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twiceasfrustrating · 1 year

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To Have and Hold 11

Chapter: 1/2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Major Character Death

Category: GN/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationships: Diavolo/GN!MC

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Main Character, Lucifer

Tags for these chapters: Not Beta Read, Yandere, Kidnapping, No Happy Ending, Restraint, Imprisonment

Summary: Love drives some people crazy and some can't stand to go without. You thought you'd found the perfect boyfriend in Diavolo, one who loved you more than anything else in the world. And, well, you weren't exactly wrong, but it turns out that he's one of the ones that can't go without…

A/N: Fucking hell! I had to do so many edits because I rearranged some chapters and switched where two major events happened.

Word Count: 1901

“My Love?” Diavolo called softly through the haze of your mind as if standing somewhere so much further away. Unfortunately for you, he was unbearably close; holding onto you as if you were precious.

You turned your head to him without actually focusing your gaze. At this point, through the sickness and jumbled thoughts in your mind, you couldn't be bothered to scream, cry, or fake a smile. Everything just felt so heavy. You weren’t sure you could even lift a teacup like you had yesterday during that forced ‘date’.

“Hm?” You hummed weakly, wondering where all the grit and tenacity inside of you had gone recently. Sure you were sick, but it was as if all the energy you had faded all at once and was nowhere near returning.

"My Love, you need to get ready. We have a surprise guest."

A… guest? As in someone besides him and Barbatos? And he was going to let you out of the room to see them? Did you, through your addled mind, dare to have hope?

"This will be uncomfortable, but bare with me."

He undid the bindings that always kept you attached to the bed only to tie your arms and legs together so you couldn't move any of your limbs. He picked you up bridal style.

"Close your eyes," he whispered with a smile across his face, as if he was excitedly waiting to show you something for your birthday.

When you didn't do it immediately, he frowned. "Would it be easier to blind you?"

That barely veiled threat was enough for you to close your eyes as he ordered.

"Good. Oh! No peeking or I really will have to blind you to eliminate that temptation," he said far too cheerfully.

You could feel the jolt from his sudden movement as he began walking. The sound of the door opening felt so foreign, as well as all the twists and turns he made. In the back of your mind, you tried to remember how many times he turned left and right, making a map of where you were in the palace behind your eyelids. Every set of stairs and even the changing sound of his footsteps was a clue you added to your inner map key. It was crude at best, but it was something. It was a possibility.

He finally stopped.

"You can open your eyes if you want."

As you did, light flooded your vision. When your vision adjusted though, you recognized the drawing room. You also recognized the chair he was standing in front of, although the seat was raised to reveal a small space inside.

"It's important we both greet our guest, although you may be uncomfortable. Forgive me for that." He kissed your temple.

“Just stay here like a good little human and try not to make too much noise.” Diavolo’s voice sounded so sweet as he spoke, but there was a clear threat behind his words. Or, perhaps everything he said sounded like a threat now.

You whimpered as he closed the lid over you, surrounding you in darkness in a very uncomfortable position. You were slumped over to fit into the small space, your head drooping down against your knees so all you could do was stare at the wood beneath you. You weren’t even able to adjust into a more comfortable position, since the bindings that dug into your skin wrapped their way around your calves, up your thighs, to your torso, and kept your arms in place. You hadn’t even been here for a full minute and you were already in pain. At least you could lie down comfortably in the stupid room.

In this place, all you could do was wait in the pitch-black darkness for something to happen. In some futile attempt to relieve your boredom, you actually started to count your fingers over and over again. It was something at the very least, even though you lost track at some point in the thousands and had to start over. Even mistakes were more interesting than nothingness.

“-very concerning.” You finally heard a faint voice through the walls around you. It’s very familiar, but you know that it isn’t Diavolo’s.

“I see. That is troubling.” That was Diavolo.

“Are you sure they haven’t reached out to you?” That voice really was familiar, but it was hard to make out properly through the walls around you, “Even an attempt would be sufficient.”

“They haven’t contacted me since our last conversation, and that was nearly a month ago.” Something shifted over you, like a great weight was just placed on top of you, “Please, take a seat.”

“I apologize, Lord Diavolo, but I only stopped by to see if you’d heard from them. I do not have time for tea today.” Lucifer! That’s who the voice belonged to.

"Don't be in such a rush. Barbatos, prepare something for Lucifer's nerves. He needs to relax."

Barbatos said something that sounded like agreement, but you couldn't quite make out the exact words.

"I apologize. We've all been concerned lately and I'm letting it show more than I should."

“No one is blaming you for being worried about them, I doubt you have anything to be worried about. If they wanted or needed your help, I’m sure they’d summon you.” There was a loud thump against the outer walls of the box you were inside of, and you could only assume Diavolo kicked it.

“We think they did. Or rather, we believe Belphie,” hearing that name made you feel like you were going to puke, “was summoned but we haven’t heard from him either...”

“Oh? Why do you think he was summoned?”

“He vanished suddenly without a word. Such an abrupt departure most likely means he was called on.”

"Belphegor is a strong demon. If he gets into any danger, I'm sure he can handle himself."

Liar!

You wanted to scream, to shout, to curse him out, but stayed silent because of Lucifer.

Salvation was right there. You knew Lucifer would help you if you asked him to, but you also knew that Diavolo wouldn't allow it. Images of Belphie's lifeless body flashed in your mind, his blood soaking into the floor and the crushing of his vertebrae abruptly cracking echoing in your ears.

You couldn't risk that happening to Lucifer too. You'd already taken the youngest sibling from his family; you couldn't take the oldest one too.

"We're going to look for them – thank you, Barbatos," Lucifer suddenly said. "I understand if you can't join us, but-"

"What kind of partner would I be if I didn't look for them?" The seat above you creaked as he shifted his weight. "Barbatos can handle everything while I'm gone. Right?"

"Please finish your paperwork before you go."

Diavolo whined. "Isn't this more important though?"

"Are you planning to leave immediately, Lucifer?" Barbatos asked.

"We're preparing today and tomorrow then leaving the next day."

"Then there is time to do what you need."

Diavolo whined louder. "I suppose. Although I should prepare too…"

"I would advise seeing Lucifer out then."

"Of course. Thank you for your time."

The weight on top of you shifted again, but this time it was in a way that relieved the pressure above you.

"I wish we were meeting under better circumstances like old times. Still, I'm glad you are all looking for them since I'm so preoccupi-" Diavolo's voice faded into the distance and you were alone again.

Your heart hammered in your throat, your limbs were numb and tired, your skin felt like it was burning up. Everything inside of you felt wrong. Screaming at you to say something before they left, but your logic kept your mouth shut.

There were a few more uncomfortable minutes of silence before blinding light poured into your little box. You closed your eyes out of reflex immediately, finding it painful to look out into the world.

“So you are still there,” Diavolo’s voice was soft as he reached out to see if you were real and not just a hallucination, “You were so quiet that I thought you had gotten out somehow. I’m happy that you were just following orders.”

You could feel his hand on you and normally you would feel utter disgust, but, at the moment, the only emotion inside of you was distraught. You broke down the moment he brushed his warm fingers against your cheek and sobbed uncontrollably. Not just in sadness, but in rage. There were no tears as you cried -- you had no more to give -- but if you could you knew they would be life fire.

“Why?” You finally managed to hiccup out through your continued and persistent sobs, “Why are you doing this to me?”

Lucifer was worried about you. They were all worried about you! And they hadn't given up yet. It was a cruel joke to give you that tiny ray of hope that you knew would never shine upon you.

“I’m not doing anything, my love. Everything happening is the result of your own actions.” You were the one that made him fall for you, you were the one that kept fighting back, and you were the one who refused to reach out for help when it was right in front of you. If only you could learn to behave yourself, he would be allowed to be kinder to you.

"You lied to him." You screamed, finding anything to break down that smug attitude of his. "You know where I am and you know about… about…." You quietly muttered Belphie's name, not feeling you had the right to even say it.

"I never lied. I only said you hadn't contacted me. That is true since I'm the one coming to you. And Belphegor could handle any danger he found himself in if you hadn't gotten him killed."

It was like twisting the knife already buried to the hilt in your heart.

"Do you have any other concerns?"

You couldn't say anything. There was no response you could give to his insane logic and half truths.

Seeing you fall so readily into compliance, he nuzzled against your neck.

"My lord," Barbatos suddenly said, making you aware of his presence, "the carrot."

"Oh, yes."

He cleared his throat. “You were so good while Lucifer was here. You deserve a reward.” His claws brushed carefully over your delicate skin until they reached the rope and sliced through like it was sewing thread. Your body fell loose the moment it was freed, even though you still couldn’t move any of it because of how numb they were, “What would you like?”

Your eyes had finally adjusted to the brightness of the room, so you opened two bloodshot orbs in Diavolo’s direction, feeling completely hollow inside at the sight of him beaming at you. If you didn’t know better, you would almost think him benevolent. It was too bad you did know better.

“Die.” It was the only request you could think of; every hateful thought and plea for freedom you had boiling to the surface in one succinct word.

"My love," he brushed a thumb over your bottom lip before forcing a soft kiss on you, "how could I do that and risk leaving you all alone?" No. He would ensure that both of you lived long enough to enjoy your new, happy life together.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me diavolo #dark fic #dark obey me #to have and hold

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wwilloww · 3 years

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sh. | ot7 | chapter five

PAIRING ot7 x reader

RATING Explicit.

GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers.

SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no?

WC 8k

WARNINGS AND TAGS protected sex. friends with benefits relationship. dirty talk. power play dynamics. angst. semi-public nudity. mentions of open relationship. sexting. reckoning with feelings. talk of alcohol use.

AN: One million bazillion thanks to the best beta and geologist out there, @hesperantha. Everyday I think to myself, how the fuck would this series exist without this magical lady? And every day I am thankful for her beautiful existence.

Also, if you haven’t seen /the trailer, you might wanna check it out. Just because I had a lot of fun making it and it was super fun to visualize the characters and their tiny little world.

Going forward, you can read with they/them pronouns by navigating to the series m.list and reading from there.

That said, LETS JUMP IN!

← || series m.list || →

©️ wwilloww do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

chapter five

January 2020

What is left when you’re not sure where to turn?

You know there’s Yoongi. Dependable, familiar, predictable Yoongi. Predictable in the sense that you know, unabashedly, that no matter what, you can always count on him to draw a short term — but important — curtain over whatever notion, anxiety, or complication that happens to be singing in your mind that day. Erase it, temporarily, with those long fingers, gliding over your skin in expert patterns, drawing you and your pleasure exactly where he wants it to be.

And predictable in the sense that you know you will be perfectly and endlessly satisfied at the end of the night, no matter what.

See, Yoongi doesn’t mess around. He doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t draw you out and dangle you over your own pleasure. He gives it to you. Over and over and over and over again. Extends his palm and pulls as many orgasms from you as you can physically muster and then lets you collapse in his arms. Dependable, see? Dependable, always.

Once you’re settled in his lap, Yoongi lets you grind on him for a bit as he undresses you expertly, long fingers slipping under the fabric of your clothes before tugging them off gracefully and tossing them across the room. This, this he did love to do. Loved to scatter your clothes around and then watch you from the bed as you tried to piece some semblance of an outfit back together after he fucked you senseless.

“Don’t throw my bra behind the furniture again,” you murmur as you kiss down his neck. “I know you thought it was a great tactic to get me to rearrange your room the last time — but I’m not moving a hundred pound dresser to get my very expensive bra back again.”

He chuckles. Murmurs, “As you wish.” And then throws your bra someplace you can’t see.

Now that you’re topless, he lets his long fingers skate up the skin of your back, tracing the flesh of your hips and with such delicacy it almost tickles. That is, delicate until his hand weaves itself up your neck. His grip tightens at the root of your hair, tugging your head back in a swift motion and exposing your neck to him.

“How do you want me to fuck you tonight?” His voice is deep and it raises goosebumps on your skin. He lets his teeth trace a line up the sensitive skin of your neck until he reaches your ear and bites down hard.

“Fuck,” you breathe as a shiver runs through your body. Yoongi always took particular care to curate a library of knowledge about your ticks, turn ons, and vices. And then he played them out for you in an expertly coordinated hand.

“Yes, that’s in the cards. But tell me specifically how you want it.”

Behind him, the large bedroom is equipped with enough musical equipment to run a fully functioning studio. Instruments hang on the walls and a large black bed rests in the center of the room. The dark tones of the wood and sheets make the otherwise sparse room feel warm and dark. Compared to the shabby little apartment that you share with Namjoon, this is luxury. Your gaze rests on the large wall of glass that looks out over the city.

“The window,” you say.

He grins.

The glass is cold against your bare skin when he presses you to it. The difference in temperature between the fired heat of your skin and the iced window slices right through you, makes you gasp as his hands run over your body, taking you in as you are: bare and ready for him.

You watch as he strips off his clothes, gracefully and swiftly. First the shirt, then his pants. It’s no surprise to you that he’s not wearing any undergarments at all. Delight lights in his eye when he notices how greedily you watch him.

“Do you want me to—” He begins to lean down, but you stop him and pull him up.

“Just fuck me.”

He turns you around in one movement, your hands flying up to stop the impact, your chest — and your nipples — pressing to the glass. The sensation overwhelms you as he slides two fingers between your folds, collecting the slickness that has gathered there.

“You’re already so wet for me.”

A smile spreads across your face as you hear the condom packet rip and he slots his cock against your cunt, coating himself in your arousal.

“Don’t tease me,” you say, a hint of a whine slipping into your voice.

“Don’t worry. I have no patience for that tonight.” And he pushes in. “How’s that?” he says, the lilting tease in his tone cutting sharp against your ear as his dick sinks into you, inch by delightful inch.

It feels like you have to catch your breath to speak. “Is it always this good?”

“Baby, if it isn’t, you should ask for a refund.” He punctuates the last word of his sentence with a harsh thrust that rams your chest up against the glass.

“Fuck—” you hiss.

Memory whitens like it’s been covered in a blanket of snow as he begins a punishing pace, hips rutting up into you before drawing almost all the way back, tip barely inside of you before thrusting back into you, all the way to the hilt. Sensation overtakes thought. The slicing coldness of the glass against your nipples paints a stark contrast to the softness of lips pressed to yours, softness of a hand cupping your cheek—

You should be thinking of anything but that.

And it’s easy to do, in this moment. To focus on Yoongi, his commanding presence, the way he plays your body like one of the carefully polished instruments that hangs on his wall.

You cry out when he hits a particularly soft spot within you, and he pauses his movements, drinking in the sound of you.

“God, you sound so fucking good.”

He pulls out of you, turns you around, and pushes your back against the glass.

“Hop up,” he says, and you frown in confusion before realizing what he’s referring to. You wrap your arms around his neck and with a jump, wrap your legs around his waist.

“Fuck—” With a grunt of effort, he holds you up while slotting himself against your folds and pushing inside again.

The most you can do in this position is tilt your pelvis and grind down on him — while holding onto dear life — and you do, rotating it against his waist, drawing the most delicious sounds from his lips. Your hips begin to move in tandem, each pushing closer to the pleasure that you both so desperately desire.

This is better. This is worse.

See, the two of you have fallen into patterns in your hookups. Rules, even, although no one but you thought of them as such. But the habit — and therefore the lines — were clear to you:

You didn’t kiss. You didn’t confess your love. Hookups only, and breakfast together the morning after. Usually he takes you from behind, because, as he once commented to you, “the ass cheeks are the eyes of the heart.” Which to you, made no sense at all, but you still obliged him. Plus, at the end of the day it was all a little more impersonal that way, anyways. Easier to separate from the rest of your relationship.

But looking into his face, pressed so close — there’s something there. A warmth. An understanding. Too much.

Your head falls to his shoulder and his grip tightens on your thighs as he fucks up into you. Several heavy breaths before you bite gently at the sensitive skin of his neck and he hisses.

“You’re too sensitive,” you chide, although the teasing lilt of your tone is broken up by him fucking into your body — and you both know you love the way he lets you know he likes things done.

“And you’re too shy,” he cuts back. “Why don’t you look at me when I fuck you?” It’s posed as a question but you know it’s a command.

Slowly, you draw your head back and look at him. His eyes are deep and dark, his hair tousled and face lined with pleasure.

“That’s a good little pet,” he whispers. It falls too softly.

It makes you want to kiss him. All you want to do is —

You press your lips to his. Just a peck — the smallest, lightest of pecks.

But the plush of his lips, the way they part so slightly when your lips meet... it leaves you wanting more. So you kiss him again, pressing yourself to him, chasing the feeling of his softness.

He responds, opening his mouth to yours, his tongue darting out to meet yours. His pace doesn’t falter as he continues to fuck up into you. His lips move against yours, fierce, needy, demanding. And it’s then that your stomach drops. It’s as if the winter chill that lays just beyond the door at your back slices through your veins.

You pull back.

“No,” he says, and pulls you back to him. “Stop running.” He brings your face close enough to yours but doesn’t kiss you, just waits.

And you meet him in the middle, kissing him again, afraid of losing the warmth you sparked between you. He groans against you as your hips swivel around his cock, and bites down on your lip.

“Fuck,” you hiss.

With one arm wrapped around his shoulders, you let your other hand press against the nape of his neck, nails digging in just the way you know he likes it. You both have always been in rhythm, in tune with one another, but now with him kissing you — something new sparks between you. Something new, something terrifyingly warm.

When you pull back he smiles.

“Shit,” you whisper, your eyes widening. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi says, an edge in his voice, his hips still circling against yours as he presses your back to the window. “You have nothing to apologize for.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“Shh... stop. It’s okay. It was good.” He punctuates his meaning with a thrust, a small groan slipping from his throat. You want to swallow the sound of his pleasure whole, but still. You let the guilt in your chest rise to your throat.

“No, no, it’s not,” you say, though the coil that’s winding tighter and tighter in your belly makes it difficult to speak. You take a shuddering breath in as he hits your g-spot, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes. It is,” he grunts, and you can tell he’s close too. “You fuck better when you kiss. You feel it. You get into it.” Your brow purses at his words. “Now be good for me, forget it, and cum on this cock.”

You nod.

“Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“I’ll forget it, be good for you, and cum on your cock.”

“Good,” he smiles.

Each thrust brings you a step closer. He kisses you, again waiting for you to meet his lips, and together you move like dancing partners closer and closer to the edge.

You cum, clenching around his cock and crying his name into his mouth.

The two of you breathe heavily, foreheads resting together for a moment that stretches long enough for you to call it a distance.

“Fuck—” Yoongi says, pulling out of you and smiling gently as he lets you down. “I’ve never heard you come like that before.”

Heat rises to your cheeks.

“Hold on, let me get you a towel or something,” Yoongi says, pressing his thumb to your forehead and wiping away a bead of sweat. You watch as he shuffles about his room, looking for anything to give you. “One second, I think there’s clean ones in the dryer.”

He wanders out of the room wearing absolutely nothing at all.

When you turn back to the outside world, the glass is fogged and the world feels a million miles away. The tension that rises up in your chest feels like a wrought iron ball and you need out, out, now.

There’s a fuzzy blanket on the dresser next to you and you snatch it, wrap yourself up tightly and push open the glass door to the tiny balcony. With a held breath, you step out. The cold concrete sends a chill through your body as you step out. Blue washes through you, shocking the pleasure-numbed nerves in your body back to life.

When you suck in a deep breath of snow-cold air, it feels as if clarity settles into you. You take a second, but shuddering, breath as you realize with a lucid sharp pain the reality of your situation.

Yoongi didn’t erase tonight from your mind. Sex didn’t remove Hobi’s kiss from your lips. An orgasm didn’t ease the unnamable want in your chest. If anything, it all just burns a little brighter.

This thing with Yoongi — it’s not supposed to be a distraction for you, or a means to make you feel something else. It’s supposed to be its own thing, a compartmentalized friends with benefits situation that has always been clear and defined between the two of you. But as soon as you showed up on his door with an ulterior motive other than sex, it became something else. As soon as you kissed him, you made it something else.

Fuck.

Around you, fat flurries drift down from the dark sky. They melt as they land on your bare skin. There’s no escaping this thing inside you. But the intensity of the cold seems like it keeps you here, grounded, in Yoongi’s home and facing actuality. As if any form of warmth would leave you wandering into the sickly sweet honeytrap of the what if’s that already threaten on the edge of your mind.

“Come to bed,” Yoongi calls from inside. When you don’t, he comes out onto the tiny balcony and wraps himself around you from behind, his head notching on your shoulder. “Christ, you’re freezing.”

“It feels good,” you say, nuzzing your body back against his.

“I know I didn’t work you up that much that you need to stand in the snow to cool down. Come to bed.”

Still wrapped around you, he waddles you inside, earning a giggle from you as you tumble into bed and he slams the door closed with a bit of a shiver.

“Here,” he says softly, wrapping you in a blanket before settling beside you.

He’s close. Wildly close. His breath brushes softly against your face as you look at each other. You take in the flushed pink of his face, the way his hair is tousled into a gorgeous mess from the effort of your intimacy.

You could kiss him again, you think and a shock runs through your body at the thought. Christ, his cock’s been inside you a million times and yet you balk at the thought of kissing him, of pulling him right where you want him, where he fits so perfectly, where he feels so warm —

“What are you thinking?” Yoongi says softly.

“What are you thinking?” you cut back, just a little too quickly.

Yoongi chuckles. “I’m thinking that you keep yourself so tightly together.”

You smile tightly. “I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

You bite down on your lip.

“You’re thinking so loud I can almost hear it,” Yoongi says. “Just tell me. You know there’s nothing you could say that would upset me.” When you don’t say anything, he continues. “For god’s sake, I’ve seen your asshole. It doesn’t get much more personal than that.”

“Fine,” you say.

“Fine,” he grins.

“Maybe we should…” You trail off and bite the inside of your cheek.

Yoongi rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand.

“Maybe we should…?” He prompts. “Join a sex dungeon?”

You laugh, the thought of going to one with Yoongi is one that sends a thrill through you. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

“What were you going to say?”

You take a deep breath. “That maybe we should… stop. This.”

He doesn’t ask what you mean. He knows. “That, my dear, sounds like quite the antithesis to going to a sex dungeon with me.”

You laugh. “I can’t believe you’re making jokes when I am friends with benefits breaking up with you.”

“What? Were you expecting me to be angry?”

“I mean I expected a little bit of a fight. Or at least… I don’t know. Questions.”

“Do you want questions?”

You look at him.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. Well. Why are you ending things.”

You flop onto your back. Look at the ceiling. The way the lights of the city reflect paley onto the white surface. They look like ghosts.

“I don’t really know.”

He pulls you to him, rolling you onto your side and tangling your hands together. “Okay.”

And then the two of you just lie there, staring at the ceiling in silence, the weight of your decision, of this ending, settling over you with a concrete taste. There’s something uncomfortable in this kind of silence. But it’s not him, it’s not an awkwardness, or the building of tension or resentment. None of that lies between you. It’s the fact that within the silence the answers rise up in you, and you find the words spilling from your mouth.

“I don’t want it to be complicated, Yoongi.”

He waits a moment before responding. “Is it complicated?”

“Well.” You sigh. “No. Not with us. Us is easy. I feel like I can tell you what I need or what I want and I trust you to be able to either give me that or set a boundary.”

Yoongi hums. “I feel the same. So then if it’s not us...?”

“I made a mistake tonight. Crossed a line I shouldn’t have crossed.”

