#looking at things which are poorly made allows us to see what parts are necessary for legibility

[onewomancitadel]

i just saw your post about crackships vs rarepairs as terminology and yeah. Yeah. it makes me crazy how that language has changed because its not like we havent been having conversations for YEARS about how two men who barely interact will have huge fanbases dedicated to shipping them (which based on lack of shared screentime and unlikeliness of being canon would make them a crackship). like it doesnt STOP being a crackship because it has a large fanbase?

am i maybe bitter because after the incredible v8 episode "dark" i kept seeing people on twitter call blake/ruby a crackship. Maybe. Perhaps. (a pairing of two main characters who have shown time and time again to trust each other to have their backs, look up to and inspire one another, hell ruby and blake's relationship heavily foils adam and blake's, and just lack shared screentime is NOT a crackship.)

crackships can be popular! rarepairs can be something that has more potential than not to be canon! these two things are not interchangeable phrases!

also i have gotten all the way back to where i left off at chapter 11 of skimming eye and the part about cinder's grimm arm aching cold made my HEART ACHE!!!

Hi Cherry, I hope you're having a good one. (: The post in question.

Yes, I agree. Whilst vernacular drift is a real thing and inevitably happens, and language use will try to accommodate what's missing, when it's jargon, it's necessary to try and preserve what's relevant and useful. If 'crackship' is used to describe a 'rarepair', it means we lose both meanings of the terms, and as you can see in that original post, cause a miscommunication.

If someone calls Knightfall a crackship, it reads pretty poorly to me.

I think you pointed out something interesting here about crackships and the Migratory Slash Fandom, where these apparent crackships have a lot of legitimacy lent to them in canon just because of the established panfandom tradition. It didn't even really occur to me to think of those as crackships (I don't think I've been part of the conversation on that end as much). I'm also pretty terrified of incurring the wrath of someone thinking I'm making a bad faith criticism of them. But yeah, seeing two male characters and instantly shipping them for reasons - when they textually have little to no character to speak of - is something that is defintionally a crackship but doesn't read that way upfront to some people. This probably contributes to vernacular shift too.

I understand the motivations of slashshipping; I don't think it's always bad, and fiction is pretty small fry in general, but in the longrun I do think it has not insignificant consequences on narrative analysis. Not taking characters like Cinder seriously, for instance, because she doesn't fit in prefigured slash traditions where male characters are the only important ones.

Speaking personally on slash fandom: slash fandom was pretty much the only fandom which seemed to exist when I joined quite young. It seemed like the only stuff you could be into was slashshipping. It didn't really feel that freeing or interesting to me. It's why I'm kind of defensive about Reylo because it was the first time I felt like I was allowed to be interested in a female character lol.

Regarding Blake/Ruby: I think it's pretty clear R/WBY fandom doesn't really have a handling on what a crackship is, and that pairing is complicated by one half being involved in a canon relationship - but that's never stopped anybody. It might also be because there's a lot of casual crackship-esque multishipping in R/WBY fandom and they might not think there's any serious analysis there - especially when neither Ruby nor Blake are really taken seriously in the way that would necessitate a serious approach to the pairing.

This is an attitude I've personally encountered with Knightfall; it's generally assumed that I multiship or that I only casually ship Knightfall for crack-related reasons, because it's not a serious ship. Obviously Knightfall is extremely serious business.

But yeah, definitionally Blake/Ruby would be a rarepair, not a crackship. You do have the favourable interpretation Ruby as the rose is the eternal bloom of the rose's curse broken. I think that's actually what she is, for the record, and that's why you get Blake and Ruby development post-V6.

In terms of my own personal taste, what usually motivates a lot of shipping is foiling. Because R/WBY is full of foiling everywhere, it's got a lot of opportunities available to people. But I also think it's a great example of romantic foiling or paralleling might be versus what's being done for other purposes - this is a common error in slashfandom, actually, assuming that foiling strictly equals romance.

In that case I think Blake/Ruby has some stuff in favour of it that, again, doesn't make it a crackship, but for me personally I read Blake, Cinder and Ruby all in the same pattern, and to some degree Raven, so I don't ship any of them together. Because they're kind of the same person.

I'm not implying Yang has mummy issues, but she kind of does. I don't think they've gone full Freudian Oedipal, for the record, there's just some narrative symmetry doing things which might seem a little weird at first.

But yeah exactly, crackships can be popular, but rarepairing is a ship predicated upon a smaller fanbase - but not an unjustified pairing. Crackship in this case might be being levelled at you as an insult, though, or vernacular shift. Pretty bad when it's an insult lol, so that's why it's good to keep regular definitions.

Now for something completely different:

also i have gotten all the way back to where i left off at chapter 11 of skimming eye and the part about cinder's grimm arm aching cold made my HEART ACHE!!!

Awww I hope it was nice to read when you were sick, and I hope you're feeling better now. <3 <3 I really enjoyed writing the Dark Curse, sorry about the heartache but that's part of the process. ;) Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy the rest when you feel like it. (:

P.S. I saved my whole response just before my Tumblr ask froze and I lost it!!! This is why it's important to save!!!

#seraphina's asks #the crackship debate #user: rubyneo

[evil-rainbow-sunshine]

About Felix's "Redemption Arc"

Firstly, I need to preface what I'm about to say on the subject with this; Felix could not be redeemed or condemned by the narrative without it sending mixed messages to the audience.

Felix has performed immoral actions, both when he was first introduced and now in season 5. I am not here to talk about whether or not he or anyone deserves forgiveness. I'm not here to take a stance on that.

I am here in the interest of understanding why he acts the way he does and why he narratively possesses the ability to improve himself.

There is a lot we don't yet know about Felix's upbringing, but I will present what I have noticed in his interactions. He has reacted quite poorly to being called a monster (and to the name-concept of sentimonsters), but has dolled out the term 'monster' quite liberally to describe people who are manipulative, abusive, or controlling.

During his conversations with Kagami, he casts his father as one such monster, likening himself to Kagami in that they both have had parental figures who failed to provide the necessary tools for growth parents owe their children.

These two things inform us that, during an impressionable point in Felix's life, he lacked the ability to exercise free will, and was not given proper coping tools by his father/creator.

With this in consideration, his complete and utter lack of empathy toward human beings is entirely unsurprising.

(Please put aside the exceptions to that rule, for now. I will expand.)

Here, I will get slightly personal for the sake of explaining the reason why his behavior, however unacceptable, was never coming from a place of maliciousness. (note: this is not an excuse for his actions, only an explanation.)

I did not grow up in a healthy environment, for a number of reasons that will not get into here. I felt trapped, controlled, and constantly manipulated. Nobody was able to help me develop healthy coping mechanisms for what was happening, nor offer their understanding.

As a result of being treated that way for so long, it took me being completely physically removed from the situation and a number of years of hard work on myself to finally see other people as sentient beings. In retrospect, I acted unacceptably in my desperation to be heard. I don't know if I will ever forgive myself, but I have made efforts to show my family that I will never do those things again and they have forgiven me regardless of whether or not I deserve that forgiveness.

All this to say; I genuinely did not understand that I was not the only sentient person struggling with this lack of essential coping skills. Until I began to realize otherwise, other people were effectively the same kind of 'monster' that Felix also seemed to believe others to be. Manipulative, controlling, and abusive for reasons that could not be fathomed.

Now, back to the important matter of a children's cartoon!

I find it interesting that the ladybug vision / lucky charm of the two most Felix-centric episodes of the current season has told us(and Ladybug) that Felix is worthy of trust because he has the ability and desire to change.

Here is what I mean.

When Ladybug called for her lucky charm and received nothing, she looked to Felix and trusted that he would stop the destructive behavior without her personal interference. She bet her life on it, and was proven correct to have done so.

To show us(the audience) that it was an intentional message, they immediately followed that up with the Kagami kidnapping/liberation episode. While it was the case that Kagami was part of the solution as well, Ladybug outright stated for us that it was time to trust Felix - and again we see this to be the correct choice. Felix helped to defeat the villain of the week.

Although Ladybug still expresses uncertainty about having allowed Felix to escape with the peacock miraculous, we get to see something she doesn't; Felix giving Kagami's family crest-ring(which represents her free will) back to her after she thought she had no choice but to relinquish it to her mother.

tldr;

We are being pretty explicitly told that Felix, while still having a lot to work through, is worthy of trust. It doesn't matter if he receives forgiveness from us or the characters he has hurt.

The moral narrative of Miraculous Ladybug isn't about taking a stance on who deserves to be saved or excused from their actions, it's about growing beyond what your trauma led you to become, making an active effort to improve yourself.

#ml spoilers #ml season 5 spoilers

[mokutone]

i’ll probably never polish this up so here’s the barebones:

[ID: Yamato and Sai approach a campfire, around which Kakashi, Sakura, and Naruto are all huddled under blankets, looking uncomfortable and exhausted, perhaps slightly ill. Naruto sneezes loudly. “Like teacher, like students, I suppose,” Yamato says, failing to keep a hint of smugness out of his expression while Sai beams amiably at his comrades. “You should learn to pace yourself.”

“Don’t you lecture me.” Kakashi says. “When’s the last time YOU took a vacation?” Yamato looks taken aback by this for a second, and sai glances up at him, surprised. Yamato’s expression flattens into a blank mask before he responds. “I take plenty of vacations, all the time.” Sai is looking at him curiously now.

“Coward, quit hiding behind that face. You’re just as bad at self care as I am,” Kakashi says.

“I am not.” Yamato says.

Unmoved, Kakashi continues, “I bet the last time you took a break was my final anbu hospitalization.”

“Can you even hear yourself?” Yamato asks.

In the background, Sai is holding a hand to his chin. “Nobody has said that I’m bad at “self” “care,”“ He thinks. “Perhaps..I am the best at “self” “care.”“

/end ID]

#my art #naruto #yamato #kakashi #sai #sai...honey...you just got a sense of self lets not get overconfident here #this is SUCH a sloppy comic but I don't think im gonna end up refining it so its getting posted like this #besides showing off some sloppy art is good every once and a while #looking at things which are poorly made allows us to see what parts are necessary for legibility #i am gonna criticize myself here but like—this is a neutral tone...this isnt a critique of self hatred its a critique of optimism #in that i feel like i will grow and be better in the future and am happy enough with my mistakes here to share them #for example the transition from yamato saying blankly ''i take LOTS of vacations'' to the rest of his argument with kakashi is super bad #because sai is right there almost level with yamato saying this—which makes you want to go right to sai instead of directly down #a good comic will have the flow from panel to panel and bubble to bubble be so smooth that you dont need to think about it and #will lead your eye directly to the right place—it's hard for me to think in terms of that so my sketch comics look a lot like this #very messy very disorganized #the image description there is necessary for sighted people as well because the content of the post itself is so unintuitive #but the good thing about art is that you get better at it and internalize these rules as you repeat them #my scribbly comics arent nearly as bad as they were when i was younger and i understand much better how to read and produce them

[nobodyfamousposts]

New York Special Salt: Confrontation

So....kind of had a thought on whether certain parties would respond poorly to discovering the stunt Alya and Nino pulled.

Salt to follow. Don’t like salt or characters being called out, don’t read below the cut:

"Wait. Wait. Wait." Adrien held up a hand to get their attention while cradling his head with the other. He couldn't believe this. He didn't want to believe this.

But he couldn't ignore it, he realized, as he lowered his hand and gave Alya and Nino a glare.

"Did you seriously lock us in a room with a fake supervillain just to see us make out?”

Nino floundered. Alya, however, went on the defensive.

"We were just giving you two a little alone time."

Neither Adrien nor Marinette looked happy with that response.

"I'm seeing someone!" Adrien exclaimed.

"I'm trying to move on from him!" Marinette cried.

Adrien balked at that. "Wait, you like me?"

"You're seeing someone!" Marinette repeated. "I couldn't just get in the way of that! I like you and Kagami is my friend!"

"At least someone cared about that." Adrien said, shooting Alya and Nino a dirty look.

“Nino, what the hell? You know I’m dating Kagami.”

The DJ winced. “I know. I just thought…well, you and Marinette have a lot in common.” He rubbed the back of his head. “And it’d be easier to double-date if it was the four of us and—”

Adrien glared, looking startlingly similar to his father.

“Alya made me do it!” Nino exclaimed, pointing to his girlfriend.

Alya turned on him in outrage. “Nino!”

This only made him turn on her, a full rant on his lips.

“Adrien!” Marinette started, moving in front of him and getting his attention. “It’s my fault! I like you and they knew that and they were just trying to help me—”

She was cut off at the abrupt way he turned to her and his intense stare.

“A…Adrien?”

“Marinette.” He stated, taking her hands in his own and smiling so sincerely at her.

“You are the kindest, most warm-hearted and honest person I know. It's what I've always admired about you. You apologize and try to make up for even the slightest of mistakes. You take full blame for things that aren’t completely your fault. You constantly help and defend people in need. You easily forgive others when they wrong you and try to help them regardless.” 

In an instant, the warm sincere smile was gone. “I am asking you, for once: Don’t.”

“But—but it’s my fault—”

“Did you ask them to do this? Was this a plan you were in any way part of?” He questioned her.

“Well, to be fair I have made some pretty convoluted plans in the past—”

“Marinette.”

Her name was sharp on his tongue. Brokering no argument. Demanding a simple answer.

She winced.

“No.” She mumbled, a mix of bitterly for the truth and guiltily for the lack of defense for her friends.

“Then for once, let me stand up for you.”

…well.

…What could she say to that?

She allowed Adrien to gently push her behind him as he squared off with Alya and Nino.

“You lured us into a room with no idea what was going on. You trapped us there and had us think we were in danger. You created a villain that made us believe no one loves us—which even with the fact that we weren’t ‘technically’ in danger, was a rather cruel thing to do.” He spat out, sounding especially hurt.

All three of those present winced.

“What part of any of this seemed like a good idea?” He demanded.

“We were just trying to give her a chance—”

“Did you even ask her? Or me? At what point did either of us tell you that being forced into an anxiety-inducing and potentially life-threatening situation was on our to-do list for this trip?”

“But it wasn’t life-threatening! Neither of you were hurt!” Alya pointed out.

Like that excused it. Like that made this any better.

“You didn’t know we wouldn’t be, Alya! We didn’t know what was going on! We could have hurt ourselves trying to escape!” He countered, practically seething at this point. “What were you thinking?!”

Alya narrowed her eyes and steeled her resolve.

“Marinette was going to give up on you before either of you had a chance to see if it would work! I had to help!”

The pigtailed girl covered her face with her hands. “I was trying to move on, I promise!”

“And you couldn’t try talking?!” He shouted back at Alya. “You couldn’t just TELL ME?!”

“Chill out, man. Marinette tried.” Nino spoke up, trying to defend.

“I didn’t mean for this—” Marinette cried. “I just wanted a good trip as friends!”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Marinette tried many times, but she always flaked out at the end, so I just tried to set up a stage she couldn’t run from at the last minute—”

“Then why didn’t YOU just tell me yourselves if it was that damned important?”

Suddenly, everything went quiet. Marinette looked up, tearful.

Nino backed up, warily.

Alya…actually looked a bit pale.

Adrien was shaking at this point, but forcing himself to remain steady.

“You both knew Marinette liked me. Fine. Sure. Apparently she was having trouble telling me this. That’s okay. You knew she felt this way and was having trouble telling me. I get that.”

He glared.

“What I don’t get is why it was necessary to go THIS far instead of just TELLING me what was going on yourselves?!”

“Marinette didn’t want to—”

“But she wanted to be stuck with me on a plane to the point of a panic attack? She wanted to be shoved in a room with me? She wanted to feel threatened with a supervillain attack on top of the anxiety of being pushed to confess to me? If she couldn’t tell me and you two weren’t going to tell me, then WHY BOTHER WITH THIS AT ALL?! What was all of THIS supposed to accomplish that simply telling me yourselves wouldn’t?”

“We…” Alya hesitated. “I was just trying to help.”

“If you wanted to help, you would LISTEN to your best friend when she tells you what she wants!” Adrien shouted, gesturing to Marinette. “She just said she wanted to move on! She wanted to NOT have to confess! She wanted to just try and be friends! And yeah, I’m shocked and a little frustrated that I never caught on to any of her feelings before now, but that’s because I’m a teenage boy who is new to feelings and I didn’t know about hers!”

He glared at Alya.

“What’s your excuse?”

Silence.

It took a moment for Adrien to force himself to calm.

“I’m in a relationship. I do not want to cheat on Kagami. Marinette doesn’t want to disrupt what we have. Forcing us into a locked room together to force her to confess when she’s not ready and doesn’t want to would not result in any sort of happy or healthy relationship between us due to those factors. Which you both should have known.” He said, shooting another glare at them.

“But—”

“I’m still new to how friendship works. But this…this isn’t how a friend acts. You don’t push a friend into a position they’re not comfortable with. You don’t discourage them from doing what’s healthier for them. And you don’t keep setting them up to fail.”

Alya gaped. “I…I don’t want her to fail!”

“You aren’t helping her to succeed.” He pointed out. “And if you truly think that forcing these situations neither of us are comfortable with is supposed to be necessary, then maybe you should rethink why this is really so important to you.”

Adrien took Marinette’s hand in his and started leading her to the door.

If the situation were different, maybe Marinette would have felt her heart flutter. But as it stood, she could barely tell over the way it was pounding in her ears from the anxiety and stress of this whole situation.

“I’m going to take Marinette. And we’re going to talk about where we stand as friends.” He shot a final glare at the other two.

“Maybe you should consider the same.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

#ml salt #ml special #ml drabble #alya salt #nino salt

[kumaradosha]

I’m seeing a whole lot of bad takes and ignorance of past/present content and lack of critical thinking or ability to understand character motives regarding this most recent Dream SMP lore. So please, allow me to lay down some facts, some sense, and also some speculation of my own. This’ll be really rambly, because I’m tired, and I want to say a lot. Rewatching ALL the streaming perspectives now, my thoughts start here:

Considering Sam doesn’t want to enter the cell to dirty his hands himself, he clearly has some aversion or moral qualms about torturing prisoners, but Quackity has convinced him to go along with it. Quackity spends a lot of time before he goes into the cell repeatedly making sure Sam won’t have a change of heart and intervene, which indicates Sam probably has some misgivings. Quackity feels he has to remind Sam that this is for the greater good and to stand back and let him do his thing and that this will probably be the last time. These are all reassurances and instructions that would not be necessary if Sam were known to be totally cool with it all already.

Sam believes the stringent measures Dream put in place for the prison are just desserts for him to suffer, but Techno doesn’t deserve the same cruelty, because Techno didn’t enact those rules. And that’s why Techno gets baked potatoes from Sam, and Dream doesn’t. Sam clearly believes this harsh treatment is justified, because Dream was going to do it to someone else. He thinks he’s being just. Of course, allowing the torture, though not his idea and not really comfortable to him, was still crossing a line, considering physical torture was not something Dream did to his victims (and besides, there’s the argument that not everything a criminal has done is morally correct to be done to the prisoner regardless). That, he was convinced, was for the greater good, to get the revive book. Quackity manipulated him; he thinks he’s doing what’s best, but no, of course that doesn’t make him right or his hands clean.

Sam wanted the dog dead because it’s a security risk, especially with Quackity entering the cell with two other people. He killed it later for the exact same reason. Y’all act like nobody else has ever killed an animal in Minecraft RP; get it together. Is Sapnap also evil? Tommy? He killed his own cat. Random animals are not treated with the gravity you guys are giving them; it makes no sense to call out this one time.

When Techno raised the point that he would be fine if Quackity killed him, because Dream could just bring him back, Dream countered with his warning that Techno doesn’t want to experience death, judging by how messed up it made Tommy. What motive would he have to argue that, aside from actually caring about Techno’s well-being? If Dream was only thinking of himself, he would benefit from Techno being willing to die and be brought back to life by him, giving him an easy reason not to give the resurrection knowledge to Quackity. I honestly can’t think of a reason he would argue other than the fact that he doesn’t want Techno to die even temporarily or experience death--that he cares. Interesting...

Dream hiding in the escape tunnel to make it look like he disappeared too was 5,000 IQ, but he didn’t do it just to be silly or smart. Quackity literally threatened to kill Dream when he came back. Dream HAD to pretend to disappear, because he was legitimately in fear for his life. You saw how terrified he was when Sam found him, how he just immediately begged him not to tell Quackity. He was afraid Quackity would come back and kill him before Techno managed to come back and break him out. He believed that would be his fate and had to make a last ditch attempt to avoid that outcome.

Phil confirmed on stream that the blueprints Techno was led to via coordinates are for the prison. Not Tubbo’s missing nuke, like I’ve seen speculated.

“Steve is your polar bear” was written on stream during the “Prison Podcast” Technoblade lore. This is not a mystery. Dream said he wrote it down when Techno started talking about Steve rescuing them.

If Sam doesn’t approve of Quackity killing Dream, why doesn’t he just tell Quackity Dream is still in the prison but not allow Quackity in anymore? Quackity needs Sam to lead him inside, to let him in. Since when did he have any power against Sam to force him to let him in? I don’t understand why Sam has to keep it a secret just to keep Dream alive. Just don’t let Quackity into the prison anymore. Clearly it was a bad idea, since all these security risks happened while Quackity was getting a free pass to not follow the rules of the prison.

Dream casually walking in the way of Sam’s pickaxe to disrupt his swing once Sam almost had the bell broken gets me every time.

The rapport between c!Dream and c!Sam in prison fascinates me. Clearly Dream is much bolder with Sam than Quackity and still seems to trust his sense of duty to a degree. Sam is also more malleable, convinceable, his fatal flaw being actually listening and talking to Dream, even after it clearly messes with him psychologically. He let Quackity manipulate him, too, and he compromises too much. That might seem weird to say, considering the harsh conditions he has Dream in, but. He does give in to a few things.

I’m wondering if Dream wanted to go to the courtyard hoping it was less secure and easier for Techno to break him out of.

Sam has no reason to lie and gaslight about Dream being the one to suggest raw potatoes and sealing up the courtyard. That’s not in his character to do. So clearly Dream suggested these things. In fact, we have proof. Search for the clip of Dream revealing a teaser for future lore, with him telling Sam the hole in the courtyard ceiling for the light is a security flaw. He straight up says that. Update yourselves. Furthermore, are the recordings we have of Dream suggesting nicer features for the prison even lore? Are they in-character, or was it cc!Dream and Sam making plans? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t remember/am not sure. In any case, clearly the plans changed at some point, and they were Dream’s idea.

Dream said he didn’t realize how bad it was until after he experienced it. This could very well be a lie. However, it could also be a wake-up call. We just don’t know. Dream clearly possesses low empathy, and every person at some point doesn’t fully realize how poorly another being can feel in a bad situation. Sometimes it actually does take experiencing it yourself to realize how it feels. People can do cruel things to others before the empathy fully clicks. It is possible that Dream really does only now understand how harsh his plans were. Unfortunately, it’s just as likely he doesn’t care and is pretending to, because he has a history of acting, lying, and manipulating. We just do not know, and I think that’s part of the fun, the speculation. Note that none of this is excusing what he’s done; that bores me. I just like understanding characters and their psychology and motives.

Sam is ASKING if Dream had this prison built for Tommy. He is suspicious that that is the case. Dream did not TELL him this, because OBVIOUSLY Sam would have absolutely nothing to do with building a prison he knew Dream meant for Tommy. So no, Sam thought it was for something else. And guess what? It was. Back during the disc war finale stream, Dream told Tommy and Tubbo that the prison was originally intended for someone else (maybe multiple people, the number was not specified), but that he changed his mind and would now put Tommy in it (ha ha punny). Tubbo asked who it was originally intended for, and Dream wouldn’t tell him, preferred to keep it a mystery. Dream had zero reason to say this if it weren’t true. In fact, it would have been more impactful to pretend (or admit) he intended it for Tommy all along. Think of the horror, or even the betrayal finding out Sam, his friend, helped make it. So yes, there is every indication that it is the truth--Dream meant the prison for someone else at first.

