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britcision · 2 months

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I have been possessed by dark visions at 3AM for two nights in a row again so y’all enjoy this I guess

Why can’t these demons invade Ryoko Kui’s mind she can draw

Anyway Mithrun and Fleki both deserve to bite people way more and fuck psychic types Mithrun’s entire pokemon team is different Woopers and a single Clodsire it is his destiny

Warnings: mild physical violence, blatant attempts at emotional manipulation, the Canaries are not letting their captain go if they can help it

AO3 link for the full series:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54634867

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After Dinner Mints - The Plan

It was Fleki’s plan, which was never a good sign. Otta was the first to call it a fucking stupid plan, but had to admit that she didn’t actually have a better one.

(This being the main reason Cithis wasn’t the first to denounce the plan. Well, that and the backup being “set Cithis on the Queen or at least some high ranking official”.

Which was an even worse plan, because even though Canary convicts couldn’t do magic without permission, Cithis specifically wasn’t even allowed her staff within the capital’s city limits. She’d beaten the supposed restrictions far too many times.)

The good news was that they had six weeks at sea to lay the groundwork, and see if they could come up with a better plan. Or bail, if the current plan seemed unlikely to work, and come clean.

No one wanted to bail and come clean.

Luckily, the groundwork was simple, and they could get started right away. Once they were far enough from port that the squad could safely be on the deck without being in a sailor’s way, the four convicts gathered to a spot conveniently near where Pattadol was standing at the railing.

It didn’t really matter what the warden was doing; they all had a grand total of one job until the ship landed: keep out of the way. And Cithis had Mithrun duties.

Otta picked the spot, settling nonchalantly to lean against a stack of well secured crates where she could pretend not to have known Pattadol was even there. They had to be a little louder over the creaks and groans of a sailing ship, but that just made it easier to be “accidentally” overheard.

“So Fleki, why did you ask the Captain not to talk to the Queen after all?” She called. Lycion, leaning just far enough to see their “hidden” warden, gave the rest a discrete thumbs up.

Fleki sighed dramatically and threw herself to the deck, top of her head poking just past the stack.

“Oh, come on. You heard what he said, he wants to stay in Melini hunting monsters forever! That’s a worse sentence than prison! And he wouldn’t even pay me, at least I get something doing this shit.”

“And the chance to fly,” Lycion cut in, nudging her with a foot until she shifted to the left a couple of inches, “that’ll be in short supply in prison.”

“Hey, you heard Captain Flamela. We’re all looking at reduced sentences, especially dying in the final fight. I’m gonna be out in like, a hundred years tops and then I’ll be free and clear,” Fleki retorted, casually sending her familiar to sit at the top of the stack.

She couldn’t fully go into the bird, not and keep up a full conversation, but she could borrow its eyes if she didn’t need hers.

Cithis was pretending to ignore the lot of them, like she couldn’t have done that literally anywhere else on the ship. When Otta and Lycion began mugging furiously at her she rolled her eyes and sighed, examining her nails.

“Yes, being confined to some backwater country is far worse than whatever a reduced life sentence would be,” she said dryly, not bothering to sound anything but bored.

Otta flipped her off with both hands, but Fleki actually laughed, flailing in her general direction.

“Fuck off Cithis, you’re gonna be in prison for what, five minutes? Captain Mithrun’s the only person who’s ever kept you from doing exactly what you want,” she pointed out loudly, and Lycion hesitated.

Snuck another glance towards Pattadol and gave the ladies another thumbs up. Cithis shot him a withering look that he completely missed, then kicked at Fleki’s hand equally half heartedly.

“Oh, I’m sure our ever so wise wardens will notice that and they’ll have an incredibly well thought out plan,” she said flatly, raising her voice a little when Lycion made some frantic upwards gestures. “After all, our good captain is a war hero and has chosen his retirement; they can’t tie him to a prison simply to keep a single prisoner contained.”

“So you’ll be out of there or running the place in five minutes, maybe fifteen?” Otta asked sweetly, and Cithis chuckled. Tried to do it again, louder, when Lycion made another vague gesture.

“Twenty at the outside. I certainly won’t be wasting my time touring a backwater like Melini,” she declared archly, making an incredulous face at Lycion as his gestures suddenly became faster and more frantic, and much less discernible.

Abruptly he held up both hands and the group fell silent, Fleki focusing more of her attention into her familiar. Then Lycion sighed and relaxed.

“She’s wandered off. Possibly to go narc on us to some of the older wardens,” he added thoughtfully, head cocking to one side.

Cithis shrugged.

“What she does on the ship matters very little. And it’ll save us from having to re perform the pantomime for them too,” she pointed out with a sigh, flicking her hair back off her face.

Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side and examining Cithis thoughtfully.

“For real though, why are you in on this plan? I mean, you probably could get out of any prison they put you in, I heard how many times you were sentenced to the Canaries.”

Lycion looked over, equally curious, but before Cithis could compose some kind of dignified answer Fleki had snickered, reaching over to catch at the bottom of her skirt and yank.

“Because then she could never go see Captain Flamela again, she’d always be a wanted fugitive,” she teased in a sing song voice.

This kick was not half hearted. Nor did it make Fleki regret a single word, more’s the pity.

***

After some heavy debate they decided that once a day was probably often enough, if not a little too often to make an attempt. By the second week Otta had declared that to be far too suspicious; Pattadol no longer looked surprised to be coming across them “coincidentally” in weird corners.

Once every other day, for sure. And time to try a new tactic. There were only so many ways they could loudly declare accompanying the captain to be far worse than a prison sentence.

Which was why Cithis moved them on to pointedly discussing the captain, which they could at least do at regular mealtimes without seeming suspicious. Captain Mithrun never ate with any of the squads, but someone had to bring him his food every time, so it was a natural topic of conversation.

Most of the squad were seated by the time Pattadol arrived at the mess, clutching her bowl and looking uncertainly for a place to sit. The Canaries didn’t tend to eat with the ship’s crew, there just wasn’t enough space in a single room, which with their larger complement meant the room was both full, and entirely Canaries.

The ship usually carried at least three squads; they’d been loaded with four to tackle the Island’s dungeon, and on the way back Cithis had managed to persuade Flamela to switch her squad onto their ship (by asking. Once. And threatening a fate worse than death on anyone who commented).

Which meant that of the six “tables” made of well secured crates (the mess being a storeroom that the Canaries and off duty crew got access to to, once again, keep them out of the way), there should have been plenty of space for all eight wardens on board to sit together without having to associate with their convicts if they didn’t want to.

But Flamela didn’t like the other wardens. Or all five of her current squad’s convicts, to be fair. Flamela didn’t like many people, but she liked her convicts more than the other wardens, so she insisted the squads sit together. For “team cohesion”.

(None of which explained why Flamela would sit next to Cithis if they happened to be the first to eat, or why Cithis could eat wherever the hell she pleased, but it worked for their purposes.)

Which meant that if Flamela was at dinner, Pattadol could sit with her squad’s four convicts, or risk the captain’s temper if she noticed. It wasn’t like she was all that comfortable sat with the other wardens anyway, so her indecision didn’t last long.

Cithis raised a pointed eyebrow at Otta, who rolled her eyes and skulled the last of her thick stew, then stood and grabbed Captain Mithrun’s bowl. She tapped Pattadol’s elbow on the way out, pointed her to the other three, and waved the captain’s stew as an excuse not to actually talk.