His brow furrows. “Not with me you didn’t. I don’t underst—”

“Not you. It’s me. It’s — it’s always me. I don’t want things to spin out of control. And I feel like they’re about to.”

Yoongi is silent for a long moment.

“I don’t want you to feel that way.” He pulls you closer to him, his grip tightening on your hip. “Really.” You stare down at your intertwined hands. “Look at me.” He waits until you do, summoning an inner strength you didn’t know you needed to look at your friend. “There’s a part of me that wonders how much of this is you punishing yourself for something that you don’t have any reason to be punishing yourself for.”

You can’t help the nervous laugh that shoots from your chest.

“What!? Are you laughing at me!?”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “Just… I don’t know what it is, but if anyone were to look right through me and see everything that’s going on, it’s you.”

He smiles softly.

“Do you want to stay tonight?”

Do you want your friend to wrap himself around you? Pull you in tight to his warm chest? Remind you of the summer that lies on the other side of this long, long winter?

“No,” you say slowly. “I think I need some space. To… process.”

He nods. “Well, as my newest friends with benefits ex, I agree, you should probably leave. You know. So it doesn’t get awkward.” He grins.

“Yeesh, you’re so quick to kick me out.”

“I know. I guess I just need some space. You know. To process, too. Grieve.” He paints a fake frown on his face and does a dramatic rendition of a very gross sniffle.

You giggle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Together you get out of bed, Yoongi — for once — rifling through his room in search of your clothes. With every piece of clothing you put on, you feel like you take another step backwards. Away from Yoongi, away from the vulnerability in you that feels like it tears open everytime he looks at you. His comfort. Each new piece of fabric is another wall resurrected. But when you go to hook your bra behind your back, he steps behind you, taking the straps from your hands and gently hooking the clips together.

“Here.”

When he’s done, his fingers linger on your skin just a moment too long.

“Thanks,” you say softly, turning back to him.

His eyes are still blown wide, his hair perfectly disastrous. There’s something so deadly soft about him. He looks just as he did when you marched into his bedroom earlier in the night. And yet, on the other side of this night, you feel like a totally different person. As if the stranger inside of you has finally stepped forward and introduced herself.

You turn away hastily, heading to the living room. He follows and pulls your jacket from the couch and helps you into it.

Shoes on, jacket on, you’re all ready to walk out the door. And still you linger. Yoongi glances at his watch.

“Well, I’d say six hours is a proper mourning period. Breakfast tomorrow?”

“How about brunch? I’m not getting up at 9am for eggs.”

“Oh and I’m the one who needs space huh?” He smiles softly. “11am. You’ll get up at 11am and I’ll buy you a breakup brunch.”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him. Even as you taste the edge of fear — of anxiety — on your tongue, there is still a kind of undeniable warmth that blossoms in your chest every single time you look at him.

You broaden your smile. Push it down.

There’s one last thing.

“And—”

But he already knows what you’re asking. He steps forward, taking your head between his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. The shock that runs through you is quick and cold.

“I know,” he says. “This’ll still be our little secret.”

When he steps back, there’s something soft in his gaze — too soft, you can’t help but think. Tenderness, surrounded by acceptance and strength. All the things that make Yoongi, well, Yoongi. And yet it feels like too much to handle. Too much to be looked at, to be seen, to be understood when you can barely wrap your mind around what’s going on.

“Sleep well, buttercup.”

Different taxi, different driver, different route.

“Home,” you tell the woman at the wheel when you give her your address, her over-bleached and curly hair forming a kind of halo around her in the seat.

“You got it,” she says smacking her gum and throwing you a wayward smile.

As the car pulls away from the curb and picks up speed, you feel a kind of numbness wash over you.

It was the right decision to end things with Yoongi, you remind yourself, even as you feel a kind of twinge in your chest. You haven’t lost a friend. In fact, you’ve probably preserved your friendship. Saved it from wandering into the brambly bushes of complication and ultimate destruction. Even if it means the loss of killer sex.

You phone dings, and you instinctively brush a hand over your body to make sure you left with all the clothes you arrived in.

When you look at your phone, it’s not who you imagine. It’s not what you imagine.

tae: I forgot how loud you are when you orgasm.

You choke, hand snapping up quickly to cover your mouth.

“You alright, hun?” the driver asks.

“Yeah, yeah, just fine,” you say, but your voice is strained. You immediately type out your response.

you: fuck. i’m so sorry. you: it won’t happen again.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, embarrassment and confusion tightening around your throat. How much more can you really take tonight? Hobi, then Yoongi — now this? You tap your foot as you wait for the response, which takes just a minute to pop up on your phone.

tae: oh… well that’s too bad. I actually didn’t mind it all that much.

Oh.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re typing out your response — and turning down the brightness as if it will hide the loudness of your message from the world.

you: is that right?

tae: i said it didn’t i? ive always been a man of my word. brings me back to the old days, in a way.

you: oh?

tae: you know…

you: do i?

tae: you do.

you: it’s been a while. why don’t you remind me?

tae: you’re playing coy tonight. two very loud orgasms and you’re still not done playing?

you: i’d send that shrugging emoji but i can’t find it you: what can i say? I can be needy

tae: should i remind you tae: when we used to park behind the grocery store tae: there was never anyone around but you’d still get so shy and embarrassed tae: and try to cum without a sound tae: but i didn’t hear a single note of shame or restraint tonight tae: shamelessness looks good on you tae: **sounds good on you

you: you were always quite shameless yourself

tae: it gets me far in life

You blink down at your phone, not really sure what to say. Taehyung’s hearty banter is something you’re used to. Even after all these years, your quick back and forth was still twinged with the smallest teasing edge of sexual interest. But you had always kept it within strict boundaries, never returning to your previous relationship, never suggesting—

tae: but my question is how far will it get me with you?

Your breath freezes in your throat. Never suggesting that you return to anything of the past.

tae: jk tae: unless…?

Taehyung’s sexually laced messages have your head spinning round and round on its pedestal. It’s not as if you had never thought about it, never considered it. But there was a line there, was there not? A line you shouldn’t cross, shouldn’t even think of crossing, no matter how you wanted to. With a deep breath, you respond.

you: i don’t know if we should be having this conversation right now?

tae: why? because you’re my ex? or because of Jin?

Before you can even manage to type out the long list of reasons why you shouldn’t be dipping your toes into the perilous waters of sexting your very happily taken ex, the screen is lighting up again.

tae: if it’s the latter, don’t worry. he’s here too. tae: he says to tell u you’re hot tae: which is news to me tae: not that you’re not hot, but that he thinks that tae: and he says hes “sorry he missed the show earlier”

you: tbh that was NOT the response i was expecting to get.

tae: we’re very open about these things. he’s quite… encouraging actually

As if this is the opening, you walk through it.

you: in what way?

tae: he likes visibility in a specific way. he likes to watch. likes to be watched and… the attention, especially when its directed at me, especially when he knows that at the end of the day i’m crawling back into his bed

Your heart races in your chest.

tae: sorry, maybe that’s tmi.

you: don’t apologize. i don’t mind tmi

tae: then i won’t apologize.

you: good.

tae: good 😂 tae: you know, i liked it.

you: sorry, liked what?

tae: hearing it tae: hearing you cum

you: did you?

tae: more than i expected

you: more than you should?

tae: that’s not what i said

you: well, like i mentioned, it won’t happen again

tae: why not? You finally get me to admit i didn’t mind it and now you’re telling me i won’t get more? :(

You chew on your bottom lip before responding.

you: it’s complicated.

tae: an orgasm is never complicated.

you: …

tae: but you know what is complicated? tae: feelings. tae: you’re having feelings. tae: oh my god you’re in love with yoongi

you: i am nOT in love with yoongi you: surprisingly it has very little to do with yoongi

Even as you send the text, you know that’s not entirely true.

tae: okay, then what’s going on??? pls don’t play cryptic with me, it’s too late for that shit

you: i don’t even know what’s going on.

tae: oh. tae: so we’re talking big boy emotions

you: i don’t have *emotions*

tae: you’re a fucking liar

you: hey you: language

tae: alright then let me rephrase it tae: what are you so afraid of will happen if you let yourself feel?

Your heart catches in your throat. Oh.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver says, and your head snaps up from the light of your phone to see your apartment complex towering high and familiar above you.

“Oh!” You blink yourself from your reverie and hand the woman the cash for the ride. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” she says, twisting around to look at you as you skootch across the backseat. “Hey—” You pause, looking at her. The orange glow of the streetlights rings like a halo around her head. “You take care of yourself, alright?”

“Alright,” you smile and nod.

A haze settles around your body as you climb out of the taxi. The hard edge of soberness and the sharpness of the winter air mixes and shocks life back into you as his question rings around your head. What are you so afraid of will happen if you let yourself feel?

Your breath feels strained as you climb the echoing stairs to your home. The sound of the key fitting into the lock rings with a harsh click, but it brings you back into your body, to the little marks where Yoongi’s hands dug into you, to the confusion that rattles around your mind, and finally, and most devastatingly, the warmth that has sunk deep and inextricably into your heart.

The apartment is dark when you enter.

“Namjoon?” you call out.

No one answers. You don’t bother to flick on the lights as you feel your way blindly through the darkness, hand brushing against the soft fabric of your sofa, the bumpy texture of the wall, and finally the cold knob of your door. Instead of pushing the door open though, you lean against it, taking what feels like the first full breath of the night.

You look at the screen of your phone, Tae’s question, his voice, spiraling around your head. With a shaky breath you respond, fingers flying across the blue light of the screen.

you: something feels off. I don’t… i don’t want to mess anything up. I feel like the only way to keep things in order is to keep myself out of it all.

tae: can i call you?

you: yeah. Joon’s not home.

You finally press into your room. All that silver light from the city reflects off of the white flakes that flutter softly down from the sky. It spills onto your bed like a pool of molten silver, waiting, chilled and cold for you. You flop down onto it, your breath coming out in a long huff.

When your phone rings, there’s a second of hesitation before you hit the answer button.

“Hello?” your voice is shakier than you expected.

“One second.”

You hear the rustling sound of Tae getting out of bed and the door shutting.

“If I can hear you orgasming, Yoongi sure as hell can hear a phone call,” Tae whispers, a slight chuckle to his voice. “Unless you’re just always unreasonably loud.” You can imagine the sly smile that plays across his lips right now. Another door opened and shut and he sighs. “There. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I…”

You trail off. You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what there is to say.

He says your name softly into the phone, the syllables forming such a familiar shape on his tongue. “Are you okay?”

“I...I don’t think so. I don’t feel great.”

“You’re home? Safe?”

“Yeah. I’m home.” You look around your room. Art on the walls, your little desk the messiest place in the room, stacked high with papers and photos and plants.

“Good.” Taehyung takes a long breath. “So. Tell me what’s going on.”

You want to. But your voice freezes in your throat and you can feel the way your silence falls around him.

After breaking up at nineteen, you and Taehyung had always remained friends. The truth was that even though you loved each other, you were so caught up in the physicality of it all that the rest of your relationship — and your relationships outside of that — began to deteriorate. No more sex, you both had decided. And at the time, that meant no more romance. There weren’t lingering feelings of resentment, but you did know — because you both talked about it — that you were both plagued with the lingering question of what if. What if…. But the answer was simple. You both needed more than what the other could offer.

Best friend turned lover turned best friend. If the lingering sexual tension was the only consequence of that, you could handle that. And if you were honest with yourself, you enjoyed it, in a safe, flattering kind of way.

But the reality was that the consequence of your relationship wasn’t limited to just a couple of sex dreams here and there or comments about your former sex life thrown about as jokes. The truth was that there was a permafrost of cautiousness that sat like a layer of ice beneath all of your interactions; one that only thawed away after midnight or a second drink.

Right now, the clock on the wall reads: 3:12am.

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“No — I want to.” You shake your head. “I should… I should talk to someone about this.” You take a deep breath as the sharp images of tonight’s events spiral around your mind. When you speak, it comes out a whisper. “I kissed Hobi tonight.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Or he kissed me. I don’t really — don’t really understand what happened, we were just standing there and had both had some drinks and suddenly it was happening and I should have kept everything within the normal boundaries, I shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have overstepped our friendship, but we kissed and I…” Your voice trails off.

“And you liked it,” Taehyung finishes for you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I did.”

“And it scared you.”

“Yeah.”

“And then you both ran away from it.”

“Yeah.”

“And your way of running away from it was to go fuck Yoongi again, huh.”

“Goddamnit, Tae,” you huff, annoyed by how right he is.

Taehyung chuckles. “Babe, I’ve known you way too long for me to not pick up on these kinds of things. These kinds of patterns.”

“Patterns?”

Taehyung sighs through the phone. “I love you, dude, but… yeah. Yeah. It’s a pattern.”

As you let his words sink into you, you realize. It is a pattern.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks. “Do you really want to know what’s going on here?”

You laugh softly, even as fear nibbles at your heart. There’s a part of you that wants to turn into blindness. That wants to shield your heart from the reality of the situation. From the reality of yourself.

But there’s also something about facing into the truth — clear and cold like the night waiting just beyond your window. You want the shock of truth through your body, glaring and sharpened like ice. Because at the end of the day, you’ve had enough of this numbed ignorance.

“Yeah. Go for it.”

“This might be out of the blue. And you might not want to hear it. I could be totally off—”

“Tae, it’s okay. I want to hear it.”

He takes a deep breath. “But maybe… just maybe, it’s time to think about the way you push people away.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you whisper, although the reality of what he’s saying is already dawning on you, even if it’s at a glacial pace.

“How you let people in just long enough, just far enough, to let them see something authentic of you. But you don’t really let them take any real stake in your life.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“And that’s okay!” He adds quickly. “At least, it has been okay. We do what we need to do to keep ourselves safe, but… I think you’re past that all now.” You take a shuddering breath and he pauses. “That place in your life where you need to keep the walls and the rules so strict for fear of falling. You’re not there anymore, babe. Maybe it’s time to start looking at the wall that you’ve built and considering letting yourself tear it apart.” And then, so softly you think his voice might be made of something as delicate as a flower petal: “You know, maybe it’s time to think about how you want to start letting love in again. Because you deserve it.”

It’s not until you brush your hand against your cheeks that you realize they’re wet. You look down at your fingertips, glistening with fallen tears, shining silver in the snowlight.

“Fuck, Tae.”

Taehyung lets loose a light, but pained, chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “Goddamn it.”

Silence settles between the two of you. Tears slip silently down your face as you hold the phone to your ear. You can hear him breathing softly on the other end, but Taehyung doesn’t say anything. It’s as if he knows you need a minute to process.

His words slide right under your skin. Directed straight at the thing that has felt so heavy in your chest all night now, it’s as if the whole thing has been broken open within you. Suddenly, you can see it all.

The past years, this game of cat and mouse with your own vulnerability. This façade of carefully curated openness and faux vulnerability. All of the things that you kept as reminders of your freeness, your unlocked heart — the hookups, the fast and furious romances that ended in nothing but silence, the friendships you kept so carefully defined — were actually all just markers of the opposite:

A deep and abiding fear that if you let someone love you, a fear that if you let them close enough to really, truly see you, they might see something they won’t like.

Better to keep things clearly organized. Clearly marked and known and understood. That way you’d know exactly when things were spinning out of control and when someone was just about to get too close.

“You know, there are so many ways to love,” Taehyung says. “It doesn’t just have to be in that one way of fucking and falling in love and then a big white marriage, tada! the end. And, uh, it’s okay to want love. It’s really, really okay, actually. In whatever weird way love shows up for you, even if it’s not the traditional way. It’s even more okay to let yourself have that love, even if you don’t know what it is — don’t know what to call it.”

When your breath comes out shaky and ridden with tears, you can hear a soft oh echo through the phone.

“Hey,” Taehyung says with all the love in the world laced so delicately through his voice. “It’s okay. It might not feel like that right now. But opening up again — if, you know, if that’s what you want — that’s something you can do. It can be done.”

“I-I do, Tae. I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to keep fighting this.”

It’s as if you can hear his smile through the receiver.

“That makes me really happy to hear,” he says.

“Where do I even begin?” It comes out a whisper, your voice cracked from the tears that have begun to slow. You’re half afraid to even hear the answer. Half afraid to walk down the path riddled with your greatest fear.

“I think you begin by going to sleep. And in the morning I’ll call you. And I’ll keep calling you. And we’ll work through this together. You know, this isn’t something that you have to do alone.”

You’re silent.

“You’re in bed?” crackles through the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Go put on some pjs and go to sleep. You don’t have to do this all in one night.”

You nod, wiping the rest of the tears from your face and sniffling. “Yeah.”

“Alright. I love you to the moon and back, no matter what. You know that. Right?”

You close your eyes. For a second you imagine accepting that it’s true. It fills your chest with a new kind of warmth. One you want to sink into.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you too, Tae.”

“Get some rest then. Goodnight.”

“G’night.”

The dial tone clicks and the room falls into complete silence. Only the sound of your breath breaks through, too loud and uncomfortable amidst the darkness. But still, you climb out of bed, dump some water on a towel and wipe at your face, and change into the largest t-shirt you can find in your drawer.

Tonight, you dream the first dream of many in a line that will haunt you — and spark you back to life. It’s Yoongi, his body pushing you up against the ice cold glass, his hands in your hair, his lips whispering, over and over and over again: Is it complicated?

In the morning, you lay awake, just feeling the way your breath falls heavily in your chest. You text Yoongi to tell him you can’t meet up. You look outside.

The world is covered in a blanket of snow. Unrecognizable. Beautiful. Washed clean.

Something hopeful flutters in your chest.

When you look down, your hands are clutching the collar of your sleep shirt. With a deep breath, you wrap your arms around your torso in a hug.

“I don’t really know how to do anything else other than this,” you admit to Tae one day over the phone, flourishing a hand you know he can’t see to emphasize the point you know he already understands.

“Well. I don’t know how much of it is really choosing to be different. Instead, maybe you ought to try looking at it like an undoing. Whenever you match up against that impulse to run, think about sitting with it. Feeling it. And then choosing to move in another direction. Yeah,” he says, and you can tell he’s nodding on the other end of the phone. “An undoing.”

What does this kind of undoing look like? you wonder.

When the world comes to a screeching halt around you, you don’t expect to find your answer. The reality of the pandemic and quarantine — the emptiness of it, the long, drawn out days that feel long and drawn out when you’re in them but that then seem to blend together into one long, monotonous, anxiety riddled day and leave you wondering and wishing for the end — it’s hard. It’s hard in that quiet way that’s easy to ignore and push off, and hard in the way that there’s a big ache in your chest every time you go to sleep, one that crawls straight into your throat and sits there until the morning. It’s hard, and you learn to live with it. It’s hard, but somehow it brings you what you need. When distance seems to be the defining feature of your life, you don’t expect to find clarity. But you do. As you sink into the new routine of quarantine and pandemic life, and as life begins in a new rhythm with new rules and new realities — slowly and wildly new and sometimes horrific — it becomes clear to you.

What does this kind of undoing look like?

It looks a lot like feeling the emptiness in your home when Namjoon is away. Silence louder, space smaller. You find yourself reflected back to yourself, as if you are staring in a mirror.

It looks a lot like distraction. Emotional exhaustion turning into physical. You do distract — and it’s good — with a new drama or a new hobby. Exercising in your room until your cheeks are flushed. Cooking something new and delicious every night. Or sometimes just letting the small rectangle of light in your hand absorb you until the lingering discomfort is numbed, until you’re ready to fall asleep.

It looks like listening to your thoughts, really, truly listening, for the first time. Hearing the stories that you’ve built up in your head over the ears and how deeply they’ve sunk into your reality. It looks like noticing them, and wanting them to change. It looks like standing in the empty hallway of your apartment, feeling it all, and deciding to do something about it.

It looks like weird-ass sex dreams. Once dreamless nights are repopulated with strange and specific sexual fantasies featuring none other than your seven gorgeous friends in various states of undress and revelry.

It looks like letting people in again. Laughing on the phone until tears well up in your eyes. Building up the courage to tell Jimin about your vivid, even pornographic dreams. Writing letters when facetime just doesn’t do it anymore. Telling your friends just how much they mean to you, even when that voice warns you that you ought to keep your feelings held tight to your chest.

It looks like falling asleep one night, the traffic of the city now quieted by reduced travel, and the silence offering you a new kind of truth:

Love can be without limitation.

Love can be without limitation. It is allowed to flow from you without doubt or embarrassment. It is allowed to exist in the world — and in you — without needing to be reciprocated or validated. And you are allowed to ask for it. To demand it from life, even if, at times, it feels like the only place it pours forth from is from that great gaping space in your chest.

The phone rings a couple of times before it’s cut off in the middle of a digital brrng. You’re ready to hear the familiar buzz of a robotic voice reading: the caller you are trying to reach is not available—

But instead, the deep, heady voice you’re so familiar with comes over the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hoseok?” His name feels foreign on your tongue. After all this time, pushing it away, pushing him away, welcoming his name back into your body feels almost like a fresh rain, washing away the dust on your skin.

“The one and only,” he chuckles. “What’s up?”

A ball of emotion wells up in your throat and the phone line hangs in silence as you try to glue together what you want to say, what you had practiced to say, what you should say. But it feels as if it’s all disappeared.

“I thought—”

“Did I mess up?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion. “What? No, I—”

“That night, I had so much to drink, I’m worried that… I messed up, that— ”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hoseok.”

You can hear the breath release from his lungs and shudder through the phone. “Oh.” It’s silent for a moment. “Oh. Okay.”

“I just…” You close your eyes. Take a deep breath. “I just miss you.”

“I miss you like there’s an ocean between us,” he says, laughter mixed with sincerity threading through his voice.

“It feels like there’s ocean between us,” you sigh.

“I know,” he says, too quickly for him to realize the meaning behind your words. “But I promise this will all be over soon, babe. How long can something like this really last? In no time it’ll all be done with and I’ll be right back beside you. Right?”

You smile. “Right.”

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Handcuffed together chapter 6: First training

‘Morning, darling’ Loki replied when he saw you entering the training room. ‘Morning’ you grumbled back. You were still mad at him, especially since he didn’t even try to apologize like Thor said he would. ‘I must admit that I never inquired about your abilities. Could you please explain to me what you are able to do?’ he asked.

‘I can heal certain wounds and cuts, given they’re not to deep and there is not too much damage to any important veins or organs. And I can conjure up certain shields, heatshields, frost shields and physical shields. But that you knew already.’ you explained to him.

‘If you can conjure up shields, why are you never in the middle of the battle?’ he asked.

‘The team prefers to keep the healing abilities away from the battle’ you said.

‘Not after I’m done with you’ he smiled. You ignored it. ‘I thought we start simple and heal bones first’ he went on. He explained that healing bones was the easiest thing to do, because you just have to rearrange fragments or mend bones back together. He made you repeat the spell over and over again, before he finally summoned broken animal bones for you to practice. To say it gone extremely slow and frustrating would be an understatement. ‘Darling, you’re thinking too much. Trust your instincts’ Loki tried to encourage you. It took you the whole morning, but eventually you were able to mend three of the ten bones. Sweat was trickling down your forehead and you felt exhausted. ‘I think that’s quite enough for today’ Loki said when he saw how tired you were.

‘No, I can keep going’ you argued. Loki made all the bones disappear with one hand gesture. ‘No. You cannot’ he said sternly. You sighed heavily and got up. There were tiny black spots when you moved, but you tried to ignore them and keep your balance. Loki rushed to your side but you pushed him away. ‘Everyone learns in his own space. You know what to do, and it will get easier with practice. And practice takes time’ he said.