And Dream didn’t argue with Sam’s accusations, because why WOULD he? If he didn’t tell Tubbo who it was for, he wouldn’t tell Sam now. Plus, he wouldn’t want to argue with Sam, make him more heated and less sympathetic, and risk him deciding to tell Quackity Dream was there after all. Dream has no reason to speak up. Let Sam think what he wants. Dream’s silence does not mean confirmation. This is not a new thing with him. He keeps things mysterious, and there is a lot about his planning and mindset he does not disclose.

Now, whether Dream made the prison harsher before or after he decided he wanted Tommy in it is up for speculation. We don’t know that timeline.

Anyway, Sam’s speech about Dream getting what he deserves is really delicious. All these people out here mocking Dream fans for Dream still being in prison (like Techno’s not imminently coming to break him out, hello?) and being told off by Sam, yet plenty of us are enjoying it, too, like?? Bruh, what kind of Mary-Sue-touting asshole likes characters who are flawless who never go through strife? Can’t be me. I love watching my favs through triumph AND despair, so this is all just a win for me, thanks.

It is possible to sympathize with a bastard who is highly flawed and wrong AND to understand his motivations without justifying his actions AND to realize he deserves punishment (though to what degree I don’t care to argue). All the black and white morality and taking one extreme stance of “this character is perfect!” OR “this character is wholly evil and only ever does things to be sadistic!” and polarizing the community is cringe, yo. You need to calm down. Enjoy the ride or like...get off?

Anyway, Dream is my favorite, Techno is my second favorite, I adore Sam, I really enjoy Quackity, and the SMP wouldn’t be the same without Tommy. So much love for all of this creative work and its creators. I’m having a blast.

#Dream SMP #DSMP #Dream #DreamWasTaken #Technoblade #Awesamdude #Quackity #TommyInnit #Tommy Innit #fandom discourse #Dream SMP lore #Dream SMP theories

[elexmori-mcl]

730 days

word count: 3.3 k

characters: Elex (OC) x Lysander (MCL AL)

tags : canon rewrite, fluff, angst, long distance lovers, slightly nsfw

MCL Alternate Life Episode 1 for Elex and Lysander after Rosa dropped her of at the farm.

Two years. 730 days, at least. This time had passed since Elex and Lysander had seen each other for the last time. But now she was standing in his courtyard and only the taillight of Rosa's car, which had brought her there, was still visible. With the suitcase in her hand, she walked hesitantly toward the entrance and rang the bell. "Take it easy. It's only Lysander. I'm sure he's just as happy to see me, and he's nervous, too. But what if we don't get along and I'm just bothering him?" Her thoughts alternated back and forth between anticipation and panicked fear, as the little contact over time made her feel like she knew less and less about her boyfriend. By the time they both graduated from high school, they were aware that a long-distance relationship wasn't going to be easy, but it was worth it. Elex moved away for her studies, having enrolled in a particular university. She initially felt bad leaving her boyfriend alone while his father was doing so poorly. Josiane was often visiting her sons to be able to see her husband. It was a grueling time for all of them. In the beginning, Elex still came by at least once a month, since Lysander was staying in Amoris with Leigh and Rosalya. For their part, the couple usually went to the farm for a short trip so they could be undisturbed. As time went on, however, Lysander in particular noticed that his girlfriend seemed to be getting weaker and arriving more and more drained on Fridays, which caused him to panic. Her work at the university meant that she needed much more time for preparations in addition to lectures, and the internships did not allow her to rest. Sometimes they would just sit together on saturdays while she worked and Lysander wrote. Sometimes she didn't come at all because she felt guilty and couldn't give him the time together that he needed. In the evenings, when they were video chatting, she often put her laptop next to her in bed and could barely keep her eyes open. "I miss you." often escaped her lips, which was returned by him.

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When Josiane died a short time after her husband and Lysander took over his parents' farm, it also meant that the distance between them became even greater and it was hardly worth it for Elex to come over on a weekend. When he realized this, the two made another promise to each other. Earlier, they had exchanged rings to always be reminded of each other and to use it as a protection against flirting attempts if necessary. Lysander gently took his girlfriend's hands in his and stroked her ring before he began to speak. "Promise me that we will always be honest with each other, no matter what. Even if one of us might find someone new." "Lysander, this-" "Please. Let's be realistic. I don't want us to get attached and lie to each other at some point." He looked serious, even though he knew at the time that it would tear his heart apart knowing that distance was the only thing separating the two of them. His jealousy from school days, on the other hand, had given way to a security he had built through the relationship. He knew that Elex never looked at anyone as radiantly as he did and didn't even notice advances from others.But maybe it was better if she didn't have to ride for hours in a train to him and instead jumped into a new adventure, without him.

Elex rang the bell again before reaching for her cell phone and trying to call Lysander. From inside, she could hear his cell phone; he must have forgotten to take it with him in his hurry. "What am I doing now?" she muttered to herself, unconsciously pushing against the front door, which opened in response. Another carelessness that would quickly cost him dearly in the city. Should she just go inside? He knew, after all, that Rosa had brought her here, and would certainly not want his girlfriend to wait in front of the door forever. Still, she felt like a burglar taking the first steps into his apartment. "Lysander, are you there? The door was open...". Again, no response followed her calls. Thereupon, she left her suitcase in the living room and explored the house in search of him. Much had changed since she had once visited here when Lysander's parents were still alive. Everything was comfortably furnished and yet carried his signature. His notebook was always within reach on the coffee table, some of the furniture was definitely antique, and his bed looked as dreamy as he was because of the canopy and the many draped pillows. He had already been organized back then, even if he admitted to having tidied up the one or other time shortly before her visit. But since there was still no trace of the white-haired man, Elex left the house in the direction of the vegetable garden. Between the many individual beds stood a scarecrow, which she looked at with a grin. Had he made it himself? He had already been talented with his hands, so that it could have been created in his childhood. However, it didn't really fit into her imagination to see her boyfriend working here; after all, as a teenager he wanted to get away from the rural life of his parents. Could he manage to take care of everything on his own?

At her feet, she now also noticed a couple of rabbits tending to the weeds. One of them, with black spots on its ears, seemed particularly curious and hopped in her direction. "Do you want to tell me your name?" she asked as she leaned down to the little creature. "I named it Rosa. You'll see what quantities of food it eats..." A deep voice sounded behind her. In a flash she turned around and looked into the shyly smiling face of Lysander. He was standing only a few steps away from her and was finally within reach again. His hair was noticeably longer than the last time they had met and tied into a braid. He didn't seem as skinny as before, mostly due to the farm work. But his melancholic gaze that rested on her was still the same as it had been then. "Do you still remember our first date? Rosa ate so much that day that she upset her stomach." he continued. "And today Bunny Rosa had problems so I couldn't pick you up. I'm really sorry." "Hey, if one of the animals is sick, you should take care of it as soon as possible. I'm not mad with you at all. Rosa and I had a lot of time to talk about old times and updated each other instead." He sighed in relief, as it seemed she'd had an entertaining car ride to say the least, though he would have preferred to be able to greet his girlfriend four hours ago instead of having spent the time at a vet's office. "You're probably pretty hungry from the whole drive, though, aren't you? At least I brought us some food" Lysander replied, holding up a paper bag. As he did so, he took an uncertain step toward her. It was almost as if he didn't dare to approach Elex, to reach out and touch her. The latter meanwhile ignored all her concerns and embraced him vigorously.

The next moment she also felt his hands on her back, pressing her body tightly against his. It felt surreal for both of them to be so close to each other again after all this time. Not to be separated by a screen, but to feel the warmth of the other through genuine contact. Lysander's hands gently cupped her cheeks to lift her head and gently plant a kiss on her forehead. Just as he had always done in the past when she was within reach. For her part, Elex wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward until their lips touched. At first it was just a fleeting kiss, but it became passionate and full of desire in no time. Lysander could not resist the temptation to grab her thighs in the meantime to lift her up slightly. All doubts were wiped out in that moment, instead they literally fell over each other, like before, at the beginning of their relationship. Completely out of breath, they disengaged from each other and looked into the other's flushed face. "I... um... That was..." began Elex to stutter."I'm so glad you're here." Lysander replied smiling. His joy was now reflected in her face as well. "Yes..." Their moment was interrupted by a rustle, as little Rosa nibbled on the dropped bag. "We should eat something real instead of each other, don't you think?" Elex face only reddened from his remark, as she was not used to hearing such direct statements from her boyfriend. In one smooth motion, he bent down to the paper bag and placed a hand around her waist to lead her inside. "Have you been waiting long for me?" Lysander pointed to her suitcase as he walked through the living room. The large open space with a white country kitchen that had hosted many guests over the years now looked huge as its new owner stood in it. "No, I was just looking for you in the house and then headed toward the garden." Elex put her bag on one of the kitchen stools and sat down in the seat next to it as he got plates and cutlery ready. "We got some vegetable muffins, spreads, and...the bread!" Cupboard doors were frantically yanked open until he shamefully placed a package of crackers on the kitchen counter. "I'm really sorry to mess up our reunion dinner like this, but this is the only thing I can offer you." "Don't worry so much, I'm sure it will still taste good." She courageously grabbed a slice, coated it with one of the spreads, and took a bite. "Crispy, but delicious." He did the same and agreed. "Would you like wine with that? I don't know your taste, but it's light and fruity." She nodded and pushed her glass in his direction. "Sure, that would go well."

She tried to ignore his remark, although he was right, of course. Back then, they had drunk punch together for the first time on Iris' birthday, or a beer here and there at a party. They realized that opening a bottle of wine seemed much more mature in contrast. "Well then... A toast! A toast to crackers!" As they raised their glasses to toast, they both had to laugh at what turned out to be a very impromptu meal. For most of the rest of the meal, they looked at each other and remained silent. While cleaning up the leftovers, Lysander was the one who spoke up again. "Do you actually think Rosa has changed a lot?" His girlfriend took a sip from her glass before answering. "Her hair is shorter, but she's still as full of energy as ever. Unlike me..." "Are you telling me you're not as full of energy as you used to be?" He sat back down across from her and reached for her hand. "I don't know. I used to stick my nose everywhere and tried to help everyone. Then came university and everything became more anonymous. And more time-consuming. I couldn't go around daydreaming anymore and solving problems." "But I always liked about you that you cared about others... Things have changed for me as well since moving here. Here I am less shy, I no longer need to hide away somewhere to be alone. At first, I was so busy that I fell into bed exhausted at night." He frowned slightly and looked embarrassed before speaking again. "Do you think I've changed too much?" Elex squeezed his hand and gave him a smug smile. "Rosa asked me the same thing today, it's a trick question. If I say no, it makes it seem like you're still the teenager you were back then and haven't changed. If I say yes, then I make you feel like a complete stranger to me. You're not the Lysander I fell in love with anymore, but I love the person you are right now." After this confession, she looked down at the ground, slightly ashamed, as it was only then that she realized what she had just said. Talking about themselves was hard. Visibly struggling for composure, she demanded an answer from him. "And me? Have I changed too?" Lysander took his time with his reply and looked at her for a moment, then he looked out of the window, both dreamily and embarrassed. "Visually, maybe, since I've never seen your natural hair color before. A little more ink on your skin here and there. But you are exactly as I dreamed you'd be." His voice sounded calm and at the same time like an unmistakable remark he had casually made. After another sip of wine, Elex decided to switch to a more serious topic. "This is very abrupt to ask now but... we wanted to be honest with each other when we met someone else."Before she could continue, Lysander interrupted her. "I haven't really had opportunities to meet anyone here. And I didn't really want to." "There wasn't anyone with me, either." He didn't seem to have expected that answer. He had been hoping it, but he also knew that Elex possessed traits that made her an attractive woman. Meanwhile, she just shrugged casually, and added "I just didn't want anyone else.”

This confirmation seemed to have triggered something in him, because he felt the urgent need to be close to her. No sooner had he risen than he put his arms around her back and pulled her off the stool. Their lips met passionately with an urgency as if they wanted to catch up on the time that had passed. The next moment he had her sitting on the counter while Elex stroked the back of his neck with her hands. With her legs spread, she clung to him, causing him to let out a low moan. With quick movements, he pushed the cardigan off her shoulders before his hands tried to bury themselves in her hair. Elex undid her tightly woven braid and shook her head briefly, causing them to separate. Lysander ran a hand along her long blonde hair and looked at her tips, which were still dyed white. This time she initiated the kiss by pulling him strongly toward her. His fingertips, meanwhile, wandered under her blouse; each touch on her bare skin triggered goosebumps on her. He enjoyed caressing her soft body and heard a suppressed sigh when he pressed against her. When the tip of his tongue touched her lips, she gave in to him and surrendered to the shared wave of pleasure. He wanted to rip off every single piece of her clothing so he could have sex with her right there, or carry her up to the bedroom first. Burying himself in her and forgetting everything. But was this perhaps going too fast for her? Was he forcing himself on her? A moment's pause caused doubts to rise in him. Lysander broke away from her lips and lightly poked her nose to look into her dreamy eyes. They were both panting again, so it took him a moment before he spoke up. "One last question. I have the guest room prepared in case you'd rather have your own room." Without taking his eyes off her, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and flashed her a distinct smile. "Personally, I won't hide the fact that I'd like to spend the night with you. But if that's too fast for you, I can understand that, of course." On one hand, Elex was a bit perplexed by the question, but on the other, she knew what she wanted. "I think you made the bed for nothing at all..." Lysander smirked at the remark and gave her a quick kiss. "We really haven't slept in the same bed for a long time." "I've missed that. I've missed you. Because of you, my sleep is so bad when I'm by myself." Her gaze suddenly seemed distant, as if she wasn't present with her thoughts. He took a step back from the counter and pulled her down with him into a hug.

Elex buried her face against his chest and clenched her hands into fists, jokingly punching him. After a few light blows he grabbed her wrists and bent down to her, covering her forehead with kisses. Completely overwhelmed by her emotions, she began to sob. Lysander hugged his girlfriend tightly with the knowledge that there was similar chaos inside him. "I'm so sorry. I-I-... I should be happy and not spoil this moment. But sometimes I just couldn't stand it without you." She was shaking all over and needed his hold to steady herself. "Elex, do you think I felt any different? I cursed every time we failed to meet again. When I couldn't reach you because you were stressed, or our sleeping patterns were too different. When I missed another event in your life." "I wanted to be there for you..." To add emphasis to his statement, Lysander lifted Elex's head and gently wiped the tears from her face. "You were. We were always a part of each other's lives. Physically separated, yet still connected." "I never, ever want to be away for so long again." His girlfriend sounded almost angry with herself now. But he didn't want to be without her for another two years either. "Let's go upstairs. I'd like to fall asleep in your arms.”

He left her to get ready first and brought her suitcase upstairs in the meantime. Then he disappeared into the bathroom himself to change. Elex slipped under the covers of the unfamiliar bed while thinking about how the day had unfolded. Even if she showed her feelings more clearly, besides his words, it was mainly small gestures that showed her how much he had missed her, too. The first touches were like a way to test if she was really there. Afterwards he held her so tightly that it was almost painful, not wanting to let go of her. And his desire for her hadn't disappeared either.... She turned frantically towards the edge of the bed, not wanting to let this thought linger. Lost in her thoughts, she looked at a half-naked Lysander coming out of the bathroom dressed only in his boxers. He had really become more muscular... "Are you alright? Aren't you too cold?" he interrupted the silence. Elex lifted the blankets and stretched her arms out to him. "Come to me." Despite her innocent gesture, she couldn't quite maintain eye contact and let her gaze wander. A mischievous grin in response could not be avoided as he joined her in bed. Turning her onto her back by gently squeezing her shoulder, he positioned himself over his girlfriend. "Do you like what you see?" "I like that I can see you." At the same moment she ran her fingertips over his back with light drumming motions. Reaching his neck, she untied the ribbon of his hair, allowing single white strands to fall into her face. They lost themselves again in a heartfelt kiss as she cupped his cheeks. Lysander let himself fall beside her to wrap his arms around Elex. After a little over 730 days, he wanted to make sure she wasn't going anywhere. At least for today.

#mcl lysander #mcl al #mcl alternate life #my candy love #elexlysander #mcl oc #mcl elex #amour sucre

[firelxdykatara]

I would actually be really genuinely interested to read your defence of Makorra. I’ve never really been partial to any of the TLOK ships but I know that one gets a lot of hate (even though I don’t see anything wrong with people shipping it) and I’m just curious to see your take.

I've been sitting on this a bit, because it's been a while since I actually sat down and thought about what it is I love so much about Makorra--the fire/water and slap-slap-kiss/BST energy aside--and it reminded me that I actually rewatched the first three episodes of LoK not that long ago (which is when I had my revelation about Equalist Asami, and how I think that the Equalist Mako and Korra fight in episode three was originally meant to be Asami's true introduction to the show, to be revealed when it became clear she and her father were Equalists), because of this meta by @devildogdemon on episode three that reminded me just how much those early episodes made me love Makorra well before the love triangle crashed onto the scene and everything went tits up.

I've spoken before about how what I really loved about Makorra was the potential:

I personally loved Makorra, but I loved it for what it could have been, not what it wound it actually being in the show–but that’s because the love triangle was sloppy as hell and poorly handled, and it took the place of actual bonding for the krew and development of their individual friendships.

This still holds true, and I think the foundations were all very well laid out in the meta that I linked above.

When Mako and Korra had time alone together, and were in a stressful situation, they worked incredibly well together, despite the way their personalities--Mako a bit staid and stoic, used to shoving down his emotions so that he could be the parent his little brother needed and, as a result, never learning how to process how he felt in a healthy manner, while Korra spent her whole life among adults and as a result never really learned how to just be a kid, or how to relate to others her own age, so she is brash and reckless and does what she thinks is necessary because she's never been around people who had to ask permission before they just Did Things and hey, she's the avatar, shouldn't she be the one everyone is looking to for leadership???--tended to clash, especially early on.

They slid almost effortlessly into the Battle Couple trope when it came time to fight--to try and get Bolin back, and to protect one another--and those scenes in Book 1 feel a lot like Zuko and Katara training together at the end of book 3, covering each other's blind spots and accomodating for each other's weaknesses. This is also, incidentally, the episode where Korra winds up wearing Mako's scarf--the one memento he has from his parents, who were killed when he was a child. Sound familiar?

-insert image of katara's necklace around zuko's wrist here-

And before anyone gets on me about the parallels, I'm not saying that Makorra is the same as Zutara (although if you told me that Bryke intended it to be, I'd believe it--either because they thought they were finally giving the shippers what they wanted or, more likely, they wanted to show why they believed zk would never work), but the parallels do exist, and it's largely because Mako occupies the same position within the krew that Katara does within the gaang. They also have the BST and the banter more than any other relationship in the krew, so of course they're going to wind up paralleled to the relationship in the gaang that had the most narrative tension. They are still, at the end of the day, very different relationships, because Mako and Korra are very different people than Zuko and Katara.

But I'm just saying, the symbolism of one half of the pair wearing the other's only physical link to their dead parents........it's there. I didn't make this up.

They also, again like zutara, have this moment of emotional closeness and vulnerability early in the book--in episode 3, where Mako reveals to Korra what happened to his parents and why he had history with the triads, which casts some light on why he acted the way he did in the very first episode (I've seen people getting on Mako's ass about how 'mean' he was to Korra, but like, a) he was very calm about it, and b) how else would you expect someone who lived hand to mouth on the street for an entire decade to react to someone claiming they had 'nothing' in the same breath as admitting that they'd never had to want for anything in their entire life?), and allows them to become closer emotionally--as friends and potentially more, given the explicitly romantic framing of the interaction and several others throughout the episode.

Ultimately, what initially drew me in to Makorra was that slap-slap-kiss/Belligerent Sexual Tension they had in the beginning of book 1, but what really makes me think of what they could have been is the way their relationship developed in episode 3 and the groundwork that was laid for a slow-burn there, rather than Korra deciding she was in love with him just in time for Asami to crash into the scene and nab him first.

(Incidentally, had Asami been an Equalist like she was originally supposed to, this could all have been part of a larger plot and Korra could have slowly come to realize what Mako meant to her while examining the things she felt when she saw him with Asami--meanwhile, all of their relationships could have been given room to breathe and grow, especially if Bolin's puppy crush on Korra were dropped, and Mako and Korra clashing over Korra's suspicions of Asami wouldn't have been quite so ugly if both of them were proven just a little bit right. And then allow for that betrayal to shake the foundations of the krew before Asami works her way back into their good graces, and Mako and Korra don't get together until they've navigated the fallout from that and discovered how much they really mean to each other.)

Uh... yeah, I rambled for days, hopefully I answered your question adequately! I just. I really love Mako, and I really love what he and Korra could have been to each other, and I really love who Korra could have become if the show let her actually grow organically instead of giving her Character Development Through Brutal Torture, and all of that has I guess kind of sunk into a ball of how the show would look if Makorra were done better to me lol.

#mako #makorra #atla #lok #equalist asami #makorra meta #mudbend #asked

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (22)

all parts here

-

“Is it ok if we don’t invite anyone over?” 

The two of you had eaten your fill but there was so much extra food that you felt a little guilty about your question. Allowing yourself to bring your walls down around Matt alone was hard enough, introducing his friends into the mix would be too much at once. 

You knew them all and no one would treat your poorly or anything like that, but the suspicions about the two of you they probably already had would be confirmed. You were smart enough to know that both Matt and yourself had been acting weird around each other lately, so there was no way no one else noticed. 

“Of course, will you help me pack up the extra stuff? Only what you want though, we’re about to fill your fridge.”

“Matt, really? I don’t need all this.”

“I know, but I want to make sure you remember tonight and leftovers will help.” 

The two of you put the food into containers and walked them to your apartment in near silence. It was awkward as hell, the only sound being your key turning in the lock and footsteps as you both stepped inside. 

“Onyx!”

Matt set the containers he had on your counter and rushed over to pick up the purring cat. Onyx nuzzled his head against Matt’s neck and settled happily in his arms, more than content with being loved on. Thank fuck for him though, because you had no idea how to break the tension that had followed you from the hall and into your apartment.

“I kind of forget he exists sometimes but then I see him again and remember how good of friends we are.”

“He’s going to be good friends with everyone who treats him like that,” you waved your hand in Matt’s direction, “I’m going to put this stuff away.” 

As far as dates went, this one hadn’t been too bad. Matt had gone out of his way to get more food than would ever be necessary, you had normal conversations while you ate and there was even some laughter. Guilt was eating at you a little bit for keeping the others away but Matt didn’t seem to be bothered. 

“Well, I guess this is it?”

The awkward silence returned as soon as you spoke and Matt set Onyx down on the couch. 

“What? No, this isn’t the end of the date. Come on back up, I still have stuff planned.” 

Locking your door behind you, you let Matt lead you back to his apartment. His body language was kind of weird, and it seemed like he was going to make an attempt to grab your hand, thought better of it, and instantly pulled away, opting instead to stay about a foot ahead of you. Neither of you spoke on the elevator ride up or the walk to his door.

“Matt this is really awkward, I can’t even lie.” 

The standard expression on his face shifted into a smile as he unlocked the door and ushered you inside. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m not good at dates. I don’t go on them very often.” 

“You usually skip the soft part and go straight to sex, right?”

He definitely didn’t expect that, as evidenced by his wide eyes and red cheeks. When he didn’t respond, you laughed it off, “that was a mostly a joke, because you do have a reputation. Even though we’re just now doing whatever we’re doing, I’ve been here a while.”

“I always forget that.” 