Pattadol hurried to join them, darting a quick last scan to clock Flamela and the other captains. She still didn’t actually greet them, because even her first dungeon run hadn’t fully knocked her head from her ass, but Fleki deigned to give her a quick wave.

And then kept going like they’d actually been talking before she arrived.

“That’s a thought though, who’s gonna feed the captain when we’re all in prison?” She asked Cithis, still mostly ignoring Pattadol.

Cithis arched a brow at her, taking a delicate bite of the hard tack accompanying the meal.

“That’s not going to be my problem, is it? Besides, he does well enough between missions,” she pointed out coolly.

Lycion snickered, pointing his spoon at her.

“He does well enough when he’s somewhere stable, with a routine. Running around chasing monsters is gonna be more like dungeon busting than that, he’s going to need someone to remind him to eat.”

Both he and Cithis turned back to Fleki, who raised her hands quickly.

“Hey he’s rich, he can totally hire like, a chef or something. He’ll probably need a whole party anyway, it’s not like just me on my own would be enough!”

“Not like you’d be staying sober,” Cithis sniped with a sly smile, and Fleki stuck her tongue out at her.

“Oh like you’re a teetotaller. Besides, I can’t cook for shit. Lycion, you did better with that whole noodle making thing, you should talk to him if you’re that concerned,” she added quickly, kicking him under the table.

Lycion pretended to consider it, then shrugged.

“Sorry Fleki, demons or no demons, I’m still on a life sentence. It’s not like I can stop having an illegally modified body,” he said with a decidedly smug gesture to the tattoos on his bare chest.

Fleki stuck her tongue out at him too.

“Hey, being released on parole to the captain’s gotta count. It’s not like you can’t take care of him, at least you actually know what he needs! Some stranger’s only gonna fuck it up!”

“What do you mean?” Pattadol finally cut in, her curiosity getting the better of her. The three convicts shared a significant glance, then Fleki sighed, tossing an arm around Pattadol’s shoulders.

(Pattadol immediately shrank away.)

“Right, I forgot, you’ve only been with us since we got Cithis. Still, you know what it’s like taking care of the captain, right?” She poked, releasing the younger elf to grab her hard tack and submerge it in the stew.

Pattadol frowned into her own bowl, then up at the others.

“Well, yes. It’s not that hard, he needs to be reminded to do things more, but…”

Fleki started snickering into her bowl and Pattadol’s cheeks flushed, her grip tightening on her spoon. Lycion cut her off with a gentle smile, shaking his head.

“It’s not too hard when he’s on leave, or on the ship with a routine; remember, Fleki, we had Kabru in the dungeon too, Pattadol’s never seen how bad the captain can get.”

“We were in there all of two days before it was all over anyway,” Cithis added with a roll of her eyes, then turned a sweet smile on Pattadol. “Even I underestimated quite how bad it would be. We were very lucky to have Kabru with us; it’s usually much more of a struggle even to persuade him to eat.”

It was probably a mark of how quickly Pattadol was learning that she didn’t noticeably relax at Cithis’ smile, which Fleki and Lycion had to grudgingly respect. She did calm down a little more though, looking cautiously between the other two.

“How bad could it really be? He won’t be in a dungeon in Melini, just tracking the monsters…” she hesitated when Fleki suddenly groaned, dragging both hands down her face dramatically.

“Oh fuck, that’s a good point! They probably won’t even think to make him take breaks, he’s just going to ride into town to restock and go straight back out. If he remembers to restock at all!”

“They’ll make him restock, Fleck, unless he gets that dwarf cook to go with him whoever he hires is going to need to eat,” Lycion pointed out, then smiled at Pattadol again. “You know how we have to use the sleeping spells or potions to help the captain sleep?” He asked innocently.

Pattadol looked between them, visibly more concerned although not necessarily at them. Which was what they wanted.

“Yes…” she said hesitantly, and Lycion nodded.

“He doesn’t just lie down for them in a dungeon. You have to combat-cast to get him to sleep if he thinks there’s a demon nearby,” Cithis cut in, sighing with expertly performed delicacy. “What? There’s no point sugar coating it; you did see him when we had to stop for rations, teleporting every few feet. He gets… tetchy.”

“He gets pissy,” Fleki said bluntly, waving her spoon, “and if he thinks there’s half a chance he can order you to let him go until he passes out he’ll try it. He can’t even tell when his mana’s low, we all saw him carving the dragon.”

Pattadol actually winced at that, frowning down into her bowl. The convicts exchanged another meaningful look.

Then Fleki sighed and dropped her spoon into her empty bowl.

“Whatever poor bastard he hires is gonna be completely screwed.”

“Kabru will be in Melini, perhaps he’ll help again?” Pattadol asked half-hopefully, and the convicts exchanged looks again. Then Lycion shook his head.

“Kabru’s not going to be leaving the capital if he can help it; he’s finally got a chance to never see another monster again, and after Utaya…”

Pattadol blanched and stared back into her bowl, shoulders hunching.

“Right…”

Fleki gave her a cheerful pat on the shoulder, rising and grabbing her bowl.

“Hey, aren’t you heading back that way too? Maybe you can get a pixie and call in to check if the captain’s still alive like, once a week or something,” she said cheerfully, leaving before Pattadol even turned.

Cithis rolled her eyes, finishing the last of her own food.

“Well, he won’t be your problem either, warden. I’m sure you’ll be busy with diplomatic relations,” she added with a sly smile, and Pattadol’s pale cheeks flushed again.

“Y-yeah… right…” she didn’t seem interested in looking up from her bowl. Lycion and Cithis exchanged thoughtful looks, then both shrugged and left her to it.

Best to let her mull that over. They still had plenty of time before they landed, anyway.

***

As the fifth week came to an end, they were beginning to run out of angles to try. And no one had any better plans.

Well, Cithis was up to something with Flamela, but she refused to say what and Fleki insisted it was an illicit affair, not anything actually useful.

Flamela set Fleki to scrubbing every deck on the ship, so she was also less available for planning, which Cithis refused to pretend to be sympathetic about. Or even not to be smug.

They had one last idea, and not long to put it into action; if coming clean was their only option, they needed time to talk to an increasingly morose Captain Mithrun, maybe Pattadol, and at least one more warden willing to vouch for one of them.

Given that every single warden on the ship had two to three convicts already contemplating them as options to avoid prison, it wasn’t an attractive concept. So it was time to pull out the big guns.

(Flamela was probably Cithis’ backup plan; none of the captain’s three assigned convicts were unwise enough to so much as frown her, but it was pretty much assumed among the entire ship that Cithis wasn’t going to prison. One way or another.)

Fleki and Lycion took charge on this one, “casually” wandering into Pattadol above decks while Cithis took Captain Mithrun for his daily airing.

(That was getting harder too; usually the captain was compliant as a doll outside of a dungeon, but the closer they got to land the more sullen and argumentative he became. He didn’t even want them to talk at him, glaring at anyone who came near him and telling them all to leave him alone.

None of the squad paid him any mind; no one else dared look in his general direction. Which didn’t matter, since he only left his room when he was dragged out.)

As usual, they pretended not to notice her at first, watching Cithis gently guiding the captain around and between the other Canaries.

“I’m going to miss him,” Lycion suddenly said, resting his chin in his hands and propping his elbows on the railing. It actually sounded like he meant it, and Fleki hesitated for a moment before she caught sight of Pattadol further down the railing.