‘That’s not what you said yesterday’ you snapped.

‘About that.. (Y/N), I wanted..’ he started, but you cut him off.

‘I don’t want the here it. I’m going for lunch and then visit Steve. I don’t want to see YOU for the rest of the day’ you said while walking away. You walked to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. Eventually deciding to make an egg-salad sandwich. When you walked towards the table you were rather annoyed to see Loki there. ‘What are you doing here?’ you said while glaring at him. He was nonchalant reading a book with his feet on one of the other chairs. ‘I’m not leaving you before we talk’ he said.

‘I don’t want to hear it’ you replied.

‘I think you do. But I’m patient. I won’t leave until you do want to hear it’ he answered with a smirk on his face. Annoying bastard you thought. ‘I heard that’ he replied without looking up at you. You groaned in annoyance. You ate your sandwich in silence. After that you cleared your plate and walked towards the medbay to check up on Steve. Loki was following you, but you did your best to ignore his presence. When you entered you saw Steve still laying unconscious, hooked up to several machines. You stopped in your tracks. This was harder than you thought. Loki put a hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off. ‘Don’t follow me’ you said while entering Steve’s room. To your surprise Loki actually stayed outside. You could still see him through the glass wall, but at least he gave you some space.

You sat down next to Steve and grabbed his hand. It was hard to see him in this state. ‘You should have walked it off’ you whispered to him. You knew Steve was going to be fine, but it would take a while. They didn’t know how long it was going to be before he wakes. You played the event back in your head and couldn’t help thinking what you did wrong. Tears were starting to form in your eyes. You closed your eyes and leaned against Steve’s arm, silently sobbing. You hadn’t noticed that Loki had entered the room until a pair of strong hand grabbed you and he pulled you in his lap in the chair next to you. ‘Shh, I got you’ he shushed while stroking your hair. It felt actually nice in his arms and you sobbed in his chest. ‘You can’t think like that. There was nothing you could have done differently’ he reassured you. He kept stroking your hair and telling you that you did nothing wrong. When you finally stopped sobbing he put his hand under your chin and made you face him. ‘I’m really sorry for snapping at you. I didn’t mean it, love’ he told you. You noticed how you felt a little giddy when he called you love, but for now decided to ignore it.

Loki carried you back to his room. He laid you down on his bed on top of the blankets. There were a lot of pillows, but it felt comfortable. He laid down beside you and you instinctively nuzzled against his chest. His arms were wrapped around you ‘Take a nap, you are really tired’ he said.

‘Are you here when I wake up?’ you asked him.

‘I promise, kitten’ he said while giving a kiss on your head. You saw a green shimmer and wanted to ask what he did. But before you could your eyelids felt heavy and you fell asleep immediately.

When you woke you looked up and saw Loki reading a book, while he was stroking your hair. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked when he noticed you were awake. You nodded and pulled yourself from his grasp. ‘What time is it?’ you asked him.

‘It’s 3.30 pm’ he said while snapping his book shut. ‘And you are not done for today’ he added. You cocked an eyebrow. But Loki got off his bed and motioned for you to follow him. He led you to the library and handed you a book. ‘Now, to be a healer you need to know things like autonomy. So, I want you to start studying with this book’ he said. You eyed the book and it was about the human body. You flipped through the book, the text was rather long and dry, but the information was important. Loki leaned closer ‘I’m going to quiz you next week, and if you don’t want to end up naked with my cock deep inside of you, I suggest you start studying every afternoon after physical practice’ he purred. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, causing Loki to lean in and starting to kiss your neck softly.

‘Loki, not here’ you mumbled. The truth was that you started to like him. You started to like his snarky comments, how good he could make you feel and loved it when he showed you his softer side. But he still was moody, possessive, egotistic and incredibly insensitive sometimes. So, you were torn. ‘Can’t have you studying too much. Because I really want to end up with my cock deep inside of you next week’ he whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine. When Loki kissed you, all resistance left you. You kissed him back eagerly and slid your tongue inside his mouth. Loki moaned approvingly while his hand was under your shirt, unclipping your bra, and started to play with your breasts. One of his hand travelled downwards and he undid the button of your pants. He slid down beneath your waistband and felt that you were already wet. He pulled your pants and underpants down and moved you, so you could step outside of them. You were roaming his chest underneath his shirts, feeling his muscles flex underneath your touch.

Loki broke the kiss, undid the buttons of his own pants, and pulled his pants and underwear right down below his ass. In one smooth motion he lifted you up and your legs wrapped around his waist. He trapped your body between his and the bookcase behind him. You felt yourself stretched as his cock entered you, he had you impaled on his cock and you moaned loudly. One of his hands covered your mouth to muffle the sounds you were making. He started to thrust into you, in a very fast pace. It felt like he needed you. Like he hadn’t seen you in forever. It was different from the dominating way he had taken you before. Not that you minded, his cock was hitting just the right spot at this angle. Loki was grunting and you were moaning helplessly against his hand. You felt your pleasure wash over you and you clenched down on his cock. Loki snapped his hips a few more thrusts before spilling inside of you. After that, he slowly lowered you down and caught his breath while staring into your eyes. He pulled you in for a loving kiss. The library doors opened and the two of you quickly pulled up your pants and tried to make yourself as decent as you could. ‘Ah there you are, brother’ Thor’s voice boom throughout the library. He stopped when he saw the two of you, and you felt him look you up and down. Loki took a step before you, blocking his view. ‘What do you need?’ he asked in a rather bored voice.

‘We were going to spar together, unless you are occupied with other things’ Thor smirked.

‘I’ll be there in five minutes’ Loki replied, ignoring Thor’s suggestion.

With that Thor left. Loki turned around ‘I guess I should get going. Don’t study too hard’ he mused. He took a step closer and kissed you again. His hands went underneath your shirt and you felt him hook your bra back together. You blushed, realizing why Thor had made his suggestion. He winked at you before teleporting away.

Tags: @delightfulheartdream @l0nelyasian @the-best-phineas

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ninzied · 3 years

Photo

into the woods

based on the prompt: you know that scene in TWD where shane is being all cute and kissing up lori’s stomach? that but make it kastle.

rated m. 3k.

“She should’ve been back by now.”

Frank scours the tree line along their campsite, as if she’ll walk out of there any second. She hadn’t taken much more than a toothbrush with her, only a hand towel and a bottle of water to rinse off. How much longer does she need with those things?

“You worry a lot,” Sarah remarks. She doesn’t look up, measuring out coffee grounds for their pour-over stand. “For someone who’s ‘just friends’ with her.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this weekend,” Frank says with a scowl.

“I could use a refresher myself,” says David. He’s emerging from their tent, zipping it back up the side before stretching. “From what I recall, Karen’s the one we invited. You’re the one who chose to tag along.”

Frank arches an eyebrow at their surroundings. “Thought my invite was implied.”

David makes a protesting sound. “You don’t have a monopoly on manly activities, you know.” He comes over to Sarah, drops a kiss on her forehead in greeting before taking one of the lawn chairs next to her. “I can camp. I can do camping. I’m a survival guy too, remember?”

“Ignore him,” says Sarah. “He gets grumpy before his morning coffee.” She leans over their fire and removes the kettle of water, which has just started to boil.

“There’s one thing we have in common,” says Frank. He nods his head toward the tent David vacated. “Kids still down for the count?”

“Both of them out like a light,” David confirms. “That ghost story Karen told them last night worked a little too well.”

“Trouble falling asleep?” asks Frank, not unsympathetically. “Or was it nightmares?”

“Leo came up with a sequel, actually,” says David. “Which she insisted on recounting in very vivid detail. None of us really slept after that.” He scrubs a hand tiredly over his eyes, but he’s also grinning a little, like he can’t help but be proud of this fact.

Karen would be proud too, Frank thinks, and pictures the smile he’ll get from her later.

“How about you?” Sarah asks Frank, her tone perfectly, deceptively innocent. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” says Frank.

The look Sarah gives her husband is a lot subtler than the one she receives in return.

Frank clears his throat. “You two got something you want to say?”

David shrugs. “Only that it’s a pretty small tent you and Karen are sharing.”

“We made do,” says Frank.

Truth be told, though, David’s not wrong.

Karen had borrowed the tent from Nelson, who, as it turned out, hadn’t gone camping since he was about ten years old. It had been a tight squeeze—that palpable warmth in the thin sheets between them, the soft little sighs Karen let out in her sleep, had all been nothing short of torture to Frank.

But the Liebermans are on a need-to-know basis only.

David is opening his mouth to say something else when Sarah interrupts him. “Here,” she says, “drink this,” and presses a tin of steaming black coffee into his hands.

“Guests first,” says David, but Frank’s already standing.

“I’m good for now,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I’m just gonna go for a walk.” He stoops down, checks for the blade inside of his boot.

“Karen’s a big girl, you know.” David takes a sip of his coffee. “I just don’t see how this is going to win you any points in her book.”

“Oh, let him go,” Sarah chides. “He’s not going to rest easy otherwise.” She calls cheerfully after Frank, “Tell Karen that coffee will be waiting when you guys get back, all right?”

…

If anything, Frank figures he could use the time away from the others.

Last night had been exhausting, with the Liebermans up for about half of it, and then Karen so close yet just out of reach. He’d behaved himself perfectly well, but the ache of all that longing for more hasn’t left him, and so he tries to walk it off instead.

Frank steps into the trees, the morning sun filtering through in soft, muted patches of light. They’re barely into September, but the leaves here have already started to pack themselves down into the ground. It makes his job easier, tracking which way Karen has gone.

She can take care of herself; he knows that. But she knows he’s going to worry. It’s something that they’re working on, meeting each other halfway. Still, Frank reasons that there’s a time and a place for these kinds of concessions, and out here in the woods is not going to be one of them.

Frank has been walking for about ten minutes when he steps into a snug little clearing, and suddenly, she’s there.

“Karen?”

She’s a few yards ahead of him, lounging with her back against the trunk of a large maple. She’s resting her arm on one of its thick, gnarled roots, and she—

She has her nose in a goddamn book.

It’s a small paperback of Agatha Christie. One of those rare finds that she’d unearthed from the half-price bin down the street from Frank’s place. It’s where she’d gotten her inspiration for the ghost story she told them last night.

Frank knows this because she’d read it aloud to him three nights ago. The book hasn’t left her side of the bed, until she packed it for this trip. She must’ve tucked it into her hand towel before leaving their tent earlier.

Karen glances up as he approaches. She doesn’t seem remotely surprised to see him there. In fact, she’s looking at him with a teasing kind of impatience, like he’s kept her waiting, and—

Oh.

He’d been planning to steal a kiss or two at most from her before they headed back to camp, but she clearly has more than that on her mind.

Always two steps ahead of him, his girl, and he wonders if that isn’t one of the things he loves most about her.

“Frank,” she greets him, lightly admonishing. She puts the book down. “What took you so long?”

She stands as he strides over to her, a disbelieving smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

“This what I think it is?” he asks her. He palms the sides of her rib cage, walking her slowly backward until he’s pinned her to the tree.

“Mm.” She winds her arms a little slyly around him. “You know solving murder mysteries always gets me in the mood.”

“You mean like last night?” He leans down, capturing her mouth in a kiss. Her hands are already pulling at the hem of his sweatshirt, gliding up his body and tugging the fabric over his head.

“I’ve been dying here, Frank.” Karen gasps out as his mouth moves over her jawline. “I thought they’d never fall asleep.”

“I know. Fuck.” Frank snakes his hands beneath her clothes and under her bra, cupping her breasts with a small but satisfied groan. “Couldn’t take it either. Wanted you so bad.” He remembers the reason for the Liebermans’ insomnia, and the kiss he presses to Karen’s collarbone contains the definite edge of a smile.

“What?”

“Tell you later,” he murmurs, stepping back and pulling her with him. With the toe of his boot, he carefully rearranges his sweatshirt over a stretch of some soft-looking moss.

Karen breathes out a laugh, nudging a kiss to his ear as she asks him, “Exactly how much time do you think we have?”

“Enough,” he says, and lowers her onto his sweatshirt.

He kneels over her, nosing her shirt out of the way as he deposits open-mouthed kisses up her bare stomach. He pauses over her belly button, circling his tongue there. She tenses all over with a sigh of content before shrugging her top off and tossing it to the side.

He licks a trail up her body, feeling the hitch in her breath as he reaches her rib cage. When she clasps his shoulders, he goes willingly, rising and settling himself over her. Their mouths meet, lips parting instantly, deepening the kiss.

“Mm—” Karen moves her hips into his, chasing the friction between them. She’s in a thin pair of leggings, his erection pressed up against the junction of her thighs. He can feel the heat of her, even through his sweatpants, and it only fuels his arousal, has him aching to be inside her right now.

He groans a little, breaking the kiss for a moment. There’s a few breathless seconds of them fumbling with each other’s clothes, of Frank’s vision tunneling out when she reaches down and grasps him.

Christ.

He pumps himself in and out of her hand, bending over to kiss her again. Their tongues slide together, and he swallows the sound of her cry as he slips two fingers down, feeling how wet she is for him.

His mouth falls to her neck, sucking kisses to her pulse point as he replaces her hand with his. He strokes himself before rubbing the full length of his dick up against her, pressing down into her clit with each pass back and forth.

She arches against him with a throaty little sigh. He loves this kind of foreplay with her—the liquid heat of anticipation, the throbbing ache of that sweet almost just on the other side of this moment.

And fuck does he love watching her this way, too. The soft, breathy exhales, the swell of her breasts as she writhes beneath him. The way she bites her lip, and moans.

“Can you come like this?” he asks her, voice roughened with desire. He knows he won’t last long inside her, and he wants her to finish for him at least once.

“Yes.” She’s moving her hips in tandem with his, finding just the angle she likes, the right press and release to send her over the edge into orgasm. “Yes—oh, Frank—yes—mmm—”

She shudders beneath him, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth falls open in a silent, rapturous oh.

He kisses gently up and down her throat as she descends from her high, slowly relaxing back into him. Frank’s trying to breathe through his own need for release when she threads her fingers through his hair, coaxing his mouth back to hers.

He slides into her slowly, the air between them going shallow as they take a moment to adjust. In some ways, entering her is always going to feel like it’s the very first time, new and yet so familiar. Like the act of loving this woman comes from a place that goes deeper than memory.

Their mouths move together, unhurried, as he pulls out and sinks back in. She clutches his shoulders, pulling him closer. Each thrust of his hips has his body shifting up against hers, and he savors every inch of it, the feel of skin on skin. He cradles an arm around her head, moving his other down to slide a hand up the back of her thigh.

It has him going deeper, and she clenches around him, spine arching back. Fuck. Fuck, she feels incredible, like some kind of fever dream. Her mouth is so very warm on his, their tongues entwined, their kisses splintering apart on a gasp before they’re coming back together.

For these few blissed out moments, this is all that there is. The two of them wrapped into each other, all that soft, pale skin beneath his hands, the little moans she’s letting out as he pounds and pounds into her. It’s rougher than usual, but she only pulls him closer, hooking a leg around his waist and rolling her hips up to meet his.

Heat unfurls down low in his belly, pleasure clenching up his spine. “Karen—fuck, I—” He buries his face into the crook of her neck, trying to hold off for her as long as he can.

She turns into him, mouth finding his ear. “I’m close,” she breathes. “I’m close. It’s okay. Just—ooh—”

She cranes her head back with a soft, keening sound, and he wraps his hand over the side of her neck, kissing up her jawline. He rides her through her second orgasm, and then his own pleasure builds to his breaking point, and he’s coming apart.

Karen’s arms are around him when the strongest waves have subsided, leaving behind the small, lingering shivers. He finally collapses against her, boneless and spent, simply breathing her in for long seconds.

“Fuck.” He brushes his mouth over her shoulder, nudging her bra strap back in place. “That was…” He grunts a little as she turns them onto their side, draping a leg over his waist.

“It was,” she agrees. She looks even softer in the sunlight from this angle, and Frank inches closer, threading his fingers through the golden glow of her hair. “Guess we should head back soon. Before they call an official search party on us.”

“Guess so,” says Frank. He tightens his arms around her, and she snuggles into him, neither of them making any real attempt to move. She gives him a kiss, long, and sweet, and so indescribably tender that he could put down roots into this moment, never let it go.

Finally, with a small sigh of concession, Karen shifts up onto her elbow. She reaches behind him for something, retrieving the bottle she’d brought with her.

She bends down to kiss the crease between his brows, and smiles. “Water?”

…

They walk back to the campsite hand in hand.

Sarah’s cleaning up from breakfast, a thermos of coffee and a full plate of bacon, eggs and toast set aside for them.

“David took the kids down to the lake,” she tells them without turning her head. “They wanted to wait for you, but I told them you’d see them when you got back.”

“’Course,” says Frank, feeling a little pink in the ears. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you stay behind for us.”

“It was no trouble,” Sarah says breezily. Then, still with her back turned to them, she adds, inscrutable, “Better me than David, I will tell you that.”

She’s still stacking some plates, so Frank sneaks a last kiss to Karen’s temple before he releases her, making his way over to some much-needed coffee. He takes a long drag as Karen goes to help Sarah, the two of them falling into easy conversation about Leo, her writing ambitions, how absorbed she’d been around the campfire last night.

He doesn’t interrupt them, except to come over with the plate of food for Karen. Predictably, she reaches for the coffee instead. “I’ll have something in a bit,” she says, “promise,” and he gives her a look, but decides not to press the issue with Sarah standing so shrewdly nearby.

At one point, he glances up from a piece of bacon just as Sarah reaches over, and plucks part of a leaf from Karen’s hair. Sarah lets it go without so much as a comment, simply continuing on wherever they’d left off.

Later, Sarah passes by Frank as they’re getting ready to leave. “I think there are grass stains on the back of your sweater,” she mentions to him, almost conversationally, and he hesitates a moment before grabbing a hoodie to change into.

He pulls out the sandwich he’d made from their breakfast and passes it over to Karen on the walk, in exchange for the thermos of coffee. His hand instinctively finds the small of her back every time a rock or large root juts up into their path, and after Karen’s done eating she takes his hand instead, twining their fingers together.

If Sarah’s feeling smug about it, she doesn’t let it show—much.

Leo tackles them both as soon as they’ve made it to the lake. “Hey, Pete!” Then, as if she can’t hold it in any longer, she brandishes a notebook and says, “Karen, I have the best idea for a story tonight.”

“Honey,” Sarah starts, with an amused kind of warning in her tone.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” says Leo, looking confident. “This one’s not nearly as scary.”

“Tell me,” says Karen, unable to suppress a smile.

Leo starts to tug her away when she pivots back on her heel a little, and says to Frank matter-of-factly, “By the way, you probably don’t want Zach to see you two holding hands.” She looks meaningfully out onto the water, where Zach and their dad are focused enough on their lines not to have noticed them all there yet.

“Leo Lieberman,” Sarah scolds gently as Frank exchanges a bemused look with Karen.

“He’s too young to find out what heartbreak feels like,” says Leo sagely. “Sorry, Mom. I know you told him she’s already been spoken for. But as his big sister, it’s my job to look out for him.”

“Fair enough,” says Karen, giving Sarah a wink. There’s a wistful quality to her smile now, her gaze soft on his when Frank squeezes her hand. She clears her throat, and gestures down at Leo’s notebook. “Now let’s see what we’re working with here.”

…

Their tent isn’t quite big enough to fit them in lengthwise, so they’re turned slightly sideways, Frank spooning her as they drift off to sleep. He’s hard against her rear in the morning, but they both do their best to live with it, Karen pressing a chaste little kiss to the corner of his mouth as they’re getting dressed.

David’s on coffee duty, and Frank lends a hand as Karen folds herself up in a chair and reads to them the morning headlines on her phone.

It’s slow, and quiet, and so easy that Frank almost forgets they’re not home. Karen hums out a thank you when he brings her some coffee, stooping down to brush a kiss to her forehead.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

And it’s like any other morning, except this one has David staring at them like he can’t decide what has just happened, and just how long it’s been happening for.

“Blanket?” Karen offers, trying not to look too amused, as Frank drags a chair close to hers. She tosses it over them, and he takes her hand before leaning over to steal a sip of her coffee.

“Did you know about this?” David whispers urgently to his wife when she steps out.

“Know about what, honey?” asks Sarah, kissing his cheek as he frowns at her. “Why, did you see something?”

“You mean other than the obvious?” He gestures at Frank, who’s leaning in to whisper something to Karen. In his periphery, a look of recognition is dawning on David’s face with almost comical slowness. “Shit. You’re right. It was really obvious, wasn’t it.”

Sarah pats him on the shoulder. “So, what are we doing for breakfast today?”

And just like any other morning, Frank feels everything outside of this moment fade, his world narrowing to the small, private things—the warmth of Karen’s hand in his, the glances they steal at each other, and the way she bites her lip when she’s trying not to smile.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #thanks anon for the prompt!#and for waiting *checks watch*#2 months too long for me to finally get around to posting this #also there are no zombies here #though i will get around to finishing my walker au someday #!

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parasolparasol · 3 years

Text

A redesign of Tumblr mobile

(Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Tumblr in any way. Any opinions I express in this post are my own. I’m just somebody who has been on Tumblr for many years and wanted to try my hand at redesigning it. I recognize that there may be potential flaws in the following post, and these faults are 100% my own and no one else’s. In an ideal world i’d have access to insider metrics, but in any case this isn’t meant to be collectively exhaustive in any way.)

Hello there! I picked up this redesign project in January and i’ve decided to publish this now, since I wasn’t sure how long it’d take me to do a full write up. I’ve talked to around 100 people over the course of these 2 months and i’ve ran multiple rounds of tests, and I felt bad about leaving everyone hanging. So, here are the results with brief explanations for now! I intend to type out the full process and design rationale at a later date. If you received a message about this within the last 2 months and answered me, thank you so much!

Alright, let’s get started. At the time of writing, Tumblr for iOS is currently on version 19.0. (Warning: this is a long post, there are badly compressed big gifs.)

Adding Tags

During interviews and in surveys (n=83, python and excel really came in clutch when sorting through the data haha), people often told me they avoided reblogging on mobile due to the large hassle of typing every tag out, opting to save them to drafts instead and add tags later. In terms of data, given that people hit reblog (82% of all users surveyed), 84% of these people also liked to add tags, so it was clear that facilitating the tagging system would be important. To help solve this, I designed a method for people to quickly add tags to post topics they often reblogged. As well as being accessible from pressing the tagging area on the posting screen, this can be accessed from the hold menu, to speed up the interaction even more.

Another issue that commonly cropped up was the multitude of possible ways to tag a trigger warning. If somebody missed out a tagging method for a TW, they still ran the risk of seeing it on their dashboard. I added a toggle for tagging something as a trigger warning, which would suggest what others commonly added (and you can type your own). This saves people from having to tag “tw:xyz” “tw: xyz” “tw xyz” “cw xyz” etc. (you get the point!) and makes sure that “xyz” is unambiguously marked as a trigger warning. (Can internet strangers be trusted to tag sensitive content properly? Quick study here)

(Reblogging with the hold menu on the left. Posting on the right. If Tumblr displays them top to bottom instead of side by side (I'll let it slide, I know they're reworking the web post editor right now), the top post=left. the bottom post=right. If you’re viewing this on my blog page, please click on the gifs!)

