting.

He opened his eyes the tiniest bit. They wouldn’t notice, not so caught up in their lovemaking. Jimin was covering his mouth with his free hand, muffling his soft whines as Jungkook thrust into him. 

From his viewpoint, Yoongi could see Jimin’s hips bent up, his cock hard and leaking onto his belly. Jungkook reached up, pinching Jimin’s nipple and tugging. Jimin moaned, shoving his head back into the pillow and grabbing the sheet. “Jungkook—“ he whined, strained.

Jungkook glanced over, catching Yoongi’s gaze. Yoongi tried to shut his eyes, but knew it was too late. He glanced again, seeing Jungkook lean down. He was whispering, but Yoongi heard it clear as day. 

“He’s watching us,” he whispered, “and you’re making him hard.” 

Jimin looked over. Yoongi met his gaze openly, wetting his lips. Jungkook wasn’t wrong, his cock was hard in his sweats, pushing up the blanket a little. Yoongi reached down, palming himself as he watched Jungkook make love to Jimin. He could feel his fangs poking his bottom lip, and knew as soon as he spoke they’d be just as obvious as his erection.

“Want me to take care of that?” Jungkook teased. “Or maybe you wanna see if Jimin feels as good as you think he might, hm?”

Yoongi swallowed hard. “Ride me, Jungkook,” he demanded. 

Jungkook smirked. He pulled out of Jimin, his cock slick with lube. He pushed the blanket down and tugged Yoongi’s sweats around his ankles. He licked his lips, staring at Yoongi’s dick.

“Come suck him with me, Jimin.”

Jimin obeyed, sitting and moving down. He and Jungkook set to work immediately, dragging a surprised shout out of Yoongi. Their mouths were everywhere, tongues sliding over his sensitive cock, sharing kisses. Jungkook leaned back to grab lube and Jimin took advantage. He sank down on Yoongi, swallowing his cock to the root. Yoongi’s hips jerked up, his tip bumping Jimin’s throat. Jimin swallowed, looking up at him. He began to suck and lick, bobbing his head slow.

Yoongi grabbed his head, his lips parted. He began to guide his head, unable to tear his gaze away from Jimin’s mouth, his perfect lips sliding over his cock like silk.

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Jungkook purred. He was fingering himself open, watching the two. “I don’t know how many times I’ve come just from his mouth when I didn’t plan to.”

Yoongi wanted to answer, but all that came out was an incoherent moan. He had had a lot of blowjobs in his time but none like this. He fisted Jimin’s hair, tugging to pull him off. Jimin obeyed, moaning happily. His eyes rolled back when Yoongi pulled, cock jerking between his muscular thighs. 

“Jungkook—” Yoongi strained. He let go of Jimin before he hurt him, grunting when Jimin immediately began to nuzzle and kiss over his thighs and hip.

“Aw, are you that close?” Jungkook teased, pressing kisses along Yoongi’s jaw. Yoongi nodded. 

“You sure you don’t wanna see what he feels like? He’s so tight, and warm, and wet inside…”

Yoongi whimpered, looking down at Jimin. He bared his fangs almost instinctively, the sound of Jimin’s blood pumping nearly overwhelming him. Jimin’s breath caught audibly. He crawled up Yoongi’s body, until they were nearly nose to nose. 

“You can,” he whispered. He straddled Yoongi’s hips, settling onto his crotch until Yoongi’s cock bumped his hole. “If you want to… And…” Jimin touched Yoongi’s chin, pulling his bottom lip. “This too…” He bared his neck, leaning closer to Yoongi. 

Panic bubbled up in Yoongi’s chest when he realized he’d moved forward, mouth opening instinctively. He snapped his jaws shut hard enough to hurt, piercing his own bottom lip with his fangs. 

“Jimin—” He gritted. “Get off me.”

Jimin sat back, disappointment clear on his face. He obeyed though, slinking off Yoongi’s hips and laying next to him. 

“Yoongi—” Jungkook began. 

“Don’t.”

“We don’t have to stop,” Jungkook continued anyways. “Let me finish you off. Or you can watch Jimin and I—”

Embarrassed, shameful tears burned the back of Yoongi’s throat. He closed his eyes, trying to stave them off as long as possible. And he was cuffed – he couldn’t even escape this horribly awkward situation. 

“Just go back to what you were doing. I’m sorry I bothered you,” he mumbled. He sat up and yanked his sweats up one handed before rolling to his side, facing away from the two. His cuffed arm twisted back uncomfortably, but he ignored it. He deserved a little discomfort… He nearly bit Jimin – and for what? A fucking orgasm. Nearly broke his vow with a moment of sex. Shame colored his cheeks as he glared at the door. 

“Jungkook—” Jimin’s voice was barely above a breath.

“It’s not you,” Jungkook assured him. He had to know Yoongi could hear them. No way to prevent it – his headphones were in the other room. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know, baby. He’s just scared. He’s…” Jungkook drifted off. “He isn’t mad at you.”

“Do you still want me to…”

“Are you still in the mood?” 

Jimin chuckled. “I can get into the mood again.”

“No.” Yoongi heard them kiss. “I’m not into it either. I feel bad. I pushed you guys into it. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Guilt clenched Yoongi’s heart. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Jimin’s either. It was Yoongi’s. He wished he had the nerve to roll back over, to apologize and tell them they were okay, but he couldn’t. So, he laid still, staring at the door as he listened to them pull on their shorts and cuddle, sharing quiet kisses as their breath evened out and they drifted to sleep. 