“It’s easy to do. You’re a professional hockey player, I’m somebody’s assistant. Had we not been forced to be roommates on, interestingly, the only roadie I’ve had to attend, I wouldn’t be here right now. You would continue to avoid me unless you had to talk to me, which would be short and rude and maybe include an insult, and I would continue to tolerate it to keep my job.”

*

It was not what he wanted to hear on what was supposed to be a date that was supposed to be the start of something good, but there it was. He had treated her poorly for years and to hear that she would still be continuing to deal with it today if things hadn’t changed was heartbreaking. He felt like his head was being slammed against the ice a thousand times at the sound of just a simple statement. 

It hurt even worse because he knew she was right. They would be in the same exact place they had always been in and he would have completely missed out on an opportunity to meet someone who now meant so much to him, he couldn’t see himself without her. 

“I don’t know what to say, sorry isn’t enough. I’ve been horrible to you for no reason at all for a long time and I don’t have any excuses as for why. I’m so fucking sorry, I really am. The fact that you had to deal with my abuse all this time, just to keep your paycheck, makes me sick to my stomach.”

“I wouldn’t call it abuse, exactly. Everyone’s got a mean coworker.”

“I made you sleep on the floor, I made you cry, I created a toxic work environment for you for two years and you couldn’t do anything about it. You wouldn’t call that abuse?”

He dropped to the couch and watched her shoulders sag and heard her sigh. 

“Matt, look, I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty by saying that. I was just making an observation at how different the circumstances could be had the chips not fallen the way they did.” 

He knew that wasn’t her intention, but it didn’t matter. He’d fucked up so much with her and he couldn’t believe she was even there in the first place.

“I don’t deserve you. I want you but I don’t deserve you and you should take the job in Philadelphia.”

*

What had you done? A lighthearted date that had started with takeout and casual conversation had spiraled into a torrential downpour. He was just begging you not to leave and inappropriately kissing you in the hallway at work and now he was telling to accept the job? What the fuck?

“Can we just stop this? Can we go back to whatever you had planned before I opened my mouth and said some dumb shit? Dates are supposed to be fun, this isn’t fun.” 

Matt was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, you didn’t think he was crying but when he raised his head and met your gaze, his eyes were rimmed red and puffy. 

“Why are you?! Oh my god!” 

You nearly ran to sit down next to him and threw your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t push you away, but he wasn’t trying to hug you back.

“People have to deal with bullshit all the time at work, even you, most hated player in the league. You don’t seem to let it get to you, I didn’t either. The hotel room was rough, yes, but clearly I got over it. I’m here right now aren’t I? You think I would want anything to do with you if I was still upset?”

You eased away from him as he rubbed his face and ran his hands through his curls. 

“Jesus, I really am terrible at dates. Crying on one is a first though.”

The tension lessened a little and you stood up from beside him, walking over to the window to take in the view of the city.

“I’m sorry I made you come to some realizations you weren’t ready to face, or maybe didn’t even know existed but I promise that the man here now is not the same one I had to share a shitty hotel mattress with.” 

“You mean this one is worse?”

You both chuckled at his half hearted joke and this time, the silence hanging between the two of you was peaceful.

“I didn’t mean what I said before.”

“That you don’t deserve me? Or that I should go to Philly?”

“I meant half of it, I definitely don’t deserve you, but I don’t want you to take the job with the Flyers.”

“I know.” 

“Which part of that are you referring to?” 

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” 

He joined you by the window and the two of you stood next to each other in silence for a few minutes, both focusing on the view below you and not the confusing mix of emotions dancing around in your heads. 

“I’ve gotta be honest, Matt, I’m really tired.”

“You’re probably not willing to sleep here, are you?” 

“Not tonight. Tonight has been way too heavy for us to have a fucking sleepover.”

You gently punched his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. 

“Can we try again?”

“Of course, we can absolutely try again.” 

“I’m sorry for crying, holy fuck, that is so fucking embarrassing, shit.” 

“Shut up, Tkachuk, I like a man that isn’t afraid to show his feelings.” 

Matt walked you over to his door and pulled you into another tight hug, asking if he could walk you back to yours. Despite his best efforts, you went home alone. 

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

[btswrckd]

Hunting a Hybrid VI

Black Panther!Hybrid Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Summary:  Four years after it’s made illegal to acquire hybrids as pets, you’re  approached by the daughter of your former employer to hunt down one that  had been gifted to her

Warnings: violence, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood, slight fluff, angst, poorly written smut

A/N: It’s here! I apologize for taking so long and truthfully, this chapter isn’t as well edited as I wanted it to be, but it’s been so long since I updated and the longer I waited, the more guilty I felt for not getting on my own ass and continue writing. I actually wrote more than this but it’s not polished enough for me to add on. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy!

Oh, and the songs I listened to while writing were Heaven Help Me by RAIGN, Inside of Me by RAIGN, the Eric Lee Gravity Remix of Unsteady by X Ambassadors, and Walk Through the Fire by Zayde Wolf

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The wet smell of dirt invaded your nostrils, making you scrunch up your nose in discomfort. Allergies were a bitch but Sangchul didn’t sympathize with your stuffy nose and pounding headache. A sharp hiss  escaped you as your grandfather tightened the blindfold around your head with more force than necessary. The added pressure against your temple made your eye twitch and your fingers curl into tight fists. 

“The comfort and ease of having all of your senses is a privilege, not a right. Some people have all of them, some people only have a few and must learn to adapt to the world around them.” Sangchul rasped as he stepped in front of you. “You may have all of them but what happens when some of the most important ones are taken away? Come at me.”

The urge to roll your eyes was great but what was the point when he couldn’t see you do it? Defying Sangchul was not a smart decision and years of punishment for the smallest of things should have taught you to know better. But defying him also gave you a sense of pride knowing that no matter how deep his claws ran, it wasn’t enough to have complete and total control over you. 

You huffed and lunged toward his voice but found yourself landing flat on your face. He was quick for an old bastard but he’d also had more training and experience than you did. You stood slowly and listened for the barest hint of where Sangchul may be but so far the only thing that caught your ear was your own heavy breathing. Birds chirped, the wind whipped against the trees, leaves fell to the ground, and somewhere a twig snapped in two.

You whirled around, thrusting your fist into what you hoped was your grandfather’s face but he gripped your wrist tight and used his other hand to land a swift jab to your stomach. It was quick and painful, leaving you to double over and dry heave as you tried to catch your breath. Sangchul was strong despite looking fragile, and that strength was made known every time you trained.

He didn’t give you the time to recover, instead moving to land a heavy kick to your rib cage. You coughed and lifted yourself with one arm while the other wrapped around your torso. The sound of his boot leaving the ground once more gave you the chance to gauge how far he stood from you, but you hadn’t realized how close to a tree he’d cornered you. Your back hit the trunk so hard that it knocked the air from your lungs and Sangchul was shoving his steel toed boot into your windpipe. You gasped for air but he kept you pinned, pressing on your neck until you were sure you’d pass out. One of your hands curled around his ankle, desperate to pry his foot away as your other hand tapped against his calf in surrender so he’d let you go. Neither of which happened. 

“You have two free hands, you moron.” Sangchul’s voice was calm as if he weren’t about to choke his granddaughter to death. “You want to live? Then fight.”

Air was becoming minimal and your already obscured vision was beginning to darken. There was always a small part of you that knew your grandfather would some day kill you, but here and now would not be the time. Your nails sunk into the fabric of Sangchul’s pants deep enough to break through to his skin and he hissed as you raked your nails up his calf, slicing and marring the flesh as you went. You weren’t allowed a knife or any kind of weapon when in training so you had to improvise, tearing at Sangchul like a wild animal until he was forced to remove his boot from your neck. You slumped to the ground and gulped in as much air as you could, gasping and coughing until your throat was raw and burning. Prying off the blindfold, you looked up to Sangchul with murderous intent. 

“You son of a bitch!” You sobbed, frustration and pent up tears surfacing without your permission. “What the hell is the matter with you?! You were really trying to kill me!”

“I was teaching you, you ungrateful brat!” He roared back, clutching at his injured leg. He lifted the leg of his pants and clenched his jaw at the blood trickling down his calf. “Where is it? Where’s your knife?!”

“I don’t have one,” you panted as tears rolled down your cheeks and you swallowed another sob threatening to wrack your body. 

“Bullshit!” Sangchul seethed before limping towards you and crouching down to grab at your already sore throat, forcing you to your feet. “The rules are no weapons during training, Y/N! You expect me to believe this kind of damage was done with just your fucking nails?”

You clawed at his arm, but the lack of strength and breath  wasn’t nearly as harmful as the adrenaline filled attack from earlier. You kicked your leg out as a last ditch effort to push him back, landing a surprisingly solid hit to his gut and he stumbled back. You weren’t sure what came over you or what kind of games your own body was playing, but there was enough left in you to tackle him to the ground. Using one knee to pin Sangchul’s bicep to the ground and the other knee to pin his wrist down, you raised your fist high in the air and brought it down across his face three times before he was fighting back. 

Sangchul pushed against your frame, rolling atop you and taking hold of your neck once more to keep you in place while he delivered blow after blow to your stomach more so than your face. The metallic taste of blood coating his gums fueled every punch and became the driving force behind the final hit to your cheekbone. He stood over you ruthlessly as you groaned and turned on your side to painfully curl into a ball, blood gathering on the corner of your mouth. 

“Your father might not have been as talented as you’ve become at hunting but he was never stupid enough to go against me either. You must get that from your mother.” Sangchul used the back of his hand to wipe away the blood gathered on his own lips and spat globs of it on the ground. “Get up and find your way back to the house or lay out here all night and freeze to death.”

Mud, tears, and blood stuck to the side of your face that now sported a broken cheekbone as you listened to his retreating footsteps. A heavy moan sliced the otherwise quiet air and it took you a moment to realize the sound came from your own mouth. You could already feel the bruises forming on your torso and wondered if he’d broken a couple of ribs. Taking in a sharp breath only made the pain worse and another wail shook the trees, scattering the birds that had witnessed your beating. 

You were unaware of how long you stayed on the ground, but it was dark by the time you managed to gather enough resistance to the ache in your bones before carefully standing up. You limped slowly through the desolate woods that only your grandfather could navigate and found yourself at his home almost the next morning. He stood with crossed arms and a cruel smirk on his lips, leaning against the door frame and greeting you casually. He took in your disheveled state, from your torn up pants and shirt to the swollen welt on your cheek.

“Well,” Sangchul chuckled as your body shook with the attempt to keep yourself standing, “I honestly didn’t expect you to make it back. It would take your father days before he recovered from his lessons. Your strength comes from your will to live, Y/N, and your father didn’t have enough of it. Let’s not make yesterday a regular occurrence. I’d hate to have to kill you before you’’ve reached your full potential.”

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“Blood,” Jungkook breathed, dropping his chopsticks to his plate and standing from the couch quickly. His sudden outburst made Seokjin jump in his seat before he was up and trailing closely behind Jungkook. 

“Does it smell familiar?” Seokjin questioned. If it was your blood then he wanted to be prepared for how Jungkook may react.

“No,” The panther scrunched his nose up in disgust, “It’s not a lot either, it’s faint. It’s not Y/N’s.”

His senior huffed out a breath of relief, placing his palm against his chest and letting his posture sag a little. The tension in his shoulders was long gone by the time they made it to Taehyung’s apartment, Jungkook stopping at the foot of the door. Seokjin pulled his eyebrows together in confusion before he heard the muffled conversation.

“Holy shit, you should have seen it!” Hoseok was giddly explaining the fight to Taehyung, whose arms were crossed and glare focused solely on you. “She beat the shit out of them! And scared Suho! I mean he pretty much pissed his pants!”

“Hobi,” Yoongi interrupted his friend with a pat on his shoulder, nodding to a decidedly unamused Taehyung and your sheepish face as you bowed your head in apology for getting into another fight. “Maybe spare the details, okay?”

“Oh, right,” Hoseok flushed; he hadn’t meant to get caught up in the excitement but he’d only ever heard stories of your fighting skills and barely caught a glimpse of them when the fight broke out with Xiumin and Kai.

“Are you out of your mind?” Taehyung hissed after Hoseok finally calmed down, bracing his hands on the kitchen table and leaning over to scold you like a parent would a child. “You were only supposed to meet with the detective, not start a brawl with Suho and his men. You said you didn’t need backup so I let you go alone and now you’re in our kitchen covered in someone else’s blood. You know there’s a hybrid upstairs right now who’s probably already caught on to your scent and he’s going to come rushing down here any second to check on you. I don’t need a pissed off panther busting down our front door because you’re too stubborn to let anyone help!”

Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a surprised glance, neither of them ever hearing Taehyung lecture you as harshly as he had been in that moment. Yoongi whistled low as Hoseok looked to the ground in hopes of avoiding Taehyung’s wrath after expressing how much he admired your skills. Yoongi wasn’t all that surprised to find that you didn’t even bat an eye at your friend; you’ve obviously gone through this argument before.

“Are you done?” You sighed, standing from your seat at the table to head for the sink and run your hands underneath hot water. Scrubbing at the blood staining your knuckles, you hissed at the cuts lining them and cursed at the thought of your hand swelling. “Jungkook isn’t going to come down here. In case you’ve forgotten, he hates me right now so I don’t think you need to worry about that, Tae. It wasn’t like I was looking for Suho, he came to me so what was I supposed to do? Let him and his men beat the hell out of me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Taehyung argued, “I’m---.”

“It’s not like I’m proud of what happened today,” You interrupted him, shoulders dropping. “It wasn’t exactly fun to use Suho’s trauma against him. You think I don’t remember what I did to him? How twisted I used to be?”

Taehyung opened his mouth to disagree but the beeping of the keypad caught his attention, the door swung open as Seokjin stepped inside with Jungkook behind him. Everyone stilled as the panther came into view, your back still facing him at the kitchen sink. 

You could feel Jungkook in the apartment. The pull of his mark was so intense that you were tempted to throw yourself in his arms. You sighed as you felt a headache coming on stronger than usual but addressed Taehyung, “you could have gotten killed that night and I admit, the way I handled it bordered on unhinged. When I hurt Suho, he was just a new hunter looking to make a name for himself and because of what I did...I made him who he is. I’m not proud of it, Taehyung, and running into him today just reminded me of the kind of person I used to be.”

Jungkook’s spine straightened as you finally turned to face him, locking eyes with him as he listened when you said, “I used to be a lot worse than what I am now, Jungkook. You may think Suho is just another idiotic hunter but the truth is that I did that to him. No hunter comes without a story and Suho? I’m his.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze, “now might not be the best time.”

“You marked me, Jungkook,” You continued, stepping away from the sink and towards him, “we’re bonded and that was something you chose for us. You can hate me all you want because let’s be real, I deserve it. But everything I’ve done was to keep myself alive and then when Tae came along...he was my priority.”

Taehyung’s eyes softened when he saw the tears building in your own, threatening to fall with each step you took towards the hybrid. True, when he first met you the friendship was rocky, the ice in your veins making it difficult to gain your trust. He remembered when he finally broke through the wall you’d built and he became the most important person to you. He also remembered the night Suho had made a mistake and you nearly tore his head off for being incompetent.

“And then you,” Your broken whisper to Jungkook made Yoongi’s heart ache at how fragile you seemed compared to a few hours ago, “when you came to me, I knew there was nothing I wanted more than to protect you. So I reined a lot of myself in because I didn’t want to scare you. Last night when I said I’d always be a hunter...it was because I didn’t want to lie to you anymore. Hunting is who I am and yes, I’m scared of what could happen when this is all over. I’m going out of my fucking mind trying to figure out how...who I’ll be if I won’t be a hunter. I’m nothing without it but when you came into my life, being happy was the first thing that came to mind and you were right when you said I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Jungkook hadn’t noticed he’d been crying until you reached out to wipe his tears away, his cheek turning into the palm of your hand and his eyes falling shut. The ache in his chest grew larger the more you spoke, the pain becoming too much until finally, you touched him. Your fingers gliding along his cheek soothed him and the agony in his heart. 

You gasped when he pulled you into his chest, arms embracing your frame to his tightly as you buried your face into his shirt. You could feel his hot tears sticking to your skin when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His body trembled in your hold much like Suho’s had earlier but this was for an entirely different reason, his gasping breaths flooding you with guilt that you’d made him feel so awful.

“Please stop being mad at me,” You whispered, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt, “I can’t...be away from you.”

Jungkook could only squeeze you tighter and nod silently. He couldn’t be apart from you either and even though it had only been a day, he felt as though it had been an eternity since he last saw you. His hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you pinned to him. Holding you close felt like he could finally breathe again, his large frame slumping in your arms as his body betrayed him and let everyone in the room know just how exhausted he was.

One of your hands slid up the length of his chest to run your fingers through his long hair while the other wrapped around his broad shoulders. A relieved sigh escaped as you found yourself relaxing in Jungkook’s hold, the tension in your neck finally gone.

“Can I?” Jungkook mumbled into your neck, his lips brushing against the mark and canines tracing along it. The desperate need to freshen his claim clawed at his insides, especially with the faint smell of Suho all over you. Admittedly, he was planning on reclaiming you as it was, pissed at you or not, because he hated the smell of another man on your clothes and skin.

“Not here,” You blushed and tucked your face further into his chest, knowing full well that he could hear the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Why not?” He nibbled on your skin as if prepping it for the sting of his teeth.

“Because we’re here!” Yoongi interrupted with a gagging noise so convincing that you had to jump back to see if he actually puked all over the floor. His joke, but not really a joke, serving as a reminder that you were not alone in the apartment. 

“Dinner?” Seokjin suggested loudly, face flushed and eyes boring into the floor. If anyone in the apartment knew just how intimate marking could get, it was him. He’s married to a hybrid, after all, and the times his wife reclaimed him often led to a night of passion so intense that they would forget they weren’t alone in the house and their daughter was just two doors down. 

“God, please!” Taehyung scrambled for his shoes and quickly shoved his feet into them. “I’m starving!”

“You were home all day and you didn’t cook anything to eat?” Hoseok scolded but was just as quick to throw on his own shoes and dash out the door.

“We’ll bring you something back,” Seokjin offered since going out for Jungkook wasn’t an option and figured it would do some good to leave the two of you alone. He shoved Yoongi to the door while the younger struggled against him, reluctant to leave you with Jungkook after your last night alone ended in disaster. “Come on, Yoongi, they’ll be fine.”

“But I—-AGH!” Yoongi yelped as he tripped over his own feet and nearly face planted in his attempt to get away from Seokjin.

When silence filled the apartment, Jungkook went back to laving at your neck with renewed vigor now that there was no one to interrupt. He heard the breathless call of his name but couldn’t really be bothered to fully understand what you were trying to say. 

The heat of his palms sliding underneath your shirt left goosebumps on your skin, a shiver running down your spine. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck as his hands travelled lower and lower, stopping briefly to squeeze the cheeks of your ass, and cupping the backs of your thighs to lift you onto the kitchen counter. Leaning back on your elbows, you laughed as Jungkook followed and loomed over your entire body.

“As sexy as this is,” You joked and smiled fondly at the twitching of his ears, “the marble of the counter is cold as hell, Kook, so maybe the bedroom…”

Jungkook was hauling you off the counter before you could even finish the sentence, your arms and legs clinging to his body, winding tight as he pressed your back to the wall instead. His eyes lit up that beautiful shade of emerald you came to love, irides slitting in true cat form and his canines elongating. The sharp prick of said canines made you squeak as they pierced your skin, a sound he seemed to take quite a liking to. 

“Oh,” You breathed, grinding against his crotch in a desperate search for friction. One hand tangled in his long hair while the other pulled at the button and zipper of his jeans until you were able to snake your hand inside. 

Jungkook groaned against your throat at the feel of your fingers wrapping around his length. He pulled away to lean his forehead on your shoulder, fingers gripping your thighs and parting them further to press against you even more. “Tell me, Y/N,” He whispered against your skin, “who is this I smell on you?”

“That answer depends on how pissed off you’ll get,” You laughed sharply at the feel of his claws poking out to grab at the muscle of your thighs possessively. “Judging by your claws, I’d say very.”

He growled out, using one hand to snatch yours from his jeans and pin it to the wall. “It smells like gunpowder.”

Gunpowder? 

“Set me down,” You pushed at his chest, rolling your eyes as he grit his teeth and released his grip. With both feet firmly on the ground, you brought a hand up to run through the tangled mess of hair in order to think. “Suho’s guys, maybe?”

“They shot at you?” Jungkook couldn’t stop the growl rumbling from his chest if he tried. 

“No, but they must have fired their guns at some point during the day,” You looked at his face and winced at the shadow crossing his features. “Well it’s not like I would have been able to smell it on them. They ambushed me, all I did was fight back.”

“Yes. Against guns.”

“They didn’t have any on them when we fought,” You defended yourself but it really was just a poor excuse for not thinking Suho’s guys would be carrying. 

Jungkook sighed heavily and slammed his eyes closed before you could see the green coming forth. “Take a shower, Y/N, get the smell off you, and then we can go to bed.”

A scoff nearly made its way from your throat but he was right. Jungkook was sensitive to gunpowder and any kind of firearms; it stemmed from his less than pleasant encounters with them. You brought your arm up in a mock salute, earning yourself a glare as the words, “Yes, sir!” echoed down the hallway.

“Go,” He bit out and moved away to give you space to walk down the hall. Truthfully, he needed time to gain his bearings after catching a familiar scent. Not the gunpowder, but Suho himself. Suho’s stench had been all over Ye-Jin’s room when he first arrived at the Nam home. Judging by how much the smell lingered, Jungkook could only guess why the hunter spent so much time there. Ye-Jin’s escapades with Suho made Jungkook’s skin crawl, thinking of how hard she’d tried to seduce the panther himself. 

When the scent hit his nostrils, the panther in him was coming out full force and he needed to create some distance before he snapped. Now that he’d claimed you, the last thing he wanted was to cause harm by becoming feral.

The sound of running water made his ears and growing bulge twitch. He really needed to get a hold of himself. That thought had no time to be registered before his feet carried him to the bathroom. The handle was cold against his heated skin and he wasn’t at all surprised to find the door unlocked. A small nudge against the wood revealed your scattered clothes along the tiled floor, your scent invading his senses. Little by little, he shed his clothes as quietly as possible in hopes of giving you a small scare.

You really should have been paying more attention to your surroundings. Jungkook was the only one left in the apartment but you still should have been more careful in your decision to leave the door unlocked. The guys could have come back at any time.

“You should be more careful, baby,” Jungkook purred against your ear, hands snaking around to rest against your stomach and pulling your back to his naked chest. 

“Oh?” There was no reason to hide your amusement and he knew it. Your intentions were quite clear as you tipped your head back and met his shoulder. “Why is that?”

“Anyone could have walked in here,” He growled low, one hand clasping your hip while the other slid up to palm your breast.

“Anyone did,” You teased, gasping sharply at his wandering hands coupled with the feel of his lips at your neck. Steam enveloped the room and clouded your eyesight, leaving you at Jungkook’s complete mercy as his rough hands groped and ran about your torso. 

Water pelted Jungkook’s skin as he came to the realization that bathing with you would be his second favorite activity in a long time. The hand on your hip traveled lower between your legs until the tip of his index finger pressed against the bundle of nerves. The whining and whimpering had his ears flattening against his scalp as he pressed, circled, and worked at your clit ever so slowly. “Soon,” He promised softly, though for you an impending orgasm wasn’t soon enough.

“I will cut your tail off, panther,” You threatened lightly and his chuckle vibrated against your back. He enjoyed tormenting you, that much was obvious, deft fingers gliding lower and his other hand cupping your breast gently. “You’re an ass, Jungkook.”

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook smirked against your wet skin, sinking two fingers knuckle deep into your heat. “No ‘Kook’ this time, baby? That’s not very nice considering where my fingers are.”