A bonus: A ‘read more’ button has been added back to mobile. Scrolling through long posts gets tedious sometimes, and people like to talk about more personal thoughts under read mores, so i’ve made it easier to access the feature.

Liking Posts

89% percent of users reported that they liked to hold on to posts for future retrieval. With this in mind, I added in a feature to categorize likes, making searching through your likes for future retrieval easier. The ability to like quickly without sorting is retained, added to a hold menu like a quick reblog. After liking, users are also prompted to reblog (PSA: reblogging helps spread OC around! please reblog OC you like more!)

(Liking on tap on the left. Quick liking with the hold menu on the right.)

Your likes can be found and sorted under your blog.

Recommended For You

Tumblr is fundamentally about exploring and sharing content about topics you love, so I tried to rearrange the navigation to make it easier for users to look at new content about the things they like. The tabs are now rearranged so that new content is easier to find from the homescreen. To ensure relevance, followed tags are now toggles, so the user can pick and choose exactly what they want to see in the recommended tab if they want to. A radar post has also been placed in this tab to increase exposure to featured content creators. (Does being on the radar help out OC posters? Quick study here)

Exploring, and search results

Now that stuff recommended for you has been moved next to the dashboard, the explore page now defaults to trending posts. The top/recent page for tags you followed are now located in the search bar menu. Upon clicking on a search term, you can sort through recent/top posts and post types separately. For example, if you felt like looking at some new fanart that day, all you would have to do is sort by recent photo posts instead of having to sift through every recent post, making it easier for new OC to be discovered.

#tumblr #tumblr mobile #tumblrcreates #ux case study #ux #again i do not work for tumblr i’m just a random somebody #please don’t hate me :(

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whenimaunicorn · 3 years

Text

Playing House Part 10

Ubbe x Reader, Ivar x Reader. Modern Vikings college AU

Words: 3481. Short for me but I think these words pack a punch...

Content Tags: predator kink, voyeurism, roleplayed fear, roleplayed punishment, overstimulation

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

You had spent months wrapped up in delicious, heady anticipation, just wondering what these boys would be like in bed, or if you would ever even get there with either of them. Now it seems like the tables are turned; it’s Ivar and Ubbe that are obsessed, each of them tantalized and awakened in their own way to what you’ve brought into their lives: the opportunity to indulge every kinky fantasy and fucked-up thought they’ve ever had.

You say no to some things, of course. But your limits are so far from “normal” that you still manage to surprise and delight them with your amenability to trying just about anything. You’re here to serve. And the excitement of still not knowing what they’re going to want to do to your body next? That’s the most intoxicating feeling of all.

Classes start again for you and Ivar, meaning you probably have more important things to do than being the fuckdoll that keeps the apartment looking nice for her boys. But Ivar takes care of you here, too: a strict schedule is set, for study and play, so neither of you fall behind. That’s not to say that Ubbe doesn’t sometimes use you as a cockwarmer while you’re going through your flashcards, or that you don’t spend some evenings knotted up on the couch in comfortable bondage while you and Ivar finish your reading assignments. You find ways to get everyone’s competing needs met.

And Ubbe… Ubbe has discovered his own brand of kink.

“Hey y/n,” he says, catching your eye just as you’ve finished polishing up the kitchen. All he’s got to do is give you that look, and you know what’s about to happen. And he reads something in your eyes that signals you’re up for it, too. He winks. “Run.”

You launch yourself past him through the doorway of the kitchen. His hand almost catches at your hip, but you twist away from him just quickly enough, grinning at your triumph even though he probably only let you get by him so that he could enjoy the chase.

You get the couch between him and you, but realize that now you’re cornered. His teeth are bared like a savage as he follows each of your feints, left, right, left again. If you could get past him and down the hallway, you might be able to get to your room with enough time to lock him out.

You know, if you actually wanted to win.

You’re giggling; he’s growling. “When I catch you, y/n,” he threatens, “say goodbye to those panties.” You feint to the right, then rapidly to the left, but he doesn’t fall for it. “I’ll rip ‘em faster than Ivar can keep replacing them.”

You’ve stopped wearing anything other than skirts and dresses around the apartment. Between Ubbe’s constant roughhousing and Ivar’s penchant for sliding his hands up and up and up, you never want to have to pause the action long enough to shimmy out of anything so complicated as pants.

“You’re not getting away,” Ubbe informs you with a deep, predatory chuckle. Tiring of darting from side to side, he starts to climb directly over the couch at you.

That’s your chance, though. As soon as he’s off the ground you dart off to the left, ducking under his reaching arm and speeding over to the hallway that leads back to the bedrooms. You can hear his feet thudding behind you as he jumps down, but maybe you can make it . . . passing Ivar’s empty room, you duck into your own and fling yourself at the door, adrenaline making you giddy as you try and swing it around and shut it right in Ubbe’s face.

His arms scoop around your waist before you pull it even a few inches. “Gotcha,” he gloats, then lifts your feet up off the floor and tosses you at your bed.

Ever since that scuffle after he made you answer Ivar’s call, you had both realized Ubbe loved to feel you fighting him just as much as you loved struggling against him. And so now, whenever Ivar’s not home, you fear his return only about equally as much as you worry that the neighbors might call the cops on all the bangs and thumps they have to be hearing whenever you and Ubbe get into it. Hopefully they can hear that you laugh just as much as you scream.

You try to bounce off the mattress as soon as he flings you onto it, but again Ubbe is too fast for you. His wide hand centers on your chest and pushes you right back down, then holds you there as he gets his other hand up your skirt. “I don’t know why you even bother to keep wearing these,” he says, the exertion thinning out his voice as he gets his fist around the side of your panties and starts dragging them down.

When you arch your back and grind your ass into the bed to try and make his job more difficult, he slaps the side of your thigh and then tries again twice as hard.

You’ve chosen lace today, which you slightly regret as you feel the friction of the scratchy material digging into your skin. And so you relent, just a little, shimmying along with his efforts and letting him work your panties all the way off without any more snags. “So much easier when you cooperate,” Ubbe notes.

“But where’s the fun in that?” You scoot up like you’re trying to escape again.

His palm slams you down, pushing you into the pillows piled up at the top of your neatly-made bed. Well, it was neatly made. Ubbe’s rumpling it pretty thoroughly now. This time his hand is bridging your collarbone, pressure teasing your neck. It’s enough to make you go completely still, and drop your consciousness into sub-mode as you savor the dominance of the gesture.

With your guard finally down, Ubbe gets himself tucked nice and tight between your legs. He keeps that solid pressure going on your chest, though, while working to open up his pants.

He makes this noise when he’s close to sinking into you, when you’re fighting like this. It’s a growl but it’s somehow gleeful; a predator who knows he’s inches from getting his jaws around your throat. “You gonna keep fighting?” His teeth graze against the side of your neck. “Or are you gonna make this easier on yourself?’

You choose easier, licking your palm quickly so that when Ubbe drops his cock out of his pants you’re right there to slather some lube on it before he starts working his way into you. Ubbe groans at the feeling of your hand, then spits on his own fingers to return the favor in a hurried swipe across your entrance.

No foreplay in this game. The game is the foreplay. Ubbe has taken to eating you out afterwards, long and slow and luscious. Right now, it’s all about the rush.

You cry out as his blunt head catches a little before finding the right angle to sink in deeper. You all did the responsible thing and got STD tests not too long ago, and now you’re free to bareback it as much as you please. It’s easy to believe Ubbe’s promise to be monogamous for as long as you’re doing it like this. With how often he throws you down and fucks you around here, there’s no way that he’d have anything left for anyone else.

Ubbe’s cock has that kind of width that you never just ‘get used to.’ You’ve gotten better at taking it, as fast and hard as he wants it at times like this, but that first inexorable slide always makes your eyes pop a little. It takes up all your concentration to relax your body and let him stretch you.

Which is probably why you just missed something really important.

Ubbe’s about twenty thrusts in before you can get a hold of yourself enough to stop squealing, to relax the clutching grip of your hands around his shoulders and cross your ankles over the back of his bouncing hips, to get comfortable and open your eyes.

You look over Ubbe’s shoulder to see Ivar leering at you from the door.

It finally happened. He finally caught you. Adrenaline seizes your muscles up tight, locking your legs around Ubbe’s back and making him moan deeper while your own vocal chords freeze.

Ivar’s head wiggles as he leans his shoulder against the doorframe. A single finger comes up to his mouth, in that universal gesture for silence. Then his eyes leave yours to trail over the rest of your body, the sprawl of your thighs bouncing under Ubbe’s heaving back.

He settles in a little deeper, so he doesn’t need to hold himself up with both crutches. His finger leaves his lips and he palms down at his own crotch instead.

Ivar wants to watch.

Tingles burst out across your body as you incorporate the pleasure of Ubbe’s deep dicking with the self-conscious awareness of being on display for your other lover. Ivar can’t see much besides your legs and your eyes so he must—oh fuck—must be in this just to watch the reactions that play across your face.

“Make some noise for me, baby” Ubbe moans against your neck. “You’re so quiet.”

He lifts his head far enough to look at your face, and your eyes snap to his quick, before he thinks you were looking at anything over his shoulder. Ivar is a dark blob in your peripheral vision as you focus on the face of the man who’s fucking you right now. Not the one that’s sure to fuck you twice as thoroughly as soon as this is over.

You make a little sound for Ubbe, somewhere between a squeal and a moan. It’s really all you can produce under this sense of looming doom that might be smiling sadistically from the doorway at you right now.

Ubbe frowns. “I could barely hear that,” he mocks, then grins and adjusts his hips, pulling your thigh up higher around his back. “Guess I gotta hit it a little deeper.”

“Unf,” you cry, unable to hold back as he, true to his word, tries his best to rearrange your guts. You throw your head back and just ride it out, giving him those full-throated groans you know he’s looking for. As far as you can tell, Ivar’s looking for them too. If this is happening, then you might as well go all out with it.

If Ivar wants to stay and watch, then you can’t be in that much trouble. Just pretend trouble. Which is definitely the good kind.

The weight of Ivar’s eyes means about as much as his hands on your body ever could. He’s not even doing anything, and yet, he is absolutely a third lover in this room. The heat of that gaze makes your skin prickle, makes your cunt tighten around Ubbe’s cock and sets you moaning, then screaming through your teeth as you feel your orgasm building hot and thick and all for Ivar and those eyes.

“Fuck,” Ubbe growls, the desperate edge to his voice showing he’s on his edge too, “you feel so good. Can never get enough.”

You can’t, either. Not of either one of them. Ubbe’s pace increases, coming up to that home stretch before he empties himself inside you. And given the delicious, mad pressure building between your thighs, you just might come right along with him.

Ubbe buries his face in the crook of your neck with a long, guttural noise as he hammers out his final, ecstatic thrusts. You’re so close to peaking, too. So—close—just—a—few—more—

Ubbe’s thrusts are slowing but you’ve still got everything you need. You latch wide, desperate eyes on Ivar’s smirking face, using that dirty feeling of knowing you’re being watched, that he’s watching, to push yourself over the edge.

The look in Ivar’s eyes is dark, so dark, as he reaches to the side and, with a shit-eating grin, pushes firmly against the bedroom door. It hits the stopper against the wall with a loud, distinctive sound.

Ubbe freezes, recognizing that someone must have just come in. You make an odd sobbing noise as your impending orgasm melts away.

“I think that is enough.”

Ubbe leans his forehead against your shoulder, exhaling long and hard. With a slow tilt of his hips, he grinds himself deeper into you, one last stubborn farewell to the pussy. He brings his mouth up close enough to whisper in your ear. “Uh oh. You finally got caught.” As he pulls away, you see a new kind of eagerness on his sweaty face.

He always did want to know what your punishment was going to be.

“I will take it from here, Ubbe.”

There are times that Ubbe Lothbrok can be stubborn; an alpha male with his own plan and need to assert himself upon a situation. Right after he’s blown his load is not one of those times. He pulls himself out of you in one long, slow swipe and tucks his softening cock right back into his pants. His eyes flick over the disheveled sprawl of your body underneath him, a prideful smile curling his lip, and then he straightens up and off your bed. “She’s all yours.”

Ivar struts forward, head waggling as his crutches carry him swiftly to the edge of the bed. You close your legs modestly, but his hand clamps down on your thigh, holding you open for him. “I told you never to let me catch you.” The look on his face is positively wicked.

All you can do is whimper, still flushed and half-crazed with your need to come.

“And yet, you left the door open. Like you wanted me to see.” He starts smacking at your inner thighs, quick, precise little swats, holding your legs spread when you twitch and try to protect yourself reflexively. “Stay. Open.”

You can only imagine what Ivar is seeing, your naked pussy swollen, needy, and leaking cum. It’s almost unbearable. His smacks turn to flicks of his strong fingers as he moves closer in toward your center, alternating sides and just watching you force yourself to keep your legs open.

Then comes the slap you had been anticipating, right on your clit. You cry out, surprised how much you like the feeling. Maybe it’s only because you were just on the brink, but after the sharp pain recedes a fresh rush of arousal suffuses you and you sob. “Ivar, please.”

He pauses. “Please, what?”

“Please let me come.”

He raises one heavy brow. “That’s all you can say? Unrepentant to the end, I see. Well then, dirty girl, if that’s what you want your punishment to be…” His hand covers your mound, thumb finding your needy clit. He rubs one single, glorious circle, then stops. His head swivels. “Ubbe. Did you think you get to watch? Out.”

* * *

You’re going to pass out. Mercy, please, there’s no way that you can handle another orgasm. Ivar’s got your muscles clenching, the sheets soaked, your legs trapped around his body and your pussy stuffed with the third vibrator he’s decided to try. He’s even got another one vibrating right against your asshole, just to give you ideas about other sins he might have in store for you. Pleasure runs like a raging river, unrelenting. Every time you try to catch your gasping breath, Ivar raises the flood.

“Come on, greedy girl,” Ivar coaxes, his voice husky after all the effort he’s spent working you over. “Surely you can’t quit before orgasm number eight.” He changes something down there and all you can do is wail like an animal as he somehow makes you feel more full than ever. And then his finger returns to your clit. He’s just about got this down to a science, after so many experimental trials here in your darkened bedroom. Fuck you with the toy, change the vibration every few minutes so your body can’t get used to it, tease your asshole and press down on your clit juuuuust so.

It’s starting to feel like he knows the angles your body likes better than you do. He’s turned your clitoris against you, co-opting that magic button into something he can press on his whim to make you explode in another spine-shaking climax. This time, you come so hard you see spots blooming in front of your vision.

Something must have changed in your voice as that last one crashed over you. This time, Ivar does not immediately start re-tuning the machine, gearing your body up to start the cycle all over again for number nine. Instead his hand falls steady and warm, covering your shuddering sex with a reassuring stillness as he leans in over you. His voice is low as he comes close enough for you to meet his drowning eyes in the dark. “Mercy?”

“Mercy.” You can barely say it. You barely have a voice left after all the ecstatic screams he’s forced across your throat.

Ivar makes a soothing sound, one that rings in your ears like the most beautiful, reassuring thing you’ve ever heard. He’s letting it end. You made it all the way through; you didn’t have to stop him. You lasted until he offered. That had been the goal your submissive soul clung to as he took your body through just about every pleasure it could handle. He reaches down to click off the vibrations. You sigh as he slips the last toy out of your body. “You did so good for me.”

He covers your pussy with his hand again. It feels immensely comforting, stillness and steady reassurance after all that thrusting and vibration. You let all the remaining tension drain out against his palm as you close your eyes and let yourself come slowly back to something approximating reality.

The next thing you’re aware of is Ivar coaxing your head up higher on the pillows. “Drink,” he says softly, putting a water bottle in your hands and guiding it up to your lips. “I wrung you out pretty good.”

The water is cool and extremely welcome. You want to make a joke about how little moisture you must have left in your body, after all that, but slaking your thirst is so much more important.

Rolling your blanket around you, Ivar lays down to cuddle beside your exhausted body after taking the water bottle away. You never would have guessed, before all this, what an avid snuggler Ivar Lothbrok is. He seems to crave your body against his own, after these intense sessions. He pulls you in tight against him. “We could take a shower, if you want,” he offers.

“I don’t think I can move.”

His chuckle is indulgent. “Fair enough.” He snuggles his cheek in a little closer. “Let me know if you need anything.”

So. He’s not fucking you today, either. Not that this even feels like the right time for your first time…it’s just something that’s been on your mind. Maybe it makes you old-fashioned, but it just feels like he hasn’t fully claimed you yet. Part of you kind of thought that once he caught you with Ubbe, that might have been what he was waiting for, to make you absolutely his. But this doesn’t feel like a turning point at all. Nothing he had said indicated that he did not like seeing you that way, or that he expected you to stop fucking Ubbe now. It’s always just been another game.

Which suits you just fine. You wonder if you will ever have a chance of getting bored in this apartment.

Your meandering thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Ivar’s phone, a quick, chirping notification.

He shifts lazily to check it when it chirps a second time. A short bark of a laugh rumbles out of him a moment later.

“What?”

Ivar rolls back to show you his screen. The text message is from Hvitserk, who you know to be another one of his brothers.

Be in town tomorrow

gonna crash in Sigurd’s room

“Looks like someone else wants in your bed,” Ivar croons at you.

You know that Hvitserk just doesn’t know that the apartment has acquired a new roommate, but you get a funny feeling deep inside your overstimulated body, anyway.

“Maybe I should tie you up naked tomorrow,” Ivar continues, voice low and teasing as he nips at your ear. “Leave you right here as a gift for him to find when he arrives. Haven’t seen him in a while, I’m sure I missed a birthday somewhere in there.” He grins at whatever he sees in your face. “If you need another lesson about what greedy girls get.” His finger taps you affectionately, right on the nose.

Next Chapter

Taglist is open: @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog @earl-aive @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @pokeasleepingsmaug @hvittysmutanon @honestsycrets @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor @writingfromasgard @tootie-fruity @lordsexmachine @uncomfortable-writers @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme @likealostkiss @thehangedmanandthehoneybee @xxlilqueeniexx @thefightingdragon @xbergiex

#ubbe x reader #ivar x reader #ubbe/reader/ivar #ubbe/you #ivar/you #playing house fic

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nbrook29 · 4 years

Text

💞 My ultimate Sobbe fic recs 💞

Recently, I have gone through Robbe/Sander tag on ao3 and I decided to compose a list of fics that are absolute gems for me. A few disclaimers first:

✔ I didn’t include works in progress (WIPs), however I did include fics that are only on tumblr

✔ the order of the fics below is random

✔ this is the list of my personal favorites so if your favorite fic is not on the list it doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I consider it bad - we just vibe with different things :)

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

✔ I’ve been trying to add the “read more” thingy but it doesn’t show, I’m sorry, I know long posts are annoying af

under 1k

we’re keeping it simple by noobishere | G

Summary: Sander comes over unannounced and attacks Robbe’s very person (a.k.a the one where Sander teases Robbe on Eenvoud)

This is a guaranteed mood lifter. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and oh so funny. The banter. And I’d die to see that in the show.

1k - 5k

Fizzy Colas by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Let’s say this is a clip (hopefully not as short as the standard 1:40 of this season) with Sander as the main on a ‘bros night out’ 🍻

This author is my queen/king alright? They take a simple idea and turn it into the most lovely/cute/soft story. This fic is exactly that. Sobbe’s chemistry here is out of this world and the banter is to die for.

high for this by flowersmaze (@bowieskam) | G

Summary: In which Sander remains a Flirt™ and in love with Robbe even when he can’t feel his face after a medical procedure

The summary says it all. Loopy Sander is the cutest and funniest thing.

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell (@theoceanismyinkwell) | T

Summary: Sander discovers that Robbe has recently been prescribed antidepressants, and Robbe opens up to him about the night he almost stepped off the bridge. Only love will show how much they’ve grown and pull them through.

This time, the boys talk about Robbe’s mental state which is unusual in fics. This oneshot is communication 101. And this line is just 👌🏻 “But after the dust of their first kiss and their first vows of commitment settled around them, Robbe took a look at the space in which he floated and realized, somewhere along the line, that finding the love of your life doesn’t fix you.”

diminuendo by noobishere

Summary: Waking up feels like an ordeal. His eyes are heavy, arms a dead weight, he isn’t sure if his limbs are even in the right places, but eventually, Sander comes to. (a.k.a a take on how Sander fairs after Robbe left for school.)

Sander’s POV after Dinsdag 7:27. It’s a great insight into his headspace during that time. This could be a scene in the show because it fits so well.

you’re wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall | M

Summary: Two city boys go camping. What could go wrong? (Everything, apparently.)

Those boys are a chaotic mess okay? They’re such dorks. This fic has the best kind of grumpiness there is and sobbe is written so in character here.

if we can make it through december (maybe we’ll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Robbe and Sander at the Christmas market.

Can you imagine those two dorks at the Christmas market? Well you don’t have to anymore because this fic is everything you need and more. And this line “Couldn’t,” Sander sulks. “You can’t hold hands properly with mittens on.” makes me go all gooey inside every.single.time 😍

A New Sunday Feeling by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Sander before Robbe: Ugh, Sundays 😒 Sander after Robbe: 😏🥺🥰

The way this author writes sobbe’s intimate moments is just pure talent. They have such way with words.

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Saint Nicholas is the perfect excuse for an evening of gifts and banter with the flatshare. (Basically all five of them being cute together, and then Robbe and Sander being cute with just the two of them.)

This is the perfect fic for an October evening, when Christmas is just around the corner and you’ve just made yourself a cup of coffee and want to read some heart-warming well-written christmassy fluff.

5k - 10k

Let’s Dance by msleviss (@sander-driesen) | G

Summary: Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

THIS PERSON PREDICTED DJ SANDER Y’ALL. And Robbe thirsts over him. And there is an instant connection. And Robbe dances. And it’s so cute.

video phone by tokyometropolis (@luludemauryyy) | E

Summary: AKA OH MY GOD, THEY WERE QUARANTINED…except not together, because life is cruel. Thankfully it’s 2020 and when Robbe has an…er…intense dream about Sander in the middle of the night, all he has to do is press one button and Facetime him about it. Thing is…sometimes FaceTiming isn’t enough.

Look. I get that smut fics are not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s totally fine. But. If you’re looking for a well-written smut that’s in character and where you can feel the love between the characters, this is it. Hands down. Sorry not sorry 💁🏼‍♀️

10k - 20k

our camp of dreams by robbesanderx (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: a summer camp!AU where robbe and sander are both co-counselors

Misunderstandings lead to pining. Teenage angst at its finest. I really like camp stories, it’s my thing.

Falling For You by silver_etoile (@azozzoni) | T

Summary: Robbe only knows one thing about football: that Sander Dreisen is the hottest player on the FC Utrecht team. When Jens drags him to a match, the last thing Robbe expects is to meet someone so perfect, and it’s all he can do not to mess it up, but will he succeed?

Sobbe in a different setting with a bit different dynamic yet still having that special something. It’s a nicely written story of the development of their relationship, first meeting, falling in love, ups and down, all the best things in fics. And Sander as a soccer player is a pretty 🔥 concept (and I think Robbe agrees).

This isn’t our first time around by noobishere | E

Summary: One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they’re in this strange but familiar room.(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

The universe takes matters into their own hands and shows those silly boys that they are meant to be. Sign me up for the ride.

Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces (@peaceoutofthepieces) | G

Summary: Sander works at the on-campus coffee shop with Eliott, and he might just have a crush on the cute boy in the brown coat.