They didn’t talk about it the next morning, or the morning after, or the day after that. In fact, Jungkook and Jimin didn’t bring up that night for the remainder of the week, or the following week. Yoongi was relieved, but also… A little stung. He had wondered if maybe they would want to talk about it, bring it up in some way so he could assure them that it was him, not them. Specifically, not Jimin. But, as the days progressed, it seemed like things were no different, and Yoongi let the situation slip to the back of his mind. He had more pressing things to worry about anyways. 

Like, for example, the fact that the snow was showing no signs of melting enough for any sort of safe moving off the mountain. And the fact that it was now day thirteen without blood and he was feeling the effects of hunger. And the fact that Jimin was still stuck to his arm and he smelled so damn delicious that he was fighting the urge to show fang every ten minutes.

And to top it all off, Jin and Jungkook had decided this afternoon was the perfect time to go for a run in the woods. And Hoseok, in his own infinite wisdom, decided to go find a patch of thin ice for a swim in his own animal form. Which left Jimin and Yoongi entirely alone. 

Which wouldn’t have been so bad, really. They often spent time just sitting on the couch together, reading or listening to music, talking or just sitting, watching the fire in comfortable silence. Even after the incident in bed the week prior, this feeling of ease and comfort didn’t fade. If anything, it continued to grow.

“I wish you could’ve gone out with them,” Jimin said softly, gazing into the fire. Yoongi glanced up from his notebook. 

“Hm?”

“Jin and Jungkook. I’m sure you wanted to run with them.”

“Nah, it’s too cold for me,” Yoongi said. “I’d rather chill with the fire.”

Jimin chuckled. You don’t need to be lazy for my sake.”

“Not for your sake,” Yoongi assured him. “I really j—” A sharp pang in his stomach cut Yoongi’s words off. He doubled over, his fangs slipping out as he cried out. 

Jimin reached for him, grabbing his hand that was cuffed together. “Yoongi—”

Yoongi turned, baring his fangs and hissing, nearly catlike. 

Instead of shying away, Jimin’s face drooped. “Oh, it’s getting bad, isn’t it?” He asked. 

Yoongi dropped his head again, drawing in a deep breath. He felt like he was sweating despite an inability to do that for many years. 

“I’m fine,” he huffed.

“No, you’re not. You look sick. And I know you’re in pain. Please, I know you’re scared of hurting me, Yoongi but… Please.”

“It’s more than a fear of hurting you,” Yoongi muttered. He sat upright, closing his eyes for a second as he waited for the pain and nausea to fade. When it did, he drew in another breath and nodded. 

“Then what is it, Yoongi? Please trust me to understand.”

Yoongi hesitated. He sat back on the couch, considering. Jimin had shared his story… Maybe it was time for Yoongi to do the same. If they were to be… Friends. 

“I was turned about sixty years ago. I was twenty-eight. I don’t know… If you know much about how vampires are turned?”

“Not the details, but I know it’s a big process, death and burying and a whole ordeal.”

“It is. And generally, usually… The one who turns the new vampire stays around, it’s like giving birth to a child when all is said and done.” 

Jimin nodded in understanding. Yoongi hesitated, another wave of nausea slipping over him. He remained silent until it passed before continuing. 

“I did not have that grand bringing into the world. I never met the person that turned me.”

Yoongi heard Jimin make a small, sympathetic noise. Though he would have normally made a snarky comment, he had to admit, at that moment… It felt kind of nice.

“So, I crawled out of my grave one night… I was… God, I was so hungry. The last thing I remembered was being grabbed, and a pain in my throat. And then… Just dizziness and then darkness. I was so confused and scared and… So hungry. So thirsty.”

Yoongi shuddered despite the warmth, his stomach knotting painfully again. He curled his knees up, grimacing.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whispered. He shifted their hands, holding Yoongi’s tightly. “I’m here.”

“Oh, I know… You smell so… Fucking good, I can’t even pretend you aren’t,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin giggled a little at that.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Yoongi chuckled. The knots in his stomach released a little, allowing him to continue. “So I stumbled around the graveyard for a bit. I was looking for… Something, I didn’t know what at the time. And this young guy comes up. He was so handsome. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Dressed very poor. But he comes up to the gat of the graveyard and calls to me. I was so happy to see someone. Someone who could tell me what happened, or help me somehow. I ran up to him. I knew I must have looked horrid. I mean I just climbed out of my damn grave, but he barely blinked. He was instantly worried for me. Helped me find the entrance gate and started walking with me and checking on me as we headed toward the village for a doctor.

And then the hunger hit again. And it was so much stronger… God, it was like someone was hitting me in the face with every delicious food I’d ever eaten at once. My entire body and mind seemed to ignite. I couldn’t control myself. I can’t tell you exactly what I was thinking at that moment except feed.”

Yoongi hesitated once more. He swallowed hard, not due to his stomach, but due to the painful memories. Jimin moved closer to him, setting his other hand on Yoongi’s thigh. “I’m here,” he whispered again, his head nearly on Yoongi’s shoulder. 

“I—I ripped his throat out, Jimin. God, I can still remember the sounds of him dying. The smells, the feeling of the blood and… The taste. The power. I was drunk on it.” 

Yoongi paused as another wave of pain hit him, shivers running down his spine. “I came to my senses a few hours later. I was in the woods, covered in blood. Everything hit me then. What I was, what I did. I tried to kill myself. But it… It didn’t work. So instead I swore I’d never place my teeth on another living human. I didn’t care if I starved to death. I’d lock myself up in a cave and wait to die if the only other option was biting a person. Risking doing what I did to that boy… I have kept that vow for sixty years, Jimin. That’s why I won’t bite you.”

“I understand,” Jimin said softly. “I do. What you went through was traumatic. But Yoongi… You don’t have the option of locking yourself up in a cave right now.”

Yoongi closed his eyes. “I know.”

“So if you do reach that point… You will kill me.”