Setting her familiar into the rigging above them to signal Otta, she nodded and leaned up against Lycion.

“I know what you mean… I’m kinda worried about him. He’s tough, you know, but that just means people who don’t know him don’t realise that he needs help.”

“You could always ask him to talk to the Queen again,” Lycion pointed out, flicking a finger at her without looking her way.

Fleki sighed and shook her head, running her gloved hand through her hair.

“I mean, I could, but it’s not like I can do all that much on my own? He doesn’t listen to me like he does you or Cithis, and you guys both have the life sentences thing,” she said loudly, watching Pattadol from the corner of her eye.

Otta sidled up, giving them both a nod.

“What are you talking about?” She asked as if she didn’t know.

Lycion nodded onto the lower deck, where Captain Mithrun had tripped into a coil of rope. Cithis hadn’t helped him up yet, so he was just sat in it glaring at everyone around him.

“Our fearless leader. Until we land, I guess. Then he’ll just be… Mithrun.”

It felt wrong even to hear the name, Fleki and Otta shared an entirely involuntary shudder.

“He’s not gonna do well on his own,” Otta said bluntly, and Fleki and Lycion exchanged startled looks. That was a little more direct than they were thinking.

True though. Fleki huffed and ran her hand through her hair again, crushing a little actual guilt.

“Yeah… for all that he’s got a damn stupid life plan.” Which technically meant that they all did, now.

Life or the next hundred and fifty odd years, depending on how Fleki and Otta’s sentences were commuted.

Lycion chuckled softly and stood, stretching his arms back above his head.

“You know, when you think about it, what he’s planning to do is technically no different than what we did as Canaries,” he pointed out.

All three glanced at Pattadol.

Who twitched, maybe from their joint gazes or just from a breeze.

Down on the lower deck, Captain Mithrun was now refusing to be helped out of the coil of rope. Like he knew how much they needed him to be a really tragic visual aid.

“It’s technically a little safer, almost,” Fleki said “reluctantly”, pretending to be talked around.

Otta snorted and folded her arms.

“Running around some backwater country for the rest of his life following monsters around? Still sounds like a punishment detail to me.”

“That’s kinda my point,” Lycion pointed out with a snicker, turning now to lean his back against the railing instead. If he kept watching the captain he was either going to laugh or cry (possibly both), which wouldn’t be conducive to their mission.

Fleki sighed and tossed both hands into the air.

“Yeah, but keeping the captain alive on a mission was never a one person job! If the Queen’s gonna take this mission of his seriously, he needs a proper squad who can handle the monsters and his needs!”

All three glanced at Pattadol again.

She seemed to be ignoring them.

“Casually” sidling in her general direction, Otta came to lean against the railing too.

“I mean yeah, but it can’t be just anyone. It has to be someone who knows-”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Pattadol threw up her hands, turning to glare at the lot of them. “One of you, right now, I don’t care who but one of you tell me you don’t actually think I’m this fucking stupid!”

All three convicts were stunned into silence, staring at her for a long moment. Then Lycion leaned into Fleki, talking from the corner of his mouth.

“I did not know Pattadol could swear.”

About to agree, Fleki caught the look in Pattadol’s eyes and raised her hands in unequivocal surrender.

“We don’t think you’re stupid! Just… we… we weren’t being subtle, were we?” She asked mostly rhetorically, and Pattadol glared at her specifically before redirecting it to the group as a whole again.

“Not. Remotely. I was waiting to see if you’d actually come out and just ask me, but since you seem to think I’m some kind of credulous child I guess that wasn’t going to happen!” She folded her arms, scowling at them all.

Otta leaned in towards Fleki too.

“Somehow I’m more scared now that she’s not swearing,” she said from the corner of her mouth, and Lycion nodded sagely. Fleki nudged the pair of them.

“So… what do you think though? About talking to the Queen about…” Fleki waved a hand vaguely over her shoulder at the Cithis and Mithrun Rope Cabaret currently entertaining the ship.

Pattadol glared at them all for a while longer, then sighed and leaned back against the railing.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. You four are the logical choice to go with him and keep taking care of him; it’s not that different from what you’d be doing otherwise, and you deserve a reward for your service. And it’d be a more useful way to finish your sentences than just in a cell.” She shot them all another glare, raising a finger sharply. “But! I also think you’re going to need another warden to accompany you. I don’t think you’d hurt the captain or try anything, but no one else is going to believe that you won’t just run the second you get a chance.”

The three convicts exchanged thoughtful looks this time.

“You could…” Otta began, but Pattadol shook her head firmly.

“The Queen has already asked me to return to Melini as her ambassador. I can’t do that and keep an eye on all of you. So you need another warden in on this plan…”

“I guess that’s my cue.”

All four jumped as Flamela approached the railing, her coal-black skin reflecting almost gold in the sun. She rolled her eyes at the lot of them.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not going back to the fucking capital to play political games, and I’m keeping a career where I can fucking stab something if I can. Cithis asked me before we boarded,” she snapped, glaring at the lot of them.

This time Otta leaned in towards Pattadol.

“Okay but did you also catch that because we thought-”

“Shut up,” Flamela snapped, shooting her another glare, “it’s your own faults for gossiping and playing stupid games instead of just asking.”

“But you don’t like Captain Mithrun,” Fleki butted in, talking over Otta’s protest.

Flamela shrugged.

“I don’t like any of you.”

“Except Cithis?” Lycion asked sweetly, unphased by her glare, “Or why would you agree?”

It was fascinating to watch Flamela blush, mostly for the sheer novelty. Usually all anyone really saw from her was anger. Which, to be fair, was definitely still present.

“There are so many worse things I can find for you to scrub than the decks,” she snarled, definitely not covering the sudden flush and fluster.

Surprisingly, Pattadol came to their rescue.

“I also think you need to let Captain Flamela and I present the idea to the Queen, and you four need to shut up about it from this point on,” she said firmly, as if there hadn’t been an interruption.

Even Flamela looked surprised, and a little impressed. Pattadol gave all three convicts a sharp look.

“You do also need to tell Captain Mithrun about your plan first. Now. Somewhere private,” she added sharply.

The three convicts now shared a bewildered look. This time it was Otta who asked.

“I mean… we can? But why? If you guys are gonna present the idea, shouldn’t you tell him?” She asked cautiously.

Pattadol gave her a look like she’d asked if water was wet.

“Because for the past five weeks you’ve let Captain Mithrun think you’d rather have your legs cut off than go with him, and he’s upset about it! He’s not going to believe this was your ridiculous master plan unless you’re the ones who tell him about it, he’ll just think we’re forcing you to go!”

There was a long, slow moment, and then Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side.

“That doesn’t really sound like him…”

“He has been in a weird mood though,” Lycion mused, glancing over his shoulder.

Cithis, who never started an argument she wasn’t certain she’d win, had sat down next to the captain. He was still glaring at her.

Pattadol groaned loudly, drawing all of their attention back to her.

“Of course he’s in a bad mood! As far as he knows he’s going to lose everything familiar in his life when we get back, and every bit of stability he’s had for twelve years!”

“He’s been a Canary again for-“ Fleki began, only to be cut off by Otta.

“Wait how do you know how long I’ve been in his squad for?”

Fleki shut her mouth, cheeks pink. Flamela sighed heavily, her hands on her hips.