“Please,” You groaned, head lolling forward and arm shooting out to press against the shower wall, pushing back against his erection. His tail wound around your thigh to pry your legs open, fingers pumping in and out ever so slowly.

“Please?” He mocked, ears twitching curiously at what may come out of your mouth next. In the short while he’d been living with you and Taehyung, he’d seen enough to know that you were not one to yield. To anything. So to have you begging and pleading for him was a pleasant surprise. “You want something from me, Y/N?”

“No ‘baby’ this time?” You hissed at the prodding of his fingers, deep and steady, and curled your own into a fist against the wall. “That’s not very nice of you, Kook, considering where my hand was earlier.”

“What if Taehyung had come in?” Jungkook hummed in your ear and let his thoughts run much wilder than necessary. What if Taehyung had come in? Or Yoongi? 

He wasn’t very fond of that idea given how close you were to them. His hand moved from your hip up to your throat, squeezing gently while you panted and squirmed against him. “Has he ever seen you naked?”

“Not now, Kook.” You groaned because yes, yes Taehyung had seen you naked before. He was the one you lost your virginity to years ago but Jungkook didn’t need to know that. “You really want to talk about Tae of all people right now?”

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as your thighs trembled and you whimpered out his name. “No, I’d much rather be inside of you but since the subject was brought up…”

“By you!” You yelped at the small press of his fingers against your throat and the way his fingers pumped faster. Your hips rocked in time to his hand, grinding into his hand and reaching your own hand back to tangle in his hair. “Jungkook, please.”

He smirked against your skin, ears perking up at the mix of pleas and threats spilling from your mouth. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why you were deflecting and though usually he’d be upset by this new information, he was surprised to find it didn’t bother him as much as he’d first thought. His lips moved up the side of your neck, teeth nipping and sucking your skin. “You’re mine, sweetheart, aren’t you?”

Possessiveness was never really a turn on for you, but with Jungkook you found yourself clamping down on his fingers and nodding quickly in agreement. This, this was the panther in him and it was a huge relief to have him becoming more confident and comfortable. 

“Say it,” Jungkook hissed, pressing firmly on your clit as you tugged at his hair. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“I’m yours,” You moaned loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. “All yours, Jungkook. Only you.”

Your back was hauled against the shower wall unceremoniously, hands gripping your thighs, parting them as he sank deep inside in one solid thrust. Your fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to break skin but he didn’t seem to mind. His lips were on yours roughly, muffling the strangled moan leaving your throat. 

Jungkook didn’t move, instead savoring the feel of your walls clenching around his cock. The kiss slowed to a languid press of your lips to his, your fingers combing through his shaggy hair and tugging on it to have better access to his neck. He closed his eyes, sighing in pleasure and winding his arms underneath your thighs, pulling himself back before surging forward again and again. The slow roll of his hips against yours had you panting and gasping with each solid thrust. You wound one arm around his shoulders, sinking your nails into his shoulder while the other hand gripped his hair so tight that you were sure he’d be bald by the end of the night. 

This wasn’t the same frenzied pace as the previous night, you realized. It was sweeter, softer in the way he moved and peppered your shoulder in kisses. Honestly it probably wasn’t a good idea to take your time since neither of you knew when Taehyung and the rest of the guys would be back. The last thing you needed was any of them walking in to see you and Jungkook going at it in the bathroom of all places. 

Seokjin, the maturer of the group, would most likely be the one to herd them all out yet again, but even he would crack some kind of joke about it. 

“I missed you,” Jungkook rasped against your mouth, breaking you from all thoughts as his thrusts became quicker and sloppier, one hand snaking between your legs to thumb at your clit once more. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You wanted to tease that it hadn’t even been a full day but you knew exactly how he felt. How empty and hollow your chest seemed with the distance and while you had spent most of your day occupied with the detective and Suho’s gang, Jungkook spent his holed up in an unfamiliar apartment with nothing but his own thoughts. Your nails bit into his scalp and he hissed at the feel, teeth coming down to clamp on his mark and tongue lapping at the skin. 

“I missed you too, Kook,” You whispered as his canines sank deep into his already prominent claim. You convulsed around him, body shaking and thighs trembling with the intensity of your release. “Fuck!”

Jungkook’s hand moved from between your legs to brace against the wall next to your head, a deep groan of agreement reverberating from his chest. The press of your knees against his rib cage, squeezing him tight, pushed him over the edge and he spilled into you. His mouth found yours in a deep kiss, tongue slipping past your lips as his hands massaged the tops of your thighs in soothing circles.

Three loud bangs against the bathroom door made you tense and pull away from Jungkook but he only shushed you as Taehyung’s deep voice boomed on the other side. 

“There better be hot water left, goddamn it!” Taehyung joked before striding back down the hall to the kitchen. He really wouldn’t have even gone to find you if Seokjin hadn’t insisted on it.

“Jungkook didn’t eat much earlier,” Seokjin had said when they returned to the apartment, “and I can bet neither has Y/N. They need something in their system.”

“But they already have each other,” Hoseok had mumbled and earned a nice slap across the back of his head from Yoongi. 

Taehyung shook his head before walking back into the kitchen to find Seokjin rummaging through his cabinets to find plates and cups. If anyone had told him a year ago that he’d have his best friend, a hybrid, and three older men that treated him like a kid rather than a hunter in his apartment, Taehyung would have laughed in their face. Still, it was comforting to have someone care for him like a person instead of a killer. His childhood was less than pleasant, his own father acting as if Teahyung were a nuisance and not the son he was responsible for. 

“Tae,” Seokjin frowned at the distant look on the younger man’s face, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Taheyung shook his head with a chuckle. “I was just thinking.”

Hoseok sat at the dining table with a tilt of his head, waiting to hear if Taehyung would elaborate further but Seokjin simply set a plate down in front of him before moving on to an empty space. 

“Then sit,” Seokjin smiled warmly and turned to the abundance of food waiting on the counters.

Yoongi peered down the hallway to the now empty bathroom, watching the swirls of steam seep out from the open door and grimacing at the thought of what happened while they were gone.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin called from the counter as he dug through a bag of food, “they’ll be out here when they’re ready. Come sit down and eat.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to protest when your bedroom door swung open and Jungkook strolled out fully dressed and running a towel through his hair. You weren’t far behind, also dressed in a baggy shirt and sweats, wringing out your hair in a towel. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You mumbled as you plopped down on a chair and avoided eye contact with everyone. 

“Just as long as there’s hot water left.” Taehyung playfully poked your side before you could scramble away from him.

“No, don’t!” You squealed, actually squealed, and launched yourself onto Jungkook’s lap as Taehyung reached out to tickle your side. 

Jungkook was sure he’d never heard anything sweeter than that. The sharp pitch of your voice slicing the air cutely before you were in his lap and clinging to him like a child. There was a grin on your face that no one except Taehyung had seen and Jungkook decided in that moment that he’d do anything to see it again.

“You’re such a baby,” Taehyung teased you, oblivious to the other men’s wide eyed expression, all four of them shocked that you could even smile that big.

You yourself hadn’t even noticed it and Yoongi caught a brief glimpse of the little girl you used to be in that one smile. It shook him to the core to realize how different you’d become and sure, he was used to the woman you were now but to see that little part of you from childhood still existed nearly made him tear up.

Jungkook’s arms were tight around your frame and he buried his face in your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of your shampoo, gripping your waist so hard that he was amazed you could still breathe. The small giggle that floated around the otherwise quiet apartment warmed his chest and he peeked up from your head to watch you poke Taehyung’s leg with your bare foot.

“Gross!” Taehyung wiped away at the invisible dirt on his pants as if you hadn’t just spent an entire hour in the shower. It eased the tension in his shoulders to be able to make you  laugh again, something he hadn’t been able to do in the past few months. He watched as you leaned into the crook of Jungkook’s neck and tucked yourself into the hybrids’ arms, a soft smile spreading across his lips. Taehyung often forgot how little of a childhood you actually had and that affection wasn’t something you easily accepted. But seeing you now, curled into the embrace of someone who looked at you with stars in his eyes, Taehyung had to tamp down the sob threatening to escape his mouth. He loved you like a sister and had wanted for so long to be able to escape the wretched life you’d known, but for years he didn’t think a semi-normal life was a possibility, until now. Now the dream of being able to walk the streets without looking over both of your shoulders was slowly but surely becoming a reality. 

Seokjin leaned his chin against his palm and wanted to scowl at how happy Jungkook was compared to two hours ago. The grin on the hybrid’s face was enough for Seokjin to forgive the way Jungkook had spent the entire day sulking about the upstairs apartment and mumbling under his breath all the ways the argument could have gone if you hadn’t been so stubborn. Love was a fragile thing and while Seokjin was sure neither you nor Jungkook had fully realized just what was happening between you two, it was quite clear the kind of lengths each of you would go through to keep the other safe. It could be argued, mostly by Yoongi, that the relationship was more lust than anything else but Seokjin knew Yoongi’s obsessive need to protect you stemmed from his knowledge of your upbringing. 

“Can we talk about your meeting with Namjoon?” Yoongi raised a brow in your direction. “If I’m not mistaken, it didn’t go entirely as planned but he didn’t shut down the idea either.”

You felt Jungkook tense and press a kiss to the top of your head. “He’s well aware of the risks being taken if he chooses to help us with this, but he’s on board. We’ll set up another time and place to meet soon. Hyungsik’s expecting progress too and he’s agreed to have Suho back off for now. I’m not sure how long that will last or if it even works at all, but our run in today will keep him at bay for at least a week, maybe two.”

“Depends on how fast he’ll recover.” Taehyung shoved a good portion of jjajangmyeon into his mouth and followed it with a long drink of water. “Suho’s never been quick to jump back into an assignment no matter how much he was or wasn’t injured. Despite his reputation, Suho only gets his hands dirty when it comes to showing up Y/N, but even then it’s usually as a last resort. I was surprised to hear how fiercely he was going about this one, then again it could be the reward money that’s keeping him so driven.”

Hoseok huffed from his seat and raked a hand through his hair. “If we can’t steer Suho in a different direction even for a little bit, then this will all be for naught. Two weeks sounds like a long time but not for us, especially with Hyungsik breathing down Y/N’s neck. Taking care of Suho should be the first priority right now.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Taehyung nodded his head in agreement and looked to you, watching the gears in your head turn as you became quiet. “Whatever you’re planning against Suho might give Hyungsik a reason to give you some breathing room. Suho’s a good hunter but he’s messy and not exactly shy about how he makes a living. Hyungsik is in a hurry to get Jungkook before Suho can make a public spectacle about all of this. With him out of the picture, it could give us the opportunity to ask Nam for more time to find Jungkook.”

You knew Tae was right. Hyungsik was always quick to hire you for a job because you were quiet and undetectable, something a lot of other hunters hadn’t quite mastered and with the new laws in place, it would be disastrous if the news that Hyungsik was still harboring hybrids became public knowledge. You also knew that Hoseok was nervous about Suho popping up unnecessarily but you looked to him and said, “Suho’s recovery time isn’t something to worry about. Like Tae said, it could take two weeks before Suho shows himself again and maybe even more. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Suho, it’s that he can’t take the chance of not being at full strength when he goes up against me again.”

“Why were you able to bounce back from his men so quickly but it’ll take Suho weeks to come back from almost nothing?” Hoseok wondered with a curious tilt of his head. He didn’t notice the tight grip of Yoongi’s hand on his cup, or the way Taehyung winced at the question. He only noticed the smallest hint of your nostrils flaring before you covered it up with a smirk.

“Endurance training.”

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“Again.” Sangchul’s command was sharp. His fighting skills even more so as he dodged another swipe of your fist.

Blindfolded. Again.

Which meant relying on your ears and nose to detect him. He’d started out the day clean but as training went on, he began to sweat and while the smell was not revolting, it was also not flattering. The sound of his heavy boot alerted you to his movement as you thrust your elbow back and connected with the palm of his hand. Damn. He’d seen it coming and managed to counter your hit.

He pushed your elbow forward, sending you staggering out of reach. He watched as you whipped around quickly and brought your hands up to defend yourself if need be. Slowing his breathing and staying entirely still, he watched the fleeting look of panic in your frown. He didn’t want to admit how much you improved since your last session a few weeks back. The lessons would have continued the next day but there was tension in the air every time you were in the same room as him, the kind of tension that made him uneasy. He wasn’t willing to find out how far that tension would push you, so he made himself scarce far more often than he should.

A hunter with skills such as his should not be scared of a sixteen year old girl. He’d have laughed in someone’s face if that person had told him that his granddaughter would one day unnerve him. The day he left you in the woods after beating the ever loving hell out of you had changed something else in you. Something mischievous, rebellious, and down right evil had swirled in your eyes the moment you stepped out of the trees and into his line of sight. You hated him, he knew that, but he wanted to think that you were reliant enough of him that you wouldn’t use the skills he taught you against him.

Last time he didn’t give you time to recover, so you had expected him to attack you as soon as he let go of your elbow. You grit your teeth when he didn’t take a swing at you as he had before. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out any kind of noise Sangchul would make. He had to have known you couldn’t hear anything but the deafening sound of your own breathing. What could only have been seconds felt like hours before he finally moved, the soft crunch of boots on dead leaves had you ducking an oncoming punch. As you crouched to the ground, the quick woosh of his other boot kicking up dirt had you placing your palms out towards his kick, blocking his assault. You were on your feet quickly, the heel of your steel toe boot catching on the root of the tree behind you but you held steady and acted as if you were going to fall backwards. 

Sangchul lunged forward even further, attempting to grip your shoulders to pin you down, but you gained your footing not a second later and he found himself pressed face first into the rough bark of the tree.

Your forearm was at the back of his neck, only one of his hands wrenched behind his back because there wasn’t a way for you to grab both. Your tiny victory was short lived as he used his free hand to push off the tree and spin around. His wrist rotated out and around to take hold of yours and pull it taught in the air. You cried out in pain after a sickening pop sounded around the woods.

“Clever.” Sangchul admitted with reluctance. “You’ve paid attention. Attempting to get out of my hold will only result in dislocating your shoulder. Which is exactly what needs to happen to get away from me. What will you do, Y/N? Are you willing to pop your own arm out of its socket to escape me or will you---?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of finishing his question before you were twisting your body out of his grip, shoulder popping out of place so unnaturally that Sangchul could have thrown up if he weren’t so damn impressed. Dropping to one knee, you panted out of exertion and the scream echoing through the trees. 

Sangchul could count on one hand the amount of times he’d had to teach the same lesson to his own son only to have it end in Donghoon crying and cowering in the corner of his room all night. His eyes were comically wide as you stood from the ground with a renewed sense of purpose, your shoulder hanging limp as sweat beaded across your forehead. It was as if the pain was your sole purpose to keep going and the determination to remain unafraid of him propelled you forward.

Your shoulder was hot, your body gradually warming with it before it started to feel like your whole being was on fire. The flames licked the back of your neck and shoulder blade, rendering your arms useless but not your legs as you swung around and landed the most satisfying kick to your grandfather’s jaw. The crunch of his bones and the thud of his body hitting the ground had a grin splitting your lips viciously, a smile cold and cruel that you’d seen him don thousands of times before. You didn’t have to see his face to know the power shift had begun. You could hear it in the way he struggled to breathe.

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Taehyung quirked an amused brow at the way Yoongi burrowed further into the couch like a petulant child when Hoseok was trying to get him to leave. 

“Hyung, come on.” Hoseok ran a hand down his face, unwilling to believe that his senior could be so immature. “We’re due to open the bar in an hour and it’s a 30 minute drive from here. We need to leave now.”

“Let’s take a night off,” Yoongi suggested with a fake yawn and stretched himself across the length of Taehyung’s couch. He crossed his feet and brought his arms up behind his head as a makeshift pillow. “One night won’t hurt us.”

“I don’t think Taehyung appreciates you taking over his home without talking to him first.” 

“I have extra blankets and pillows.” Taehyung offered up as Hoseok shot him a glare from across the room. “Though if you’re only staying to keep an eye on Y/N, then it would probably be better to camp out in front of her door.”

“That’s not happening.” Jungkook came up beside Taehyung with a stern look on his face. Two weeks ago, he would have cowered at the sight of Yoongi after getting a gun pulled on him, but now Jungkook refused to be scared. 

Yoongi’s nostrils flared at being challenged by the younger hybrid and he scowled at Jungkook. “Oh yeah, kid? What makes you think she’ll be as quick as you are to kick me out?”

Hoseok buried his face in his hands, tired and sleep deprived from the long nights at the bar and the long days spent helping his new found friends. “You have a couch at home that you can sleep on, hyung.”

“I like Taehyung’s couch better.”

When Hoseok looked to Taehyung for help getting his friend out of the apartment, Taehyung simply hid a smile behind his hand. He opened his mouth to argue with Yoongi once more when you came down the hallway, footsteps so light against the carpeted floor that nobody would notice you if you hadn’t said anything.

“Go home, Yoongi.” You slapped at his feet before plopping down on the couch and tucking your feet underneath your thighs. “If Tae wanted you to invade his space then he would have said so.”

“He offered me extra pillows and blankets,” Yoongi sat up to face you, “I’d say that counts as an invitation.”

Jungkook had made his way to you at some point and scooped you up to take your spot on the couch, sitting you in his lap. The fresh smell of vanilla and lilac intoxicated him enough to press his face into the crook of your neck. 

Yoongi frowned in mock disgust and scoffed at the way Jungkook shot him a sly smirk. “The idea of sleeping outside Y/N’s room is tempting, but I think I’d rather sleep inside.”

Jungkook’s growl rumbled from his chest and against your back. You knew Yoongi was only teasing and meant no harm but Jungkook didn’t seem to share your amusement. “Maybe you should sleep in Tae’s room, Yoongs. He’s just as touch starved as you are.”

“I like to cuddle.” Taehyung nodded with the most serious look he could muster, blinking in surprise when a faint blush crept up Yoongi’s cheeks. 

You shot Yoongi a teasing smile, “what a coincidence, so does Yoongi. There were some nights he wouldn’t let me pry myself away.”

Heat prickled your bare rib cage as Jungkook’s fingers discreetly slid underneath your oversized shirt, the rough pads of his fingers leaving behind goosebumps. His palm flattened just underneath your breast bone, thumb teasing the hem of your bra, and pushing under the wire to skim across your nipple. You’d never pulled your knees to your chest quicker than in that moment, hoping to keep his hand from being seen roaming around. With the press of your knees, it kept Jungkook’s hand in place so he couldn’t venture further but he was not one to be deterred, instead wiggling his hand free enough to slide completely up and cup your entire breast.

“It’s not like you were complaining,” Yoongi’s voice brought you back to the present. “You showed up every night anyways so you can’t tell me that you didn’t like cuddling up to me just as much.”

Jungkook lightly squeezed your breast, kneading and pinching, all while keeping a face so impassive that you were starting to believe you were imagining things. His head tilted at the small hitch in your breath, ears twitching in delight, and he grinned when Yoongi caught a glimpse of your shirt moving where it should not be. 

“You--,” Yoongi began but Seokjin’s voice stopped him. 

“I think everyone should call it a night,” Seokjin suggested after catching the dark look in Jungkook’s eyes before Yoongi could call him out. “I also think if you’re going to stay here tonight, Yoongi, then you should be advised that this is also Jungkook’s territory now. Invading it aggressively will only end in less than pleasant results. Tread carefully.”

“Bed time.” Jungkook whispered against your ear, nipping it in the process and standing from the couch so quick that it made you dizzy. He laughed as you clung to him, padding down the hallway to your bedroom while Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Seokjin continued on with their conversation.

Taehyung threw his head back with a laugh that nearly shook the apartment. He hadn’t been so amused in such a long time that watching Yoongi scramble after Jungkook only to have the door slammed in his face had Taehyung doubled over in glee. He could hear Yoongi’s shocked sputtering all the way from the living room. 

Hoseok didn’t seem to be faring any better, clapping his hands while howling with laughter as well. It took a great deal to rattle Yoongi and Hoseok had only seen it happen a few times in all the years they’d known each other. Now that Jungkook was starting to show more of himself and how comfortable he’d become, Yoongi was left slack jawed a good portion of the time the group spent together. 

Seokjin couldn’t hide his chuckle as Yoongi came back down the hallway with a tic in his jaw. He was aware that the amusement and playfulness wouldn’t last long and the reality of the situation would once again crash into everyone like a brick wall. But for tonight, he would enjoy every smile, every laugh, and every teasing glance that passed between everyone because it would be short lived, and there was a high possibility of it all crashing down in flames. The odds against you were great and while you were stronger than most people, you were still human. With Jungkook at your side and bound to you, the hard shell of the woman you’d become was beginning to crack and Seokjin knew that if anything happened to the panther, you would lose yourself in your own head once more. 

It was no secret how special of a person you were to Yoongi. It was why he was still sulking around Taehyung’s living room instead of sleeping in his own bed. He was aware that Jungkook would sooner tear off his own arm than hurt you, but Yoongi still worried. The look of defeat after your fight with Jungkook was still fresh in Yoongi’s mind, and the way you fought against Suho earlier was just a taste of what could happen if you lost Jungkook again. There had been rumors about the vicious way you fought and he’d seen it first hand, but the encounter with Suho was on an entirely different level. Something in your eyes was inhuman, the curve of your smile struck a wicked resemblance to the grandfather you loathed, and Yoongi spent the entire time watching your eyes practically light up at the way you scared Suho. 

The person you transformed into the second Jungkook was back in your arms was startling. Yoongi didn’t think you could even still be that person, but Jungkook’s presence reeled in the part of you that lashed out against everyone and everything. You were starting to become that same little girl who would move heaven and hell to protect the ones important to you. Growing up, Yoongi had watched you save your mother from the drunken mess that was Donghoon. He’d seen you constantly jump in front of her, taking whatever slap or punch was meant for Iseul, and raising your head high as you hadn’t just been struck by a heavy hand. Time and again, you were scolded by your mother for getting involved, and time and again you would beg Iseul to pack up and leave Donghoon. The arguments often ended in you storming out of the house and stomping across the street to Yoongi’s house where he would clean you up and hold you in his arms until the crying and shaking stopped. 

The night your parents died, you were meant to be home. Meant to be helping your mother pack a weekend bag for a trip with that monster. But you’d argued with her before leaving for school that morning, screaming at her that one day Donghoon will do irreparable damage and you would not be there to pick up the pieces. Yoongi could still remember the agony on your face and in your voice when you ran up to the home that had become a crime scene in a few short hours. He remembered the screams, remembered the tears streaming down your face, and the desperate pleas for Iseul. He remembered being angry with his own parents for keeping him away from you when you needed him the most, but also remembered the way his father pulled him close and whispered in his ear that Sangchul was watching him carefully, that if he truly cared about you then he would let your grandfather handle the situation. He knew it was wrong, knew he should have fought harder to get to you, but then Sangchul was at your side and had taken hold of your shoulders with a solid grip. Yoongi wasn’t close enough to know what was being said or what could have caused the light to die in your eyes, yet he was able to watch what could only be explained as a switch being flipped and then you were no longer Y/N. Not the human part anyways. 

A large hand clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, shaking him from his walk down memory lane, and he looked over to find Seokjin’s brows pinched together with worry. He shook his head and gave his senior what he hoped was a smile. Seokjin could read Yoongi’s bullshit better than anybody and lately he’s been keeping Yoongi closer than ever, as if your presence would cause him to spiral down like it had when they’d first met in college. Yoongi couldn’t blame Jin for wanting to make sure he was okay, especially not after the frantic reaction he had when Jin called him the night you were injured. In all their years of being friends, Seokjin had never heard that type of fear in Yoongi’s voice or seen the trembling of his bottom lip once he saw the state you were in after leaving his bar.  