Yoongi grimaced. Jimin squeezed his hand tighter. “I would rather have you drink some now… When you can control yourself. When you can take care of me… When we can both feel good maybe… Than die that way. Because I know you’ll hate yourself afterward.”

“I’ll hate myself either way,” Yoongi whispered.

“Fine. But at least I’ll be around to help you let go of that hate this way. And so will Jungkook.” Jimin’s lips brushed over Yoongi’s cheek. “I keep thinking about last week. How good I felt on your lap… How nice it felt to see you relax. I am sorry I offered my neck, and not just my body… But I am offering both again.”

Yoongi looked over quickly. Jimin smiled softly. “Yoongi, please let me help you.”

“Help me?” Yoongi breathed. He could hear Jimin’s heartbeat, and smell his arousal. He chuckled. “You’re propositioning a hungry vampire to have sex with you.”

“I am. I’ve heard it makes the bite feel better. Do you… Want me? That night, I wasn’t sure. I felt like we pushed…”

“No, no, I wanted you that night.” Yoongi pressed his forehead against Jimin’s. “I still do. I don’t know what changed, I—I can’t stop thinking about you these days.”

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Yoongi,” Jimin confessed. “But you hated me for my parents…”

“I was wrong.”

“No. You just didn’t know. Now you do.”

“And I do like you. I… God, I fell for you.”

Jimin pulled back this time, his mouth quirking up into a grin. “You did?”

“I did,” Yoongi muttered. “Don’t let it go to your head.

“I won’t.” The two sat in silence. Yoongi’s shudders were coming more regularly, his body edging closer and closer to starvation, rather than hunger. 

“Yoongi,” Jimin finally whispered. “Please take me to bed.”

Yoongi’s breath puffed out of his lungs. He nodded. Jimin rose and Yoongi let himself be pulled toward the bedroom. They were so used to the cuffs now that they moved as a unit, knowing how to twist and turn to move fluidly. It would be weird to have them off, Yoongi realized. 

Once in the bedroom, Jimin turned, pulling his shirt off. He let it dangle from the chain and smiled shyly. “Do you… Want me to…”

“No,” Yoongi pulled his own shirt off. He stepped forward, going almost chest to chest with Jimin. “The last time we stripped… You made me look away when you took off your jeans… You gonna be shy on me again?”

Jimin laughed. “Not this time.”

“Good.” Yoongi undid Jimin’s jeans, pushing them to the ground for Jimin to step out of. He kicked his own sweats off, and then his boxers, before setting his hands on Jimin’s hips. He caught the band of his boxers. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

Yoongi pushed them down, stepping back to look Jimin up and down. He reached out with his free hand, palming Jimin’s cock. It twitched and hardened further in his palm, and he gave it a firm stroke. “I didn’t get a good look at you that night… I’m glad to now.”

“Like what you see?” Jimin asked. Yoongi nodded slowly. He let go of Jimin to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss, despite the fire raging in his veins. Jimin wrapped one arm around his shoulders, holding onto his wrist with the cuffed hand. They moved toward the bed in unison, and Jimin let himself fall back onto it. Yoongi went with him, nudging open his smooth thighs. 

Jimin looked up at him, his lips wet and full from the kiss, his cheeks rosy with life. His eyes were dark, hair brushed back from his forehead. 

“How do you—” Jimin swallowed. “Now? Or…” He touched his neck.

“Not quite yet,” Yoongi said. He reached over to where he knew Jungkook had stashed the lube, pulling the bottle out and opening it. 

The two shared soft kisses while Yoongi prepped Jimin, determined not to hurt him any more than necessary. None – if he could have his way. He could smell Jimin’s blood so strongly, his teeth aching like a sweet tooth, mouth watering as they kissed. And Jimin – oh, the creature under him couldn’t be a human – Jimin had to be an imp. Playing with fire, Jimin would scrape his tongue over Yoongi’s fangs, sometimes almost hard enough to draw blood. Each time he did, his cock would jerk against Yoongi’s hip, and Yoongi would have to refrain from giving in and biting Jimin then and there.

He resisted by some miracle, however, and pulled back, lining himself up to Jimin’s body. “Are you ready?” 

Jimin nodded, spreading his legs wider.  Yoongi laid over him, bracing himself on the hand that was cuffed. Jimin twined their fingers together, meeting Yoongi’s gaze as Yoongi pushed into him for the first time. 

Jimin’s lips parted, a sharp gasp breaking the silence of the room. Yoongi bared his fangs, his own vision going a little hazy at the tight heat of Jimin’s body. 

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s voice was soft, muffled. Yoongi forced himself to focus, offering what he hoped was a comforting smile – though he knew the fangs probably made that difficult. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

“I know. It feels good,” Jimin assured him. He reached his free hand down, gripping Yoongi’s ass. “You can move. I want this.”

Yoongi nodded. He began to thrust at an even pace, mindful of not going too hard. Jimin moaned under him, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. Curious, Yoongi reached out, pinching his left nipple. Jimin shouted, gasping. 

“Please—“

“Oh, you are sensitive,” Yoongi teased. “And responsive.”

He pinched again, this time tugging. Jimin shouted, squeezing Yoongi’s cock almost painfully tight. Yoongi continued to thrust, leaning down to gently suck and bite at each hard nub. As he did, he fisted Jimin’s cock, using his ample precome to jerk him in time to his own movements. 

He was already so close, he wished it could last longer. He wanted to stay like this, hear Jimin’s sounds of pleasure, for eternity. He moved back up, nuzzling Jimin’s neck. 

Jimin’s breath caught, his throat clicking. He let his head fall, baring his neck to Yoongi.