“There’s records on all of you, and every change in personnel,” she said flatly, entirely unimpressed. “Honestly, you’re not selling me on this stupid plan.”

“I’ll tell you Cithis’ real favourite food?” Lycion offered innocently, grinning when Flamela glared at him. “She likes telling different people different things to see what’s the most difficult or expensive thing they can get her, but she loves shrimp.”

Otta and Fleki turned to stare at him along with the wardens.

“How the hell do you know that?” Otta demanded, already thinking back over half a dozen conversations with their squad-mate that suddenly all made much more sense.

Lycion shrugged.

“I can smell when people lie.”

“You can fucking WHAT?!” Fleki shrieked, over any and all other reactions to that fuck of a sentence.

Lycion blinked, mildly confused at best.

“What? I mean, not everyone. But people I know, sure, I can pick up the patterns, especially in my real body. And Cithis lies a lot.”

Even Flamela looked impressed (and not a little thoughtful), but once again it was on Pattadol to come to the rescue as Fleki tackled Lycion, catching the smaller elf by the waist and yanking her back before she could take them both over the railing.

“You NEVER TOLD ME you piece of shit! Mmmmmmmph!”

Clamping a hand firmly over Fleki’s mouth, Pattadol levelled a stern glare at the other two.

“You need to go and tell Captain Mithrun that you want to go back to Melini with him, now. Before lunch. And tell him that you’ve been working on a plan all month, and that Captain Flamela and I are going to help you. And tell him you’re sorry you didn’t let him know! Fleki I’m not going to let you go just because you keep licking me, promise you’re not going to just attack Lycion again first.”

Still glaring mutinously, Fleki instead grumbled something that might have been agreement behind Pattadol’s hand and sagged. Pattadol cautiously released her, ready to grab at any second, but she just sulked back to the other two convicts, arms folded.

Once she was satisfied that attempted murder was no longer imminent, the young warden nodded firmly.

“Go on then! Get him now and take him to his cabin, no one’s inside on a day like today,” she flapped her hands at them and the convicts turned together, Lycion tossing an arm around Fleki’s shoulders that she promptly bit, but otherwise didn’t object to.

As they walked away, Flamela frowned thoughtfully after them.

“Pattadol, you’re a middle child, right?” She asked, not actually looking over at her fellow warden. Pattadol jumped, startled to be addressed despite everything they’d just agreed on, and looked over nervously.

“Uh… yes?”

Flamela hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward and folding her arms on the railing.

“Your parents made a good choice. You would have been a very good Canary.” Then she sighed and shook her head, straightening almost immediately to stretch out her back. “Or a kindergarten teacher.”

Utterly lost now, Pattadol stared at her for a long moment, then back to the convicts who’d now reached the lower deck, heading to where one beleaguered deckhand was trying to get Mithrun and Cithis away from the rope. It didn’t look urgent, exactly, but it probably wasn’t good.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Pattadol’s mouth.

“Thanks… I think?” She said quietly, glancing back to Flamela out of the corner of her eye. Flamela gave her a brusque pat on the shoulder.

“You’re gonna need all those skills if you’re staying on as a diplomat,” she added bluntly, then turned and walked away in the opposite direction of the lower deck.

Once again cursing her own pale complexion that showed even the faintest hints of pink, Pattadol looked for her squad-mates among the bustling heads on the lower deck again, her hand drifting ever so slowly up to the place Flamela had touched.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Otta considered the two wardens.

“So did we miss something or has Pattadol always been the smart one?” She asked bluntly.

Lycion hummed thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“Well we definitely missed something, but it might be that she’s smart,” he offered. Fleki huffed and rolled her eyes, still not sure she was willing to forgive him.

(Or whether or not he’d been bullshitting.)

“Not smart enough to just tell us she agreed and save us all the trouble though.”

“That might more have been gross optimism,” Otta noted, nudging her way through the newly forming crowd. It meant they had nearly reached Captain Mithrun. And possibly that he was doing something worse.

“Or she wanted us to come to her,” Lycion offered, having a much easier time parting the other elves. The ladies fell into step behind him automatically.

“Same thing,” Otta agreed.

“So what are we actually gonna do about the captain?” Fleki wondered, noting the increasing density of onlookers, most of whom were solely focused on the scene before them.

“Oh, that’ll be easy,” Lycion waved away the problem, nudging between another two Canaries and breaking into open space.

The situation had escalated again without them, justifying the budding crowd. What had been one deckhand presumably trying to politely talk the captain out of the rope was now two deckhands holding a third, one performing a healing spell on a bleeding hand.

Cithis was back on her feet too, holding the captain’s jaw firmly and dabbing at his face with a napkin. He was still glaring, although the effect was lost with Cithis’ grip smushing up his cheeks.

“Honestly captain, I’ve told you about putting things in your mouth when you don’t know where they’ve been,” she scolded him, even as the others approached.

Otta sighed heavily and shook her head.

“This one’s your fault, Fleki, he never used to bite before he met you.”

About to open her mouth to argue or try to defend herself, Fleki huffed and closed it again when Lycion waved his freshly bitten arm in her direction. She rolled her eyes instead, folding her arms.

“Hey if people are gonna grab you they deserve what they get,” she grumbled, glaring at the deeply amused convicts and crew surrounding them.

“He nearly took my fingers off!” Howled the injured deckhand, proffering a freshly healed set of fingers that were still a little red.

Not releasing her grip, Cithis turned from the captain enough to narrow her eyes at him.

“You went to lay hands on a warden captain over a coil of rope. Count yourself lucky if this is the only reprimand you receive,” she informed him icily, as if biting was a very normal thing for a warden to do.

That was how they knew that she was reaching the end of her patience with the captain’s behaviour; usually she was all sweet smiles and gentle reconciliation whenever something went wrong. Things had to get bad before Cithis ever showed her temper.

The poor elf opened and closed his mouth a few times, staring from his fingers to the entirely unrepentant Captain Mithrun.

“But… I… we need access to the lines!” He exclaimed, flailing in the direction of the sails. “He can’t just sit in them!”

Cithis raised a frosty eyebrow at him.

“Are we likely to sink if you can’t tweak this particular rope in the next thirty seconds?” She asked viciously sweetly, and the poor elf’s crew-mates drew away on either side.

Technically, the poor guy was right. The Canaries were all supposed to stay out of the way as much as possible, and defer to the crew for anything related to running the ship. But it was a beautiful day, with clear skies and a calm sea.

Trying to claim there had been any real urgency to moving the captain would be difficult. It wasn’t the kind of argument anyone wanted to escalate any higher.

Lycion gave him a cheerful pat on the shoulder on his way past and a friendly smile.

“I think it’s probably best if you let us handle the captain, and you just handle the ship. Captain, if you bite me I’ll bite you back,” he warned Captain Mithrun, bending down and hauling the captain out of the ropes, tossing him over his shoulder.

The captain very clearly did consider biting him anyway, but let himself be carried like a sack of potatoes instead, glaring at Lycion’s ass.

Cithis maintained eye contact with the unfortunate sailor for a minute longer, then turned to follow Lycion with a haughty sniff. Fleki waved both hands at the onlookers like she was scattering ducklings.

“Go on, fuck off everyone, we’re all definitely going to drown and be lost at sea if there’s a moment’s delay on the ropes.”

Since the show seemed to be over (at least for now), they did begin to disperse, forming into smaller groups to talk about what the fuck that had been about. Which was fair.