I’m a sucker for coffeshop fics. There is just something so good about them. This one is the coffeshop!AU that sobbe deserves. Oh the pining, and the secretive looks, the silly boys, and a pinch of Elu. Me likey ☕

The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

This is magical. My comment on the work was “So soft, so beautiful, so THEM, ugh.” and I MEANT that. This is just the right amount of sweetness. This is a must read. I’m not messing around.

two side of the same coin series by MajorAccent (@acespaceacepilot) | E

Summary: the valleys and mountains of sander’s bpd

How the boys handle Sander’s ups and downs. Robbe being the best boyfriend ever. I love how good he is for Sander, being there for him, not treating him like a baby, and not controlling him. How much he tries to make it at least a little bit easier for him. If you don’t want to read explicit stories, at least give the first part a try since it’s not E rated.

Zaterdag 9:58 by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: What happened after the croissants dropped to the floor 🥐🤭💕

I meant it when I said Foxsake5 has great way with words. Every single piece of theirs is just “chef’s kiss”. This fic is a definition of a domestic fic. Oh, and it happened. Totally. It’s my headcanon now.

its an unrequited love by eggsntoast | G

Summary: Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

A Sander POV fic. I was sold from the beginning. The development of their relationship here is so cute, and they’re being so stupid with their pining instead of just talking to each other and you just want to shake them but at the same time you’re rooting for them so hard. Oh and did I mention pining?

20k+

Jij Verliest series by ravenbrenna09 (@djsander) | M

Summary: For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

This is a long series okay? But oh so worth it. It’s captivating and you don’t want to stop until you finish. And once you finish you’re sad it’s over even though you’ve just spent 8 fucking hours reading it. It’s amazing. But you probably know that because it’s quite popular (rightfully so). The best thing is that you expect it to go bad halfway through because it’s difficult to keep the quality on the same level in a fic that long. But it doesn’t.

Visitations by lucidpantone (@lucidpantone) | E

Summary: Does Robbe and Sander’s relationship survive into adulthood. This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.This love story is a journey. So be prepared.In the words of one of our Even’s. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

This is not a regular fic. The author put so much thought into it, there are so many gems, so many little things that you have to pay attention to because it.all.matters. And there is not one interpretation. Don’t you just love when a story forces you to think and use your brain? Cause I do. Not gonna lie: this story hurts, and like the author says themselves, it’s a journey. But oh my god get in because it’s amazing. And the ending is just sjsjsjsjsddhdhsdsgdsg 🤯

the night we met by themoongirl (@dearsander) | T

Summary: Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won’t let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

A college AU. This fic is a journey of pain and fluff and humor. It has awesome friendships. And sobbe falling in love. And liminal spaces. I read it a while ago so I don’t remember it as well as the others but you know what? I still remember that it was great and I’m lowkey happy I don’t remember it that well because now I can go and read it again.

The Stars Look Very Different by @peaceoutofthepieces

Summary: Robbe is bored. He’s bored of listening to his friends talking about girls, and his other friends making out, and no one ever doing anything. He’s tired of having to put in all the work, of making his own fun. He’s tired of feeling nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like nothing. His party stunts are pushing the limit, his thrill seeking beginning to worry even his friends, and his carelessness is toeing the line of dangerous.

He’s a little tired of being ‘dangerous’, too.

Sander may or may not have a crush on the older boy with the apparent death wish. He wouldn’t mind a little danger.

Once I started reading this fic, each day I was waiting for an update at the edge of my seat which was a feeling I expected from s4 that did not deliver. TSLVD definitely delivered. My favorite sobbe social media AU

Ziggy Stardust Series by skamsnake (@skamsnake) | M/E

A collection of fics taking place throughout the season. Most of them are E rated so be aware of that but it’s a really cool mixture of fluff and spice *fans myself*

#wtfock #sobbe #robbe x sander #wtfock fanfic #sobbe fanfic #SHOW UP IN THE TAG

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somewhereinthepines · 2 years

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How do you see post game Salim/Dar if Dar lived?

mmm, it depends on how we imagine the things going inside the temple. like did salim was a good subordinate or did he rebel? did he stick at dar’s side or did he attempt to backstab him?

it would change some things, i’m sure lol. but prob not as drastically as one might think. the most apparent ‘problem’ that they seem to have is lack of trust in one another. & then some moral collision there and here. so in the end, it would only make their already slow-burn even slower, haha.

as for the post-canon thing, well, if we take a less ‘realistic’ approach, i’d say that i can easily see dar becoming a police officer. he’s high-energy, and he’s a war dog, he would want to do what he does ‘best’ inside his own mind. like what he knows how to do. and salim would prob tag along (read: dragged along). they went through hell together, and dar would be the only person, who salim can talk to, after zain will move to London. funny enough, i think that it will be easier for dar to adapt, to sorta ‘move on’ vs salim, who is more sentimental/emotional. they do fuel one another in this way, and naturally, salim might sorta rely on dar, who doesn’t seem to have the same doubts about how he should live now. demons or not, he might just as well accept it. but salim? not so much, i’d imagine.

i do picture, that where inside the temple salim was the one, helping dar to hold on, on the surface it'd be reversed. and like while salim be haunted by the events (esp, if all the americans had died), dar wouldn’t be as affected. at least, on the surface, he would keep it together lol.

the post-canon does give their dynamic a bit of a new spin, mostly bc their relationships were already sorta ‘isolated’ from the rest (in canon), and now, it’s the only meaningful relationships that they had left. like i do hc, that dar doesn’t ‘live’ with his (ex)wife, for whatever reason. and that it’s prob one of the cues, why he had never mentioned her. at all. and salim is the only person, who he seems to have any lick of care toward, so he would also stick beside him. they have a bit of energy of we might have been friends in another life, if smth was different, but we never truly were. but once they’re left alone, no longer subordinate & commander, maybe they can patch it up. salim most likely was the closest thing, that dar had to a friend. and actually, for salim it prob was the same way. even if dar is like ‘deranged’ sort of friend lol. the one, who makes you do bad things together, and feel less bad about it. dar ‘knows what he’s doing’, and for salim it might be part of habit to succumb to this sort of reasoning too. like if he served under dar for years and hasn't died yet, it must mean smth lol.

now, in a more irl kind of situation, i’d imagine that they would have either needed to flee the country or lay low. during that time, they still could have ended up as US’s war prisoners. and let’s be real, they would most likely haven’t made it alive that time around. surely, not dar. like even based on what sort of rank he had, he would have been paid ‘special’ attention to, i’m sure. if you aren’t sure what exactly i’m talking about here, then google/open in youtube Abu Ghraib Prison. you’ll be in for a trip. that’s horrific irl bit aside, i do think, that dar would resist at first. that wouldn’t want to ran, even if it meant that he might get inprisoned and eventually tortured/killed. but salim would talk him into fleeing anyhow. almost dragging him along. like if they survived the ancient vampires, to die on the surface from the human enemy’s hands sounds like a waste. in this set-up, dar would take things poorly. i imagine, that salim would offer them to hide in England, and for basri, who doesn’t speak english, who tried to ‘fight off the invaders’ and still ‘lost, ah, it would be hard for him to rearrange his whole beliefs. he would feel like a traitor and coward, i’m sure. but there is no guilt, just survival and salim will have to help him to make peace with it. or at least, not be too miserable.

either of those routes let them kinda dip into other parts of their relationships, that never were addressed. i really love how in their case, it almost feels like they’re attracted to a ‘wrong person’. to someone they don’t really understand, but feel fond of (in ways). salim prob always sorta wanted to see ‘best’ in dar, while dar always had a power to bring out the ‘worst’ in salim. and funny enough, i don’t think that they need to understand one another, more like learn to respect the said differences that they had. neither of them would ever fully accept the worldview of the other, but they don’t really have to.

and ahh, in the last, the worst route for them, they both get captured by the Americans, and would be sent to prison. whether they will make it out or not, is highly debatable. in fact, most likely salim would be the only one, who would live in that set-up. but he would prob finally see dar’s side of things. one can’t sympataze with someone, who tortures them for kicks out of it.

personally, i prefer the first two bits, haha. like the third one is not only hella cruel, but also a bit too realistic. but i won’t lie, fictionally it does create a lee-way, of them both making it even past imprisonment years and then, being left completely scared and mind-broken.

#asks #hofa #dar basri/salim othman

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imaginedhaven · 3 years

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Reluctantly Rooming Bonus: Part 4.5 (Rowan POV)

Link to Masterpost

As promised for my celebration of reaching 100+ followers, here is the bonus from Reluctantly Rooming! This takes place during Part Four, and uses two entirely new prompts. Enjoy!

Prompts:

“What do you mean you don’t read my texts if they’re over four lines…”

and

"You're very endearing when you're half asleep"

~*~*~

The moment Aelin hung up, Rowan rushed into action. Thankfully, he always made it a point to keep his things organized in such a way that leaving the apartment never took longer than a couple of minutes. The only other thing he had to do was call his work, and he did so as soon as he got in the car, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as the dial tone rang for what felt like entirely too long.

Finally, a soft click interrupted the ringing. “This is Salvaterre,” drawled a bored voice.

Thank whatever god was choosing to listen, he had picked up. “Lorcan, it’s Rowan. I’m going to need to work from home at least for today, if not longer.”

He heard the faint sounds of Lorcan sitting upright. “Why? And why are you telling me this over the phone and not in writing?”

“Because I’m not at my laptop right now, and if I texted you you’d send a novel. The last one included paragraph breaks, Lorcan. I don’t have time to read your shit on top of everything else, so if you send me a text that’s over four lines it doesn’t get read.”

“What do you mean, you don’t read my texts if they’re over four lines? You do understand that you report to me, right?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Yes, but if it can’t be said in two sentences or less it’s better off as an email. We’ve had this discussion before, and I’m not hashing it out again on my way to the hospital.”

“The hospital? Rowan, what the fuck is going on?”

His fingers started drumming against the steering wheel once more as he came to a red light. “My roommate broke her ankle,” he finally said. “She didn’t have anyone else to take her home, and you know as well as I do that I can do my work as easily from home as I can in the office. I don’t even have any meetings this week, so that makes it all the easier.”

A sigh crackled over the phone line. “You’ll be picking up Fen’s work next month in exchange. Your current project should be done by then, and he has a vacation in the works already.”

Rowan bit back a groan; the books Fenrys edited were far from his normal preference. It would have to do, though, and there was every chance Lorcan had planned on dumping it on him anyway. “Fine.”

As the light turned green once more, Lorcan hung up rather than say goodbye, but Rowan knew that was simply how he handled calls. He hadn’t been bothered by it in quite some time. Not to mention, it was a welcome relief to not have to keep splitting his already-fragmented attention.

When he arrived to Aelin’s room in the hospital she was almost entirely asleep, likely a combination of the painkillers they were sure to have given her and the late night she had worked. A gentle hand on her shoulder resulted in her blearily blinking up at him and then smiling. “Rowan.”

Rowan carefully ignored the fluttering sensation in his chest at her smile, instead helping her transfer herself into the wheelchair that sat beside the bed. A set of papers sat on the table beside her, and a brief glance showed them to be her discharge paperwork and care instructions. Knowing those would be important later, he grabbed them and then began to wheel her to his car.

She had fallen completely asleep by the time he’d managed to get her into the car seat, and he shook his head as he buckled her in. Frankly, he was amazed that she’d made it this long, knowing the long day she’d had. Therefore, he didn’t bother with attempting to wake her, but instead quietly drove them home.

It was somewhat awkward to lift her into his arms from the seat, but he managed. Opening the door was another feat, and he still wasn’t quite sure how he’d wrangled it, but then they were in the house and the door was closed behind them.

Even though Aelin was stirring now, carrying her up the narrow staircase was absolutely out of the question. She would have to get comfortable on the couch until he could rearrange things so she could sleep in his office space.

There were a few throw pillows around that had to have been Aelin’s addition to the house; he didn’t believe it likely that Aedion had thought enough about interior decorating to do so. When he had first moved in they had been an annoyance, all bright colors and bold patterns, but now he was thankful for their presence as they allowed him to help elevate Aelin’s ankle.

When he had finished with his task, Aelin opened her eyes. She was struggling to focus on him, however, and when she spoke the words were almost unintelligible. Rather than ask her to repeat herself, though, he reached for a throw blanket that was old enough to have possibly been Aedion’s. “You must be exhausted,” he said quietly. “Sleep now. We’ll talk later.”

She mumbled again in reply, but it was even less understandable than her first attempt at speech. As he spread the blanket over her, her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing evened out. Good. She would need all of the sleep she could get.

There were several things he needed to do in order to have the house ready for this new situation, and he could feel each task weighing on him. But as Aelin sighed and her head shifted, he allowed himself an extra moment at her side to carefully brush her long golden waves away from her face.

One of her hands shifted, then, and her fingers wrapped around her wrist. With a thrill of panic at being caught, he glanced at her face, only to see that she was still obviously asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief, but the relief was soon replaced by a different kind of thrill when his hand was moved and…

Gods. Was she… nuzzling his hand?

To save them both from guaranteed embarrassment later, he tried to remove his hand from her grip, but she only whined and tugged it closer. He sighed. “Aelin, you’re very endearing when you’re half asleep, but I have other things I need to do.”

Whether it was his words that swayed her or whether she had simply fallen into a deeper sleep, she mercifully loosened her grip on his wrist enough for him to free his hand. Still, though, he lingered for a moment longer, telling himself it was just to make sure she was truly asleep before he began his reorganization of the lower level of the house.

He carefully didn’t examine why it was so important to him that he not wake her while he did so. That would only lead to a conversation he wasn’t ready to have yet, not even with himself.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer

#haven writes #reluctantly rooming #reluctantly rooming bonus #rowaelin #100 follower celebration

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927roses-and-stuff · 3 years

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Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 7: A Brewing Storm

A/N: So, with Season 4 of Miraculous Ladybug officially starting, this is a reminder that this fanfic is non-compliant with any events after Season 3, even with the added lore in canon. I know this is also a crossover so that’s to be expected, but because this fic is also dealing with Miraculous lore, I feel the need to put this up. Please don’t comment about canon disproving any of the material here, because I am already fully aware of the fact. I don’t really care for the show anymore, and the only thing keeping me in the fandom are the fanworks. Like many in the Maribat fandom, I discovered the more vast lore of DC through this, so there is a mix-up of canon from different worlds/universes (e.g. Young Justice, New 52, and Prime Earth), I just don’t care enough to discern which wiki I’m getting my info from.

That said, thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read this fic, and I hope that you like it. An extra thank you to everyone who has given this a kudos, bookmarked, and/or commented. I appreciate you all so much.

Also, shout out to jackmand1, Sp8cefluff and BenRG who commented on ways to open the box (getting Bunnyx to get the tablet before Hawkmoth, and asking the box to open), which is all mentioned in Marinette’s diary entry.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn @iloontjeboontje

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Dear Diary,

There’s still no luck with the Miracle Box. After we tried Chat’s idea of dropping it from the Louvre using the chew toy as a pressure point, we tried hitting it with our weapons (didn’t even make a dent!), Chat asked the box to “please open don’t close up on us like my dad did” (we had a talk about that but he didn’t want to delve too much into it, and it didn’t work), the kwami tried phasing through it (thank god kwami don’t get concussions), and we even tried contacting Bunnyx, but goodness knows where she is and after Chat Blanc, I didn’t really want to see her anyway. We gave up sometime in the early morning, and now it’s shoved in one of my luggage carts, ready to bring to Gotham tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t trigger any of the airport security.

In better news, it’s been a few days since Chat and I officially introduced our new Ladybug and Bee to the scene. For the most part, I think they’re doing well- better than I did when I first started, anyway. It took a bit of time for Luka and Kagami to get used to the new set up, but Chat and I were there to help them, so it wasn’t too bad. Luka, or Bleu Acier, took a while to get used to the yoyo (who knew Luka had a fear of heights?), but he’s gotten used to it...after we had to convince him he wasn’t going to splat into the pavement or anything like that. Kagami, who decided on the name Shūyō, had to adjust to short-range fighting and not using Venom too soon, but she managed to navigate the top and cause a lot of damage to the akumas that we dealt with in the last few days. I think Hawkmoth has some idea that Bustier’s class is on the move because we’ve had an akuma attack every day so far. I’m hoping it’s just Hawkmoth becoming more desperate, although hopefully Bleu Acier and Shūyō threw him off a little bit. As of right now, I’m using the Snake Miraculous as Couleuvre, so it’ll be easier to-

One moment, Marinette had been settled comfortably in her chaise, and the next, a large crash through her bedroom walls threw her across the room, her back hitting the wall hard enough that she felt pain upon impact. When the world around her gained focus, she spotted a large woman-like figure in front of the hole in her wall cackling. The woman’s glassy skin that was translucent, yet she could also see a muddled reflection of her own face. Upon her head she wore a heavy silver crown adorned with gems that was reminiscent of her skin and a white, flowy dress that trailed behind her from the waist. In her hand was an open contact mirror that contained no reflection except for her own blue-bell eyes.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! I am Mistress Mirage! Soon, I will show you the darkest parts of yourself, the secrets you hide behind your so-called truths!” she bellowed, her voice echoing in Marinette’s ears. In the background, she could barely hear her parents’ muffled screams and bangs against her bedroom door.

“Who-” she hissed, trying to balance herself and stand up. “What did I do to you?”

As far as she knew, she hadn’t angered anyone in the last hour she had been home for lunch.

Mistress Mirage zoomed towards her, her face shoved near into hers, her burning cold fingers choked her. Marinette backed into the wall, grabbing onto Mirage’s marble wrists, a pain shooting up her spine. Marinette could only struggle in place, her legs kicking listlessly, as the glassy, bright green emeralds Mistress Mirage had for eyes stared into her very being. The longer she stared into the empty gems, trying .

“Your weaknesses, your darkest secrets will be mine, Dupain-Cheng.”

Her voice, tinkled within Marinette’s mind, and she watched as the woman’s glassy skin shifted and soon she was faced with a kaleidoscope version of herself, blue sapphires glinting harshly, her breaths now ragged and shallow.

“Wha-” Marinette tried taking a deep breath, but Mirage’s fingers tightened their hold. “Why?” she managed to weakly choke out.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Mirage’s voice, no longer bellowing nor echoing, but now a whisper right in her ears, sounding eerily like her own. “That you aren’t enough? That you will never be enough?”

Marinette shook her head, trying to ignore the voice as it taunted her endlessly.

“What are you hiding, Marinette?”

“Why do you hide from the world?”

“How pathetic. You claim to hate liars,” Marinette felt Mirage’s fingers tighten around her. “But aren’t you a liar too?”

Tears stung the corner of her eyes. She didn’t know what was going on- Mistress Mirage wasn’t saying anything incriminating. If it were any other situation, she could brush off these accusations, but as Mirage continued to taunt her in her voice, doubts and fears, both new and old, she usually ignored were brought to the forefront of her mind.

‘I’ll fail as a Guardian- I’m not enough.

I’m abandoning my city to find a man who might not even be alive.

Chat Noir will never trust me again.

My parents want to send me away.

Why doesn’t Alya believe me?

Alya would’ve made a better Ladybug.

If Tikki could see me now she’d be disappointed.

What a failure I turned out to be.

“What a failure you turned out to be.”

Mistress Mirage’s emerald eyes glinted gleefully, a wide smile cracking into the glassy expanse of her skin. Her voice echoed Marinette’s thoughts and Marinette repeated her words as much as she could, her breathing becoming more shallow. Mistress Mirage couldn’t actually read any of Marinette’s secrets, however, she could read her psyche, a doubtful, anxious little thing, and she only said out loud what Marinette had already been telling herself to make her putty into Mirage’s hands. A neon violet butterfly appeared over her face, reminding her of her duty to get the Miraculous.

But for now, she had Marinette in her grasp. Once Marinette was in her trance, shaking slightly and mumbling nonsense as tears streaked down her cheeks, Mirage grabbed her and headed to the Trocadero, when three figures- black, steel blue and honey yellow- surrounded her in the middle of the street. The two new heroes stiffened at the sight of the girl in her arms. Chat snarled at Mistress Mirage.

“Marinette!” Chat yelled, rushing forward with his baton at Mistress Mirage. “What are you doing with her?!”

Mistress Mirage smirked. “If you want her, you’ll have to give me your Miraculous.”

She leapt out of the way only to stumble beside Shūyō who held her yellow top- flatter than Queen Bee’s with a long, black handle- the tip poised to the side of Mirage’s ribcage.

Before Shūyō could enact Venom however, Mirage turned and kicked the bee heroine away from her, holding out her compact mirror, creating a wall of mirrors that trapped Shūyō on the other side. She rearranged Marinette in her arms, ignoring the silent struggles of the bee thumping against the mirrored walls and swearing at her.

Chat Noir extended his baton towards Mistress Mirage. However, she jumped and landed on top of the baton, sending Chat sprawling through the air. Bleu Acier attacked at the same time. Mirage was quick and held out her compact to the two heroes, entrapping them in their own mirror dimension. The butterfly outline appeared again, and Mirage set off. She had special plans for Marinette.

Within the mirror dimension, Bleu and Chat were trying to navigate their way around crystallized walls which reflected everything around them. They had tried to find Shūyō, only to realize she was a reflection, then had almost been driven over by a car that had then disappeared.

“What is all this?” Chat muttered, nudging his surroundings. “It’s like, some of it are just reflections, but some of it is real.”

Bleu Acier nodded. “The reflections have to come from somewhere, so the real objects and people are in here somewhere.” He looked up and pointed a little ways forward. “Look, you can see our reflections.”

“Hope they’re getting my good side,” Chat quipped. “We have to get Shūyō and Marinette soon.”

Bleu Acier blinked, as he caught his yoyo when it hadn’t rebounded against a wall. “Do you know her personally?” He asked. He hadn’t been aware of Marinette’s close relationship with the Parisian heroes.

Chat gave a stiff nod. “She’s worked with Ladybug and I a few times. I met her when we fought Evillustrator.”

“So, do you and Ladybug often have civilians fight for you?” Bleu frowned. He scanned the area, and turned left.

“Only when we really need to,” Chat scoffed. “It’s not ideal, but it’s just me and m’Lady and sometimes we need help.”

Bleu could sense a resonating low, flat tone emanating from Chat. “That’s horrible. You guys look like you’re still kids.” Chat shrugged in response. As they walked onwards, investigating every inch of the way, Bleu noticed a figure dressed in a black and yellow-patterned fencing uniform, wearing a striped domino mask, thumping against a transparent wall. “Chat, look.”

Cat’s eyes widened at the sight. “Shūyō!” he yelled and rushed forward, only to be trapped in a corner with several reflections of the bug-themed heroine. Chat’s breath quickened. “Shūyō! Can you hear us?!”

Shūyō’ perked up and looked around. “I can! But where are you?” She shouted, her voice vibrating through the air.

“Shit.” Chat stared at his hand, before clenching it and turning towards Bleu. “I think we might need that Lucky Charm now.”

He nodded. “Lucky Charm!”

A bright red object with black spots dropped from the sky followed a series of chimes. Bleu Acier’s eyes widened as he held up the wind chime, eight hollow tubes ringing against the slapper in between, the clear, steady ringing piercing all around them. The wind chime was half the size of his torso, so fortunately, it was lighter than it looked.

It was a curious thing Ladybug had noted, that most of Bleu Acier’s Lucky Charms were sound or music-related.

“Well, this blows. You going to chime a pretty tune there, Bleu?”