“Yes—“ He whispered. “Please, Yoongi… Do it…”

Yoongi pulled his cock free of Jimin’s hole, chuckling when Jimin whined.

“Don’t stop, please—“ 

Yoongi began to tease him, prodding and bumping his opening with his tip. Not enough to get any real stimulation, but feeling Jimin’s body open for him, so receptive - and the sounds of his voice as he begged for it… If Yoongi didn��t have other plans he may have come then and there.

He lined himself back up and nuzzled Jimin’s neck once more. A moment to steady himself, and then… 

His teeth penetrated Jimin’s soft neck at the same moment he drove himself into Jimin’s body once more. 

Jimin screamed, his free hand rising and scratching down Yoongi’s back. He began to pump his hips quickly, swallowing the sweet, hot blood that filled his mouth as he sucked. He ran his tongue over the puncture wounds, his saliva working to clot and slow the blood already so Jimin wouldn’t bleed too much. 

Jimin’s entire body jerked, nearly dislodging his mouth. His release spilled, hot and sticky, between their stomachs as he moaned against Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Jesus— Yoongi!” Jungkook’s voice startled Yoongi. He felt Jungkook’s hand on the back of his neck, so he released, afraid he’d drunk too much. But Jimin was grinning brightly, looking all too fucked out.

“Hey Jungkook,” he signed, moaning softly when Yoongi thrust in. 

Jungkook looked between the two, letting go of Yoongi’s neck. 

“Oh.”

“Sorry we didn’t wait for you,” Jimin teased. “You should join us now.”

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, smiling softly. “I think I will.” He began to strip, grabbing the lube to ready himself.

Yoongi looked back down at Jimin, leaning down to lick a stray dribble of blood on his neck. He thrust in, and Jimin winced. He pushed Yoongi’s chest.

“Too sensitive after I come,” he whined. “Finish with Jungkook. Oh—“ He laughed into Yoongi’s mouth when Yoongi kissed him hard, gently pulling out. He flopped next to him, still holding his hand.

Jungkook straddled his hips, dick hard. He lifted Yoongi’s cock and settled onto it, both of them gasping. He began to ride him almost immediately, leaning down to kiss them both. 

Jimin sat up, shifting over to begin sucking Jungkook’s cock as he moved, the soft wet noises punctuating the rougher ones.

Yoongi’s eyes went fuzzy as he watched the two, his toes curling against the mattress. 

“I’m close,” he warned Jungkook, who only nodded. His fingers were buried in Jimin’s hair, guiding him along his length. 

Jimin coughed and Jungkook grunted, his body shuddering and beginning to clench and relax - a sure sign of his release… Directly down Jimin’s eager throat if the soft gulping was any indication. 

Yoongi moaned softly. The pressure around his cock and the absolutely stunning image in front of him became too much far too quickly. With a deep grunt, and a firm hand on Jungkook’s hip to hold him still, Yoongi came, spilling inside Jungkook.

The three ended up in a haphazard cuddle pile as they all came down from their climaxes. Though Yoongi was sure he’d taken less than a pint from Jimin, but he still felt calm and full and strangely sated. Maybe it was due to feeding live. But maybe it was due to the two men snuggled up against his body, warming him from the outside in. 

“Any regrets?” Jimin asked sleepily, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“None. You okay?”

“I feel great. How often do you need to feed?”

“Just every few days. I won’t need much, just enough to take the edge off… I don’t want to force you—”

“Shh,” Jimin kissed his mouth to silence him. “I’m offering. You already look better. I want to help. I told you things wouldn’t be like they were sixty years ago.”

Yoongi nodded. “Thank you.” He sighed softly, looking between the two. “I have a question for both of you.”

When they looked up, he smiled. “Jungkook – you mentioned… Changing your relationship with us. And that… I believe… Implied dating.”

Jungkook nodded. 

“Do you still feel that way?”

Another nod. “Of course I do.”

“Then… I think now is a good time for me to formally ask you… Both of you… If you’d like to make this situation an official one.”

Jimin made a small noise that was a cross between an ‘oh’ and a giggle. “Are you asking out the vampire hunter’s son, Yoongi?”

Yoongi smirked. “Guess I like to live on the wild side. It’s only fair after I’ve had my teeth in your neck.” 

Jimin laughed brightly, nuzzling against Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi glanced at Jungkook, noticing he’d remained silent.

“Jungkook?” 

Jungkook smiled softly. He met Yoongi’s gaze. “I never expected… When I cuffed you two together, I didn’t expect things to actually work out.”

“Are you okay with how it did?” Yoongi confirmed.

“You really do care for Jimin? This isn’t some effect of drinking his blood or… Or sex or… For peace in the apartment?”

Yoongi chuckled. He nodded. “I mean, it’ll be nice to have peace in the apartment, but no… And we aren’t affected by blood drinking or anything like that, it’s just like sitting down and having a good steak – No offense.”

“None taken,” Jimin answered. 

“So, yeah, I… I’ve really developed a fondness for Jimin over these few weeks. Spending more time with him, learning to work together. I don’t know if it’s love but it’s… Definitely more than tolerance. I do care for him a great deal. Just like you.”

“Were you not wanting this, Jungkook?” Jimin worried. “Like… I know you want me and you want Yoongi, but us… Together.”

“It’s not that.” Jungkook sat up. “I do. This is a dream, all three of us together. I just didn’t expect it. To be honest, I… I keep expecting to wake up.” He looked to Yoongi. “You really don’t hate Jimin?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think I ever did. I was blaming him for his parents, for hunters who have killed my friends over the years… He was the face of it.” Yoongi paused, brows furrowed as he thought. “But he’s been just as much a victim to vampire hunters as anyone else. Has still been hurt and traumatized by them, in a different way, but… It’s there. I was just too stubborn to hear that until these weeks. And I regret that. Because getting to know the real Jimin these past few weeks has been so fun. I just hope that I can keep learning more about him.”