Luckily, the threat of Cithis was enough to keep any stragglers from tagging after them as they headed down to the captain’s room. Not that all five of them could fit in the captain’s room; with Lycion depositing the captain on the bed, he, Cithis, and Otta could just about squish to stand in the remaining space. Fleki stayed in the hall, glaring about for onlookers.

Captain Mithrun treated them all to a truly dark glare for a minute, then turned to stare up at the boards above him, his face falling into more of a pout.

Lycion examined his face for a moment, then sighed and shook his head.

“Oh, Captain… we should have said sooner.”

Captain Mithrun didn’t so much as glance over, but Cithis shot him a questioning look. Given that she’d apparently been openly discussing things with Flamela, it seemed a little rich.

Otta cut in to fill them both in, folding her arms.

“We were just talking to Pattadol and Captain Flamela. They’re going to see if they can help get us assigned to go back to Melini with you,” she said flatly, shaking her head minutely as Cithis’ eyes widened. They could talk about that part later.

Captain Mithrun’s face froze, his one good eye sliding over to peer in Otta’s direction. She scratched at the back of her head, feeling sheepish.

“We knew you could only get like, one person as your ward, so we figured for all of us to go it’d have to be kinda the same thing as Canary duty. You’re still gonna be hunting down monsters, and you’re still gonna need someone to take care of you, so really the only difference is gonna be that there won’t be any weird dungeon magic.”

“Which is gonna make Otta way less useful, but she wanted to come too,” Fleki put in from the hallway, grinning and ducking as Otta swung at her.

“Hey fuck you there are sprites everywhere! And I can still dig traps and shit, I’ll be more useful than you in a fight!”

Lycion made an aborted move to try and get between them, but with Cithis in the way he’d have had to push past her. And he didn’t care that much.

He gave Captain Mithrun a cheerful smile instead.

“It’s going to be a little more dangerous too, since we won’t be able to resurrect anyone if they get killed, so we figured it’d have to be all of us,” he explained, and the captain’s gaze slid slowly over to him.

The defined lines of the pout were softening out, leaving the captain looking more confused than anything else. Lycion gently brushed his hair off his face.

“That is, if you’d like us to come with you, Captain?”

That caught Otta and Fleki’s attention, now rough housing in the hall, and both looked over.

The captain’s brow furrowed again, as if the question didn’t make sense. It was hard to tell what made sense to him, though.

“You wanted to go back to prison,” he said after a few minutes, pushing himself up on his elbows so he could frown at Fleki. Who shoved Otta off her and sat up.

“I mean, I said that at first cuz I was surprised! But then I thought some more about it, and talked to the others, and… well, it’s not that much worse than being Canaries. Not if it’s all of us.”

“Yeah, cuz you’d definitely die if it was just Fleki trying to take care of you,” Otta snarked, dodging away from a quick swat.

Captain Mithrun stared at the pair of them, his eye wide, looking rather a lot like a lost puppy. Lycion ruffled his hair, then carefully fixed it when the wide eyed stare turned to him.

“So, what do you think, Captain? Do you mind if we come with you tracking the monsters?” It wasn’t quite the same question, which might have made it slightly easier for him.

The captain stared at him for a long moment too, then very slowly shook his head. He looked almost like he was about to cry, and the two on the floor sighed in relief.

Then Fleki hauled herself to her feet, shoving Otta out of her way to dive into the room, half sprawling across the bed.

“Okay but that’s no you don’t mind, not no you totally want us all to go back to prison instead, right? She asked, propping herself up on her elbows and grinning at him.

Captain Mithrun hesitated again, looking at all four of them as though not fully sure they were here. When he spoke it was just as slow and careful.

“I… won’t stop you if you want to come with me?” It sounded like a question, like he genuinely didn’t know what she was asking or how to respond.

The day had gotten away from him somewhere, but at least he wasn’t glaring any more. And seemed much less likely to bite someone. Lycion even sat on the edge of the bed to let Cithis scoot over so Otta could squish in, with minimal mutual grumbling.

Captain Mithrun was never exactly enthusiastic about anything, but anything beat the sulking from the past few weeks. Pattadol was probably right; at the very least he’d been unsettled, or they’d just confused him out of whatever actually put him in a bad mood.

They didn’t usually push so much into his personal space, but if he’d been upset about them leaving he could probably use a little company. And it wasn’t like there was much of a choice in the tiny room.

If he got cranky again they’d be able to back out. Maybe even before anyone got bitten.

Lycion gave the captain another gentle pat on the shoulder.

“We can keep practicing making pasta together,” he offered brightly, and got a slightly uncertain smile.

“We’re going to have to catch Flamela up on the pasta making, she missed our first lesson,” Fleki snickered, pulling herself up onto the bed too.

That was an even worse idea than trying to fit three of them standing, but the captain didn’t lean away from either of them. He wasn’t his usual deadpan self exactly, but at least he looked a little happier.

Definitely still more confused than anything else, and occasionally looking around to check they were actually there, but the faint bemused smile hadn’t left, which was a nice change.

Things fell as silent as they ever got on the noisy, creaking ship for a few moments and were dangerously close to actually being peaceful.

Then Fleki’s head whipped around and she grinned at Cithis again.

“Oh, and did you know Pattadol can swear? She totally told us to fuck off,” she said brightly.

Mithrun blinked slowly, frowning at her, and even Cithis looked surprised. Otta sighed and shook her head.

“She did not tell us to fuck off.” She waited a beat, then grinned as well. “She asked if we thought she was a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, she’s been onto us since we set sail,” Lycion chuckled softly, giving the captain a speculative look and then resting his chin on the much shorter elf’s head. Which tipped slowly upwards to look at him too, but didn’t move to dislodge him other than that.

Lycion decided to consider that a win, although it was always hard to tell how the captain felt about anything. If he felt anything about most things at all.

Too bad they were going to be keeping Flamela, not Pattadol while they explored Melini. Still, if she was doing diplomatic work, she’d probably be nearby enough to visit and check in.

She’d definitely love them visiting to make her their relationship counsellor with the captain. With both captains, since it wasn’t like Flamela liked Mithrun either.

It was hard to ignore the way the captain’s stiff back slowly, gradually began to relax back into Lycion’s warmth as they continued to chat around him. Or the way that his feet slid apart to let Fleki haul herself up between them when she started to slip with the motion of the waves, although that might have been to avoid being crushed.

Lycion scooped Mithrun fully into his lap and away from her anyway, making sure not to hold on in case the captain wanted to move away. He stiffened up again, but didn’t move. And slowly began to relax even further, finally resting his weight against Lycion when he didn’t move back.

Otta and Fleki both noticed, and Cithis looked decidedly speculative as she watched the tension slowly leech from the captain’s shoulders.

They’d always tried to give him as much space as he wanted, which had been blatant guesswork… and pretty widely varied, since Otta preferred maximum personal space and Fleki barely even acknowledged the concept.

Might have had something to do with how much time she spent outside of her own body on a regular basis, but the damn bird was just as inclined to burrow in and occasionally bite people.

Lycion wasn’t a fan of too much space either, or rather he liked a fair amount of physical contact. In his actual body for preference, but there was no chance of fitting that into the captain’s room along with the rest of them.

He could handle the spindly elf body for a good cause, and realising they might have been giving the captain too much space was a good cause. Captain Mithrun wasn’t a formal guy, so long as they did what he told them in a dungeon he’d answer to anything and let them get away with whatever they wanted.