He held back a chuckle. In the week he and Shūyō had been working with Chat and Ladybug, he had grown to appreciate Chat’s humour and the jaunty tune he associated with them.

“Maybe,” he said. Raising his voice, he addressed Shūyō. “Can you hear this?!” He asked, shaking the wind chime from its hanger.

They could see Shūyō’s reflection moving around, her eyes closed in concentration. “Sort of!” she answered, echoing slightly. “Are we able to use Chat Noir’s Cataclysm?!”

Bleu stared at Chat who was staring at his hand in deep thought. “Probably! We just need to make sure I’m not using Cataclysm on something real!”

“Maybe it is not my place to say as your junior, but this is not the time for hesitation!” Shūyō yelled back.

A beep echoed in Bleu’s ears. “We should hurry. I only have four minutes.”

Chat nodded. “Alright!” He looked around, scanning nearby walls until he found a reflection of himself- a sure way to make sure he hit the mirror. “Cataclysm!”

The walls around them crumbled in seconds, revealing the world around them. Chat smirked, and they scouted for Shūyō who met them in the middle.

“Why did you not use Cataclysm in the first place?” Shūyō asked, when they reconvened.

“I didn’t want to accidentally use it on the wrong thing,” he said, flexing his fingers. “Come on, we have less than five minutes. Don’t use Venom until you receive my signal.”

Shūyō nodded.

Chat turned to Bleu Acier and pointed to the wind chime. “Keep that on you and look out for opportunities.” He turned around and headed off. “Let’s go!”

In the end, Mistress Mirage was defeated quickly. In their absence, she had grown arrogant, and the three heroes found several clones of Mistress Mirage atop the Palais de Chaillot, a crowd having gathered at the bottom. Each clone had a Marinette bound in front of them, at the edge of the roof, standing listlessly. Despite this, Mistress Mirage was not prepared for the ambush of the three heroes. Bleu’s wind chimes were used as a distraction for the real Mistress Mirage while Chat and Shūyō attacked from behind.

“Shūyō! Use it now!” Chat yelled, as he grabbed Marinette and set her down on the ground below, and allowed the paramedics to deal with her.

“Venom,” Shūyō muttered. She dropped beneath Mirage and her top, stabbing her opponent beneath her ribcage. “Gotcha.”

Mistress Mirage froze mid-air, one leg in the air and both hands outstretched. Chat’s eyes widened when he didn’t see her holding the akumatized object. Chat pounced back onto the roof, ignoring the second beep from his ring. He noticed the satin sash that was wrapped around her waist.

“Shūyō, the akumatized object is the mirror she carries around. It should be in her sash,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink. “Can you- uh-?”

Shūyō nodded. “I do not understand your need for modesty at such a time, but it is commended.”

Chat’s cheeks reddened further. “It’s just polite! I don’t want to be touching anyone without their consent!”

Shūyō took out the compact mirror that had been tucked into the sash just above her left hip. She tossed it to Bleu Acier who quickly broke it and captured the akuma.

“It’s just the principle of it!” Chat squawked as the trail of tiny red ladybugs flowed throughout Parisian skies.

She snorted. “I understand. I was just teasing.” She turned to nod at Bleu then at Chat. “You two are close to de-transforming. I will bring both victims home.” Shūyō then grabbed Lila, who had been the akuma and was now disoriented, and jumped down to retrieve Marinette.

When Marinette had woken up from the akuma attack, she had been escorted home by Shūyō, who had fussed over any injuries she may have gotten before eventually leaving with a pack of honey macarons. Marinette smiled. Chat had made a good choice with Kagami. After, she had endured cuddles and hugs from her parents who were now even more determined to get her out of Paris.

Later that evening, after reassuring her parents and making sure the kwami were okay. She headed off to patrol where she had to answer for her absence, and where Chat had regaled how they did. Marinette smiled, knowing she made the right choice. After the patrol, which had been less of a patrol and more of a small goodbye ceremony, she returned home and recorded the events in her diary, slowly anticipating the trip.

The next day, she had just made it to the airport an hour before boarding. Everyone had gone through the usual airport processes and she was the last to arrive with her passport and airplane tickets in her carry-on shoulder bag. When she arrived to the waiting area where her friends were (with Adrien’s bodyguard nearby playing on his phone), she was met with a lot of mixed reactions.

Alya had rushed over and hugged her, frantically asking if she was okay. Several classmates had joined her, like Rose, Juleka and Mylene. She hugged them back and reassured them that she was alright, and wasn’t going to jump off roofs anytime soon (though she didn’t remember that from yesterday anyway). They then moved on and Alya asked her a question that stopped her in her tracks.

“Why were you arguing with Lila yesterday, anyway?” Alya asked, leading the two of them to sit down.

Marinetter furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. “What are you on about? I’m not talking to Lila at all.”

Alya frowned. “She told us that’s why she was akumatized yesterday. Apparently you called the mirror she got from Bruce Wayne as a birthday gift, fake.”

Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. “What? Why would I care about anything like that? She’s lying!”

Alya frowned even more. “Lila said you’d probably say that. Why can’t you two just get along?”

“Alya, you’re the one that believes Lila has a lying illness. Why don’t you believe me when I say she’s lying and that I didn’t even see her at all yesterday outside of class?” Marinette tensed. How petty did Lila think she was? How petty was Lila?

“She did get akumatized yesterday. Her story matches the events,” Alya said. “Marinette, you’re my best friend. That’s why I want to know why you did what you did.”

Marinette snorted. “And I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything. Is this what the whole class believes? That I’m so shallow that I would akumatize Lila over something as trivial as a mirror?”

Alya blanched. “No, of course not. We’re just saying you two had an argument and Lila got upset enough to turn into an akuma. We’re not saying it was intentional on your part or anything.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Look, my version of events is that I went home for lunch, was in my bedroom, got attacked by the akuma, and was out for it until that Bee hero Shūyō brought me home. Believe what you want, but don’t expect me to apologize to Lila for something I didn’t do.”

Marinette stood up and was about to go before she was stopped by Alya grabbing her wrist. She looked back and watched as Alya looked down at her clenched fist, biting her lip.

“I,” Alya sighed. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I’m not saying I don’t believe Lila either. Either way, both of you were the victims yesterday. I’m sorry I was asking you stuff like that.”

Marinette frowned and sat back down. She wasn’t sure what was happening between her and Alya. Alya had been spending more time with Lila, even ending up as her seatmate on the plane and her roommate for the hotel. It made Marinette uncomfortable that they were becoming so close, considering who Lila was. But, Alya was a good person- she just wanted her friends to get along, and it’s not like she could force Alya to cut off her other friendships, even if it was to manipulative lying rats like Lila. That had to be on Alya’s terms. All Marinette could do was be there for her and hope she’d return the sentiment.

She forced a smile. “You’re forgiven.” Alya looked up and smiled, reaching out to hug her. “Now, let’s hang out for a bit before we’re stuck in a plane for twelve hours.”

Alya smiled back. “Yeah! By the way, did you hear that Jagged Stone knows Bruce Wayne?”

And just like that, they had spent the rest of the hour waiting to board the place. The plane that would take them to whatever was awaiting them in Gotham City.

A/N: So that's the end to the first arc I guess, if I intentionally have arcs lol. The rest of this fanfic will be in Gotham. Thank you again for joining me this far and I hope you continue to read it!

Other notes: Bleu Acier is based on the Steelblue Ladybird, with Bleu Acier meaning Steel Blue. Shūyō has three meanings in Japanese, but here, it’s used to mean self-discipline (because that’s something I associate with bees and hard workers). Couleuvre is just another way to say snake in French because Marinette sucks at names.

P.S. I don't hate Alya. In fact, I think we often brush over the fact that Alya is fiercely loyal and in the show, doesn't have all the facts so she's not too suspicious of Lila.

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eintsein · 5 years

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After a few years of trial and error, I think I've finally found the perfect organization method.

In the early years of high school, I had a bullet journal. I was an artsy kid who found a way to combine art with organization in a way that benefited other parts of my life.

However, as I approached the end of high school, my schedule got busier, and I was involved in a lot more things, so owning a bullet journal was less practical. Because of that, I switched to an app called Edo Agenda.

I continued with digital planning in college since I knew I wasn't going to have as much time. But all the apps I tried out—Taskade, Actions by Moleskine, Any.do, Todoist, Wunderlist—weren't suited to my planning and organizational needs. They didn't have the specific functions I required and didn't incorporate an organization system I liked to use. The predefined apps were too restraining, but the more customizable apps weren't customizable enough.

So then I switched to a bare bones, uber minimalist bullet journal method. That worked pretty well my second semester. It was simple, portable, and most importantly, flexible—all the things one could wish for in a planning system. However, it wasn't always the most convenient to use since I couldn't effectively integrate all the different aspects of my life, which, to no surprise, is mostly recorded digitally.

There was just one huge problem with my digital organization system that made me hesitant to switch back in the first place: everything was fragmented. Notes were in Google Docs. Financial records were in Google Sheets. To-Do Lists were in my bullet journal. Team projects were in Trello. My poetry was on Bear. Things I wanted to try are carelessly pinned to random pinterest boards or added to my YouTube "watch later" playlist. It was a mess.

Over the summer, I found out about Notion from a friend, and I thought, this has so much potential, it could even be exactly what I need. It's essentially like an empty notebook on your computer with functions that make it 10x more powerful. Notion allows you to integrate all aspects of your life and work into one app. Some of the advantages that have made me partial to Notion are:

Even greater customization level. Notion is a blank canvas with tons of predefined blocks and different file types. You can make databases, spreadsheets, Kanban boards, to do lists, etc. Also, you can remain connected to other digital services. You can link websites, collaborate with other users, use different structures (e.g. documents, databases, tasks), embed images and videos, etc. There are also tons of formatting options, e.g. text color, highlight, heading v. body text.

Better organization. Notion allows you to have pages within pages within pages within pages—an infinite hierarchy that you can organize with tables of contents. These pages are made of blocks, e.g. tables, checklists, boards, databases. Both pages and blocks can be rearranged by simply dragging and dropping them to where you want them to be. In other words, I guess it's kind of like building a website to organize your life. Plus, their database feature is especially powerful as it allows you to connect all your data and get into as much detail as you wish (each entry in a database is its own page).

Templates. There are tons of templates created by both Notion and the community that you can use. These are especially helpful in the beginning since Notion does have a rather steep learning curve. There are template for almost every category: personal, planning, finance, job applications, design roadmap, etc. Check out their template gallery, this medium article called "10 Notion templates to inspire your use", or read on for my own examples!

Shortcuts. This makes typing and documenting so much faster. Notion uses Markdown, which is a text-to-HTML conversion tool, e.g. # = Heading 1, *, - = bullet point, etc.

Notion has some pretty awesome features, but how does one actually use it? Personally, I have four top-level pages: my planner, my personal journal, songwriting, and blogging.

Planner

I've been using my planner to, well, plan and track my day to day activities as well as my week and month. The way I've structured it is a calendar or monthly overview with links to pages of weekly overviews, and if needed, daily overviews within the weekly overview. This links things up so nicely, i.e. I don't have to be constantly flipping pages in my physical bullet journal or planner to find what I need.

I also have entertainment lists, which is mainly a table with all the shows I want to watch, the books I want to read, etc. I keep track of whether or not I've watched them, as well as my personal ratings. What I love most about this is that each entry is its own page, so I can type my notes for each book, show, or film and easily find them in the future. (Also the reason why I have plural “lists” instead of just one entertainment list is because you can filter entries by type of entertainment, e.g. movies, tv shows, books, articles.)

Personal

For personal notes, goals, journal entries, etc. This is kind of like an extension of my daily journal and just where I dump all my thoughts and keep track of the different aspects of my life: mental, emotional, spiritual, social, physical, and travel.

Another page I have is called "Stray Thoughts" and, well, it's pretty self explanatory. It's a lot easier to dump all my thoughts as they come and reorganize them later. Of course, this requires sacrificing the rawness of journaling, i.e. when the thoughts come and how you process them, which is why I still keep a regular journal that I write in daily.

Songwriting

I've been writing a lot of music over the summer and it's often hard to keep track of all of my songs and how far I've gotten in the songwriting process. So I created a table of songs - each entry of a song is a page with its lyrics. These are then tagged with the status of the lyrics (i.e. completed, in progress) and the status of the music itself (i.e. melody only, instrumental, mixing, mastering, revised). Eventually, I'll include demos in the database by embedding audio files in the document.

I have a separate section for inspiration and ideas, which is a kind of brain dump, e.g. words I think would make a good song, a certain theme for a song, a melody that's been stuck in my head, a vibe I'd like to try out, etc.

I've also been watching a lot of tutorials for music production and there's a section where I write my notes for that.

Eintsein

The last section of my Notion app is for this blog. Which has pages for

New posts. These are ideas for future posts, asks that I think would need longer answers, as well as posts that are currently in the draft stage (like this one was before I posted it)

Design assets. This is where I put all the visual branding material for Eintsein.com to be used in posts and any visual material on the blog.

FAQ. Having an FAQ document just makes it so much easier to make changes to your existing FAQ. Plus, if you ever change your FAQ theme, you just have to copy and paste what you already have.

Post directory. I keep track of all my previous masterposts, infographics, and generally longer and more comprehensive posts. It's the exact same as what you see on my Navigation page. And yes, the document contains direct links to the post.

New theme. A project I've been working on the past couple days is trying to create my own theme for my blog. This is where I put all my outlines, brainstorming notes, design inspiration, code snippets, etc.There are some pretty awesome features I’ve made use of in this page:

As you can probably tell, I'm absolutely obsessed with Notion since it has such awesome features and endless possibilities for customization. So far I've been using Notion for personal projects, which, since they are quite big in scale and have no set deadline, are important to organize well. My summer courses were only 6 weeks and weren't difficult to organize.

The formats above are just how I personally use notion. You could make some of your own, or if you don't think you want to build your pages from scratch, there are tons of templates to choose from. Here are some I think I'll be using in the near future and may be helpful for others as well, especially students like myself:

One drawback, however, is that Notion has a rather steep learning curve, but there are tons of tutorials online (especially YouTube) and I guarantee you it's all worth it.

Notion is not just a productivity app. It's a way to concretize your entire life.

Notion is free to use, but there are higher tiers that allow for more blocks, greater file size, etc. I use a personal account, which is $4 per month with unlimited block storage and no file upload limit (although I got it for $33/year). Personally I think the free plan would suit most people's needs, especially if you're not uploading large files.

#mine #eintsein #mymp #notion #apps #productivity #studyblr #studyspo #study hard #organization #document #graphic #design #infographic #masterpost #advice #tips

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animedaddymilkers · 3 years

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Kinkmas 2020: Day 14

Prompt: Knife Play w/ Tenten

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Knife Play, Blood Play, Semi Public, Handjob || Characters: Tenten, Gender Neutral Reader || read it on ao3 here

A heavy sigh left you as you glanced at the clock yet again. Tenten was supposed to be home an hour ago and still, there was no sign of her. She wasn’t on a mission, she had no errands to run, she didn’t mention any plans she had, so where the hell was she? You tried busying yourself with other tasks, reassuring your mind that she must have just run into an old friend or something. But, for an entire hour? She knew how worried you got when she didn’t call! After adjusting the angle of the salt and pepper shakers for the millionth time, you decided you’d head towards her shop and find her yourself! You knew the route she usually took, so it hopefully wouldn’t be hard to find her if she was already on her way.

With enough foresight, you packed up the dinner you made and set out to find your girlfriend. The streets were already dark and people were scarce, making your job easier since you didn’t have to scan through crowds. You made your way towards the shop and still no sign of her, the closer you got the more you were convinced she must still be working. Hopefully, she had a customer! It would definitely put her in an elated mood for the night and Tenten did love talking about her weapons. Your legs moved a bit faster, hoping to find her chatting away with a patron of her store, but as you swung the door open, the appearance of the shop appalled you.

“T-Tenten?! Are you here?” You called out her name in reflex and shock, taking in the sight of the disheveled shop.

The brunette popped up from behind a box, face alight with excitement at your presence, “(Y/N)!! Hey! What are you doing here?!”

“Oh my Kami, Tenten, what happened to the shop? I came here because I was worried sick!” A sigh of relief passed by your lips, your heart rate slowly returning to normal after such a scare.

“You’ll never guess! I finally found it! One of the rarest, most precise, absolutely amazing knives I’ve ever come across! And now I have to rearrange the whole shop to properly display it!”

“The whole… Ten, that’s gonna take forever… Can I see this so-called god of knives?”

She nodded excitedly and disappeared behind a stack of boxes as she rummaged around a bit before reappearing. The slim black velvet box wasn’t extremely long in length, but just the box itself looked fancy and intricate. Tenten slowly opened the box, revealing a magnificent knife, one most likely meant more for show than rough combat, but that didn’t detract from its appeal at all. You gasped quietly at the sight, the jewel adorned handle sparkling under the shop lights. No wonder she wanted to display it for the world to see.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? It would look so elegant in a fight, I want to see it pressed against someone’s skin so badly… But I don’t want to risk damaging it…”

“So, press it against my skin,” the words came out without much thought to them, as if it was a natural reflex for you to offer such a thing.

True, Tenten was far from vanilla in bed, but bringing a weapon of such caliber into sexy times really wasn’t brought up before now. Her eyes lit up and she glanced from the knife to your throat, not so subtly. She swallowed hard and you had to bite back a laugh as her cheeks reddened, no doubt because she imagined the potential scene in her head. It took her a moment but she finally found her voice again.

“Here?” Her answer forced you to laugh lightly, no, she wasn’t worried about using a knife on you sexually, she was worried about using a knife on you sexually in her shop after hours.

“I’m not opposed, but it doesn’t have to be. We can take this home if you can wait that is.”

She took a moment to consider the possibilities before looking back to the knife, “I can’t.”

The brunette maneuvered around the boxes of other weapons before quickly pressing her lips to yours. She kissed you as she locked the shop door, flipping her open sign to closed. You only separated from each other to set some boundaries, no stabbing, no large gashes, just light flesh wounds, the ones that would only allow trickles of blood out, and of course if you safe worded she would stop immediately. With the limits established Tenten carefully removed the knife from the box, slowly running the cold metal along your skin. The sensation and danger the knife represented made you shiver, holding your breath as Tenten kissed your shoulder.

Abruptly, she swiveled the knife and cut your shirt off in one smooth motion, leaving your torso bare within seconds. She grinned against your neck where she was leaving tiny hickies, the knife trailing up your abdomen, pressing in slightly, just enough to scratch the surface, not leaving any marks yet. Her other hand wandered up your side, eyes intently watching the blade of the knife glide over your skin. The sight was so intoxicating to her she could feel her own wetness grow just from watching, loving how the jewels reflected colored light onto your skin.

“Gorgeous…,” she mumbled the compliment against your bare shoulder, not spoken to anyone in particular and stated like the fact it was.

Again, before you could register her hands were even moving, the knife rid you of your bottoms, now leaving you completely bare in the weapons shop. Tenten took half a step back to admire your body, twisting the knife in her hand to make the reflected light from the jewels dance across your body. With an adoring smile, she closed the distance once more, this time, pressing the tip of the knife into the plush middle of your body. It wasn’t hard, just enough to let you know it was there before it slowly dragged up your skin. The cut was shallow yet effective, making you moan as your girlfriend continued to make it longer. When she stopped she ran her finger up the wound, gathering the sparse trickles of blood that oozed out. Her finger was swiftly licked off and you instinctively pushed your hips forward, desperate for more of her touch.

Tenten decided to have mercy and the hand not holding the knife wandered down to play with your crotch. Meanwhile, the knife continued to make small, shallow cuts into your skin, the brunette grinning as she carved her name into your skin. Sure, the mark wouldn’t last long, but for however long it did last she knew she’d get turned on every time she glimpsed it. Her nimble fingers worked your sex, teasing and squeezing playfully, purposely driving you further insane. The knife wandered up your body once her name was completed and it pressed against your throat.

The best part of doing this with Tenten was the absolute comfort she could give you even in situations like these. Your girlfriend was an expert weapons master and you could easily get lost in pleasure without worrying if her hand would slip. If she wanted to cut you, she would, and if she wanted to simply tease you, she definitely would. The steel beared down on your throat, making you raise your head out of instinct, even though your hips pushed down into her rough feeling hand. Her hand worked you hard, intent on getting you off as her hand licked at your chest. She trailed the knife down and left small, little cuts in what seemed to be random patterns, her mouth following after to lick up your blood.

Your moans filled the shop and only drove Tenten to work you harder, coaxing you towards your orgasm. It was obvious you were close and she moved her hand faster. Taking the knife and scratching down your skin, she didn’t draw any blood, just leaving welts and angry marks. The scratches sent you over the edge, hips bucking into Tenten’s hand as she slowed her ministrations, allowing you to ride out the waves of your climax. She kissed a few of the cuts she placed on you while your chest heaved with pants. The knife was placed back into its box carefully before Tenten leaned down to clean you up with her mouth. Her tongue lapped at the juices of your orgasm, making sure to lick all of it up. After she was done she pulled away with a smile and wiped her mouth.

She stood back up and glanced at your cut up clothes before blushing and rubbing the back of her neck, “Guess we didn’t think that through, did we?”

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

#naruto #naruto x reader #naruto smut #smut #kinkmas 2020 #tenten #tenten x reader #tenten x you #x reader #x you #reader insert #knives #tw: blood #knife play #shes just....so pretty....

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pjo-whore · 3 years

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Percy In Tartarus

Chapter 1: The Fall, And Gone

ao3 link. if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates please comment!

Annabeth had seen some strange things before, having been privy to the mythological world since she was only seven years old.

Several things she could name off the top of her head was her first time at Camp Half-Blood when she witnessed her best friend die in cold blood, then proceed to be turned into a pine tree; witnessing the Stoll brothers pull of pranks that increasingly defied the laws of physics; and when she had even seen her boyfriend turned into a guinea pig by a vengeful sorceress.

And that wasn’t even half of the craziest stuff she had to deal with on the daily.

But if there was one thing she had never witnessed before, it was cars raining from the sky. If she was being honest, it wasn’t as cool as it sounded.

Like, three out of ten.

Would not recommend.

As the roof of the cavern collapsed, beams of sunlight came through from above, blinding Annabeth. Briefly, she caught a glimpse of the Argo II.

It had used its ballistae to blast a hole straight through the ground.

Giants chunks of asphalt tumbled down, along with six or seven Italian cars. One would have crushed the Athena Parthenos, but luckily the statue’s glowing aura acted as a force field, and the car bounced off.

Unfortunately, that car fell toward Annabeth.

Annabeth launched herself to the side to avoid it and accidentally rolled her bad ankle. Pain washed through her, making her lightheaded. She was only just able to flip onto her back in time to see a bright red Fiat 500 slam straight into Arachne’s silk trap, punching through the cavern floor and disappearing with the Chinese spider-cuffs.

As Arachne fell, she screamed like a freight train on collision course.

More chunks of debris slammed through the floor, riddling it with holes.

The Athena Parthenos remained undamaged, thankfully, but the marble under its pedestal was a starburst of fractures.

When everything settled and debris stopped falling, Annabeth was finally able to calm down and take stock. She was covered with cobwebs. She trailed the strands of leftover spider silk from her arms and legs like the strings of a marionette, but somehow none of the debris had hit her.

Annabeth wanted to believe that it had been the statue of her mother that had protected her, but bitterly, she suspected it may have been nothing but luck.

Around her, the army of spiders had disappeared.