“And you don’t… Resent him, Jimin? For all that he’s said to you?”

“Not even a little. I wish he’d given me a chance earlier – but I understand fully why he didn’t. And I don’t blame him. I can’t say I would have either, in his shoes. And I’m glad that we’ve gotten over that bump and can move forward with our friendship and… Relationship.”

Jungkook seemed to relax a little, a small smile crossing his face as he looked at the two.

“So, what do you say, Jungkook?” Yoongi pressed. “Is this— Are the three of us… Okay?” 

Jungkook remained silent a moment, looking between the two. He nodded then. “You two make a cute couple.”

“And we three will make an adorable throuple,” Jimin said. Jungkook’s soft smile widened then, crinkling his nose and exposing his front teeth. 

“We will, won’t we?”

Yoongi grabbed for Jungkook with his free hand, pulling him down into a kiss. After, he turned, kissing Jimin gently. “Amazing how comfortable that feels,” he commented.

“Guess we shoulda been doing it this whole time,” Jimin said.

Yoongi nodded, kissing him once more. “I guess so. We’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

“What a trio we are,” Jungkook said. “A vampire, a human, and a werewolf.”

“Unique and fun, I’d call it.”

“You know,” Jungkook said, nuzzling against Yoongi’s neck. “I’d like to point out that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t thought to cuff you two together.”

Jimin snorted, but Yoongi chuckled. “You’re not wrong… I’m gonna kinda miss being cuffed to you when we get home, Jimin.” 

Jimin grinned broadly. “It’s okay, I know you like holding my hand is all. I promise to hold it all the time, even if we’re not joined at the wrist.” He shifted, taking Yoongi’s hand and twining their fingers.

“Only if Jungkook holds my other hand,” Yoongi said, holding his free hand out. Jungkook grinned brightly and grabbed it, lacing his fingers between Yoongi’s before letting it rest on his stomach. 

Yoongi closed his eyes, sighing softly. He could hear the steady, firm heartbeats of his boyfriends, and smell their comforting scents. The taste of Jimin’s blood was still present on his tongue, but it didn’t frighten him in the way the thought of it had. It felt safe. He felt safe. Even as a vampire – deadly and near unkillable – there had always been something missing in Yoongi’s world. Something that made him feel exposed, and scared, in a way even he couldn’t pinpoint. 

And now, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel that fear. Instead he felt warmth. And he felt happiness. And he’d spend the rest of his time on earth protecting that happiness, no matter what. 

[octania]

Midnight hunter ( Dabi x Reader 18+)

This is the second chapter of Midnight stalker.

Short description: Prepare yourself for a human hunt where your fiery hunter will not stop until he gets you.

Word count: 4.8 K

Warnings: Smut, yandere, human hunt, violence, death (not Dabis nor readers), mentions of noncon (nothing much, just a mention in a dialog),NSFW. _______________________________________________________

He forced his compass to point in any direction except hers. He went to places that were too much even for his hardened soul. He drank the sweetness of a woman's body without limits, getting drunk under the touch of cheap prostitutes as much as he could. But instead of asking the paid lady of the night for sexual consolation, he greedily tried to recreate the moment he stole from you.

I didn't fucking steal nothing, it’s mine. You are mine.

The last truth of his thoughts was pierced with the spear of condemnation. In those moments when the Pandora's box wanted to send the truth to the surface of his soul, in those moments he was the most dangerous. He turned into a raging beast that could destroy anything in front of them. Unfortunately, several prostitutes were harmed because of his struggles. After hearing the words of truth in his head, the reaction of the body came immediately afterwards. His palms bathed in a blue flame, burning the skin of the unfortunate woman's face, who had been trying to meet his needs until then. A tense kiss, thirstily absorbing the erotic dance of her tongue, squeezing her eyelids like yours, the only thing he had differently was that he ordered the prostitutes to sit on his lap. To put their legs around him as he held them by the waist and pressed them to his chest. He had to take his imagination to the next level, give it the illusion of consent. He wanted to imagine how you kissed him willingly, how you needed his lips desperately, how you needed to feed on his presence how he fed on yours. And after that he was poisoned. He left the room, leaving the painful screams of those he had inadvertently damaged with his flames behind him.

Dabi hated the smell of smoke. Ironically for someone who is almost always surrounded by that scent, but something in him aroused disgust at that smell. Especially the smell of burning skin. It reminded him of the misfortune that had befallen him, aroused in him things that were to blame for the person he was today. He knew the horrors of that scent, how severe and vicious its punishment was. Those who are punished in this way never forget it. He ran his fingers over his chin, rubbing his damaged skin. The wound may have healed, but the scar will remain forever. He didn't need a new scar. Especially not the kind that never heals, it only seemingly retreats, settles into the dark place of the human subconscious and lurks its weakest moment.

 "Tsc ... I should have finished you ..." he threw a glass of whiskey into the wall of the room. The glass shattered into thousands of pieces, while the liquid left a large stain on the white wall. The moment he pressed his lips to yours, his Pandora's box shattered in the same way, leaving feelings in his chest. He thought that by kissing you he would silence his desires and satisfy his obsessions, but he only deepened them. Hell, now he's trying to patch up the damage with others, how pathetic it can be. He clenched his fists as a blue flame wrapped around them. Dabi could not suffer humiliation, he could not let it go unpunished. He made a mistake, but now it is about time to fix it. He got out of bed just as he got up the first night he contracted this plague, pulled his black T-shirt over his taut shoulders, and headed for the exit.