It made it hard to see where his boundaries were, so they’d largely sided with caution. And apparently underestimated just how much he depended on them for stability, if nothing else.

Group cuddles on his bed? Probably not going to be much of a feature going forward, even if they did manage to snag an assignment still taking care of him. It got all five of them into the dinky cabin though, and since no one was making Cithis or Otta join in there were no objections.

Fleki was definitely gonna keep pushing until she finally located a boundary, either the captain’s or her own, and then promptly panic and never go near it again. Lycion could always grab her when he wanted attention, but he made a mental note to offer it to the captain more too.

After all, if they were all going to be keeping each other company even after the Canaries disbanded, they couldn’t rely only on Pattadol to tell what the captain needed.

They’d probably also have access to Kabru, with any luck whatsoever. And between the four of them, they could definitely convince Kabru that a little cuddling had been added to the captain’s daily routine.

Cithis had the same thought, exchanging a slow smile with Lycion as the captain very slowly melted into a puddle.

Going back to Melini was going to be a lot of fun.

——————

Pattadol totally also deserves to bite people much more often too, she gets no respect and while that is usually good for her development she does deserve at least a little! (She’d get more if she bit people)

Poor Mithrun has no fucking clue what’s going on or why, including why he is mysteriously now cranky all of the time, it’s not like his entire life has just been overturned and will never recover

There’s also a joke somewhere about Fleki having to learn to pull out now that they can’t just kill and resurrect her when her familiar gets eaten, but I couldn’t find it yet so just assume I’m funny 👍👍

Anyway, come join my touch-starved Mithrun agenda, the biting is not technically compulsory but here we are

#delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi fanfic #after dinner mints #after dinner mints: the plan #lycion #lycion dungeon meshi #fleki #fleki dungeon meshi #cithis #cithis dungeon meshi #otta dungeon meshi #pattadol #pattadol dungeon meshi #captain mithrun #mithrun dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi canaries #they are not leaving their captain alone he’ll fucking die

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taizi · 1 year

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first of all your fic has me sobbing (i'm not exaggerating like i really am sobbing), second of all what was it that mikey said in his sleep though 👀

walk with open hands

Splinter goes from the rooftop battle to the lair in seconds and he’s staggered by the sudden shift. The calm and safety of his hidden underground home is disorienting. His heart is still racing with adrenaline. He curls forward and clutches his youngest child close to his chest and prepares himself for the next wave of danger. In that moment, Splinter would be willing to tear through Saki with his teeth.

A footfall in the doorway snatches Splinter’s attention. His gaze snaps that way and lands on Leonardo, who looks at him like he’s seen a ghost. It’s a look that makes Splinter’s fur stand on end. He’s never seen his eldest look so brittle and diminished, as if he’s buckling under the weight of the world.

And then Leonardo’s eyes dip lower, to the weight in Splinter’s arms, and fear chases everything else out of his expression like hounds running down a fox. Iron shoots through his spine and he crosses the room in two running leaps, already shouting behind him for his brothers.

Because Michelangelo is writhing like a creature possessed. His arms are a horror, green skin flaking away as gold eats its way up in jagged, crooked lines.

The boys come together like a well-oiled machine, scrambling desperately to help, every other thing they must be feeling shoved aside in favor of fear for their youngest.

Leonardo leans over the smallest of his siblings and soothes him in a shaking tone, wiping away his tears in such a clear echo of Shen that it seems impossible she didn’t raise him herself.

“Leonardo,” Splinter says, “qigong, now.”

His eldest hurries to obey. He’s clearly overwhelmed, clearly terrified, but the given task allows him a sense of purpose that clears the storm in his mind. His hands don’t shake or fumble, because he can’t afford them to.

It takes several long moments. Longer than it should. That golden light wants to keep living in Michelangelo, has found a place in his soul it doesn’t want to leave. Splinter pours as much of his qi into the healing hands as he possibly can, determined to chase it and all the pain out.

Finally, Michelangelo’s anguished thrashing tapers off. He heaves a great, shuddering breath, and all the tension in his body blows away with the exhale. Splinter sits back on his heels and feels about a hundred years old.

“Infirmary,” Donatello says at length, his voice low and blunt. It’s unclear who the order is for, but everyone moves at the same time. Splinter leans forward to lift Michelangelo back into his arms, and tries not to notice the way Raphael yanks his hand away before it comes into contact with his father’s.

The weight of one of his sons is a familiar thing to carry. Splinter has done this a thousand times before—the early mornings after movie nights, those accidental sleepovers when pre-teen plotting ran late—and he finds himself grateful that they’re still small enough that he can manage it.

They’re still so small. What has he been doing, leading them headlong into this war? The second he became aware of the Shredder in New York City, he should have bundled them all up and fled with them as far as he could.

Michelangelo is dwarfed by the infirmary bed and his eyes are half-lidded but he resists sleep with ferocious stubbornness. The same stubbornness that always managed to outlast his brothers’ difficult moods, that made him a force of nature in the dojo only when he wanted to be, that saved Splinter’s life on that rooftop moments ago. It takes all four of them to convince him to pry open his hands and release wakefulness and slide away through the darkness into healing sleep.

Then Donatello is all business, blinking past the wet sheen in his eyes and drawing the blanket away from his younger twin. He reaches for a pair of shears on a nearby work table and begins cutting through the pink jacket.

“Hey,” Raphael says without heat.

“It’s ruined anyway,” Donatello fires back. “And I want to look at his shoulder.”

Donatello has always put more stock in medicine than qigong, and it’s fair of him to be concerned about the source of all the blood staining the bright material a stomach-turning rust color. Leonardo leans in to help, eyes boring into Michelangelo’s pale, tear-stricken face as though committing the latest in a long line of personal failures to memory.

Splinter stands out of the way, hands folded in the sleeves of his ripped robe, watching the process from over their heads.

He has seen Michelangelo in this particular jacket three times now.

The first memory comes rushing back—the meadow in the shadow of the mountain, the little river spirit in an inexplicable pink hoodie—the way it trembled where it stood, as if it couldn’t feel the warmth of the sun, and how clearly Splinter could recognize pain when he saw it. And despite all of that, the spirit smiled at him. It offered apology, and thanks, and even love. It spoke with the simple integrity and powerful empathy characteristic in children. It was definitely, Splinter had realized with a sinking heart, someone’s baby.

He revisited the memory in a dream, not even a full decade later, and recognized that little river spirit instantly as his baby. Splinter sprang out of bed with all the strength and speed he possessed, sweeping down the tunnel into the room that functioned as a nursery. The turtles were too small for their own rooms and still preferred to slumber together in a pile, and Michelangelo was comfortably squished beneath Donatello, their little faces peaceful and untroubled.

Splinter sat beside their nest for the rest of the night, his heart pounding. Michelangelo was so tiny and fragile in his sleep, when his limitless energy and manic good cheer didn’t make him appear two times larger than life. Splinter couldn’t begin to imagine how he could have ended up in that meadow. He couldn’t summon any reasonable explanation why the precious child would cry and apologize so earnestly.

When Michelangelo got a little older, and he and his brothers were progressing effortlessly through their training, Raphael made the executive decision that the four of them should wear masks, like the heroes in their Saturday morning cartoons. Splinter obliged him, and took the boys into the side tunnel he used for storage, allowing them to pick from the fabrics he had available. Michelangelo went straight for a sunny orange color as if it had always been his. And in a way, Splinter thought, feeling both unrelentingly fond and quietly apprehensive, it always had been.