Either they had fled back into the shadows, or they had fallen into the chasm along with Arachne, and there was no lost love from Annabeth for either option.

As natural light flooded the cavern, Arachne’s silk tapestries along the wall crumbled to dust. Annabeth could hardly bear to watch it, especially when the tapestry depicting Percy and her kissing underwater turned to nothing.

But none of it mattered the moment Annabeth heard her boyfriend calling from above.

“Annabeth!”

“Here!” She sobbed. It hurt to yell. “Over here!”

Her terror left her in one massive wave of relief. As the Argo II descended, she could see Percy leaning over the railing, waving to her. Black hair whipping in the wind, smile crooked, he appeared like a god sent from Elysium. His smile was better than any tapestry Annabeth had ever seen.

The room kept shaking, and with no lack of difficulty, Annabeth pulled herself to her feet. Her backpack was missing, along with Daedalus’ laptop.

Her celestial bronze knife, which she’d had since she was seven, was also gone.

Annabeth wanted to cry. It felt like she had lost a part of herself.

Above her, the Argo II came to a stop about forty feet from the floor. A rope ladder was lowered, but Annabeth ignored it as she stood in a daze, head still heavy.

Percy appeared at her side, lacing his fingers with hers.

He gently turned Annabeth away from the pit and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. Annabeth buried her face in his chest and finally broke down in tears.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re together.”

Percy didn’t say “you’re okay” or “we’re alive.” After all the two had been through, he knew the most important thing was that they were together. Annabeth felt fit to bursting for the love she held for him, and she hugged him tighter.

Around them their friends gathered. Nico was there, but Annabeth’s head felt so fuzzy that it didn’t even surprise her. It only seemed right for him to be there.

“Your leg!” Piper exclaimed. She kneeled next to Annabeth and examined the Bubble Wrap cast, fretting over her friend’s injury. “Oh, Annabeth, what happened?”

Annabeth wanted to explain, but when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. She felt so light-headed, and her tongue felt swollen. Her throat was parched. Percy seemed to know what she needed and called for a water bottle, which Leo grabbed from his utility bet and quickly handed over to her.

As she started, it became easier.

Percy didn’t let go of her hand either, which helped to motivate her.

When she finished, everyone was staring at her in disbelief.

“Gods of Olympus,” Jason said. “You did all that alone – and with a broken ankle!”

“Well, some of it with a broken ankle,” Annabeth said weakly.

Percy broke out in a grin. “But you made Arachne weave her own trap? I knew you were good, but by the gods – generations of Athena kids tried and failed, but you did it! You found the Athena Parthenos!”

Attention switched to the statue.

“So … what do we do with her?” Frank asked. “She’s huge.”

“We have to take her with us to Greece,” Annabeth said. “She’s powerful. Something about her will help us stop the giants’ rise.”

“The giants’ bane stands gold and pale, won with pain from a woven jail,” Hazel said, quoting the prophecy. Her expression gained a hint of admiration. “It was Arachne’s jail. You tricked her into weaving it.”

With a lot of pain, Annabeth thought humorlessly.

Leo raised his hands in a mock framing, trying to measure the Athena Parthenos. “Well, it might take some rearranging, but I think we can fit her through the bay doors in the stables. If she sticks out at the end, I might have to wrap a flag around her feet … or something.”

Annabeth shuddered at the image. She imagined the Athena Parthenos jutting out from the trireme with a sign across its pedestal that read “WIDE LOAD.”

Then she remembered the other lines the prophecy: “the twins snuff out the angel’s breath, who holds the key to endless death.”

“What … what about you guys?” Annabeth said. “What happened with the giants?”

Percy told her about rescuing Nico and the surprise appearance of Bacchus, along with the fight with the twin giants in the Colosseum.

Nico didn’t say much. He didn’t say anything at all. The poor guy looked like he had been wandering through a frozen wasteland for a week. Percy shared what Nico had learned about the Doors of Death, and that to properly close them, they had to be shut on both sides.

Overworld and Underworld.

Even with the sunlight from above, Percy’s news made the cavern seem dark again.

“So, the mortal side is in Epirus.” The gears in Annabeth’s head begun to turn. “I mean … at least that’s somewhere we can reach.”

Nico grimaced. “But it’s the other side that’s the problem – Tartarus.”

The word seemed to echo eerily through the chamber.

The pit behind the group of demigods exhaled a cold blast of air, causing Annabeth to shiver. The shadows got darker, the pit echoed, and an icy feeling crept up Annabeth’s spine. Annabeth knew with certainty that the chasm went straight to the Underworld.

Percy must have felt it too because he guided Annabeth away from the edge.

Slowly and carefully, the group migrated back to the Argo II.

Annabeth’s arms and legs trailed spider silk like a bridal train, and she wished that she had something to cut the silk off. She almost asked Percy to do the honours, but he leaned in and began talking. He frowned. “You know, Bacchus mentioned something about my voyage being harder than I expected. Not sure why he –”

Suddenly, the chamber groaned, making the Athena Parthenos tilt violently to the side. Its head caught on one of Arachne’s support cables, but the marble foundation beneath the pedestal was crumbling quickly.

For a horrible moment, Annabeth thought the statue was going to fall.

Her stomach dropped.

“Secure it!” She cried out.

Thankfully, her friends understood what she meant almost immediately.

“Zhang!” Leo called, already running. “Get me to the helm, quick! The coach is up there alone!”

Frank shifted into a giant eagle, pausing only for a moment to allow Leo to jump onto his back, and the two of them soared toward the Argo II.

“Don’t worry about running, I’ll be back for you guys in just a second. Just don’t reinjure Annabeth’s ankle,” Jason said to Percy and Annabeth. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around Piper, and he summoned the winds and shot into the air.

“There’s no time, this floor won’t last!” Hazel warned, but Jason didn’t hear her. She turned to the others. “The rest of us need to get to the ladder as quick as possible!”

The group started making their way to the Argo II less carefully, speed the only thing on their minds.

Plumes of dust and cobwebs blasted from the holes in the floor, causing the demigods to inhale the dust and choke. The spider’s silk support cables trembled like massive guitar strings and began to snap. The floor lurched and crumbled.

When they reached the ship, Annabeth watched anxiously as Hazel lunged for the bottom of the rope ladder, which was swaying wildly with the shaking of the cavern. Hazel gestured for her brother to follow. Nico was in no condition to pull himself up, still sickly pale and thin and limping. Hazel had to grab him from beneath the armpits to hoist him up.

Percy held onto Annabeth tighter, shifting on his feet worriedly.

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered. “It has to be fine – we’re so close.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

Above, grappling lines shot from the Argo II and wrapped around the Athena Parthenos. One lassoed Athena’s neck like a noose. Leo was shouting orders from the helm as Jason and Frank flew frantically from line to line, trying to secure them.

Nico had managed to climb a quarter the way up when a sudden sharp pain shot up Annabeth’s bad leg, causing her to cry out and stumble.

“What is it?” Percy asked.

Annabeth didn’t have an answer.

Everything was in a haze and her head felt heavy. Confused, she staggered toward the ladder again, only to find that she could not. Instead, she was moving backward. And then her legs were swept out from beneath her in one pull, and she fell on her hands and knees. There was a hollow sound as her head bounced off the ground, and Annabeth saw stars.

“Her ankle!” Hazel screamed from the ladder. “Guys, quickly! Cut it! Cut it!”

Annabeth didn’t understand. Cut her ankle?

Apparently, Percy didn’t understand what Hazel meant, either. He grabbed Annabeth’s hands and tried to pull her back to her feet, but it caused more pain and he stopped when Annabeth began to cry. Then, suddenly, an invisible force yanked Annabeth backward and dragged her toward the pit with the force of Heracles.

Percy yelled out in fear. He lunged for Annabeth, grabbing her arms, digging his heels into the ground. Unfortunately, the momentum still carried him along with her.

“Help them!” Hazel yelled.

Nico jumped down from the ladder, headless of his injured state, and began hobbling in the direction of the pit as Hazel tried to disentangle her cavalry sword from the rope. The others were still focused on the Athena Parthenos and Hazel’s cry was lost in the general chaos.

Annabeth’s stomach dropped when she was yanked back another few feet.

She was terrified.

Now that Annabeth realized what was happening, it was too late. She was tangled in Arachne’s spider silk. She had assumed it was all loose lines, but with the entire floor covered in cobwebs, she hadn’t noticed that one of the strands was wrapped around her foot – and the other end went straight into the pit. It was attached to something heavy down in the darkness. Something was pulling her in.

Percy continued to pull uselessly on her, until something popped in her right shoulder, making her scream in pain. Startled, Percy slipped and fell past Annabeth. A large chunk of marble was upended behind them, granting them momentary pause from falling.

Percy finally seemed to get his wits about him and pulled out Riptide.

Annabeth couldn’t see it from where she was scrabbling for purchase against the marble floor, but she heard the blade hiss as it cut through the air.

With a snap, a wave of relief crashed through Annabeth once the pressure was released on her ankle. She tried pulling herself up, but the ground trembled as the marble cracked further, and the chunk behind them dropped into the looming chasm. Percy, who was behind her, tumbled down the sudden incline and, in a panic, reached out for something to grab – which happened to be Annabeth’s good ankle.

Together, they slipped further from the pull of Percy’s weight.

Terrified, Annabeth screamed and kicked him away. “Let go of me!”

“Fuck!”

Percy disappeared over the edge.

She scrambled backward as Nico hobbled past her and leaned over the edge, eyes wet.

“Annabeth help!” Percy cried. Annabeth crawled back in fear as the floor cracked further. Nico either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Percy was partway into the pit and dangling over the void. He had managed to catch a ledge almost fifteen feet below, but that wasn’t going to help him. He was holding on with one hand, struggling to get a drip with his other, which was bleeding profusely from a large gash across his palm. Several feet away from the hole sat Riptide, blood staining its blade.

No escape.

Annabeth jerked back.

She could have sworn a voice echoed from the pit, mocking her. Bile rose in her throat.

I go to Tartarus, and your loved one will come, too.

The pit shook violently, as if it were eagerly anticipating its next meal – its next victim.

Nico leaned over the edge of the chasm, hopelessly thrusting out his hand to help. But he was too far away. Nico knew it, Annabeth knew it – and Percy knew it, too.

“Percy,” Nico said, “grab my hand!”

Percy’s face was almost white with effort.

Hazel was still yelling for help from the others.

Even if they did hear her over the chaos, they would never make it in time.

Annabeth felt like her whole world was crashing down around her. She couldn’t comprehend that Percy was going to die. Even from a few feet away, she could feel the pull of the pit. She could see the darkness slowly rising, trying to claim Percy.

Percy gasped when the ledge shuddered and shifted. He looked up at Nico fifteen feet above, hand still extended. Percy’s face twisted as something final crossed his expression.

“The other side, Nico.”

Annabeth didn’t understand right away, but Nico did. He shook his head violently. “No, Percy –”

“The other side! I’ll see you there. Understand?”

Nico’s expression turned pained. “But –”

“Lead them there!” Percy said. “Promise me! Please!”

It suddenly struck Annabeth that Percy couldn’t see her. He had his eyes locked on Nico. Beside her, Nico looked lost. He stuttered. “I – I will.”

Below Percy, somewhere from the endless void, a voice laughed in the darkness.

Ice crawled up Annabeth’s spine.

A sacrifice. Such a beautiful sacrifice to wake the goddess.

It finally clicked in Annabeth’s mind.

A one-way trip.

A very hard fall.

And Percy looked scared.

Annabeth couldn’t bring herself to watch anymore.

She looked away, and Percy was gone.

#pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #house of hades #tartarus #percy in tartarus #percy alone in tartarus #house of hades rewrite #most of this was lifted from the og book #angst #heroes of olympus

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jovialyouthmusic · 3 years

Text

Past Times

I have spent some time writing and rearranging this chapter - so much so that when it went way over 4K I realised that it would be better to split it into two shorter chapters. Recent interest in Netflix’s Bridgerton has brought a lot of interest to this period.

I must make some comment about Regency costumes as I understand it from various articles I’ve read. I’m perfectly happy to be told I’m wrong, but I’m not trying to be super accurate, just have a little fun. Knickers or drawers were most probably not worn, as these became more popular in Victorian times (most likely split crotch to make it easier to go to the bathroom). This sounds kind of impractical, but they still wore long chemises and petticoats, and well born young ladies probably had many such garments that were regularly washed for them. Corsets were not quite as restrictive as later times, but they still pushed the bust up and put it on show, particularly in the case of fancy ballgowns - after all, at a ball, young ladies were trying to attract a husband.

I chose to set my fic in Scotland, but again it’s not terribly authentic, as rather than Dukes and Earls there would have been Lairds and the various clans. However, society in Edinburgh may have been a little more like London - and - my fic, my AU! Also there is a lot written about Regency England, and not so much about Scotland unless you want to go delving into Sir Walter Scott’s novels - and maybe I will sometime soon.

As I’ve probably made all too obvious, most well born young women had no sex education at all, and may have relied on romantic novels (which were in their infancy, but they were available) and perhaps observing animals. They were kept in ignorance so that they would be innocent and unsullied on their wedding night.

Word count 2638

A/N This chapter is a little suggestive rather than explicit. Basically the first part concerns the MC undressing whilst wondering what her wedding night will be like, and in the second part she asks a married friend all of her burning questions, and gets some frank answers. No under 18s please.

12a Underwear and Undercurrents

It was but a few minutes before Lizzie had gone upstairs with Morag, checked on her sister and retired to her room with a candle. She kicked off her slippers and went to her dressing table to unfasten and brush her hair. She had told Jane that she would undress herself that night, and reached to the back of her dress to fumble with the lacing. It was not easy, but it occurred to her that she should not be helpless, always depending on a maid to dress and undress her.

She wondered what might happen when she was wed at last and alone on her first night with her husband. Surely the very first thing she might do was to undress. Would she do that in private, or would John be present? Would she undress herself, or would he assist her? Would she slip into bed in her nightgown or would other things happen? The thought sent her pulse racing as the laces loosened and she pushed her dress smoothly off to step out of it elegantly.

She hung her dress up carefully, wondering if on the night it would lay forgotten and discarded on the floor. She stood facing the looking glass in the dim candlelight in her chemise, corset, petticoat and stockings with a critical eye. If she were to undress herself, perhaps John would watch her, she thought with a thrill. Who should disrobe first? Would he take his clothes off himself, or would he ask her to assist? She knew little of the morning dressing routine of gentlemen or of what they did when retiring for the night, but John had a manservant - surely he assisted some of the time?

Perhaps she should practice for the instance of having no maid to assist her, and presume that John would be present and watching. Pushing down the flutter in her belly, she paid it her full attention. She should be graceful and poised – no stumbling or fumbling with strings, bows or buttons, no grimace at any mistake, major or minor. She should not appear too coquettish or unladylike. What should come next after her dress?

‘Stockings’ she whispered to herself. She pulled up her petticoat and ran her fingers along her legs to peel the first elegantly down. Her breath hitched as she brushed her thighs and bit her lip in concentration. When both were removed, they were hung on the back of a chair, leaving her in her stays, chemise and petticoats, and again she contemplated what to do next.

‘Off with the stays’ she muttered. The one she wore that day was not the tight laced corset that underlay her best and finest gowns, but not as soft as one she might wear at home on a warm summers day. She would not have had a chance of getting out of her formal wear unaided, and she still had to contort herself a little to remove what she wore that night. There was no way she could do it elegantly without a great deal of practice, she thought, but perhaps John would aid her, should she need him to do so. That thought made her feel a little hot, and she took a deep breath.

She reached around awkwardly to unfasten the laces and sighed in relief as she was able to let it drop over her hips and step out of it. She still wore her loose chemise and petticoats. What next? That was easy, for she could not imagine standing before John without her petticoats. She elegantly removed and folded her chemise, putting it aside with her other garments. She stared at herself in the mirror, breasts bare, and could not help but blush. She shook her head. Why should she be ashamed of her body? She was sure John would appreciate her, whatever shape she had. After all, he had been married before and had assured her that his previous wife had enjoyed being intimate with him. She was not entirely sure whether to be grateful that he had experience, or to worry that she would not measure up to expectation, but she put that aside for now.

She took a deep breath and unfastened the drawstring on her petticoats, which fell easily to the floor, leaving her naked. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning round in the flickering light. She realised with a shock that she had never done so before. Her girlish straight lines were developing into the curves of a woman, and she felt as if she looked at a stranger. Her breasts were small and rounded, her waist slim with a little softness about her belly. She had coarse black hair at her mound, her buttocks were round and firm, her legs strong and slender, her ankles trim and her feet delicate. She frowned as she realised that she knew little of what would come next, and her imagination could not fill in the blanks beyond kissing and touching each other as they already had. She could barely picture what John’s appearance without clothes would be, beyond having seen bare chested labourers in the fields around the family farm. She was not even sure if what came next would occur in bed or out of it.

Sighing heavily, she bent to pick up and fold her petticoats, and went to the bed where her nightdress lay ready for her. She slipped the garment over her head and pushed her arms through the short puffed sleeves. The hem of the long cotton garment fell to her ankles, and she blew out the candle and threw back the bedcovers to climb in and draw them over her, certain that it would take some time to fall asleep. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling for a while, but before long she lay on her side, curling into a ball to imagine herself held safe in John’s arms, and fell deeply asleep in an instant.

------

The following day was warm and bright, and after breakfast she and John went out for a walk, accompanied by Tom and Dorothea, and Amelia tagged along. Before lunch they went back in to play cards and practice playing the piano, for more guests were to arrive the following day, and after that there was to be a ball to introduce her to the local nobility.

After they had taken their luncheon, Sir James, John and Tom declared they would go out shooting game. Dorothea drew Lizzie aside and proposed a walk alone with her. She agreed readily, and the two women set off outside, leaving Amelia and Lady Charlotte to keep Lady Margaret company. The afternoon was overcast but still warm, and Elizabeth wore a simple pale blue dress and matching bonnet, should the sun come out and threaten to redden her complexion.

‘My dear Lizzie, it comes to my mind that you have no older sisters’ Dorothea said ‘Do you have any married friends to hold confidence with?’

‘I fear I do not. My closest acquaintance has but recently acquired a beau. She will be here for the Ball and I look forward to seeing her. I’m sure you will like her.’ she replied as they strolled through the rose garden.

‘Perhaps I may, but I was thinking that I can be your confidante and answer any questions you might have about married life’ she smiled ‘I was lucky to have good advice to prepare me for my wedding night, but not all are so fortunate’ Elizabeth grew wide eyed.

‘That would be most welcome. Mother has told me little, and although John has revealed a few details to me, I would hear from one of my own sex as to some particulars. My previous fiancé did not so much as hold my hand before I discovered his unsuitability.’ The two women came to the little arbour where she had stopped to kiss John only a day or so ago, and they sat together, shielded from prying eyes and ears.

‘Please Lizzie, ask me anything, do not be shy. And Call me Dottie, if you will’ Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude and tried to marshal the many questions that flooded her mind. She frowned in concentration.

‘Well Dottie, John says to me that there are ways of ensuring that we will not have children straight away, but it puzzles me. I dare not tell him that I know not what causes the bearing of children’ Dorothea nodded sagely.

‘It is so for many genteel ladies. We are prevented from being alone with men outside our family, and many mothers feel it indelicate to go into details.’ Dottie assured her. ‘The lower classes are much more informed than we, for they do not have estates to pass down to their heirs and bloodlines do not matter to them’

‘But lowborn and highborn alike, we all bear children. How does it come about?’ Dotty took Lizzie’s hands in her own and squeezed them gently.

‘Let me first say that you are fortunate, my dear. You have a treasure in John. He clearly loves you, and he is a considerate and honourable man. You may have seen young women of your acquaintance married off to older richer men’ She grimaced in distaste. ‘In some cases, a man cares only about his wife bearing him an heir and ignores her feelings and sensibilities’

‘Of course I know something of that.’ Elizabeth replied ‘I had a cousin who married a Lord some twenty years her senior. She bore him a fine boy, but a year later died in giving birth to a girl. It scares me to think of her passing so young.’

‘That is a danger, to be sure. I have been married a year now, and my mother constantly asks when I will come to be with child. We have tried, but so far have not been successful. I am not sure whether it is a blessing or not’

‘So you have tried? May I ask...’

‘Of course, I was coming to that. Lizzie, may I ask you something personal?’

‘Naturally, Dottie. I have asked you to be frank, so I must be also’

‘Do you – touch yourself when you are alone in your bedchamber?’

‘I – I am not sure what you mean.’ Lizzy felt herself grow hot with embarrassment.

‘Before you sleep, do you explore your body? Does thinking of John inspire you to…’

‘Oh – Mama said once that it was not seemly’ Lizzie mumbled awkwardly. Dotty sighed.

‘That is a shame. Lizzie, I charge you that if you want to be prepared for your wedding night, you should know more about yourself so that you may direct John. Some women discover things about themselves that are very useful when they marry.’

‘What should I do? I do not want to disappoint my husband’

‘Rest assured you cannot disappoint, but you can be more prepared, more aware of your sex.’ She patted her hand ‘How do you feel when John kisses you? You certainly seemed to enjoy it last night’

‘I – yes, it makes me feel – dizzy. I have told him how it makes me tingle’

‘Is there a place where you feel it the most?’

‘Yes’ she lowered her voice ‘between my legs, and there is warmth where I feel the ache on my monthly cycle’

‘That is good, Lizzie. The place where you bleed – your sex - is the place in to which John must place his seed in order for you to have a child’

‘Oh!’ she looked astonished ‘I had wondered, for those that bleed in the romances I have read are in turn relieved or devastated that it signals that they will not bear a child – but of course, it makes sense. But how does he plant that seed?’

‘You have seen pictures and sculptures of naked men, have you not?’

‘Of course, but I don’t see how…’

‘It would be improper to depict men in the state they achieve in order to plant their seed.’ Dorothea smiled ‘Though who decided that, I know not, and there are gentlemen who are rumoured to have art that depicts such things, and titillating depictions of unclothed ladies.’ She moved a little closer and lowered her voice, though they were quite private. ‘When a man desires a woman, and in other instances, his member becomes hard, and often it also grows larger. Then it is possible to enter or penetrate a woman’s sex and plant their seed’

‘That sounds – uncomfortable’ Elizabeth said dubiously, her head reeling at the thought.

‘That depends on your partner’ Dotty assured her ‘I am certain that John will make sure you enjoy it, for it can be the most sublime and heavenly experience. The first time can indeed be painful, but only for a short instance.’

‘Romantic novels would have us believe it is highly pleasurable. Is it really true?’

‘Not always, but very often if you have a considerate partner’ Dotty laughed. ‘What you can do to prepare yourself is to explore your sex when you are alone in your bedchamber. You can discover where you like to be touched, and how. Of course, it is somewhat different when your husband touches you, but it can be better if you direct him as to what pleases you.’ Elizabeth nodded, taking it all in. But still she had questions.

‘You mentioned seed – what is it?’ she asked, and this time it was Dottie’s turn to look uncomfortable. She considered her words carefully before she spoke.

‘His seed - is rather like milk or cream, thick and white, and shoots from his member at the climax of the act. There is a great deal of pleasure for him, after which he grows soft again. You will have a similar climax which they say is essential for bearing children, and necessary for your health. You say that John has inferred that you may delay having children. He most likely means that if he withdraws his member before he emits his seed, you may remain childless, as it will not reach your womb to bear fruit.’ She patted her hand ‘There are other things you may do that give you both pleasure without penetration and emission of seed, but I will leave you to discover that for yourself.’ Elizabeth frowned, almost overcome at the bombardment of information, but relieved that she knew more of what was to come upon her marriage to John.