It has been almost two months since the unfortunate event. Your quiet life turned into a nightmare in one night and you had no idea why. After tasting the lips of a dangerous stranger and daring to turn around even though he ordered you not to, you didn’t think the gates of hell would open shortly after. The pair of blue eyes in which the storm was pouring belonged to a very famous villain, a person you had only seen on the news, newspapers or arrest warrants until then. You never thought you would see him in front of your eyes, let alone taste him with your mouth. There was a void in your head, a war drum in your chest. Nothing that happened that night seemed real. You played that scene back in your head again and again so many times, but you still could hardly believe yourself. Impossible, it wasn't him. It was him. It was just him and no one else could sit in his place. Anyone normal would be imbued with panic and fear, running away without thinking after catching a glimmer of freedom after that attack, but not you. You stood frozen under the street lamp, staring into the corner where he had disappeared. You don’t even know how you got home after that, it all seemed like a crazy dream. Until the next morning, when everything became more than real. Two police cars were in front of your house at dawn. In addition to the two detectives, there were four police officers and they were accompanied by two heroes. Before you could speak, one of the two detectives pulled a photo out of his pocket. Your friend. You could feel the tingles of horror travel through your body. Fear permeated you before you even heard what had happened.

Your hands were shaking as you held the second photo the detectives gave you. You sat in your living room in your favorite armchair, which this time could not provide you with comfort. You stared at the image of a burning corpse, whose face, despite the disgusting wounds, showed an expression of pure horror and agony. You were the last person he was with, the last contact, so the cops and heroes rushed to your doorstep, not even knowing you had an encounter with the man who was guilty of murdering this young man. At first, you didn’t want to tell the truth. You lied, you kept quiet about the way you actually met. But the quirk of one of the heroes has distracted you from your lie. His quirk was a living lie detector and he read you like an open book. After the truth came out, there was silence. Initially, no one could explain the event you went through, but it didn’t take them long to come to their professional conclusion. He must have wanted to enjoy his morbid act, to leave someone close to suffer for the victim. A few moments later they explained to you how things would develop further, you would be placed under protection. Two heroes and three policemen will be constantly on duty in front of your home, in case the villain returns to finish what he started. You knew they were secretly hoping so, that this was a trap, and you were a living bait.

The days passed, weeks followed, but no trace of the villain. After the first month had passed, two police officers and one hero remained, now, after two months, only one hero remained. No matter how they eliminated the surplus people, caution still had to be on a high level. Because of that, you could not carelessly go where you wanted, just perform your duties, and even then you would be accompanied by a hero. You hated this situation, you could no longer be a prisoner in your own home, you had to stretch your legs somewhere more than just walking to the store. You walked resolutely from your room to the living room where the hero was on duty. He looked at you lazily, and you already had a pleading expression on your face.

 "I want to take a walk, I can't be locked up anymore." you protested, but still in a polite tone. He didn't scold you or acted rudely. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"I know, I'm sorry ... but I still think it would be better not to go out on the streets, especially not at this time of night." - He gazed at your furry friend who in these two months has grown almost twice the original size when you found him.

 "We don't even have to go to the streets! Not far from here is a forest, we can go there! Please, I'm really not able to spend my days like this anymore, and the forest road is in one of the safest neighborhoods and you know it yourself! ”- you were persistent, determined, you knew that he was soft and that he would give in with a good enough reason. You could see how your words were valid. You knew he couldn't sit on your living room couch anymore, he'd been doing it for the last two months, and you could only imagine how tiring it was to do it to a person who had dedicated his life to action, to fighting villains.

"I'm not sure ..." you interrupted him before he could finish.

"Please! A short walk and nothing more! Not even the dog can jump just around the yard anymore! ”- the hero looked down at the playful puppy and you knew that was the last thing he needed to break. The little furry creature waved its tail, caressing his leg.

"Okay, but not for long and nowhere far. " he said, getting up from the couch.

Come, step into the night doll.

You made a mistake, you made a big mistake. You dared to tell , you dared to make a victim of yourself and seek protection from them. Why? Why doll? The only victim here is him, all of this is your fault, it's your fault because he's here. You did this, and he let you live for a small fee, just one kiss. Instead of feeling privileged and blessed for being let off the hook so cheaply and enjoying your last moments after you poisoned him, you dared to call on the greatest scum of this world to protect you.

 Do you like the taste doll? Do you like the taste of the rotten flesh? You do… don't you? Because you took a bite of my heart, and that is shit is rotten to the core. Feast  on that rot while you can and I hope you like burnt meat as much as rotten because you will soon be surrounded by it.

 He clenched his jaw as he followed your shadows as you imperceptibly tried to sneak up to the car. You chose the wrong evening for a walk. Was the taste of his lips so repulsive to you? The more he thought about it, the stronger the killer instinct was. Even though he came here with the intent to kill you, he felt betrayed. He retreated back into the shadows and hurried down to the previous street  where he saw a parked motorbike. He was skilled at picking locks, and hot-wiring a vehicle was no different. He also had a good  taste, his eye could not miss the kawasaki ninja ZZR 1400, a beautiful assembly of metal and engine. He ran his hands over the leather seat before sitting on it and held the balance of the heavy black beast with ease. It fused with him in a second, as the engine purred as it started. As expected, your car passed in front of him. He saw your happy face under the nightlights in the passenger seat. You won't be smiling for long.