“It’s late,” Taehyung’s deep voice cut the tension in the air as he watched something pass between Seokjin and Yoongi. “We’re all exhausted and I’m sure none of you are up for the long drive home.”

Hoseok had already settled on the couch once he realized Yoongi would have to be dragged out of the apartment kicking and screaming if Taehyung really wanted him to leave. His eyelids were heavier than he expected them to be and soon his soft snores were drifting around the living room. His sudden slumber left Taehyung scrambling for a pillow and blanket so Hoseok wouldn’t be uncomfortable the rest of the night. 

“The offer to share my bed still stands,” Taehyung grinned at Yoongi after settling Hoseok in. The last thing he expected was for Yoongi to stomp down the hall to his room as if he owned the place. He turned to Seokjin and offered to sleep on the floor of his room so Seokjin could have the bed. “I really don’t mind, hyung. I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Seokjin’s smile was endearing, a flutter of pride in his heart at being accepted by Taehyung. “Sleeping on the floor won’t be a problem for me.”

Taehyung nodded and led him down the hall where he flung his door open to find Yoongi spread out on his bed. He grumbled underneath his breath and shoved Yoongi to one side, creating space for himself before digging through his closet for the sleeping bag he’d bought years ago. He handed Seokjin an extra pillow and blanket, bidding him goodnight and good luck. “I had to sleep on this floor when I first moved in and I can tell you, it’s the most unpleasant night’s sleep.”

Seokjin bobbed his head and yawned, offering good luck to Taehyung in return. “Y/N’s right, you know. Yoongi likes to cuddle.”

Taehyung was ready to laugh at what he thought was a continuation of the joking from earlier but the arm that was quickly wrapped around his stomach made him squeak. He didn’t mind it and he certainly wasn’t going to object to Yoongi’s heartless facade finally crumbling. There was a deep and raspy chuckle that echoed around the room and he wasn’t sure if it was from Seokjin, or Yoongi. 

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

The faint smell of freshly brewed coffee drifting up Taehyung’s nostrils made him believe he was still dreaming, but the constricting hold of someone else’s leg curled around his was enough to startle him. He tried to bolt up and assess his surroundings until his back was squeezed to a solid chest, and it was then he remembered what had happened the night before. He looked at the hand pressed to his chest and trailed his eyes up the owner’s arm and to Yoongi’s sleeping face. 

Min Yoongi wasn’t just a cuddler, he was a goddamn boa constrictor with the way he clung to Taehyung with a surprising amount of strength. He wasn’t usually one for physical affection but he hated the feeling of an empty bed after you’d left years ago. To have someone next to him, be it man or woman, he didn’t care. He wanted the warmth of another body, the comfort of knowing the space next to him would be occupied when he awoke. He was well aware of the hesitation that came from Taehyung after the stunt Yoongi had pulled on Jungkook with a gun, which is why it had surprised him that Taehyung would offer his home as a place to sleep despite Yoongi having his own apartment. He liked to think it was because Taehyung was finally starting to accept him the way he accepted Hoseok and Seokjin.

A loud and obnoxious slurping coming from Taehyung’s bedroom doorway had both him and Yoongi groaning at being woken up before they were ready. Yoongi was tempted to throw a pillow at whoever it may be and seeing as how Taehyung fumbled around the bed to grip a loose one, it was clear that Yoongi was not alone in despising the morning sun.

“Well,” Your voice was dripping with amusement, a teasing lilt to it as both men’s eyes shot open to find that you were the one interrupting their sleep. “Don’t you two look cosy. I take it you’ve forgiven Yoongs then, Tae? Or this is a forbidden kind of thing that we’re all supposed to just pretend we don’t notice?”

“Get out!” Taehyung hissed, horror written all over his face as he noticed your phone poised and ready to take a picture. He was sure you already had a dozen or more since you took your sweet ass time waking them up. He would yell at you to delete them but there was a maximum of one photo on your phone, it being of you and your mother when you were still just a toddler. The fact that you were willing to keep a memento of a fonder memory at his and Yoongi’s expense was honestly okay with him. 

“Jin made breakfast.” You sauntered away from Taehyung’s room with your coffee mug, loudly announcing to Hoseok that he ‘just had to see this’, and Hoseok chirping ‘no way!’. Setting the mug down on the kitchen table, you heard fumbling, a thud, and then a loud groan before Yoongi came barreling down the hallway with accusatory eyes. “Good morning, Yoongs. How’d you sleep?”

“Don’t try that cutesy act on me, you little brat.” Yoongi glared at you, his eyes roaming your body in search of your phone. “Hand it over.”

“No.” 

Yoongi balked at your refusal, lunging after you and finding himself having to chase you across the length of the living room. He came close once or twice though he was sure it was more because you were just giving him a chance rather than he was actually as fast as you. Nearly tripping over the coffee table, he was appalled to see that you’d hidden behind Hoseok, and that Hoseok was full on shielding you from Yoongi’s hands.

At some point, Taehyung had finally emerged from his room and stopped short at the sight of a mischievous grin on your face. He didn’t think you even knew what fun was, but he had to remind himself that there had been a time when you were loved and cared for, and the man currently threatening to strangle Hoseok was one of the people who’d known you before your training. He had to wonder why Jungkook hadn’t stepped in yet when he looked to the kitchen and saw Seokjin setting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of the panther. 

The breakfast Seokjin had cooked up looked so mouthwatering that Jungkook didn’t even bother paying attention to you and Yoongi. In fact, it was entertaining to watch Yoongi attempt to keep up with your speed and agility. You moved so fluently and swiftly that Jungkook wondered how it was possible for a mere human to move the way he could in his panther form. When you launched yourself over the coffee table flawlessly and sprinted to him, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist as you plopped down in his lap. 

Yoongi was panting and two seconds from collapsing to the ground. You’d always been fast and nimble, two traits Yoongi wasn’t exactly envious of given the circumstances you’d gone through to obtain those abilities. He did, however, envy that you weren’t out a single breath while he was close to being dehydrated just from running around the apartment. “I swear to God, little one, if you don’t hand that phone over…”

“I don’t have it.” You smirked at him, accepting a forkful of eggs from Jungkook’s waiting hand. You had your own plate waiting right next to him, but given how long you left them to get cold, you couldn’t imagine they were appetizing. A fact Seokjin also factored in when he heard the commotion, now picking up the plate and shoving it in the microwave to heat up. You’d be surprised if it weren’t for the reminder that he was a parent, and that he must have gone through the same thing a million times with his young daughter. 

Taehyung had left the room a few minutes before and was now wandering back in with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. Toothpaste was slathered all over his lips as he scrubbed at his teeth, not wanting to miss what else may occur in the battle between his best friend and Yoongi. He caught Yoongi’s eye and sent him a teasing wink, watching as Yoongi’s face flushed a bright red before he was sitting at the table to eat breakfast. 

Seokjin stood at the stove, munching on a strip of bacon and watching the scene unfold before his very eyes. The stark difference in your attitude and demeanor in the last few hours compared to the last few weeks since he’d known you left Seokjin baffled. The obvious flirting between Taehyung and Yoongi, who seemed to longer detest each other, caught him off guard. When he’d joked about Yoongi being clingy the night before, he did not expect to have seen Taehyung so comfortable in Yoongi’s arms. Seokjin didn’t want this to end, he realized. He wanted this every day and to introduce this new part of his life to his wife and daughter, to have his two worlds collide without the threatening weight of Hyungsik on his shoulders.

Hoseok set his empty plate in the sink, frowning as he turned to the table and brought up the crushing subject of the problem at hand. “I woke up to some disturbing texts this morning.”

You stilled in Jungkook’s arms, eyes flicking to Hoseok’s approaching figure.

“A hunter, Lee Dongwook, stopped by the bar last night because he had some information that he thought we’d find interesting.” Hoseok sighed and hung his head in frustration. “Some detectives were snooping around some local dive bars, said they were asking questions about previously known hybrid collectors. They wouldn’t tell anyone why but Dongwook was sure it had to do with some hybrids that had been found dead and their bodies dumped.”

“Meaning?” Yoongi wanted to shake Hoseok by the shoulders and hope that whatever he was hesitating to say would spill out. 

“It was the way their bodies were dumped.” Hoseok explained, his eyes boring into the side of your face. “No identification, no missing persons reports, no trace of the hybrid even existing. And the places they’d been dumped were void of any kind of evidence as to who could have done it.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to yours, which never seemed to leave the table. Bile gathered in his throat as he watched a sense of recognition flash in your eyes. “Get to the point, Hobi.”

“There’s only one hunter known to pull off a job like that.” Hoseok tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down so hard that he tasted blood. “Only one hunter that’s known to move like a ghost, blending and moving with the shadows.” 

“You didn’t.” Yoongi whispered over the silence that befell the apartment. “Little one, tell me you didn’t.”

“Not for a long time, Yoongi.” You stood from Jungkook and distanced yourself quickly. “Back when I first started hunting, it was easier to do a body dump than it was to actually catch a hybrid. At sixteen, nobody believed a girl like me could get the job done, so they saddled me with getting rid of the bodies.”

“God,” Yoongi breathed and stood up from the table, one hand propped on his hip while the other came up to cover his mouth lest the vomit stuck in his throat come spewing out. “What even…? How…?” He didn’t know what he was trying to ask, or why he was asking at all. He understood what you did as a hunter but he was under the impression that all you did was hunt. Somewhere down the line, he’d pushed the knowledge of your killings to the back of his mind and locked it away.

“I was a kid.” You inhaled deeply and looked to the ground, not sure you could bear the look in Yoongi’s eyes, or Jungkook’s for that matter. “Nobody would have suspected a kid, let alone question them for murder. Sangchul taught me how to get rid of evidence and set me out into the world of hunters and before I knew it... I was that ghost. I was that thing that could move in the shadows, Yoongi. My reputation started with those jobs.” Teahyung winced at the change of tone in your voice. To him, it wasn’t a surprise to hear about the beginnings of your hunting days. You’d told him all about it when you’d first met in hopes it would scare him away. But no. There was no scaring him away from you. 

“Are you trying to justify your shit by saying you were only sixteen?!” Yoongi’s voice boomed around the apartment and Hoseok had put a comforting hand to Jungkook’s shoulder. “All of it should be forgiven and forgotten because you were just a kid?! The world doesn’t fucking work that way, Y/N! Of course, those hybrids would never know because they won’t be getting the chance because of you! You destroyed them, you got rid of them, and didn’t turn back because it wasn’t your fucking problem anymore, was it?! Can you even tell me their names?!”

“Yoongi!” Seokjin tried to step in, watching the darkness swirl in your eyes as your gaze shot to Yoongi. 

“Seo-yun, Seung, Hyunwoo, Juwon,” You listed off name after name, your hands curling into fists at the memories each name brought up. The things you had done, the lives you had taken, and the slow, agonizing pain in your chest with each hybrid. “Changmin, Geon, Seokhoon.”

“Y/N, stop.” Taehyung pleaded, standing from the table and moving across the room but you stepped back. His heart cracked at the way you rejected him.

“Jeni, Areum, Bona,” You continued, chest heaving with anger as more names came spilling out. “Haneul, Nabi, Hwayoung. And so many more. Yes, I did that to them. Yes, I made them untraceable. But I was never the kind of ruthless that my grandfather wanted me to be. They died, Yoongi, but they weren’t tortured, at least not by me. To say their deaths were peaceful would be selfish, but they certainly weren’t painful either.”

“You killed them, Y/N.” Yoongi raked a hand through his hair, bewilderment and disbelief etched all over his face. “You ended their lives and you mean to tell me that you did it peacefully? Is there anything even remotely peaceful about being murdered?”

Your jaw clenched at his question. “What would you know about murder, Yoongi? You think because you happened to catch a glimpse of the damage my mother’s death caused that you’re an expert in the repercussions of it?”

“Don’t do that.” Yoongi hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t try to justify your actions with your past trauma like you were the only one who lost something that day.”

Taehyung’s eyes darted to you as you took in a sharp breath. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. He was downright terrified of the look in your eye. There had been but two times in the past years that Teahyung had called you out on your bullshit and excuses, and both times had ended in disaster.

“Iseul was important to me too.” Yoongi continued and watched as tears welled in your eyes at the sound of your own mother’s name. He could only guess that you hadn’t said her name out loud since the day she died, and hearing it now made you falter. “She wasn’t just your mother. She was the woman who made sure you were safe at all costs, made sure I was safe at all costs because you needed me. I needed you. We needed each other. She asked me to take care of you, asked me to love you the way you deserved to be because she knew that one day, your father would take her away from you. Iseul always knew that she wouldn’t live long enough to watch you grow all the way up, so she made me promise that I would always look after you no matter what. When she died, my heart felt like it was shattered into a million pieces, and then you were gone too.”

Seokjin’s shoulders stiffened. He had never heard the full story of why Yoongi was so closed off and unwilling to make friends with anyone in college. Here and now may not have been the most ideal, but it was time everything came to light.

Yoongi’s hands shook as everything from that time came rushing back to him. The sleepless nights, the loss of appetite, the depression. All of it after you left town and not once since his reunion with you was he given the chance to let you know just how messed up he’d become.

“You were gone,” Yoongi continued, “and I couldn’t find you. It was like you fell off the face of the Earth. Do you know how helpless I felt? How desperate I became? For years I went out of my fucking mind because I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. I may not have had the same experiences as you after that day, but you can damn well bet that I was suffering too. Losing you and Iseul fucked me up just as bad, but I didn’t go off and become a murderer.”

“No. How could you?” You gasped through the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. The look on his face after learning the truth of who you’d really become reminded you of the time your mother had first looked at you the same way. Like you were the devil. “You weren’t born to the same monster that I was, Yoongi. You weren’t meant to be what I am. I know what you were going through. Every chance I had to get away from Sangchul, I went to find you. You were so broken that I couldn’t show my face knowing I’d have to leave again. When we got older, and Sangchul was dead, I kept my distance and you know why? Because you were finally happy again, and I thought if I showed up that I would only disrupt the new life you built. Look at you, Yoongs, you can barely look me in the eye knowing what you do now.”

Jungkook fought hard to resist his urge to spring up from his chair and hold you. He had admonished your decision to keep hunting, but that didn’t mean he didn’t fully understand what the life of a hunter meant. Yoongi’s bar was open to anyone and everyone, and although 90% of those people were hunters, he had never been fully immersed in their world. It wasn’t easy for Jungkook to forgive you and it certainly wasn’t easy to see it from your perspective, but surviving was your instinct just as it was his. Sometimes surviving meant doing things one would never be proud of and he understood that better than Yoongi did.

“The only reason I can’t look you in the eye is because I’m not sure who I’ll see when I do.” Yoongi blinked away his own tears, his chest aching with the newfound knowledge that you’d always been looking over him. “You have this mask that you put up whenever you start to shut down or need to keep someone at bay. That mask looks so much like Sangchul’s and Donghoon’s that I don’t even see Iseul in you anymore, Y/N.”

“That’s because she’s none of those people,” Taehyung had finally inched himself across the room enough to stand at your side without touching you. “Y/N is herself. Those people may have shaped her but over time, she created her own mould. Yoongi, you only want to see the little girl you took care of and no matter how many times you thought you could handle who she was, it wasn’t real for you. This, here and now, this is the reality we’ve lived and become accustomed to. You’re not ready for it. I don’t think anyone but me, Jungkook, and Y/N are, and yet here we all stand willing to take risks bigger than any of us had expected. I’m not saying you need to open your eyes and take in the cruelty of our world if you want to help, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“When was your last clean up job?” Seokjin didn’t want to ask. In fact, he was content with staying the hell out of the argument entirely, but someone had to shift the conversation back to where it began. 

“6 years ago,” your answer was immediate, giving Yoongi a little bit of relief that these last few bodies were not actually your work. “After I got my first tracking job, I never took on another clean up again.”

Hoseok perked up as if suddenly realizing something important. He dug his phone from his pocket to scroll through the text messages.”Dongwook said the other hunters didn’t give up your name to the detectives, but he heard chatter that maybe you’d started taking on clean up duty again.”

“How did he know to text you?” Yoongi asked him, almost glaring at Hoseok’s sheepish face. “Hobi?”

Hoseok scratched at his head nervously. “Dongwook was in the bar the night Xiumin and Kai attacked Y/N. He saw us take her to the back and figured we had dealt with her a different way but then he saw her leave and pieced it all together.”

“We’re really that transparent.” Yoongi sighed heavily, massaging the tension building at the nape of his neck. “If Dongwook figured it out then there’s no doubt that other hunters have as well.”

“Well yes, but who would really try and use it against us?” Hoseok shot a knowing look in your direction. “To them, the fact that we let Y/N go so easily that night just means we’re important to her. Nobody’s ever bothered to try and hurt Taehyung because they know what will happen if they do. In a way, the bar and us are under her protection.”

“Then who’s dumping the bodies? And who would be stupid enough to try and pin it on Y/N?”

“I’m still here.” You reminded them, tired of hearing them speak about you as if you weren’t present. Looking at everyone around the room, your eyes softened on Jungkook in apology. “I have to contact Namjoon today, before things get more out of hand. I’ll be gone for most of the day and maybe even tomorrow.”

Jungkook wanted to argue, wanted to lock you in the apartment even if he had to tie you up to do so, but he couldn’t do any of that. He could definitely try, and he didn’t think anyone else would object to it. Still, he couldn’t keep you from your nature or from your desperate need to keep him alive and well. Two days would be too long and that was just the minimum amount of time you’d estimated your absence. “Will Taehyung or Seokjin hyung be going with you?”

No, you said at the same time Taehyung said “yes”. You spun around to face him, lips pulled into a thin line. “You’re not going, Tae. I need you here with Jungkook.”

“Jungkook’s a full shifter,” Taehyung argued, “if anyone needs protection, it’s whoever is dumb enough to storm this apartment. Plus, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Yoongi can stay here with him, right Jungkook?”

“I’d feel better if Taehyung went with you.” Jungkook nodded at Taehyung in agreement. “It won’t be safe by yourself, and I’d rather not have a repeat of the night I had to stitch you up.”

You rolled your neck in irritation. Suddenly everyone thought arguing with you was a good idea and nothing pissed you off more than when Taehyung refused to see reason. You didn’t know what would happen when you met Namjoon and you didn’t want Taehyung in the middle of it. After spilling the secret of your grandfather’s death, you were sure Namjoon had something planned in order to bring you to justice. He wouldn’t be a good cop if he didn’t have a larger perspective. 

Without a word, you were storming to your room, changing from the baggy sweats and shirt to a pair of black tactical pants, a tank top, and a long sleeved thermal top over it. You pulled your hair into a low ponytail with a heavy sigh. “It isn’t safe to take Taehyung with me,” you called over your shoulder.

Jungkook wasn’t at all surprised that you’d sensed him in the room even if he hadn’t made any noise. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your stomach to pull your back flush against his chest. “I don’t even want you to go in the first place. If you don’t want Taehyung to go with you, then you’ll just have to stay here.”

You turned in his arms, resting your palms against the hard planes of his chest and sliding them up until your fingers were fiddling with the leather band around his neck. An ominous feeling came over you as you tapped on the tracking chip embedded in the charm adorning it. Something was going to go wrong, you could feel it, but voicing this to Jungkook would only further prove that whatever you have planned was not a good idea. 

“The longer I wait to set the rest of the plan in motion, the riskier it gets for you,” you stood on the tips of your toes, fingers sliding into his long hair, and pulling his mouth down to yours. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, but it wasn’t an I’ll-see-you-soon kiss. You could tell Jungkook knew this with the way he secured your waist with one arm and his other hand tangled in your hair, tugging at the elastic band. 

He pulled you hard against him, deepening the kiss and nipping at your bottom lip until he was able to slide his tongue through your parted lips. He felt your nails dig into his scalp gently and he groaned against your mouth, savoring the taste of coffee on your tongue. He didn’t want to let you go, but the push of your hand against his chest forced him to release his grip. 

You pulled back to touch your forehead to his, both of you breathing heavily. You didn’t open your eyes to see his, it hurt enough that you were leaving, you didn’t need the image of his pleading brown eyes to be the last thing you’d seen before taking off. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He whispered against your swollen lips. His hands fell to your waist where he bunched up the fabric of your shirt, his grip becoming too tight. “I thought you were a better liar than this.”

“I can’t lie to you no matter how hard I try.” You pressed a softer kiss to his mouth this time, bracing your palms against his chest and pushing away from him. Without giving him one last look, you were stalking out of the room. Your chest constricted with the ragged breath he puffed out to keep himself from crying. 

#hunting a hybrid fic #jeon jungkook smut #bts hybrid au #bts smut #jeon jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic

[a-pretty-nerd]

Tomura Shigaraki x AllMight!Daughter!Reader

Chapter 9

Premis:

When The League of Villains discovers that AllMight has a daughter, they are quick to snatch you up and hold you hostage. Shigaraki had a careful and thought out plan, but that was before you got there. Now you’re in the mood for some not-so-healthy rebellion.

Word count: 2,756

Warnings: Cursing

A/N:

Oh dear lord I'm slow at getting these out. Life's been kickin' my ass lately. But thank you to everyone who's been giving me feedback on my stuff, I really love to hear from you guys!

Taglist: 

(So sorry, I forgot when I originally posted!) 

@craftybean13 @babayaga67 @imjustverable

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

@kamenoyaki @hentaiqween101 @skzero-99 @justanotherlifeff

@witch-o-memes​

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

Two months. You've been "missing" for two months now. The days flew by, your time occupied by quirk training Shigaraki insisted on but never told you why. The times you tried to ask he'd brush it off, or say something like:

"So you don’t throw another fit." His words were harsh but he said them with a flat and bored tone. Like it was a poorly acted line.

So now you had better control. You could move things on command, you knew basic combat, you certainly knew how to kick Dabi's ass by now, that didn't take too long. You were being allowed more and more freedom. Even allowed to leave for a convenience store runs with Toga once or twice. No one policed you, told you what you could and could not do anymore. You could have easily ran away by now. You supposed they really didn't need you either. For their plan to work all they would need was some blood and Toga could easily pass as you.

That idea sent a shiver down your spine. You're sure Shigaraki has thought of that already, so why hadn't he? Why was he training you? Would he use your quirk against the heroes in some way? Was he grooming you to turn and fight your father? You wouldn't. No matter what you wouldn't fight your father. Would you? You shook yourself of this thought as you walked down the ally to the back door of the hide out.

Toga unlocked the door and you stepped in, greeted by a dark and dingy back room. You made your way through the dark halls, following closely behind her as she led you up the stairs that finally led to the parts of the building with power. Soon you found yourself walking to the familiar living space where a few people rested. Dabi laid himself out on one of the couches, Spinner sat fiddling with his burner phone, and Twice had started yelling at the TV before you arrived.

"Luuuunch!" Toga shouted. Toga was often used as the errand girl, she brought back necessary supplies, oftentimes food. Today Toga asked you to tag along and help out, and there wasn't a single objection to the hostage going out on the town. You sat the heavy bags down on the coffee table, taking out the contents as you spoke.

"Where are the others?" You asked.

"Mr. Compress was sent on an errand of his own. And Shigaraki's probably pouting in his room. He'll come out when he's hungry." Dabi groaned as he took his meal from your hand.

"Oh. I'll just bring it to him." You said, absent-minded. All eyes turned to you, looking confused and shocked. "What?" You asked.

"Nothing! It's just-"

"He doesn't like to be disturbed." Toga and Twice spoke. You paused and looked at the box in your hand. It would get cold if he didn't eat soon, and besides, none of you had had much to eat lately, you were sure he was hungry. You knew you were.

"I'll just leave it at the door and knock. It'll get cold and then he'll be in an even worse mood." You told them. They watched you turn and walk up the stairs to his "room". You stood in front of the door, with such thin walls you could hear furious typing on the other side. Loud clicking of a mouse, and the sound of a computer's fan. You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Suddenly the sounds abruptly stopped, followed by a bark.