‘This may sound silly – but what is special about marriage that facilitates the creation of a child?’ Dotty laughed.

‘Nothing at all my dear, one does not have to be married to have a child. That is but a ceremony. It is a piece of paper, a contract made between you and your husband and sanctified by the Church and by law. Without that, any two people of any rank in society may have physical relations in this way.’ Elizabeth drew a deep breath.

‘You have opened my eyes, Dotty. I am so grateful to you for telling me what I need to know. Why it is all kept so secret I cannot fathom’ Her friend patted her hand.

‘You must show no sign of knowing these things, save to your fiancé. In turn you may instruct your sister before she is wed – but only if you are certain of her affections. It would not do to have such knowledge without a serious and certain offer of marriage. Now Lizzie, unless you have more questions, perhaps we should continue with our walk’

‘I have much to think about indeed, and I think that is enough for now’ Elizabeth rose, and they continued their walk, speaking easily of trivial things before returning to the house to prepare for dinner.

@sirbeepsalot @camillemontespan @dcbbw @rainbowsinthestorm @katedrakeohd @trappedinfandoms @kingliam2019 @nomadics-stuff @texaskitten30 @princess-geek @texaskitten30 @fluffyfirewhiskey

#period drama #regency drama #Elizabeth Dalgliesh #elizabeth and john #Captain John Lykel #period drama au #perioddrama

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xddaengx · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home: Surprise

⚬ Pairings: Yoongi x Reader | Hoseok x Reader | Jimin x Reader

⚬ Warnings: Mentions of Hybrid Fighting | Mentions of Nightmares |

⚬ Word Count: 4.8k

⚬ Summary: You bought the old cottage not expecting much from it - you knew the old house was going to come with some abandoned furniture from the previous owners - but you didn’t expect the panther hybrid to be apart of the deal.

⚬ Author’s Note: I apologise for this part taking so long...Things just have gotten crazy with my shifts at work and I haven’t had a lot of time. Hopefully writing will become a bit smoother soon. If you would like to be added to the tag list just comment on this post - I hope you all enjoy.

(You can find all parts of the series HERE)

“Jimin, stop throwing things from your window.” You shout up at the feline hybrid chucking the plastic wrapping out of his window as he rearranges the furniture in his bedroom to suit his preference - which seems to be cozy yet luxurious. Hobi had finished his room in two hours all his belonging unpacked and his bed set up with a fresh set of sheets - he smiles at you from the master bedroom, after insisting that he fix up your own bedroom wanting to surprise you with a make over.

“It’s what you deserve.” He had explained as Jimin nodded from his spot on the lounge. You had eventually given in - even giving Hobi some money to go buy some decorations and a can of paint. That’s how you sit out in your back garden watching the two hybrid bustle in the bedrooms - trying to make the large cottage as homey as possible.

You could see Hoseok’s tail wagging in fury as he rolls the paint on your walls - the colour splattered on his cheeks as he smiles waving a hand out the window every now and then before he continues to move around your room - it’s about lunch time when the two of them come down stairs - both covered in a sky blue paint, their stomachs growling for food. The three of you tuck into some sandwiches and salt and vinegar chips while you wait for the paint in your room to dry - eventually Jimin and Hoseok slink back up the stairs to finish the bedrooms leaving you to mull around the garden planning how you were going to fix it up.

“Maybe a vegetable garden there - oh and some daisies over there.” You whisper to yourself as you stroll around the back garden finding the spots overgrown with weeds and in need of desperate clean up. It’s not even twenty minutes after you grab your notebook beginning to jot down all the improvements you were planning on doing with your garden that Hoseok comes bounding down the stairs and out to where you sat a small table and set of chairs.

“I finished your room - I think you’re really going to like it.” He chides - his smile big enough to make you drop your notebook on the table and follow him eagerly up the stairs not sparing a thought the the loud thumb you hear from the roof - must be a cat.

“Oh, Hobi, It’s beautiful.” You coo, as you walk into your bedroom - the wall behind your bed painted a light blue, the rest of them a bright white - the bed sheets matching the colours almost exactly.

“I know you like to read - so Jimin and I looked up good chairs for reading…and obviously we had to go with white to match everything else.” Hobi says softly as he points towards the short backed chair he had placed in the corner - with a soft cushion, it definitely looked like the perfect spot for reading. He had placed a large fake plant behind the chair claiming ‘I wanted to add some colour’, before pointing out a few other things in the room.

“It was Jimin’s Idea to put the light behind your head board - he said it would make it easier for you to read on your bed, or do work at night time.” Hobi’s words draw the puffed feline into your room - who looks proud at his few additions to the room.

“We also thought you might want to keep your ratty old desk” Jimin adds pointing to the white, paint covered desk sitting in front of your window - the perfect spot for it honestly. You could see right out the window into the backyard, the yellow sunflowers tucked against the back fence in the centre of your vision.

“And lastly your new light…” Hoseok says directing your attention back to the hanging pendent light in the centre of your room. The light was decorated with glass flowers - the light reflecting the clear and blue colours of the glass - covering your room in the shadows of flowers.

“You guys…” You coo at the two of them. Turning away from them quickly trying your hardest not to cry at the effort they had put in to making the room a dream. Jimin seems to notice your discomfort immediately and grab your hand dragging you to look at his soon to be finished bedroom.

His bedroom was surprisingly bright - the large windows to the side of his bed lighting up the room and making it feel warm and cozy. Jimin had tried his best to put his bedsheets on himself but eventually admits that hoseok helped him put the white sheet on his bed - his pillows all mis matching as the feline couldn’t remember where he put all his bed stuff. You immediately take notice of the small teddy bear sitting on one of the pillows and take it in your hands looking at Jimin in surprise.

“What? Mr Flop always helped me through rough times.” He defends with a shy smile, watching as you grin back gently placing the teddy back on his pillow. “Oh, I bought this table the other day - I thought maybe you and me could have tea in here at night and play chess or something.” Jimin adds pointing to the small table with two chair sitting besides his bed - a small chess board already sitting on top.

“It looks wonderful Jimin. You did great.” You coo, patting the hybrid gently on his head as he lets out a small purr of contempt.

“I guess we should go see my room now.” Hoseok says quietly you and Jimin following closely behind the canine as he walks down the hall to the room right across from yours. His room was very simple - the walls staying the bright white it was when you had first arrives, with no more than a plant and a small night themed decoration hanging on his walls - as well as a painting he had found interesting when he went to the store. His bed was low to the ground - the canine being more comfortable, saying he didn’t feel as vulnerable - with the same grey and white sheets he had had when the two of you lived in your city apartment.

He had a few more minimal decorations around the room - like a small potted plant underneath the small window - and a small rug on the hardwood floors where he thought it would be good to sit and meditate.

“I didn’t really add much - cause I don’t spend much time in here anyway.” Hoseok said shyly as Jimin mumbled about the room being bland.

“I think it’s perfect Hobi - It’s a lot like you, organised and put together.” You say rubbing his back lightly as he seems to perk up a little bit - deciding it was going to be time to start cooking dinner.

The three of you had managed to unpack the kitchen and the living room quite quickly when you had first arrived - deciding those room were the most important before they were allowed to finish their own rooms.

You had Hobi had decided it would be best to make something simple for dinner - the three of you exhausted from your day of unpacking and moving. With a quickly thrown together spaghetti bolognese - and the three of you scoffing it down in under twenty minutes - you were all ready to head off to bed.

Jimin had elected to sleep in his own room for the night - much to Hoseok delight - saying he wanted to experience waking up in the country side with his windows open for the first time. After bidding him goodnight - you and Hoseok trudge off to your bedroom, quickly getting changed into pyjamas before sliding under the new covers with a happy sigh.

Hoseok seems more than happy with your reaction - his arms wrapping tightly around your waist pulling you towards him - you head planted softly on his chest.

“Goodnight.” You squeak, the warmth and comfort of the hybrids chest lulling you to sleep quite quickly.

“Goodnight.” He mirrors pressing a short kiss to the tip of your nose before tucking your head under his chin, his breathing evening out quicker than you ever thought was possible - though you followed him to sleep town shortly after.

The loud rustling sounds had become more common over the past week you and your hybrids had spent at the new cottage. It was consistently in the middle of the night - the sound usually coming after the three of you had gone to bed for the night.

After the eighth night of hearing the rusting and clanging of the down stairs fridge - you give up on trying to sleep - sliding easily out of Hoseok’s grip, slipping on your fluffy slippers and a dressing gown - the countryside being a lot colder than you had expected - before making your ways down the stack of stairs slowing slightly as you see a small white light coming from the kitchen.

You round the corner into the kitchen stopping as the hybrid whips his head up from the bowl of cereal sitting in front of him on the bench - the door to the fridge sitting open illuminating the boy and his black sleek ears. The two of you stare at each other for another moments before the hybrid sighs picking up his bowl of cereal and moving to leave the kitchen.

“Wait…Who are you? How did you get in here?” You question the boy turning back towards you when he stops at the base of the stairs - his tail flicking behind him. He cocks his head to the side, watching you curiously as you tuck your hands under you arms waiting for him to answer.

“I’m Yoongi…Did they not tell you about me?” He asks you back quickly looking even more confused as you shake your head at his words.

“Tell me what?”

“What did the listing say when you bought this house?” He questions you - ignoring your own question.

“What do you mean?”

“The listing you saw - it said comes with some of the previous owners belongings, didn’t it?” The sleek hybrid asks you - moving away from his spot at the stairs, closer towards where you stand in the kitchen doorway.

“It did - but I just thought it meant some old furniture and stuff…” You respond - every decision you’ve ever made being questioned.

“Of course you did - that’s what the average person would think. The real estate decided that would be enough to let people know what they were getting into - but they’re also scum bags so… It’s no surprise they didn’t specify that I was apart of the deal.” Yoongi says as he moves past you placing his half eaten bowl of cereal on the bench before making his way back to the stairs.

“What’s your name by the way?” He asks stopping as he gets half way up the stairs - you manage to spit out your name quickly, the hybrid repeating it slowly his smile growing.

“See you around, then.”

You don’t know where the hybrid went after you managed to shake off your shock and follow him up the stairs. You slowly slip back into the bed next to Hoseok who just hums in content as he wraps his arms around you.

“Where’d you go?”

“Just to get some water.” You respond nuzzling your head closer to Hoseok’s chest, trying to forget about the honest hybrid you had just met down stairs.

Maybe it was just a fever dream?

Maybe he wasn’t real.

He was definitely real.

It had been two days since your late night meeting with the surprise hybrid - and both your canine and feline hybrids had figured out something was wrong.

The morning after your encounter you had walked into the kitchen to see Jimin sniffing around the bench and grimacing.

“Something wrong?” You asked as you watched the feline continue to smell the kitchen bench with distaste.

“There’s just this really strange smell - it’s smells like mint and rain, it’s very different to you or Hoseok.” Jimin answers taking another long sniff before shaking his head in confusion. You sputter for a bit before managing to piece together a sentence.

“Maybe Hoseok is trying those weird juice mixtures he keeps seeing online.” Your excuse seems to appease Jimin’s curiosity as he nods lightly accepting your words and moving away from the spot besides the counter, pressing a small kiss on your check and he makes his way to his room - mumbling about hoseok’s drink making ability.

That night you had seen Yoongi sitting on the steps eating a sandwich - he smiled and shot you a small wave as you made your way to the kitchen grabbing yourself a glass of orange juice - but as you made your way back to your bedroom, the hybrid was gone - and an empty plate sat in his place.

You and Hoseok have been trying to fix the overgrown garden during the day as much as you can - but the afternoon after your second sighting of Yoongi, Hoseok seems to be a little more alert than usual, his ears perking up every now and then - his gaze scanning the backyard for something.

“Can you hear that?” Hoseok asks as you try to pull the weeds away from the rose bush.

“Hear what?” You question back - stiffing as you spot Yoongi looking at you from the attic an entertained smile of his face.

“I can hear someone laughing and it’s not Jimin.” Hoseok says, pointing to the sleeping feline - who sits on the back steps in the sun - to prove his point.

“I can’t hear anyone laughing.” You mumble as you continue to look up at the man sitting on his window seal letting out small chuckles at the canines confusion. “Maybe we better end our gardening here for today.” You suggest trying to usher Hoseok inside before he looks up at the attic window.

You almost have him at the back door when he glances up making eye contact with Yoongi - who seems surprised he was found out. You don’t have any time to grab Hoseok before he’s bolting away from you and up the stairs no doubt trying to get to the intruder.

“Hobi…Wait… Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit.” You huff - stomping your way up the stairs behind Hoseok. “Hobi, Please don’t do anything stupid.” You yell as you finally make your way up the stairs and over to the ladder leading to the attic.

As you reach the top floor you look to the corner - Hoseok letting out low growls, as he back yoongi into the corner - yoongi returning the growls quietly.

“What’re you doing in my house?” Hoseok sneers at the feline - not even noticing your presence in the room. Yoongi doesn’t answer, just looking between you and the canine hybrid, his eyes pleading for you to step in.

“Hobi, step back now…” You say as you approach the canine hybrid - his tail sticking straight out behind him as he continues to watch the small man.

“Hoseok, I’m not going to ask you again…Come over here now.” You say a little more firmly, taking the hybrid by surprise. The canine turns to you his eyes wide, his tail tucking beneath his legs, his ear flattening on his head. He looks over to Yoongi once more before slowly making his way to your side, his hands tense on his sides.

“Hobi…Yoongi technically lives here too.” You begin to explain, Yoongi seeming to relax a little at the submissive expression the hybrid is showing. “He was left behind by the previous owners, and as I recently learned was apart of the deal when we bought the house.” You continue Hobi’s head sinking lower as he gaze stays on the floor.

“I’ve thought about it for a while - and he’s going to be staying here if he would like…It’s not like we can ask him to leave, it’s his house too.” You finish taking Hoseok hands in yours as you try to get him to look at you.

Hobi nods, looking down at your hands before pulling his out of yours. He looks over to the sleek hybrid, and then back to you before sighing and leaving the two of you alone in the attic. You stare at the empty spot where Hoseok had just stood before turning back to Yoongi with an apologetic smile.

“He’s not the best with surprises.” You begin, letting out a long sigh pushing your hair out of your face, “Why don’t you come join us for dinner tonight? We can all get to know each other a bit better.” You finish trying to muster a brighter smile but from Yoongi’s perspective you failed miserably.

“Sure…I’ll be there.” He says trying to ease a bit of your concern. He watches as you nod slowly before mulling another short apology and disappearing down the ladder back to the main portion of the house.

The four of you had sat down for dinner almost and hour ago and you think it’s safe to say it has been an absolute disaster.

“What kind of person just freeloads off the people who move in?” Hoseok shouts at the alarmed hybrid sitting across the table from the angry German shepherd.

“I think it’s a very clever idea.” Jimin adds into the conversation for the first time that night - seeming to enjoy Hoseok lack of control.

You decide to call it quits after Hoseok anger turns onto Jimin - the night obviously not going to pick up and the food going cold in the centre of the table. You apologise once again to Yoongi, not sure what else to say, but the sleek hybrid just waves your apology away.

“You shouldn’t be the one apologising…Frankly, you’ve been nothing but kind to me.” He says softly after the canine storms off to get ready for bed.

“Still… I feel like I could’ve made that go better.” You huff, looking over at Jimin who just shrugs his shoulders, still watching the other hybrid as if he’ll strike at any moment.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Yoongi says with a smile before wandering his way upstairs, a warm plate of cookies in his hands.

“Well, it probably could’ve gone worse.” Jimin pipes up as you turn to look at him with a frown. “What?…They could’ve actually attacked each other.” He adds, and for the tenth time that night you sigh.

Its eleven thirty once you decide to head to bed. Walking into your dark room expecting to see the canine hybrid in your bed as per usual - only to see the white haired feline staring back at you, a book open in his lap.

“Is he really that mad?” You question Jimin as you slide off you jeans to pull on a pair of tracksuit pants - not bothering with changing your shirt.

“Seems like it…To be honest, I think he’s more hurt than anything.” Jimin begins, only continuing once you slide under the covers besides him. “You usually tell him everything - and this time you hid something quite big from him. He’s probably hurt because he thinks you don’t trust him.”

“You think? I just didn’t know what to do - to be honest Yoongi was as much of a surprise to me as he was to you guys, and I wanted to make sure what he was saying was true before I said anything.” You explain to Jimin who nods giving you a comforting smile, closing his book and throwing it on the bedside table.

“Why does everything have to be so hard?” You whine, as Jimin wraps his arms around you pulling you to lie down besides him, your head leaning on his arm.

“Oh, my poor baby…” He coos back at you, patting your head softly pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before tilting your head up to look at him. “He’s not going to be mad at you forever…trust me, it’s hard to go longer than a day without a good cuddle.” Jimin’s words coax a small chuckle out of you - as you lean up to press a small kiss on his cheek before rolling over in his arms, turning to face the door - hoping you would catch a glimpse of the canine before falling asleep.

Luck was just not on your side.

It’s been six days.

Six days since Hoseok has slept in your room.

And six days since Hoseok had even acknowledged you.

Apparently he had taken, you not telling him about Yoongi much harder than anyone thought he would. Even Jimin had been surprised - expecting the canine hybrid to be sleeping in your bed the day after you initial fight.

But he was wrong…Hoseok had taken to sleeping in his clean, organised room. Only coming out to get food and water when he needed it - though you assumed he would also sneak out of his room for toilet breaks.

Jimin had decided he would temporarily take Hoseok’s spot in your bed, knowing having one of them beside you was what managed to keep the nightmares at bay. Though the past few nights, even having Jimin’s tight grip around your waist wasn’t enough.

Every time you woke up - a scream ripping from your throat - you expected to see Hoseok waiting there. But only a confused sleek hybrid stood in your doorway, watching as Jimin tried to calm you down - to explain that no one was going to hurt you.

“I just need some fresh air.” You huff wiping your eyes as you turn to look at Jimin, giving his hands a tight squeeze before slipping out of the bed - wrapping your large dressing gown around your shoulder.

“Alright, well I’ll just wait here.” Jimin calls out, knowing you were probably already halfway down the stairs by now.

“Fuck.” You hiss as you swing open the backdoor letting the cold air hit your face and knock the remanence of the nightmare away. You pull out one of the chairs at the table slumping into it as you look up at the bright moon.

“Seems like things are getting a bit rough?” Yoongi’s voice was something of dreams - it was soft and deep and had all the potential to lure someone straight to the depth of the oceans. It was hard to turn and glare at him, when his voice relaxed every muscle in your body.

“Yeah…They’re not exactly going to plan.” You sigh, pushing your hair out of your face before turning and pulling the chair that sits besides you a little closer, patting it softly for Yoongi to take a seat. “Sorry about before…I haven’t had a nightmare that bad in a few months now.”

“Why are you apologising?” He questions taking a seat besides you, pulling his legs up to his chest as he watches you fiddle with the drawstrings on your jumper. “You seem to apologise for a lot of things that aren’t your fault.” He adds.

“I think it’s just a habit…Something I got accustomed to doing to protect myself.” You murmur, noting the way Yoongi nods at your words before letting out a deep sigh.

“I’m sure I haven’t made things much easier for you. I feel like such a home-wrecker.” He chuckles and you join letting out a small laugh as you gaze raises up to one of the illuminated windows.

“You all seem really close.” Yoongi says pointing up at the window where you can just barely see Jimin peeking out to check on the two of you. You nod slowly, smiling at the feline who just returns it before disappearing back behind the curtains. “I’ve never really had a family like yours before.” His words shock you a little bit - enough that you turn back towards him quickly, your eyes wide asking for an explanation.

“If you couldn’t already tell - I’m a rare type of hybrid, a black jaguar to be specific.” He begins taking in a deep breath before continuing. “The man that bought me forked out around six thousand - he needed a fighter. Someone who had enough genetic skill to win him some cash in the underground fighting centres…I was his most prized possession.” He stops again, seeming to think hard about his words.

“Before I started loosing…Once my ranking went down and we had to turn towards lower quality fight centres to make any money, but they were the ones were the police usually patrolled - he was arrested one night and I had no where else to go, so I came back here. He had to sell this place to make bail…and he managed to find a legal loophole, so here we are.”

“Oh, Yoongi…That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad - I just wish I was as lucky as Hoseok and Jimin…To find someone so kind. To be able to have a family.” Yoongi say, waving away your pity to little effect.

“Well, you’re always welcome to join our little family…Trust me, none of us had the easiest time finding our family.” You say reaching over to give the hybrids shoulder a gentle squeeze before you turn back to your illuminated bedroom window.

“You know what…I’m sick of this.” You grumble, giving Yoongi’s shoulder another squeeze and a quick goodnight before stomping your way back inside - right to the room besides yours.

With your courage at an all time and with frustration soaring through your veins you knock loudly on the door, not managing to wait more than five seconds to swing the door open - a surprised hoseok looking at you from his bed.

“We need to talk.” You say, your voice faltering slightly as the courage seems to drain from you. Hoseok stares for a few seconds before nodding for you to continue - sitting forwards on his bed.

“Whatever this attitude that you have towards me and Yoongi needs to stop. I know that you’re upset that I didn’t tell you that he was here, but what was I supposed to do…I needed to make sure what he was saying was true - which it is - and even then I knew how you were going to react.” You pause for a moment trying to gage Hoseok’s reaction before continuing.

“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and frankly I stick by my decision. I’m an adult, Hobi and I understand I probably should’ve told you about it sooner, but if you can’t respect the decisions I make, then maybe we won’t be able to fix what happened.” Hoseok seems to jump up in surprise as you finish the sentence not expecting to hear what you had said.

“What’re you talking about?Why would you say something like that?”

“I don’t know…But I don’t know what else to do, Hobi. I can’t stand you hating me but at the same time I need to stand by my decisions.” You reply your courage completely out the window as Hoseok gets up from his spot in the best moving towards you hesitantly.

“I don’t hate you…” He sighs. “I know I shouldn’t have overreacted like I did, and I’m sorry.” You nod at his words not being able to look up from the edge of the mat in his room.

“But trust me…I could never hate you.” Hoseok adds, taking one step closer, his hands reaching forwards to lift your gaze to his - his eyes softly moving over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” His question takes you by surprise, but you nod quickly.

“Please do…Six days is far too long.” Hoseok doesn’t wait any longer to pull you closer, one of his hands still gently sitting on your cheek, the other gripping your hip as he attaches his lips to yours. His lips are soft and sweet moving gently against yours as he lets out a contempt sigh.

“Way, way too long.” He murmurs against you as the two of you take in a few deep breaths before continuing. Hoseok pulls away after what feels like hours, moving his second hand to your hip rubbing soft circles on the exposed skin.

“Does this mean I can come sleep in your room again?” Hoseok asks, letting out a breathy laugh as he leans his forehead against yours.

“I guess…but I think for tonight we should end things here. I’m sure Jimin is still waiting for me to go back to bed.” You mumble, removing your hands from where you had gripped the front of Hoseok’s shirt. He just nods, his hands slowly letting go of your hips as the two of your step apart.

“Wait…Just one more.” He says, stepping forwards planting a quick kiss on your lips before stepping away again.

“Goodnight, Hobi.”

“Goodnight.”

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