He was cautious and went unnoticed. He followed you with no problem, even a little bit impressively. When he saw the car lights turn from the marked road  to a muddy path between the tall trunks of the forest, he couldn't help but smile sinisterly. He left the motorbike at the very beginning of the forest, covered between dense bushes. His step was lighter than that of a cat. He didn’t break a single twig, make a single sound that would reveal he was there. The two electric blue eyes gleamed like wild beasts in the moonlight. He saw you, he heard you, he could smell you. He licked his lips to recall your taste. Your lips looked delicious even in the dark. You looked almost unreal under the auspices of the stars and the shining moon, with your spirits lifted by the fact you were surrounded by nature once again. How your hair fluttered in the warm night breeze as thin strands fell across your forehead. He saw the scene in slow motion. For a moment the anger disappeared from his face, he allowed himself to watch you calmly. Calmly until the venom of pain and loneliness flowed through his veins again, the only things he could feel except wrath. That was exactly the reason why you were a thorn in his eye. You aroused pain and a feeling of loneliness. He needed you, he needed your touch, he needed your voice in his ear, your breath on his face, your fingers on his skin. Could you see him as anything but a villain? Would the same kindness shine in your eyes and would you extend your hand with the same measure of tenderness when you were rescuing an abandoned puppy from that dark street? Would you recognize what he really is, and he doesn't even see it in himself anymore ... He had to know.

You happily threw a stick to your puppy playing fetch, running along with him. You excitedly followed the dance of fireflies among the tall grass along the path. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath with a desire to absorb as much of this forest air and its scent as possible.

"See? I told you it is beautiful and it certainly beats being locked up. ”- you said without opening your eyes. You were sure that the hero was enjoying this night out too. Even as you drove in the car you saw the relief on his face when he realized he could finally escape from your house.

"And that there is no one else here." you added, taking another breath. Instead of the smell of trees, the sour smell filled your nostrils. This smells like ..

"Oh..but there is." - the voice that answered did not belong to the hero who brought you here. That voice ... Blood froze in your veins and your eyes suddenly opened in panic as you turned at lightning speed. A grayish cloud between the suppressed trees and the tall grass. Like fog, the smoke remained in the air like a floating ball. You covered your mouth with your hands as it approached your nostrils. You thought you were going to throw up. This was the smell ... the smell of burning flesh. You could barely contain a scream in your throat when you saw a person stepping out from behind a tree, dragging something behind him.

"You ..." - you stammered when you saw the person who was to blame for your accident. The person you had on your lips just two months ago, the same night after he set your friend on fire.

"Tch, tch ... you can recognize me only because you disobeyed me and gazed at me when I told you not to ... naughty doll." - he said, throwing a burnt corpse in front of you. You screamed when you saw the same horror on its face that you saw in the pictures of your dead friend, but this was now the man who pleased you and took you here at your request. He's dead now. You instinctively took a few steps back as your knees were shaking.

“Was it worth it, huh? Disobeying me? Do you see what happens when someone stands in my way, doll? ”-he asked, rubbing the fingers of his left hand. The blue flame rose from his palm to his forearm, over his muscular shoulder to his neck, until he stroked his cheeks as well. You couldn't take it anymore, you started running. You made your way through the thick bushes and tall grass. The roots of the trees tangled under your feet as you tried to escape. You saw almost nothing in front of you except darkness, and your useless calls for help disappeared into the emptiness of the woods. You pushed the branches in front of you that were coming back and smashing into your body. You could feel the warm feeling that was pouring down your legs ... blood. Warm blood dripping from the scratches. None of that slowed you down. You kept running at the same speed. You thought you managed to lose him, you didn't hear anything behind you, but you didn't dare to stop. You continued deeper into the woods where there seemed to be no end.

 The blue light flashed before your eyes so intensely that it hurt. You covered your eyes with your hand, squinting in front of you. The heat made you back off and you succeeded at the last minute. The blue fire is blocking your path. Your eyes filled with tears when you realized what was happening. He's chasing you. He chases you like a beast, and he's a hunter trying to trap you. You turned and ran in the other direction. The road started going uphill. You could feel pain in your legs from the frantic climb, but it never occurred to you to give up. Even when a new wall of fire was created in front of you, you didn’t give up. You turned again, looking for any path where there was no fire. Your lungs were burning from the rapid breathing and the smell of smoke spreading through the air. The new burst of fire was too fast, it managed to reach your lower leg. You sobbed, quickly putting out the fire on your jeans. Your tears flowed harder from the pain of  burning your skin, but you knew you had to keep going. If you give up now, you will not be able to save yourself. Like the promised land, the sight in front of you almost brought a smile to your face. The crystal surface of the lake glazed under the moonlight. The water ... you forgot the pain in a second, leaning on your feet and running with all your might towards the lake. You jumped into the water without thinking. The cold flooded your body, and a sharp pain crossed your injured leg. It was quite shallow. When you surfaced, you realized that the water barely reached your chest. You looked around. The forest burned, and the blue fire cast its light high toward the dark clouds of night.

 "Smart..but it will not help you." - Dabi went through the raging fire as if it were air, reaching the water's edge. His expression was nauseating. When he watched you run, he felt a rush of adrenaline, pleasure, superiority ... feelings that he knew and gladly let them circulate through his body as he caught his prey. Human hunt, and God help those who are cursed with him as their hunter. That is a lie ... even God can't help you then. He thought it was the end, that he had finally found a solution and his salvation. Until now ... until you looked him in the eye again. The eyes that carried goodness, when he first saw you wake up and you didn't know he was there, they carried innocence ... and now ... he had to make sure what did you hid behind those mirrors of the soul before that same soul leaves your body. He stepped into the water, going all the way in till it reached his groin, getting closer to you. He touched the surface of the water with his fingers, and it obediently received his fire on its surface. It surrounded you, trapped you inside the burning circle.

"W..why .." - you stammered the most obvious question. He thought he was numb to that pointless question by now. It always sounded the same. But your voice ... your voice addressed to him now, directly to him. He paused for a moment, feeling what he had feared so much spring up in his chest. He must not waste time, he must not think too much. He was two steps ahead of you, grabbing you by the jaw.