The second memory of the turtle in the pink jacket did not stand out the way the first and the last did. On an unremarkable afternoon, Splinter had happened upon a frenzied Michelangelo in the den, pacing in restless circles. It only struck Splinter as odd because his sons had left for April’s apartment not even twenty minutes ago. But when he made his presence known, Michelangelo had whipped around with a lethal speed that spoke more of hard-earned experience than it did of training, and his eyes were as wide as the moon.

It had been a long time since Splinter had worried about the troubling vision of his youngest in Japan. As a parent of four high-energy children, his mind was often occupied by a thousand things at once, each more pressing than the last, and distant memories of dreamlike encounters could not always be in his top ten priorities.

It was not the pink jacket that tugged at recollection that time. It was the way his sweet boy’s face had crumpled, the way he plucked at his sleeves and choked out, “I’m sorry, papa.”

“I should have been good. I’m really sorry.”

And suddenly, Splinter was terrified. Suddenly it felt as though they were on a one-way road and picking up speed, barreling towards an inevitable end. He held Michelangelo as tight as he dared and wanted more than anything to protect him from whatever was coming. All he could do was impress upon the child that he was good, that he was loved, that he never needed to apologize to Splinter—the simple act of existing was a gift Michelangelo had given his family that was impossible to repay, and they would be lost without him.

Then he let Michelangelo go chasing after his brothers, and wondered if it would be enough.

The third memory—the rooftop. Coming up on the end of fate’s one-way road.

Splinter had raised his sons to trust their instincts. To put stock in the things their hearts told them. To listen to the voice in their minds when it urged them to move. It was an order of a magnitude more difficult for some of them than it was for others. Donatello and Leonardo had an inclination towards practicality and the arts they could study and practice. Raphael was too stubborn and righteous to do anything but the right thing, whatever the cost. But Michelangelo was a whirlwind of intuition. Michelangelo could breeze through life on a hunch if he wanted to.

And on the rooftop, he was a coiled spring, waiting, waiting, waiting for some cue from the universe. He was so hot to the touch he nearly burned, and his arms were glowing through the sleeves of that pink jacket, and his eyes were fixed without blinking on some point above and behind Splinter’s shoulder.

When the Shredder arrived, Michelangelo was ready. And now they’re here. They’ve crashed through the roadblock at the end of fate’s path and this is what comes after. This unmapped territory, unfamiliar ground.

“What the hell is that?” Raphael says sharply. There’s a small clock resting against Michelangelo’s plastron, glowing gold and putting out heat like a furnace.

“Don’t,” Leonardo says, throwing out an arm when Donatello’s hand drifts towards it. “Don’t touch it. Do you have something you can cut the chain with?”

A moment later, the chain around Michelangelo’s neck is broken, and Donatello is lifting the clock away at arm's length with the sort of exacting precision Splinter would attribute to a bomb disposal technician. The second it’s gone, Michelangelo stirs and starts to cry.

“Wait—don’t go,” he says, and his siblings all jump in surprise.

“It’s okay,” Leonardo starts, but Michelangelo won’t be comforted.

“I’ll get it right this time,” the child babbles, word salad. He still seems to be half-dreaming. “I’ll try again. Again. Again. Let me try again.”

“Hey hey,” Donnie says, touching his twin’s sweaty forehead with the calloused tips of his fingers, a gentle tap-tap-tap that is a secret code between just the two of them. “Angie, it’s all over, you don’t have to do anything.”

“I can fix it,” Michelangelo sobs, so much pain in every word that it wrenches at Splinter’s heart. “No one’ll know I’m gone. No one’ll miss me.”

Raphael’s eyes are bright and furious and wet. His fists would be curled into dangerous weapons, if both his hands weren’t already curled carefully around one of Michelangelo’s.

“We’d miss you,” Leonardo says, only barely above a whisper. The grief in his voice is old, but the fear is brand-new. He’d come dangerously close to losing something important, something he might not have survived losing. “We’d miss you every single second you weren’t here, Mikey. What would we do without you?”

Michelangelo sinks back into sleep, never fully awake to begin with. Raphael lowers his head onto the bed, on the pillow of one folded arm, and doesn’t let go of Michelangelo’s hand. The room is tense and silent, all of them waiting for something. Waiting for the thick, clouded atmosphere to break open and finally give into rain.

Splinter lays a hand on his eldest son’s shell, unsure if the touch will be welcome. Leonardo flinches and goes terribly still. Then his shoulders start shaking.

“We had a funeral,” Leonardo chokes out.

“You died,” Donatello bites out. He’s unwilling to leave his little brother’s side, but all of his menacing focus is pointed at Splinter like a knife.

Splinter had made that connection, somewhere in the quiet back of his brain—between the clock and the knowledge that Michelangelo’s best friend is a Timestress and those memories of Michelangelo that stand out in Splinter’s mind, that don’t quite fit in the chronological places they should, and the way his turtles look at him now. It still hurts to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” Splinter replies, his heart well on its way to breaking. He says it again, “Moushiwake arimasen deshita. The last thing I wanted was to leave you.”

They will certainly need to talk about it in depth at another time. Splinter, of all people, knows trauma when he sees it. But it isn’t a conversation they’re ready to have right now. They’re barely clinging to their composure as it is. Splinter will let them go at their own pace.

“Mikey thinks—” Leonardo starts, and can’t bring himself to finish.

“We let him think it,” Raphael says. “We all fell apart.”

“I’m not letting him go anywhere without me ever again,” Donatello says bitterly, sinking into a chair beside the bed. “I’m invoking grounding rights. The next time he goes on a time-traveling odyssey, he’ll have a chaperone.”

Leonardo is surprised into a smile. All isn’t lost. “Three chaperones,” he says.

“Five, once April and Casey hear about this,” Raphael adds, muffled because he refuses to lift his head.

“That is incorrect,” Splinter interjects. His sons look at him, conflicting expressions on their faces, and so he adds, “There will be six of us. We are a family, and wherever we must go next, we will go together.”

It’s too late now to sweep his children away to some safe, far-away place. They have friends and loyalties and memories tying them to this city. It is their home in a way it never quite managed to be Splinter’s. He missed the opportunity to be the best father to them that he could be. His life is a series of missed opportunities.

But he has been given, of all wonderful, impossible, undeserved gifts, a second chance.

“I won’t waste it,” Splinter says, gazing down at Michelangelo’s sleeping face. He still sees his baby sleeping there, untroubled and unburdened and full of light. “I won’t waste another second.”

#tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #hamato yoshi #hamato michelangelo #ratdad #my writing #tmnt fic #walk with open hands #prompt #anonymous #anon im sorry this took forever ! ive been planning this little coda since u sent me that ask

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samynnad102687 · 7 months

Text

Marauderstober

Oct 19th - MaryLily Flower and Leaf Pressing

1,025 words

Lily loved the Fall. She also loved books and flowers too. So naturally, she wanted to combine the two of them. Lily was sitting in a field with Mary, having a picnic. It was still warm enough that they could stay outside longer without worrying about freezing. She was looking at all of the leaves that had started to fall off of the trees and all of the flowers that were going to succumb to the winter frost pretty soon.

“Hey, Mary?” Lily asked as he leaned back on her elbows.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know how to press leaves and flowers?”