"What!?"

"Foods here." You called back. You heard footsteps on the other side growing louder and louder until the door flew open. You stared up at the tall man as he looked down on you. His hair hung over his face, his eyes hardly visible. Your heart rate quickened the longer you looked at him. What the hell is wrong with you?

"Give it to me." He held out his hand, his pinky holding out in preparation to receive the box.

"You said you liked spice stuff, right?" You asked as you placed it in his hand.

"Yeah."

"We got you their spicy special. I hope it's not too much. The sign said 'caution' on it." He scoffed at you, turning the box and looking at the writing on it. He fell very quiet. Inspecting the box, you suddenly worried that something was wrong with it. That maybe you'd messed up somehow. But before your anxiety could reach its peak-

"Thank you." His voice was low and soft. You could hardly hear him. Then before you could respond he closed the door and left you alone again. Did he really say that? You never heard him say that to anyone. Granted, you hardly knew him but still, the way he said it, it made you feel... special in some way. You shook yourself from your train of thought and shuffled down the hallway, pausing when you heard movement and the door to Shigaraki's room open. You froze.

"Wait a minute." He barked. You turned too look at him. He hung out of the doorway to stare at you.

"W-What?" You asked. Shigaraki had a way of making people feel like they were in trouble. His ability to easily become an authority figure was something you were beginning to understand now.

"You...went out?" You nodded. He paused and looked away, his eyes shifting as the gears spun in his head. He turned back into his room as he spoke, "come here for a second." He asked. You slowly made your way to his room, the door left wide for you to peak inside. A dark room lit by portable light fixtures and a laptop computer which sat on an old desk. A cot thrown to the corner covered by the same old and tattered blankets the rest of you had.

"Am I... in trouble?" You croaked.

"What? No. Close the door behind you, you'll let in a draft." He ordered, seeming genuinely confused by your question. You closed the door behind you, leaving you completely alone with him in his space. Your heart raced.

You watched him turn and look up at the wall which he had decorated with plans. Pictures of heroes and villains cut out and pinned. Newspaper clippings, printed out articles and research essays. He was planning something, but what it was was difficult to determine. You did notice however, a cut out of an empty figure with your name on it pinned to the center of it all. You stared at it for a second before he broke you from your train of thought.

"Well?"

"Huh!?"

"What do you think?" He asked. His attention turned to his meal, he picked at it, taking a few bites.

"Of what?"

"...the plan." You looked back at the wall, puzzled you tried your best to gain any sort of information from it. Only being able to find bits and pieces. You knew it involved you, your father, and the take down of hero society. A cut out piece of article said something about the rise of villains, that more and more people were turning to villain work. How those rates have a correlation with classes. You slowly turned back to look at him.

"I'm sorry you're gonna have to explain this to me." You told him. He rolled his eyes and stood, directing his attention to his work as he spoke.

"This is the second part of the plan."

"What was the first?"

"Taking you as a hostage."

"Right. But, didn't you say the plan was to expose the heroes after they weren't able to rescue me and not only expose the faulty heroes but also my father as a neglectful and flawed individual not worthy of the hero title?" He paused.

"Yes."

"But that didn't go as planned."

"....."

"Didn't you say something about making a video to broadcast outing myself as All Might's daughter and causing panic? What happened to that plan?"

"It became leverage. If they attempt to come for you, then we'll go with that. But if we do that now, they'll come for you now and we'll be forced to fight."

"Isn't a fight...a good thing? You'd get news coverage and You'd no doubt gain supporters."

"Normally it would. But a fight isn't what we need right now. The heroes have us surrounded. If we make any move at all, we're in their hands. We won't be able to win."

"Not even with your quirk? Couldn't you-"

"Not with everyone here. As strong as I've gotten, I'm not strong enough to keep them from getting swept up and dusted too."

"Right."

"We're in a tight spot. One wrong move and we'll be wiped out."

"What about your supporters? Couldn't you get help from the outside."

"I could, but the heroes would see it coming. They have our signal tapped. Any sort of communication has to be verbal or written."

"Homing pigeon?" You offered. It made him smirk.

"Right now we're like a fox trapped in its own hole by hunters."

"So... we dig?" That made him smile, wide.

"Dig. If we could smuggle ourselves out of the city, we could reach a clear spot where we can call for backup to get us."

"Why not send one person to smuggle themselves out? Toga could easily disguise herself and leave."

"They have a barrier."

"What?"

"Part of the city is closed off until further notice. They know exactly where we are. If one gets out, they won't hesitate to come for all of us. We all have to get out at once and they can't notice until it's too late."

"But how the hell are you gonna do that?" His smile widened. He looked truly excited and happy. For the first time you saw your capture seem truly excited about something.

"We have a few secret recruits in the city. Spies." He turned his attention back to his meal box, reaching in to pull out the inner box that held the food, to reveal a piece of paper sitting underneath in the flimsy take out box. "I didn't know they were letting you out of the base now." He spoke as he opened and read the note within the box.

"I thought, you knew. I thought you were the one that said I could. Dabi said it was fine." He read the note and stood to pin it up on the wall before speaking.

"I've been too busy with this to worry about you. You shouldn't believe everything that Dabi says. I told him to make sure you just don't have another episode and cause a scene before we leave. I thought assigning him babysitting duty would keep him busy." He chuckled. "There's just one thing I don't understand." He turned back to you. "Why didn't you leave?"

"I...I..."

"You had the opportunity, but you're still here. Why?" You froze. Why? Why didn't you run?

"I was scared I'd be killed." You lied. He laughed at you.

"Don't lie to me. You lost that fear a long time ago. You know that's not true. If I wanted you dead I would have killed you a long time ago."

"You've kept me alive to use me as bate. To, to expose the truth." You argued.

"With Toga, we wouldn't need to." You swallowed hard. You knew he had thought about this.

"I'll tell you why I stayed, if you tell me why you've been training me." He scoffed.

"To keep you busy, to keep you from having another episode."

"That doesn't make sense. You could have drugged me, killed me, you said it yourself. But you kept me alive, you kept me busy. You could have kept me on my meds, unable to use it at all but you insisted I learn my quirk. You trained me yourself. Why?" His smile faded and his expression became dark.

"I asked you first." He growled. You looked away from him and thought for a moment before gaining the strength to answer. You knew the truth for a while now. You never wanted to say it out loud. You refused to look at him as you spoke.

"I don't wanna go back. But you probably already knew that by now. You just wanted to hear me say it, huh?" His smirk returned.

"Had a hunch." He snickered.

"Now you answer me."

"Why don't you wanna go back?"

"We had a deal. Answer my question now." You barked at him. It took him a long pause. A full minute of waiting in silence felt like agony.

"I thought it would help you feel better." He muttered in a surprisingly husky tone. "Keep you from asking me to dust you again." That's right, during your episode...

"I'm sorry." You blurted.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I... I asked you to kill me." You hid your face from him. He shifted and crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's not a big deal, I dust people all the time."

"No, I know. But like, I can't imagine being asked to by someone having a fucking break down happens all the time too. I kinda...kinda put you in a shitty position." When you looked up, he looked confused. Comically so. "What?"

"I took you hostage." He reminded you. You couldn't help but chuckle, that made him more confused.

"Shit, yeah, you're right. Guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself huh?" He looked away. "Still. My intentions weren't to upset you."

"You didn't upset me."

"It seems like I upset you." You toyed. His guard was down, he was vulnerable, and allowing you to be there.

"Shut up. You didn't answer my other question!" He shouted in an almost playful tone. You couldn't help but smile, only to have it slowly fade as you thought about your second answer.

"I don't want to go back because..." you stopped, the words getting stuck in your throat. You were unable to speak. He looked down at you, waiting for an answer. He seemed almost relaxed. He seemed normal. Like a normal guy leaning against the wall of his bedroom with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes wandered up to his scarred neck, bright red scabs forming. Inflamed and fresh. He had recently scratched at it again, clearly in an upset state too. When he blinked you got a clear view of the scarring around his eyes.

"Boss!" A familiar voice shouted from outside the door. "Boss!" Before you could move the door was thrown open, Spinner's wide eyes finding you standing there. He shook his confusion loose before turning back to Shigaraki who quickly changed his position to attention. "Come quick!"

You followed him back to the living space where the old television sat. The news playing loudly as everyone gathered around to watch in panic. Swat teams and heroes decorated the screen as shot after shot showed them surrounding your building. Fear ran from your toes to your head, making you feel nauseous and dizzy. Shit. Shit. Shit. They're here for you. But you...you weren't ready to leave. And what about-

"Not again! - We can take 'em'!" Twice shouted at it like a sport was playing.

"Tomura, what are we going to do!?" Toga asked, frantically bobbing up and down in panic. He watched the TV intently listening in.

"After receiving a tip from an anonymous source, police and heroes found missing tourist Y/L/N Y/N being held captive by The League of Villains in this abandoned office building. Officials are working now to safely rescue the hostage."

Suddenly a loud voice was heard both on TV and through the halls of the building.

"League of Villains. We have you surrounded. Please let Y/L/N go and no one will be hurt." A cop shouted through a megaphone.

"C'mon Shigaraki, what's the plan?" Dabi asked, clearly starting to get uncomfortable. Before Shigaraki could respond, you spoke.

"Well, looks like this is it for me." You began walking away, only to be stopped by a strong, four-fingered grip pulling you back.

"Where do you think you're going!?" He growled.

"The jig is up, Shigaraki! Let me go! I'm not useful anymore. All they want is me, if I'm out of your hair you'll be able to escape easier." His grip tightened, pulling you closer as his red eyes bore into yours.

"So long as you're here they won't dare make a move. You're still my most valuable player. You're staying right here."

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #Shigaraki #bnha fanfic #league of villians

[obae-me]

Hey can I request how the brothers would react to the MC seeing them in their demon form for the first time and being scared?

I hope this answers enough of what you wanted, thank you so much for your request! 💜

Lucifer

Good. This is what he wanted. To make sure MC knew his power and position. He uses his demon form mostly as an intimidation tactic, it lets his brothers know when he’s serious, and it tells the other demons who’s in charge.

However...MC was now on the ground, looking up at him with nothing but fear in their eyes. They were frozen, unable to even answer his simple questions. He had just wanted to let MC know not to defy him, leave them a bit rattled, not...quivering. Maybe...he had gone too far?

Now MC can’t even talk to him without shaking, without doing their best to avoid him at all costs. This was not what he wanted any longer. He was supposed to make them feel at home here. It would not do any good for MC to be terrified of him for an entire year.

Also...was he really so horrifying? He wasn’t quite as obsessed with his appearance as his brother Asmo, but it wounded his pride that MC seemed to only see him as a monstrosity. He was sure his form was a bit overwhelming, yes, but was he not divine? Was he not stunning?

He took MC out to do whatever their heart desired as an apology. He’ll work on slowly getting MC accommodated to his demon form, also making sure not to only let it show when he was angry. He’d do it slowly, at their own pace until they get to the point where they’re comfortable around him, complimenting and petting his wings. No one ever gets to touch his wings, but he’ll allow it for MC, as long as they never look so scared of him again.

Mammon

He’s not a fan of horror, he won’t ever admit it around his brothers, but it freaks him out a bit. Which is why he can’t get over the expression of unfounded terror that MC had when he showed them his demon form. It didn’t settle right with him. It bothered him a lot, actually. Making him highly irritable. 

Even as the second born, no one was ever scared of him. Lucifer was the terrifying one, most of the time, his younger brothers hardly respected him much less feared him. So finding out that MC was terrified just by seeing him in his true form confused him greatly.

So, because he’s not the greatest with plans, he stormed into their room. In his demon form of course. Why would they have a problem with it? What was their deal?

He bashed his way though the door, hands on his hips, demanding answers. God he hated how he sounded like Lucifer sometimes. But he quickly stopped in his tracks, hearing the small whimpers coming from MC’s mouth. Not again, he thought, and then spoke to them in a soft voice.

“Hey...hey, human, it’s still me, it’s still Mammon...what do you look so scared for? These things can’t hurt ya.”

It wasn’t completely truthful, his horns and wings could be deadly if used right, but for MC, he’d show them they were harmless. If letting MC touch his wings and horns helps them not be so scared of him, he’ll allow them to do it. Even though they’re incredibly sensitive. He has to try so hard not to squeal or squirm, he wanted MC not to be scared but he didn’t want to look ridiculous in front of them.

Levi

After the demonic bout of envy that drove him to his demon form, it wasn't until he calmed down did he realize how MC had looked at him. He read it as disgust. They ran away from him because they saw how he truly looked, and they hated him for it.

He’ll solve this problem the same as all his other problems, hole himself up in his room for days at a time. He’ll come out eventually, but he’s ashamed to show his face now. It drives him wild how he’s so self conscious for a human, but he can’t help it. All he can think of is how envious of other demons with their much cooler looks.

He’ll apologize to MC anytime he transforms.

MC has to set the record straight with him, even though they were the one scared in the first place. They just freaked out a little, this place and it’s shapes were all new to them. Seeing him get angry with a new tail and horns, it was a bit too much to handle in the moment. It was nothing against him, it was just a final confirmation that he was a demon.

It takes him some time to feel comfortable again letting MC see his demon self, but the next time they do, MC is wary, but not nearly as frightened. In fact, they start to love his form. They tell him anime characters they love that he reminds them of, and after he gets over his envy over those fictional characters, he’ll blush and feel more confident in being more open with his true form.  

Satan

Of course MC would be scared seeing him in his full form of Wrath. Any human would be scared seeing someone transform with horns and a tail and a thick aura of anger surrounding them. So when he saw that MC’s legs were shaking so bad that they could barely keep themselves standing, he wasn’t surprised.

It did bother him, however, and he was unsure why. He had been used to scaring people away before, his brothers also knew not to mess with him too much for fear of making him furious. So why did the scene of MC holding back a bloodcurdling scream keep playing again over and over in his mind? It was extremely distracting.

He went to talk to MC about it. Purely for curiosity's sake...only for that reason.

Satan notices that MC is obviously concerned about setting him off again. He takes a deep breath and tells MC that he will remain in his human form until they are either okay with it or until they leave. He’s the most patient, so no matter what they choose, he can wait.

They come to him a few weeks later, ready to see him again without his strong murderous intent attached. MC actually loves playing with his feather boa. They won’t tell him it looks a bit ridiculous on him, but if anything, it makes them less scared of him. 

Asmo

He’ll take this the hardest. He’s all about how he looks, how he presents himself, how other people see him. Not once, not once, had anyone ever looked at him like that before. Bedroom glances and sensual touches, yes. Eyes and body language that told him that MC would do anything to get away from him as fast as possible, he’d never had that before.

He’ll be in his room, refusing to come out until he’s scrutinized every single detail of his body, wondering what it was about him that MC couldn't stand. The wings and horns were different, but he didn’t look nearly as scary as his other brothers. He was supposed to be attractive. Beautiful! 

Was he...self conscious? No, no, impossible. He’s just...curious why they didn’t like him was all.

He will end up pestering MC until he gets some sort of answer. He didn’t expect MC to just tell him they were scared. Scared? He made them scared? Oh what a precious sweetheart MC is!

He’ll cuddle them, compliment them, make them feel comfortable as a way of apologizing for traumatizing them so. The next time MC sees him in his demon form, Asmo had made sure they were dressed in the cutest thing possible. MC laughs and wonders why they ever were scared of the flamboyant demon of Lust.

Beel

He had said it numerous times that he wanted to eat them, and Lucifer hadn’t exactly withheld explaining to MC all the ways they could be consumed by demons. So when Beel transformed, all they could think about was them being consumed.

Beel had lost control of himself, destroyed part of the house, and now he saw the way MC acted around him. It made him sick to his stomach. He always wanted to prove himself to be a protector, making sure the people that were close to him always felt safe. Already he had taken a liking to MC and yet already they were fearful of him.

The only way he could think of to show his trust was to share food. Share his food. His brother had never ever seen Beel not finish a meal, but for a little while, Beel would give MC some food off of his plate to make sure they ate. He never wanted to see MC tremble like that, especially not from him, he wouldn’t be able to handle it, the guilt would eat him up for dinner instead.

He won’t be satisfied till MC is comfortable with him entirely, demon form, human form, all of it. He’ll take whatever steps necessary if it means MC feels safe around him. 

Belphie

It’s only natural that MC would be scared of his demon form after what happened. Even if the MC he hurt so badly wasn’t the one that stayed, Belphie could still catch nervous glances from MC anytime he sounded like he was about to lose it.

He won't tell anyone the reason why he’s been sleeping so poorly since then is because he can’t stop dreaming of the same moment over and over and over again. Watching their face wrapped in an endless scream. MC does find it concerning when the demon of Sloth is refusing to get any sleep.

It’s actually Beel who comes to MC first, telling them to talk to Belphie. Since they’re twins and they have a magical twin connection, he’s felt awful, feeling endlessly restless no matter what he eats or how much he exercises. He pleads MC to talk to his brother.

It takes a long discussion with MC doing most of the talking before Belphie gives in and apologies with his cracking voice betraying his emotions. He just wants to go back to dreaming, he wants to stop reliving this endless nightmare.

MC stops being scared of Belphie when he falls asleep in their lap, and Belphie finally is able to move on from that terrible moment.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

If you're still doing the c!primeboys aus, one set in the L'Manberg revolution?

Of course! I adore doing them.

Blood pooled at the floor of the Final Control Room, the screams of agony and terror having stopped echoing off the walls and giving way to dead silence. Eret had lost whatever lunch she had, and refused to look at the bodies of her former comrades. Sapnap and Punz leant against the side of the walls, knees buckling and staring in shock at what they’d done. Even George looked a bit pale, used to assassination, but not of children.

Dream watched serenely, pride swelling in his chest. He couldn’t have hoped for this plan to go as well as it did. Three bodies dissolved into nothing as their owners respawned. One did not.

Dream's first thought was panic, looking at the bloodied and battered body of the boy he found fascinating. Tommy couldn’t have lost his first two canon lives without him knowing, right? Oh god, what was the point of all this if Tommy was dead forever-

No use panicking. He bent down and grasped the boys wrist and grinned. It was faint, but there was a pulse. Now, the question was what to do with this opportunity.

He could finish him off (but that would just be a waste). He could let him go (but that would just be boring). He could-

His grin widened under his mask. He could keep Tommy as a hostage, and kill two birds with one stone. He could get the rebels under his thumb and keep Tommy all to himself.

(“All to himself?” What the fuck was he thinking? Tommy wasn’t a fucking object, he couldn’t hoard him like a resource.)

(But he wanted to. Oh, he wanted to so, so bad.)

He picked up the too-light body of his Tommy (his Tommy? He didn’t own him) and took him to Eret's castle. He wasn’t going to keep him in the old “jail,” not only had he escaped from it effortlessly before but it was barely more than a bed and enough room to stand. The Pride Palace was more secure and less restrictive. After all, a songbird would hardly sing in a cage too small for it.

——

Tommy's room in the palace wasn’t anything like his home, and no matter how long he spent a fucking prisoner here he despised it. It was filled with fluffy blankets and pillows and gifts and comforts meant to bribe him into behaving. All he wanted was the feeling of rough cobblestone under his feet and his brother's smile.

Eret wasn’t that bad, honestly. Yeah, he was a fucking traitor, but there was something in the way he looked from the windows, the way he froze whenever his former friends was mentioned. He denied it, but there was something resembling regret there. Besides, he allowed Tommy to take whatever he wanted from the chest and roam the castle grounds to his heart’s content, and that was better than the first few days, where Dream had insisted he be confined to his room. For rest, he said.

Neither were Dream's friends, really. They got sent over to “guard” the new king, apparently to protect Eret from assassination, but it was clear the real reason was to keep Tommy from escaping. None of them really particularly cared about that. George mostly just slept. Sapnap hung out with Tommy, and honestly no matter how much he complained it was nice having a friend other than Dream. Punz just let Tommy leave for the right bribe, which Tommy was pretty sure could be anything. He once gave the mercenary a single dirt block and he looked the other way. It wasn’t even really necessary, honestly, to keep Tommy in the palace. He knew he had trackers on him at all times.

It wasn’t like him nearly dying had allowed him to come back intact, after all. His leg was basically destroyed, broken and twisted to the point of uselessness and unable to heal. The memory of lying in the too-large bed in his prison, so full of potions he was barely conscious and the feeling of the saw cutting through tendons and flesh and bone still haunted him. It wasn’t Ponk's fault really- they were the closest thing to a doctor the server had, but they'd never done anything like that before. Besides, they gave him a big ass lollipop and a weird smelling candle afterwards, and that was kind of cool.

It was only the next day Tommy had met Sam for the first time, and he was honestly kind of fucking terrifying- a creeper hybrid more creeper than human, scuttling about on four insect like limbs and towering over everyone- but he was nice. Nice didn’t mean safe- fuck, it definitely didn’t mean safe, Dream was nice in his visits every day until he wasn’t- but it was comforting. Sam was apparently some redstone prodigy who holed himself up in a mountain in the server to work on his creations, and Dream had hired him to make a prosthetic for Tommy.

Sam had worked surprisingly quickly- he’d had it done within the week- but he’d insisted that he come over every once in a while to check if it was working properly. Tommy's pretty sure it was just an excuse from Sam to make sure he hadn’t been murdered or whatever. He’d told him about the tracker in the leg, during one of his visits. Honestly, it barely phased Tommy. He knew what Dream was like.

(God, one of these days he had to apologise for ever calling Tubbo clingy. He never knew the meaning of that word until now.)

Figuring out what had happened to L'Manburg after he was taken as Dream's fucking spoil of war or whatever was- not difficult, but painful. He’d expected the country to be destroyed, the walls brought down, so that wasn’t a shock, but what was was what had happened to his family.

Tubbo was- quiet. Far too quiet, eyes downcast and always listening. Whenever they met, Tubbo would never be able to look Tommy in the eyes but would hold him tight like he could somehow keep him from leaving if he did. Fundy's talk of Dream, once far too kind and punctuated by the barely hidden blushing of a schoolboy crush, was harsh and angry and betrayed. And then there was Wilbur.

Wilbur, the kind, kind older brother who teased him and ruffled his hair and naively thought that words could prevail over violence. That would give anything for his ideals. He didn’t see that Wilbur when he looked into his brother's eyes anymore, instead seeing terror and anger and derangement. He smelt like cigarette smoke, so strong it made it hard to breathe around him. His clothes were ripped and poorly patched together, his hair too long and eyes with deep deep black bags underneath.

He spoke of violence and revolution and bombs and death, burning the whole server down if it meant getting Tommy back. He’d tried to drag Tommy to his rebel encampment in a ravine somewhere, only stopping when Tommy desperately mentioned he was being tracked. He barely so much as grazed Tommy anymore, as if afraid he’d break him like glass, but the few times he did the touch was possessive in a way sickeningly familiar.

The last time they were able to speak, Wilbur had a manic grin on his face as he took a long, long drag of his cigarette. “Technoblade wrote back, Tommy,” he said, uncontrolled glee in his voice. “He’s coming. We'll get you home, Tommy, I promise.”

The worst part was, even though the idea of being free was something he dreamed about, something he’d hoped and prayed for, part of him hated the idea and said that he was where he belonged right under Dream's thumb.

If anyone else wants to send in some more AU ideas it’d be lovely and I will make them heavily involve c!primeboys no matter what and again that’s a challenge

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp au #dsmp au #c!primeboys #c!dream #c!tommy #tw gore #tw blood #tw amputation #tw obsession #tw possessive behavour #tw kidnapping #tw isolation #tw abuse

[madaras-housewife]

A bridge between love and duty

This took me a long ass time to write and holy I’m glad I’m finally done with it. I enjoyed writing it and I also hated it, but I’ve sure learnt a lot from it. Nonetheless, I’m infinitely happy about giving Hashi the love he deserves.