"Oh, but why not?" -he responded, looking at your lips until then. He crossed over your lip with the tip of his index finger. He tried with all his might to make himself remember the longing, the basic need he had met so many times without difficulty. He tried to escape from the claws of feelings that were now awakening. Turns out your closeness is more fatal than he thought. Something in him pulled him closer, asking him to surrender. He didn't know what that hurricane in him was, and he reacted, as always, angrily. Why..you want to know why..I am the one here that needs to know why ..

“Why not doll? What, I am not good enough to be saved? I thought you liked picking up fucked up things on the street and mending them? So, why do you run from me then? ”- something in him broke. The rejection and fear he had not felt since he was young now took the throne over his feelings. He savagely entered your face, finally catching your eye.He didn't want to see it. He did not want to see the answer to his question, especially not in this vulnerable state. It may not have been visible through its exterior, but it was worse on the inside. In the eyes he had dreamed so much about, the eyes that radiated concern and kindness ... now only pure fear and horror poured out from them.

„Why am I not worth saving ?! Answer me! Because I am a monster!? I killed your so called, friend !? A guy who wanted to fuck you dry just so he can tell his homeboys about it ?! - he roared. What you didn’t know was that before he killed your friend and exposed him to the greatest torment, while he was still following him, he heard a conversation your friend was having over the phone.

"No, the stupid bitch didn't put out yet..yeah, I know..But that ass man. I swear if she doesn't lift that skirt next time, I will take it off myself. ”- those were the words of your so-called friend. With that, he signed his death sentence. Dabi made him pay for the crimes he intended to commit, and you had no idea. Even now you don't quite understand what he's talking about.

„You don't like murderers, only scumbags ?! They are worthy of your attention ?! Ok then, bet you will love this. ”- with one hand he grabbed the wet shirt on your chest, giving the order to his flame which ate the material in one second. Your upper body was now covered only by a bra that was intact, but not for long. Dabis finger slipped under the  thread between your breasts, the thread that connected the front of the bra cups. It tightened enough that it almost broke, making your breasts almost completely visible.

“No, please! Don't! ”- you tried to push him away with your hand, but he grabbed your wrist. He gritted his teeth angrily, looking back at you. Of course he won't do that to you, he may be a villain but he's not a monster, he's not a rapist. He let go of your bra, clenching his fist. You saw that something in him broke, you saw that the person you thought was to blame for your accident was not really the person they described him to be. This is someone who has the thorns of his exterior here for a deeper reason than pure malice.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. The person who trapped you was now alone pressed under the heavy weight of no one else but number two hero, Endeavor. He squeezed his body below the surface of the water, not giving him a chance to get air.

“You filthy scum! You thought killing heroes will go unpunished?! - Endeavor roared as he pushed Dabi deeper under the water. The thing was, Dabis flames made quite a fire, and the woods was now eaten by it, making a giant cloud of smoke. The same smoke that was seen by the locals and they called in the heroes and the police. Unfortunately, the first that spotted you two was no other then the ruthless hero Endeavor, who planned to show no mercy to the villain who killed a hero. He didn't know who the villain he kept underwater was, but he didn't care, he'd be dead in the matter of seconds.Dabi didn't fight back. All the water that was stirred was like that because of how Endeavor was pushing  Dabis body even deeper under the water. A man who had shown unbridled strength only a moment ago, now surrendered to a fatal fate. For a moment, you could make out his expression. An expression of loneliness, an expression of pain ... an expression of relief, as if this is the only thing that can save him from the horror he keeps in himself. This is not a monster.

You raised your hands toward Endeavor, releasing your quirk. It wasn't even a few seconds before the number two hero replaced the expression of anger  with astonishment and then fear. He waved frantically around, throwing his flame into the empty space. There was nothing around him, but you knew what he saw. The reason you loved the dark side so much, is because it has always been a part of you, and your quirk was one of the proofs of that. You could read man’s greatest fears, their worst nightmares, and manifest that horror in front of them. Now your power was bending number two hero like a fragile twig, forcing him to drop Dabi.He surfaced quickly, catching air, filling his lungs. He coughed out the water as he slowly opened his eyes. You. He saw you looking at him.

No ... that's not possible. Your gaze was direct but gentle now. Penetrating and compassionate ... and pointed at him. He turned and saw Endeavor still panicking trying to defend himself against something that wasn't there, and it didn't take him long to realize what had happened and what you were doing. You defended him. You saw something in him that was worth saving.

"Go, now." you said in a firm but sympathetic voice.

"Name." - he said without moving out of the water or interrupting your gaze. He couldn't turn away from the feeling you aroused in him, and he didn't want to.

„N..no..Please, just go, now! I can't hold him much longer and the others are coming! Go now, God dammit! ”- you said more briskly, more commandingly, but Dabi just knelt at the bottom of the lake, touching the water with his chin, showing you that if you don't tell him your name, your defense was in vain, and his destiny will not change, Endeavor will soon get rid of your illusion and finish the job he started, and Dabi will not fight back. The thought of the so-called number two hero taking his life again by pushing him underwater caused you to fear, a fear that was not the same as before. This fear bordered more with anxiety and the need to defend him.

"Tell me your name." he whispered, this time softly, in a deep voice, his eyes half closed. You bit your lip. You knew that after tonight, nothing would be the same anymore and these two clear blue eyes would emerge from the darkness again in search of you, but something about it woke up the part of you that you had been hiding for so long and needed immensely.

"(Y / N). My name is (Y / N). ”- a satisfied smile on Dabis face was the last thing you saw, before the blue fire flashed and blinded all prying eyes. When it disappeared, he was gone, and  heroes were around you, helping you to your feet.