This one shot is a part of a server collab organised by the lovely @bakubabes-hatake. 

pairing: Hashirama Senju x female reader

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

prompt: Hanahaki disease

length: 5.7k words

tw: none

Red camellia: “You are a flame in my heart”  

The muffled sound was the first thing she heard in the darkness of her slumber. As her consciousness steadily gathered, she took a deep breath and realised what it was. Her heavy eyelids peeled open, but they quickly closed back.  A warm bed; a mask covering her mouth and nose. 

The woman groaned and rose up to sit straight. Her chest was slightly aching, but it was not as bad as usual. A gentle beam of sunshine tried to peek through the blinders. How long had she been out? It was then that she started reminiscing about the failure of her life with a resigned sigh. But what stirred in her heart was not fear, nor anger. A strange melodious tune of relief coursed through her body. It was over. 

Nevertheless, her thought process was interrupted by the door creaking open. 

A woman in a white coat walked in and looked her up and down with hawk-like eyes. She seemed better than the state she was in at her arrival. The medic formally introduced herself and asked the patient the routine questions, before using her medical ninjutsu on her. 

_____ did not mean to ask who brought her to the hospital, but she felt the need to inquire about other matters.

“How long have I been asleep?”

The nurse did not spare her another look. “For about 5 hours. Hashirama-sama wasn’t here for too long after leaving you in our care.”. 

“Ah, I see.”. A nearly awkward silence ensued between the two, but the medical worker seemed to have read her mind. 

“He was here until you became stable.”. Those words visibly relieved the patient, to which she reprimanded, “Your condition is grave, you know. You should have gone to the doctor a long time ago. Chance is that you will have permanent scars.”

_____’s shoulder stiffened, but those words seemed to go through her. Despite the accuracy of her statement, she did not want to feel scolded by a stranger, albeit a medical professional. 

The woman in white pursed her lips. “Hashirama-sama should be back soon. I will send word that you have awakened. Until then, you should get some more rest.”

With a nod, the nurse was dismissed and _____ was left alone in her room. She could now relish in the mess that she made, recollecting her mistakes from the very beginning. 

Following the end of the Warring States era, the shinobi world found that the easiest way to forge peace between the clans was through arranged marriages. So for _____, being chosen as a bride for the Senju clan was an opportunity for her own brethren to gain respect and recognition in the newly founded Konohagakure. 

A few moons after the official inauguration of the Leaf, the clan elders deemed it urgent to hold an internal conference. Most of the distinguished families showed up, so it was deemed necessary for her to be there, too. In their characteristically tedious manner, they spoke of traditions that needed to be upheld, as well as something related to their reputation and prestige, a subject that no one was particularly interested in.

 However, the discussion slowly built towards the matter of Hashirama’s marital status and how he was to marry a kunoichi from a different clan as soon as possible, as the elders thought it sensible for the leader of the village to have successors. 

A stale atmosphere of monotony clung to the room, except for the chair where _____ sat. She tried imitating the mannerism and facial expressions of the other members to no avail. The tension surrounding her became almost palpable, but the scowl lingering on Hashirama’s face gave her hope of him denying the proposition.

“I will consider it.” 

Regardless of all her years of training, she couldn’t control the furious wriggling of her digits on the table, something which did not go unnoticed by the participants. Their impassive, yet judgemental eyes burnt countless little dents through her with enough ease to make her feel like nothing more than a decaying puppet which had long outlived its usefulness. The shame was suffocating, unbearable, virulent and yet the only thing her decrepit body could perceive was the subtle stifling of her chest. 

Hashirama shot her a curious glare before his attention returned to the elders, who seemed to be more full of crap than they usually were. She retracted her hands under the table with a servile frown. 

She was grateful that her husband, Hitoshi, wasn’t there. 

Would he think of her any less than he already did? His attempts at hiding it were half-hearted at best. The contempt he held towards her was the second thing that haunted her the most. Yes, the eyes never lie. 

It would have been inconsiderate of her to blame Hitoshi for his indifference. Not only had he accepted it, but he also allowed her the undeserved decency of not addressing the farcical, yet frequent, circumstance of forced wedlock. Maybe that, too, was a form of consideration and love for her, but the notion was baseless, a conjecture, which, unfortunately, could not make her heart sway in his direction, regardless of its verity. 

Once the clan meeting was over, _____ was the first one to leave her seat. She did not have the strength to even look them in the eye, so instead, she turned on her heels and flung the door open.  

“What’s wrong, ______?”, Hashirama asked. He wanted to reach out to touch her shoulder, but stopped himself mid-way. The somber aura clinging to her made him. Taking a closer look, he could almost feel the scent of illness, one he had been familiar with his entire life.

 In all fairness, he had his suspicions. Being the head of his clan, he was privy to certain information and, judging by the manner in which Hitoshi spoke of his marriage, he was sure that it had something to do with that.

When she turned around, he made out her sickly pale complexion, which was poorly coated in make-up. She was spent. 

She found herself twisting the ring on her hand. It was ordinary for diplomats to lie for the sake of appearances, but to her, deceit had become the strongest weapon. Whatever sense of self she had left, she wished to use to the best of her ability. 

“Everything is alright, Hashirama-sama. I just happen to be a bit overworked.”, she affirmed, “Nothing that a good night’s rest can’t fix.”. Even a small grin found its way on her dry lips. 

When he was nothing but honest, all she could offer him was emotional chicanery, bland lies and formal words. After all, it was the thing she was best at, wasn’t it? She tried focusing on something, anything else that would diverge her mind from guilt, but she couldn’t look away. Instead, she stared right back at him with a stilted glare.

Her assertiveness almost persuaded him, if it hadn’t been for the folded hands on her lap; fingers squeezed together, trembling, wincing, as if it was the last day on that wretched world.

“You don’t seem well. Would you like me to take a look? I’m sure I could help.”

“I said, I’m fine. There’s nothing to be worried about.”. Her words came out harsher than she intended, but bold enough to startle him. And as such,  her duplicity endured, once again. Every word seemed to embed a metal needle under her skin, until her entire body itched violently. The sensation was so familiar to her, she realised her medication had run out. “Now, I must go back to my husband.”, turning around, she silently apologized for the dismissal.

That was the last time. The sting of tears overtook her unexpectedly. She squeezed her eyes shut and bore a growing lump in her throat in the way she taught herself. It wouldn’t be long now.

Hashirama frowned and debated letting her go. It was clear that she did not want to open up to him. And why would she? She had no reason to impart her private grievances, no matter how much he would have liked to think otherwise. 

Still, fate seemed to have other plans. She felt its brute force as she clutched her stomach in pain, and, unwillingly, she let it all out. The mask had slipped off. Crimson petals leaked from her mouth and he was by her side, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back, in less than a moment’s notice. He immediately activated his medical ninjutsu, but the coughing wouldn’t stop. It went on and on, until her hands were stained, until her own tears mixed in with the fruit of her disease, until she realised her failure. In her hazy, broken state, she couldn’t make out why she was crying, when, almost effortlessly, she purged her own chest the same way earlier that day. Was it the product of her illness or that of her sorrow? 

The answer wouldn’t amount to anything. 

When her ailment finally decided to give her a temporary reprieve, she stood straight, quickly wiping off the tears and the stains of blood on her loose dress, but it was too late. The mask had already shattered. 

She hadn’t even noticed that his hand was gleaming green on her back. As relief coursed through her body, scant breaths became regular. Her shoulders slumped when the warmth of his body enveloped her. Hashirama’s powerful chakra aroused tingles on her skin, making her reminisce that night they first met. A tint of pink brightened her complexion and she allowed herself to relish in the moment, without paying attention to him.

Hashirama was speechless and did not know what to make of the situation. Allowing her to ease up, he inspected her up close: the dried tears, the rosy cheeks and the darkened puffiness under her eyes. But then, he suddenly remembered it, too. That night, which he unsuccessfully tried to forget, was always following him, nearly haunting him.

***

The two met at her wedding reception. She hadn't been formally introduced to him at the time, so she approached him. Hashirama humbly presented himself, speaking with such frank familiarity that it made her feel awkward, at first. Given how the disingenuous and monotone courtesies of the ceremony bore her, she subconsciously lingered closely to him. 

Being physically close allowed her to feel his chakra prickling her body like a warm touch. It awakened a stream of goosebumps on her skin and _____ guessed that he was forced to keep it at bay due to its intensity. One couldn’t live in the Warring States period without hearing stories of Senju Hashirama’s legendary might on the battlefield. 

Throughout the night, they held each other's company whenever they could. The conversations flowed naturally as the time went by and at one point, both of them were so inebriated they couldn’t even tell what they were talking about anymore. Hardly anything was distinguishable besides the loud giggles and hiccups and the aroma of heat that surrounded them. 

Their eyes intertwined in a silent dance, again and again. His were almond shaped, she remarked, a mellifluous whiskey brown that never failed to mirror his gentleness. When contemplating her questions, he turned his head away, squeezed his eyes shut and knitted his thin brows together with a finger cocked under his chin. That was when she could ogle innocently at his features. The man’s tan skin was visibly flushed and yet, flawless. The shinobi world was not a merciful one, considering how most warriors had noticeable marks on their bodies, worn with pride. They symbolized endurance and experience in warfare, like an insignia gained through hardship and struggle. In contrast to that, Hashirama’s face bore no scars, no blemishes, no wrinkles that weighed on it and, despite barely knowing him, _____ could safely tell that the head of the Senju clan was not a man of appearances. He was undefeated in battle, after all, to the extent that not even his responsibilities seemed to burden him. 

Whenever a gust of wind pervaded the backyard, the woman couldn’t help but admire his hair; a soft raven mane that cascaded on his broad shoulders and his back. Shinobi were rarely interested in looks, so they often kept their hair short or tied, even more so when it could be a hindrance in battle. But, once again, Hashirama distinguished himself. His hair reached mid-back and seemed to flow freely in the wind, like him. He was not bound by the grudges that had been passed down to him and he was not afraid to challenge the world’s beliefs, that much she realised. No, he was a man of his own, unlike everyone else at the wedding reception, unlike her. _____ acknowledged that she herself was confined to the laws and traditions of the shinobi world; it became apparent upon meeting the head of the Senju clan. He truly was an eccentric, but a charming one at that. 

He was so alluring, she compulsively moved closer to him, until their shoulders brushed against each other, as he mindlessly accepted it. Her touch was so brief it could have been called a mistake, if it wasn't for the girlish bat of her eyelashes and for the delicate, faint chuckles which suggested otherwise. When their eyes made contact again, the atmosphere shifted into something else. Neither of them said a word, but she was almost sure that time had gone still. Her breath hitched when Hashirama subconsciously trailed his eyes over her body with a gaze so intense, she felt her knees melting. They eagerly took in the modest cut of her dress, with the moonlight highlighting her collarbone. In that moment, he was certain that her body had been sculpted by the gods. The jewelries seemed to adorn it and he wanted nothing more than to see it all, right there, where the sensual beam of light accentuated her beauty just barely enough for him to realise what it was that he yearned for.

The man took a step closer and unwillingly heard the sound of her gulping down, but she didn’t budge. Instead, her feet stubbornly planted themselves into the ground as the crackling sparks in her eyes turned into a fire so incessant and heated, he felt it on his flushed skin, all the way to the tip of his fingers and toes. He knew then that she yearned too. 

And so, the next moment had her eager lips pressed against his own, as a tingle of impatience ran down her spine. He returned the passion tenfold as his arms draped around her frame and pulled her in. An intense, almost violent hunger coursed through his veins, their tongues intertwining as he claimed her mouth. By the time she realised how weakened her legs had become, he was already supporting her, pushing her body against his own. 

A surging tide of warmth pulsated in her chest as all thought ceased, intoxicated by the taste of his lips and the alcoholic breath invading her nose. She tugged on his hair so addictively that he groaned in her mouth, the vibrations descending to her stomach, where tension started coiling up. The way their teeth clashed and their bodies drowned together sent wild tremors to her nerves, kindling in her emotions she had never known she was capable of feeling.  His earthy scent aroused her to no end and, as if time had stopped right there, both Hashirama and _____ forgot to breathe, forgot that there was anyone else in the world but them, forgot about the fact that anyone could walk by and witness how they melted into each other, needing to become one. 

With a last lick of her lips, he slowly pulled away, drunk on her and the sake she consumed earlier that night. Their ragged breaths almost deafened the crowd in their vicinity, all of whom were unaware of what had just transpired. Even so, it slightly pulled Hashirama out of their bubble of passion. He blinked once, twice, and then his eyelids started fluttering in disbelief.

His eyes unwillingly darted over to the Senju clan badge on her shoulder, which made him completely stop in his tracks. Almost instantly, and, yet, reluctantly, Hashirama put physical distance between him and the flustered bride, his gaze not daring to meet her hypnotised eyes. At first, she was confused, but it hit her as well. What the hell was she doing? The brunet bowed his head with a short whisper of an apology, followed by a formal statement of good wishes, before she was left all alone.

The rest of the evening had been just as awkward. Out of respect for her and her new husband, he decided to stay, with the condition of completely avoiding her. Hashirama even found solace  in the nearest bottle of sake, which he wished would also quell his thoughts about her. _____ followed in his example and allowed herself to succumb to a few more drinks, before she could not even remember the rest of the night. 

***

At any rate, it didn’t take much for Hashirama to put two and two together. The reception, her illness and her suddenly relaxed state. He needed no more than a direct confirmation from her. 

“What is this?”

She expected that question. Nonetheless, the ever present sting of shame, whose face she knew too well, did not seem to crawl under her skin. Instead, she felt something she had only experienced once before, upon the consummation of her marriage to Hitoshi. She welcomed it. 

“I love you, Hashirama.”

The man’s face turned bright red. He seemed to have lost all sense of dignity when his lips parted and his eyes widened. She placed a shaky hand on his shoulder and gave it a warm squeeze.  

Following that night, they frequently engaged in short conversations at clan meetings. As per Hashirama’s typical attitude, he tried to mend their inhibitions, wishing that it would be as easy as it was back then, but his eyes always hid behind a wall of hesitance, and, although it could not stop her from craving, it made her realise that it would probably never come down. At that moment, however, something was different. 

An amused chuckle echoed through the hallway. “The last time I’ve seen you this flustered was when I kissed you. Perhaps I should have brought a bottle of sake. That face of yours could definitely use a cup or two.”

The strain in her voice made him snap back to reality. He took a step back, figuring out her vain tactic. Would he judge her? Perhaps not outwardly.

“How long have you been hiding this for? How much longer until…?”

“I thought they would go away, these feelings of mine. He knows, too, but we don’t talk about it. ”, she chose to look at her feet as she spoke those words. Even for a second, she wanted to avoid the burning, pressuring sensation on her back.  _____ subconsciously fiddled with her fingers, almost as if she was trying to scratch away at the humiliation like a piece of paper. 

She had a place to call home. Shouldn’t she have been happy? She had the firm earth under her feet, the pride of her clan on her back, a name to carry, shouldn’t she have been happy? She had a dutiful husband, shouldn’t she have been happy? And the warm food in front of her nose, the calm rains and sunshine blessing her, the smiles and laughter of children, so then how? How was she still not happy when she had peace? 

It was not enough.

His own eyes drifted to her hands. Playing with her own fingers was a tick he had grown to learn about her. Hashirama would watch her peculiar habit during their meetings. After having seen it so many times, he understood its meaning and knew how frequent it was. What merit was there in a life without happiness? 

He frowned and wondered if there was anything he could do. But just as quickly as that thought came, a wave of emotions crashed into Hashirama’s consciousness. It was his fault that she was in this state. The man’s expression then deepened, but she quickly sensed and rebutted his contrition: 

“This is my cross to bear, Hashirama. It’s the only thing I can do for my clan, the only way I can honor their name. So, please… I can handle this myself.” she said half-heartedly. And there it was, that dull pain in her chest, again. Was that what she really wanted? 

Despite her comforting words, his lips slightly curled downwards. The brunet saw it as nothing more than cordial rejection, so he judged it to be the perfect opportunity to draw her in. Reaching out his hands, he grabbed her smaller ones, squeezing them reassuringly, with a gentleness he didn’t think he was capable of. 

His gesture was unexpected, but not rejected. She squeezed back, barely. The hesitance in her grip only fueled his fire. 

“This village… This place we have built is supposed to put an end to meaningless pain, ______. My entire life I have seen only suffering and loss and I want… no, will to put an end to it. I promise I will find a way to make things work out, if you choose to abandon your marriage. ”. The determination in his eyes was almost intimidating. He himself sincerely despised the prospect of an arranged, albeit necessary, marriage. 

Those tender, reassuring words made her heart skip a beat with a fondness so profound she could revel in for the rest of her life, but as much as she wanted to believe his commitment, the woman deemed it to be nothing more than wishful thinking. 

Perhaps, that was why she found herself thinking about him time and again. And for months on end, she was unable to make anything of it. Even though she knew that her wedlock was but a small compromise for the greater good, ______ felt less and less complacency as time went on. The fulfillment of her noble duty no longer comforted her at night, when she felt frigid and abandoned. Instead, she found warmth coiling in her gut whenever Hashirama crossed her mind. To her, he was a paradox; a way to escape her own condition when she could no longer bear it and, yet, its cause. It became difficult to endure, the more complicated her disease became. She could almost feel the numerous camellias blooming in her chest, a sickening sensation that her rudimentary medication could barely alleviate anymore. 

This is my punishment, she confessed to herself time and time again. When the leaflets coiled up in her trachea and choked her, the woman could almost feel an intangible force wrapping its hand around her throat. Regurgitating the putrid and picturesque corollary to her emotional infidelity, ______ found herself imagining what could have been if she hadn’t been chosen as a marital pawn, but instead of offering her some type of temporary, albeit imaginary, release, it only made her clench her fists and her weakened shoulders shudder. And by the time her guts were briefly drained of bloody flowers, all that was left was a disgusting portrait of feebleness, lamentation and illness, a symbol of her true self; not a kunoichi, not a member of the Senju clan and certainly not a wife. At times of bitter realisation, such as those ones, she thought to herself that maybe, blaming him would be easier; that maybe, putting it all on him would ease her guilt a little and even diminish her feelings for him, but Hashirama didn’t deserve that. He did not deserve to be the target of her selfishness. 

“I would lose status in front of both of our clans, I would be rejected by my own clansmen, abandoned by my husband. And for what...? Stop speaking of such a pipe dream. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Hashirama.  ”, the weight of her words sent a pang of conscience in her chest, where she felt it squeeze her lungs in a punitive manner. She could not tell whether her dubiety or her Hanahaki were taking their course on her body.

No matter how hard she tried to deny it, she wanted it; a way out. She felt guilty even for thinking about it. She did not deserve any more than she already had, anything better than she was cursed with, that seemingly worthless duty of hers, like a puppet on a loose string.

Her vision gradually darkening, she didn’t notice the man’s bottom lip jutting out. Instead, his sunken eyes made her realise that her harsh words definitely struck a nerve. She tried taking a deep breath, which would have resounded with regret, but all that came out was a short gasp before her chest tightened. With balled fists, she tried her best to ignore it by pressing on and apologizing, before being delayed.

“Don’t speak that way, I know-”, the plea was interrupted by the woman’s head unnaturally bowing forward, her body trying to follow. It was so abnormal that it made him instinctively grab her shoulders. She was shaking, he noticed.

The room began to spin as consciousness gracefully slipped from her grasp. She allowed the darkness to embrace her as her frail body suddenly limped, but was caught before it could touch the ground. Hashirama’s arm pushed her closer to his chest while his other hand gently pressed itself against her dry, ashen cheek. Those eyelids dropped heavily and unhesitatingly. It was as if she had already given up.

He kneeled and activated his glowing chakra to quickly inspect her state. Eyes wide and heart nearly bursting out of his ribcage, Hashirama knew he couldn’t waste any time. The thought of it being too late for her crossed his mind and it made him run faster than he thought he was able to. Please make it in time...!

Later that day, Hashirama found himself sitting on the highest point in Konohagakure. The freshly carved stone face of himself still felt unfamiliar, yet he found a strange sense of tranquility and peace in that spot. He could gaze at the entire settlement and it was there that he indulged in the sweet gift of solidarity. Even a man such as Hashirama enjoyed it sometimes. It helped him clear his mind and contemplate, when his office became too crowded and uncomfortable to fulfill that purpose. 

Every now and then, he could even feel his friend’s presence next to him, one which he dearly missed. He was painfully aware that he could not stop Madara from leaving. Hashirama could not prevent, nor mend, his mistrust with the village. Madara renounced his place as a shinobi of Konoha with a sinister promise of his return. But it would not be a peaceful one, Hashirama knew. He needed to be prepared to protect the people the way he knew best.

Protect, huh? his mind drifted off to ______. He reminded himself of her arranged marriage and her honorable sacrifice. The flowers gushing out of her throat, right in front of him, and the way she desperately clung to him for air, for a reprieve. He would not forget the way her ailing body caved into him and how loose her clothes were that day. Never quite understanding why they almost limped on her body, he was aghast when he felt her bones poking through her skin. 

Now that he considered it, she looked a little different every time he saw her at their conferences. The woman’s garments heavily contrasted the proud wear of the Senju. Instead of vibrant and estimable, her clothes were prosaic, almost dusty. Even so, the clan crest always decorated her figure, displaying her high status. It almost served as a ridicule, for she became nothing more than a meaningless symbol of welfare. Something festered in him each time he saw her and yet, he didn’t realise how she was slowly withering away. A memory of her in her wedding gown flashed before his eyes; the way her eyes twinkled and her hair danced in the wind; those plump, enticing lips of hers. She was exquisite. How could he not notice it? 

The aftermath of the events that took place at her wedding reception never quite left the atmosphere. It went unmentioned. It would not have done neither of them any good to bring it up. What would they even say? Would they confess to their sins? Lament over the moment of their forbidden passion? 

  If it was exoneration that she sought, she wouldn’t solicit it from the one she ferociously kissed, but from her family, her clan and her husband.

 She was always in the back of his mind, on the good days and the worse ones. Though humiliated about it, the memory of their passionate moment made his cheeks flush. He touched her that night ー a married woman ー and despite the circumstances, he did not regret it. 

 The man understood her responsibility, her drive to do what is best for her village and its citizens. Is that all there really is to life? Liability? Duty?, the Senju pondered.

 Hashirama was a person who could not tolerate the prospect of peopleー human beingsー being used as pawns. It made him stiff with anger. After all, his childhood revolved around his utility on the battlefield. To the Senju clan leadersー his own father, nonethelessー, the 4 siblings, as well as many others, were nothing more than numbers; peons, to be used for mindless warfare that had lost its meaning long before they were born and before their father’s fathers own births. 

Who would he be if he abandoned someone when they needed him, again? 

It would be an insult to his people and his loved ones to let someone walk away, again. Even when so many people looked up to him, he felt ashamed. He could not even remember all his mistakes, all his sins, all the deaths he was responsible for. So Hashirama decided that he would not fail another time. He was aware of the repercussions he would face not only from both clans, but possibly from _____, too. Except, it could never sting as badly as the grim image of death knocking at her door as she squandered whatever was left of her life for a scrap of dignity and pride.

 Her reminiscing was perturbed, once again, by the sound of the wooden door being flung open.But this time, she readily turned her eyes to the other side of the room, where they met his. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Certainly better than before. I’m sorry for… you know, fainting on you.”, a small, ashamed chuckle was let out, which he imitated. However, his eyes softened to such a degree that she felt her entire face suffuse with red in front of them. 

He strode towards her bed, where he sat and took a moment to study her. “That’s good news. I’m relieved.”

 One of her hands snuck over the blanket and lightly squeezed Hashirama’s. She was hoping that the peaceful silence would last longer. Muttering a few words of appreciation, she wished nothing more than for things to stay that way.

His eyes were fixated on her hand, but he did not return the gesture. “I don’t think you should thank me yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“After I left you here, I had a… conversation with your husband and the elders.”. His tone was almost meek, but there were no hints of regret coating it. “It’s over.”

 The small gasp that followed did not surprise him in the slightest. Despite the sound being distorted by her mask, it bore just as much distress as he had anticipated. He had mentally prepared himself for every possibility.

Her mind raced aimlessly. Although her hand did not move, her eyes turned away, deciding to focus on the weather outside, behind the open window. In the aftermath of  her failure, she realised that there was no other way for it to end, but with shunning and disgrace. Although she would never admit it, she knew it from the moment she chose to kiss him.  

 Nevertheless, the world kept spinning, the sun kept shining, and, for the first time in a while, she felt its warmth and comfort, a blessing she had denied herself for so long. It was really over. Her dessicated lips curled into a smile. 

“I knew I should have asked you first, but I-”

“Thank you, Hashirama. It’s alright now.”

The moment their orbs connected to each other, she felt the hot tears welling up, reflecting a thousand emotions and he silently listened to them, accepting them. It was then that his marred hand reached back to hers and gently intertwined his fingers with her own.  Hopefully, the fidgeting would stop. But they knew it would not be as simple as that.

_____ brought her fingers up to her face, removing the somewhat bothersome mask. She bent forward towards Hashirama and placed a tender peck on his cheek. Even the burden on her chest seemed to slowly dissipate.

Hashirama’s hair smelled earthy, she remarked, the same as back then. Inhaling his scent, she relished when his free hand slightly pulled her closer and he rubbed her back.

 Her crime weighed heavy. She was aware she would be cast out for leaving her husband, for failing her clan, for owning herself. 

What was done was done. The new-found sense of freedom made her heart play a tranquil, bittersweet tune, an unfaltering rhythm that finally set her eyes on the horizon, one which she would definitely chase this time, no matter what came next. 

Maybe, if she let go of what she was, she would become more like him. Bolder, more unprejudiced, more independent. 

If one’s brave, they listen to the heart. If one’s a coward, they obey their head. But for cowards, there is no paradise.

#hashirama senju #hashirama x reader #naruto #naruto imagines #hashirama #one shot #tobirama senju #madara uchiha #konoha founders #founders era #i just love hashirama #hashirama simp

[whump-town]

Hand In Unlovable Hand

Part 2, lads. Is this reaction sort of... shall we say dramatized? Maybe, I’m not a medical professional. Am I going to fix it? ugh, fuck no. Let Hotch be a little dramatic, it’s a treat for being so damn cute 

Part One

Warnings: snake shit. oh and hospitals

There doesn’t come far too many opportunities for Spencer Reid to admit it but he really wishes he would have listened to Hotch this morning. The older man had made that face -- one Reid wasn’t accustomed to by way of his childhood but he’d certainly seen it before -- the one that expresses fond disapproval. With a shake of his head, Hotch had advised in that very unique way of his that Reid should likely cut back on the coffee. The way that makes Morgan roll his eyes and gets Hotch called the “mom” to Rossi’s “dad”. Reid has grown up for far too long by himself to ever really listen to the helpful advice he’s given the first time. He’s not used to people looking out for him.

Crouched down beside Hotch’s side, close enough to watch the deep purpling of the skin around the bite on his hand, Reid can feel that morning’s six cups of coffee settling poorly in his stomach. The acid crawl of sick as Emily frantically taps at Hotch’s pale cheek trying and failing to properly rouse him. Her hand curled around the back of his neck, supporting his limp head in her palm. Derek queasily grunting as he takes a pen, supplied by Dave, and traces around the bite. Marking it as instructed by the 911 operator still shrilly speaking on the other side of the line.

How does shit like this happen to them?

“There he is,” Emily’s voice comes out far more convincingly nonchalant than she has the capacity to actually feel at this moment. More striking than the amount of time it’s taken to get Hotch responsive, even if it’s just raspily wheezing a soft complaint about Emily’s proximity to him, is his glassy, vacant eyes. Busily brushing his sweaty hair from his eyes, she smiles reassuringly down at him and looks up to Morgan. “How long until they get here?”

Derek has his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder, manipulating Hotch’s hand to work as he’s being told. He glances up in acknowledgment of Emily’s question but doesn’t answer just yet. Nodding his head he grimaces, scowling when Hotch tries to pull his hand from Morgan’s grasp. “The ambulance is on its way,” he says. “Fifteen minutes.”

Shivering, eyelashes hovering just hardly open Emily is concerned fifteen minutes is a little too long to wait. “Where’s the nearest hospital?” She looks up to Reid, watching and seeing just how removed he is right now. His eyes cast to Hotch but having left them, dissociated someplace else. She wishes to go with him but she needs him here and now with their ugly truth and not the safe place he’s conjured. “Spencer,” she says, brisk, loud. He snaps to attention, flinching. “How far away is the closest hospital?”

Reid parts his lips as he thinks, eyes moving as he thinks. “Ten minutes.” They passed it coming into the county so he’s relying on the relative math of stoplights and traffics lights. He realizes, of course, that what they really are fighting is not someone’s eighty-year-old grandmother in a beaten-down sedan but the pharmacists who are going to have to rush anti-venom to them. Before it kills Hotch. The stats are about 5 to 7,000 to 8,000 -- it’s unlikely the strike will kill but someone has to defy the odds. Pulling his eyes away from Hotch’s painfully drawn rigid body, he acknowledges Hotch has always been one for defying odds.

Emily can feel Hotch’s muscles clenching, jaw tight to keep from making a sound as he writhes on the ground. He’s managed to get his hand back from Morgan and cradles it protectively to his chest. She’s close enough to see the purple of his thumb, the dark deathly bruise swelling. The joint looks awful and she shirks at thought of what damage this is going to do. His hands give him hell as is. Beating Foyet hadn’t come without consequence and the frequent instability and pain they cause him is well hidden but it’s not exactly a secret.

Dave hears Emily’s idea forming, fifteen minutes by an ambulance which is saying they’re on time. Hotch pale, sweat drenching his white-dress shirt, and shaking despite the summer heat weighing the rest of them down. “If Derek drives, you’ll be there in five.” There’s a moment of silence their eyes flickering between Derek and Hotch as what’s said is processed.

“What do you think, Aaron?”

His eyes are off to the side, watching the river rage on below them. Hitched, choked breathes coming from his desperately parted lips. The shock has taken its hold, leaving him distanced, and cold. The fuzzy, lightheaded daze is cut with a sharp sting, a pulse of pain up his arm. His thoughts feebly constructed, only brief moments of clarity. Until he has nothing, just the trembling lack of control over his body.

Derek rises to his feet and it’s settled. In a flurry of movement, Derek is informing, not asking, the operator that they’re going to drive Hotch themselves. Again, Emily pats at Hotch’s cheek growing desperate with his inability to answer her. Derek crouches down beside them, walking Hotch through his plan while Spencer runs to get the SUV and bring it as close as he can. He receives no answer but slowly Hotch’s eyes move to them. To Emily, to Derek.

“Up on three, okay?”

He’s nearly dead weight between them but they stop -- Morgan holding his half of Hotch up while Emily bows under her own share. Hotch just needs a moment, spitting out the bit of stomach acid that crawls up his throat. Shakily he manages to get his feet underneath him.

“Just to the car.”

Emily slides into the front seat, opening her phone to find GPS directions to the hospital. The name of which Reid is shouting out to her. JJ slides into the back seat, allowing Derek to help maneuver Hotch’s head into her lap so she can usher her body to brace the shock of Derek’s driving. They leave Spencer and Dave behind,  Reid watching the ground cautiously in fear that another snake might pop up. Dave shakes his head.

The tires kick up dirt and Hotch grunts as the cab rocks and his hand is jostled painfully between his own chest and JJ’s. “Hey, hey.” He doesn’t even feel himself slipping but he peels his eyes open and looks up at JJ’s concerned face. She’d smacked him, his cheek absently stinging from the impact. At least she looks sorry about it. When Emily reaches back to hit him -- distinctly that kind of hit that is harder than necessary but jarring and seems to force some life into him -- she bites out “stay awake, you bastard”.

The car stops, screeching and jerks, and JJ apologizes quickly, terrified as a pained grunt leaves his mouth. His body tensing and his shaking intensifying as he strains in pain. She looks up from him for only a moment, watching Emily and Derek throw the door open to try and work Hotch out. When she looks back down his eyes are closed. “Aaron!” His breathing is coming too quickly, too shallow.

They’re met at the car by staff. People pulling and JJ lets them take Hotch, doing her best to cup his head so it doesn’t hit the door. Derek dutifully rattles off everything he can think of even more details than they need.

“How long has it been since his bite?”

Derek shrugs shaking his head, he doesn’t know. “Uhm.” There wasn’t that much disorder in face of everything but getting that damn snake away took time and then there’s the time they wasted before calling 911. “Maybe… half an hour. Maybe more but not an hour.” He can’t remember. It feels like only two seconds. Hotch was on the ground and Morgan was running at that snake then --

“You saw the snake?”

Emily nods, “he -- he said it was a rattlesnake. He thought it was. I don’t know, none of us do. He just -- He grew up in Virginia but that doesn’t exactly make him a snake expert, you know?”

Shears tear through his clothing like butter. Buttons are forgotten as his shirt is cut wrist to elbow and without a word, just a wince of sympathy, onward. JJ can’t even flinch in preparation as Hotch’s shirt melts away and he’s exposed to them. Pale, thin chest hitching as he draws in short, shallow pants. The scars of Foyet’s attack pink and raised across his chest. It threatens every preconception any of the three of them have had about him.

There are the nine scares they are expecting but there are just so many more. Derek can recognize far too many. A large jagged cut from shrapnel, running from his sixth rub to under his pants at his hip where it curls nastily into a surgical scar. Some thin and straight, others curved and thick. Too many to count. Scars from chest tubes, slices from Unsubs a little too families with knives, and one he can remember holding together with his own hands.

The doctor turns back to them, “any known medical conditions?” She needs to know the complicated bits as quickly as possible. There’s no way any bastard with this many holes in him has managed to get away free. “Surgeries? Traumas?”

Like a kick to the chest, Derek finds his head spinning and heart-dropping through the floor. “He has a clotting problem because of a severe stabbing a few years ago. He -- He takes blood thinners.” He flinches, genuinely afraid now as several staff members stop. They look at him and then at one another. It just had to be Aaron. No one can sniff out trouble like him.

Again, no words communicated. They aren’t good ones, anyhow. Not the kind to be voiced with family so near but things have just gotten far more complicated. “Strip him,” is the only warning given and nods are exchanged as doctors and nurses move around Hotch.

Emily bites her tongue as they poke roughly at Hotch’s body, palpitating his abdomen and manipulating the fingers on his swollen hand. He gives a grunt of pain, eyes opening for just a moment before sliding shut. The harsh overhead light makes his skin seem nearly translucent, paling him in ways that he needs no help in doing naturally. Someone calls his name, a stethoscope joining the EKG lines being stuck to his bare chest.

“His O2 on room air is 92.”

Hotch’s pants are removed completely removed, even his belt is cut through in a clean swipe still in the belt loops. They avert their eyes until a sheet can come down over his pelvis but they’ve seen one another like this far too often. Naked on stretchers as trauma doctors hover and push and pull until they get a response. They each have someone whose knowledge of their body extends what is normal, the kind of knowledge that knew partners in their lives always find odd but someone has to know these things.

“Get him on the mask. Five liters but don’t let him drop to eighty, the last thing he needs is to tubed.” Flashing a penlight in Hotch’s eyes yields another grunt. He raises himself a  little, going back down as his shoulders are redirected to the gurney. His other hand, trembling and loosely flexed, raises to protect his eyes from the light above him. A doctor pulls his arm back down, pinning him in place as someone else preps to place a subclavian central line. It’s quick work -- sped up by their racing hearts. A few swipes at the skin with a wipe, a visible resistance that hurts and Hotch turns his head from it. Grimacing but no longer fighting just supine and limply allowing his limbs to be further mutilated.

The line is taped into place and names of medicines are called out -- none of which any of them have heard of. The gurney becomes mobile, clicks sounding through the room as they pull the guard rails up and place machines and placed around Hotch’s legs and sides. Emily smirks as she sees his feet hanging off the edge, his ankles at the cut-off. It’s a bitter moment and she’s not even sure it’s worth smiling over, she just can’t help it.

JJ steps up the gurney as they pass, grabbing his hand. “We’ll be right here,” she promises. He just looks at her. Unable to move his fingers, he watches her behind his cracked eyelids. She’s the last thing he sees, three passing roofing panels, JJ keeping pace beside him, and the chilling emptiness of unconsciousness.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #david rossi

[teenytinyapprentice]

can you give me layton and luke headcanons? i need sone dad layton-

You know despite thinking about these two all the time the moment I’m asked for specific thoughts on them I’m like UHHH.. UHHghguh thheeyy.. theyre frrien;dds;ds... thweyy love e ac;;hother;; SOOOO;OO MUChhghgh.... THeyRE BESTFRIen;dss;; BEALSe,..... FBDSJFKS BUT DEspite that.. here’s a headcanon dump under the cut of whatever came to mind dskjfh sorry if I am repeating myself haha 

Layton didn’t actually think about the reality of what he agreed to when Luke became his “apprentice”… mostly that he didnt think to clear room for him until he was actually in his office and Hershel awkwardly had to move a bunch of books and papers for Luke to be able to sit and have space. He hasn’t actually interacted with kids as young as Luke on a consistent basis until this point so at the start there’s a lot of “oh yeah kids need xyz”. Emmy was a big help with this as she did NOT take kindly so having babysitting duties somehow become a part of her assistant work (not that she doesn’t love Luke!) and makes sure the Prof knows he better step up and do what he promised when he agreed to let Luke tag along! Which led to him stocking up on snacks, keeping more child friendly books/activities around, making sure things Luke would need were actually within reach and of course just making sure there was space carved out for him in his office. This bleeds out into his actual home as well - when he’s caught unprepared for Luke to spend the night and he ends up just shoving books and papers off his bed so Luke has room to sleep too. After the six months or so he’s much better prepared and turned his “guest room” back into a guest room instead of storage space for all his Stuff. And no, Hershel will never learn his lesson with this. Every kid he adopts he will have a mad scramble because he’s like Oh Shit! Gotta have ROOM for the kids I take in sadkjhfsdfb

Building off that last one - Luke is pretty anxious about being useful when he first started being Layton’s apprentice. Hershel saw this more as he enjoyed Luke’s company and he was happy to have him around and teach him what he could, but Luke took it very seriously. He was rushing around cleaning, organizing and dogging the Professor’s every step for a bit. Takes some assurance that he’s not going to like, not be allowed to come over if there’s nothing to do that day... but he does eventually hit a much smoother helping and just hanging out balance

Hershel has a “teacher voice” that he almost never uses outside of class, but occasionally slips out - but it absolutely always catches Luke off guard. Like oh right! You’re a teacher… almost forgot. ESPECIALLY effective if Luke is making trouble, that gets him looking real sheepish real fast...

Luke didn’t like tea until the Professor started making it for him. He’d only ever tried more herbal or black teas before but Hershel made an educated guess that sweeter, fruitier teas would appeal and bought those instead. Luke took his duty of learning to make tea Properly very seriously, practicing at home and tossing quite a few pots right in the trash after Hershel tries to be polite but he couldnt quite grimace his way through the first batch Luke tried to make… 

Luke keeps a lot of stuffed animals and they end up kind of everywhere… you can find a teddy bear in his office, pretty much every room of the house, the laytonmobile… other professor’s have found teddies in lecture halls much to their initial confusion..

Building off the last one - Luke quickly becomes known around Gressenheller. Lots of other faculty and students start to recognize him and Luke’s made a few friends - sometimes even sits in on Hershel’s lectures and takes very dutiful notes (and teddies get returned directly to Layton’s office with a smile and gentle reminder to let his boy know he should keep an eye on his things lest they get lost!) 

Luke really isn’t a fan of mess, so Hershel’s disorganized office and living space drive him a little nuts. He cleans up after him constantly despite Hershel assuring him it isn’t necessary! Really! - They do at least come to ONE agreement that Hershel can ONLY stack books on the floor if they’re NO TALLER than Luke himself after a stack topples over on him one time…. (and Luke will continue cleaning up after him well until adulthood, chiding him all the while. It’s a point of contention.) 

Piggyback rides are a 50/50 success rate because of Hershel’s hat… if Luke isn’t asleep with his head down on his shoulder he’s usually got a hand on the brim so he doesn’t accidentally knock it over craning his neck to see something past it. and he is absolutely NOT allowed to eat anything while he’s up there.

Hershel teaches Luke how to tie his ties and bowties… sooomeetimmess Luke feigns forgetting how to do it because he just thinks it looks much better when the Professor ties it for him. Layton knows better but indulges him anyways. 

Luke is a total baby when he gets sick. He hates being sick and gets really grumpy and fussy… despite knowing its mostly just theatrics Hershel still privately gets pretty worried whenever Luke’s feeling ill. On the other hand it’s basically impossible to get Layton to rest when he’s unwell. Luke basically has to bully him to do more than just drink herbal teas and actually Take Medicine and Take A Nap. If HE has to take the nasty cough syrup then so do YOU! 

Both of them have spells of sleeping rather poorly... (they’re bound to have nightmares after some of the stuff they’ve been through). It becomes a bit of a late night ritual to meet up in the kitchen for some tea, snacks and conversation until they’re able to get some sleep. This continues on for the rest of the puzzle family and somehow every so often, everyone is up at 3am for tea and cookies and its very pleasant... 

#sunnquy-lavendrr #long post #teenytinytalks

[ceterisparibus116]

I sometimes struggle to sympathize with Ray Nadeem. All of the elements are there to show he was supposed to be a sympathetic character... the relative with cancer (which has financially impacted him heavily), the difficulties at work, his family being terrified of the latest developments, and the whole fact that Fisk is manipulating him. But the way they're presented, Nadeem comes off sort of shallow and bland, rendering these just a collection of cliches that have less impact than they would if he seemed a deeper or more thoughtful person; so when he makes arguments to get Fisk things he wants, or goes around hassling Karen and Foggy because Fisk fingered Matt, he comes off as more of a jerk and a pest than a principled FBI agent doing his best in trying circumstances.

Hi, thank you for the ask! This is a really interesting take! The thing is, I’m...not quite sure why you sent it to me. Are you simply sharing a meta because sharing Daredevil metas is super fun? Or...are you asking if I agree?

Because I really don’t. Which is fine - we are allowed to have our own interpretations! But, since you bravely entered my ask box, I’m gonna expound why I, personally, interpret Ray differently.

First, though, I’ll acknowledge what I agree with: namely, that Ray’s collection of sympathetic experiences are not enough, by themselves, to make him sympathetic (to me). A tragic backstory and a susceptibility to manipulation by Fisk aren’t enough to make someone sympathetic. At least, not to you, and not to me - although we should acknowledge that those elements might actually be enough to make him sympathetic to others, and let’s try not to disparage other people’s opinions!

However, to me, Ray is more than just his tragic circumstances, because we saw him turn around at the end and own his mistakes fully, even going so far as to tell Matt to stop advocating for him and let him go to jail - because he knows that’s what he deserves. That, to me, is probably the biggest reason why he’s sympathetic.

I’ll also point out that Ray questioning Foggy and Karen does not make him less sympathetic (to me). After all, we know that Foggy and Karen are good guys, but Ray doesn’t. The fact that the firm put Fisk away is not a good enough reason for the FBI to ignore a credible warning that Matt, at least, worked for Fisk. (And Fisk’s warnings, legally, are credible; legally, even a witness who is a criminal can be deemed credible if they have a history of giving accurate tips, which is exactly what Fisk has done by this point, as we saw with the Albanians and other criminals.)

Wouldn’t you agree, then, that Ray, as a character, would think that questioning Karen and Foggy was a necessary part of his job? Moreover, wouldn’t you agree that there is a lot suspicious about Matt’s life, once someone bothers to look closer? And so wouldn’t you agree that Ray’s suspicions of Matt (and, by extension, Matt’s friends) are doubly well-founded? Therefore, I, personally, don’t see it as “hassling,” as you characterized it, at all.

Your point about Ray’s questioning of Foggy and Karen is also fascinating to me because, when I watched Season 3 with my family, one of my brothers piped up at the end of an episode about how, if we didn’t know more about Ray, we’d hate him for how he’s treating Foggy and Karen. But my brother said that we do know enough about Ray to understand why he’s doing this, to understand that he can’t afford to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, to understand that he’s not actually being a jerk at all but is, in fact, being a “principled FBI agent doing his best in trying circumstances.” In other words, my brother came away with the literal opposite interpretation from yours!

Which is not to say that one of you is right and the other is wrong. Again, I just find the subjective nature of art truly fascinating.

And that, really, is what your message shows me: art is so subjective. When I watched Season 3 with my family, all five (5) of us absolutely loved Ray and found him deeply sympathetic. (My mom teared up at the end, in fact.) To be fair, Ray’s character has a lot in common with one of my brothers, and for my mom (and me, I think), that made him resonate with us even more.

Anyway, my family also connected with Ray because we saw a man who got in over his head, clearly felt conflicted (just watch his face; man, Jay Ali can act), and yet didn’t have enough space to breathe to figure out when or how to safely extricate himself (and his family) from the situation. (After SAC Hattley’s warnings about how she used to have another kid, it’s not like Ray could reasonably expect to try to escape Fisk without risking losing his wife and/or son.)

Another reason Ray resonates with me, personally, is because I think Season 3 was all about analyzing fear and relationships from different perspectives. We have Matt, whose fear of harm coming to the people he loves causes him to make terrible decisions. We have Karen, whose relative lack of close relationships arguably causes her to be reckless. We have Foggy, who so far has seemed so ignorant of the dangers that come with being friends with people who challenge evil, but now suddenly has to face the fact that his family was targeted - because of his choices. (And I desperately wish we’d seen Foggy acknowledge that to Matt, acknowledge that Matt’s fears really are valid.) And, of course, we see Fisk kill Julie to manipulate Dex, and we see Matt use Fisk’s connection to Vanessa to manipulate her. So to me, Ray being manipulated out of his desire to provide for and protect his family is just another way to explore that theme. Which goes a long way towards making him sympathetic to me.

(And another twist: yes, Ray arguably prioritizes the safety of his family over the safety of other people - like Father Lantom and everyone at the church. However, in addition to the fact that he owns this and apologizes for it without making excuses for himself, we should also acknowledge that Foggy does the same thing. All the time. Every time Foggy lectures Matt and Karen about not putting themselves at risk, every time Foggy hesitates to take a risk with the firm (anything from hesitating over defending Karen to hesitating over defending Frank), it’s Foggy choosing to prioritize the things he cares about over other people who need help. So if prioritizing one’s family over other people makes a character unsympathetic, then Foggy should, in my view, also be considered unsympathetic. However, my personal opinion is that this value that Foggy and Ray share doesn’t make them unsympathetic - I think it makes them human, and creates a wonderful contrast with Matt and Karen.)

Anyway. I’m not saying this to prove you wrong. In fact, I don’t think I can prove you wrong, if you’re talking about your subjective interpretation: if you’re saying that you, personally, don’t sympathize with Ray, then that’s your interpretation. (If, however, you’re saying that Ray was objectively poorly written...well, then I’d have to argue with you.) All I’m doing here, though, is discussing this character from another angle, another approach, and another interpretation. Which, imo, is one of the beauties of fandom.

Thank you again for the ask, and the excuse to analyze one of my favorite characters!

#ray nadeem #daredevil #daredevil meta