“I haven’t done it since I was a teenager but yeah, why?” Mary said as she peeked at Lily from behind her sunglasses.

“I was just looking at these flowers and the leaves falling around us and I wanted to preserve them somehow and that was the first thing that I thought of,” Lily shrugged.

“Oh, yeah. I think that would be fun. Do you have a journal or a book in mind that you want to use?” Mary asked as she sat up more to look at Lily.

“Maybe? I have a bunch of journals at home but I can’t remember what is in them.”

“Okay, well we can pick some flowers and leaves and take them home and figure it out or we can look for the journal first and then pick the flowers,” Mary suggested.

“Let’s get the journal first. I don’t want to disturb the flowers yet.”

“Okay.”

Lily and Mary finished their picnic and packed up a couple of hours later, heading home to look through the abundance of journals and books that Lily owned.

“What about this one?” Mary asked, holding up a slightly battered journal that Lily had forgotten that she had.

She took it from Mary’s hands and opened it to the first page. It was the only page with anything written on it and it was only a list of books that she had planned on reading three years ago. Did she read all those books? Maybe about half. Did she forget that she had already written this list and started a new one in a new journal? Yes, yes she did.

“This would be perfect,” Lily said as she ripped out the single written page and voila, it was a brand new journal.

“Great. Unfortunately, it’s getting too dark to find some flowers today. I can show you some of my favourites tomorrow after work.”

“That works. Wanna get something to eat?” Lily asked as she looked at the clock. They had been going through her books and journals for two hours.

“Sure.”

Mary brought Lily to one of her favourite fields and Lily was surprised that they hadn’t been there before. It was full of colourful flowers and the leaves were just starting to change on the trees. Lily didn’t know what to say as she took in the sight in front of her. It was a gem hidden from the rest of the world. Tucked into its own little corner.

“It’s beautiful, Mary,” Lily replied when she got her mouth to form words again.

“I thought that you would like it. I used to come here all of the time with my mum before she passed.”

“Is that who taught you how to press leaves and flowers?”

“Yeah, and then I taught my little sister but it’s been years since I’ve been out here,” Mary said sadly and Lily could see that she was remembering her mum and sister who had passed away a couple years ago.

“We can go somewhere else if it’s too hard for you right now,” Lily replied easily. Just because she thought it was beautiful didn’t mean she was going to make Mary stay if it made her sad.

“No, that’s okay. I’ve been meaning to come back for a while, I just needed the extra little push and you gave me that so thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lily gave her a kiss on the cheek. “So what’s first?”

“First, you need to find the flowers that you want to press. I brought a basket so we can collect a bunch and sort them out at home. Do you know what kind of flowers you would like to try?” Mary asked gently as she walked around the field.

“Not really, I’m kind of just seeing what draws my attention,” Lily shrugged.

“Okay.”

They walked around the field and collected a variety of flowers and leaves before heading back home. They walked into their flat right at the perfect time. As soon as the door shut behind them, it started to rain.

Lily walked into the kitchen and set her journal and the basket on the table. She also got out the parchment paper and a couple heavy books to set on the journal when they were done. She pulled out the flowers from the basket and laid them gently on the table next to the books.

Mary took one of her books that she was going to press the flowers into to show Lily how to do it without destroying the flowers or leaves. She took a piece of parchment paper and set it in the book, then took a carnation and set it gently on the paper before adding another piece on top and closing the book and setting two more books on top of it.

“See? It’s as easy as that.” Mary exclaimed when she was done.

“Looks easy enough.”

Lily took her own journal and picked up an aster and gently set it inside, just like Mary had shown her. She arranged the petals so that they weren’t crumbled up and set the new parchment on top. Lily wanted to try it this way before pressing the flowers directly into her journal. After Lily put the extra books on her journal, they went to the living room and watched a movie on the telly while they waited. Once Lily and Mary determined that the first try was a success, they pressed three more flowers and a couple of leaves before calling it a night.

@cazzythefrogking @clementinewoolf @maladaptivewriting @multiimoments @lavenderhaze @literally-the-prettiest-star @thebibutterflyao3 @seiworf @emjayeingray @remusregulusrosekiller @heartsoncover @accuratewhereabouts @belowthestarrs

#dead gay wizards #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauderstober #marylily #mary macdonald #lily evens

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun.

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up…

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration…

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed…

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth.

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes…

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it.

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?"

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else.

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Going to a Private Onsen with Gojo

NSFW Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, established relationship

Type: One shot. This is around almost 4k words.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW content, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, daddy kink, squirting, overstimulation, praising, dom!Gojo, breeding kink, slightly manipulative/ Yandere Gojo, degradation

Notes: finally got to finish this fic, my motivation just dropped halfway lmao. The inn house has rooms with private hot springs. Not shared like the communal ones in public bath houses. This is half fluff half smut.

The private hot springs per room are separated by bamboo trees and wooden walls. (With holes. So you know what's gonna go down👀💦💦💦)

You and Satoru finally get the chance to have a 2 day 1 night short break from work. He takes you to an inn, checking in a tatami room with a private hot spring (onsen) included. The place smelled fresh, and you could smell the flowers outside.

"We can see the hot springs from here love. What do you think? It's gorgeous isn't it?" Satoru wiggled his eyebrows at you. You both set your luggage down, making yourselves at home. The sun is still high up, it is only 2:00pm and the hot spring is steaming, the sunlight making the water shine and glitter.

"It's not bad at all; the room is quite big as well." You smiled. Despite knowing that you're only stroking his ego, you let it go for once. Just this once because it is a special break after all. He internally pats himself on the back, beaming at you. “Glad you like it. Let’s take a walk around the area and then come back for dinner.”

“Fine with me”. Both of you changed into traditional clothing first. Gojo into a Yukata and you into your kimono. He helped you tie your obi and do your hair up. "Look how pretty my kitten is." He practically purred out as he cinched your waist beneath his large hands. His hands felt like fire on your waist.

You flushed, softly calling out his name. "N-not now." You stared at his profile. All lean and muscular. Knowing his physique hidden under the blue fabric did nothing to help.

"Not now." He agreed. But the glint in his eyes said otherwise. Still he held himself back.

So you both set out, exploring the town. The stalls were bustling with people. You both bought souvenirs for the students as well as omamori (charms) for various purposes.

You visited the temple and just tried to relieve the pent up stress from the last few weeks. “The air is so cool and it smells really nice here.” The flowers were all in bloom, as it was spring as of now. Satoru, however, kept his eyes on you for most of the time instead of the scenery around him.

“Yeah, it’s real pretty isn’t it? Wanna take some photos?”

“Good idea! I need a new lock screen pic of us Toru!” you smiled. Your smile unfortunately dimmed upon noticing other women staring at Satoru and batting their eyelashes at him (ignoring the fact that you were right beside him).

You’ve always known that he was a gorgeous person, just thanking your lucky stars that he actually came around to reciprocate your feelings. “Hey”, Satoru cupped your face and turned it to face him. He was pouting. “Focus on me love. This trip is just for us.”

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. AH! I wanna have a picture by that Sakura tree~”. You tried to be more enthusiastic and engaging, blocking out any jealous and negative thoughts.

Seriously, it's not like you didn't trust him. Just that your insecurity gets to you sometimes. You quickly bat the thoughts away. Your thoughts came to a halt when you felt something soft on the corner of your lips.

"Love you." Satoru murmured against your cheek. You turned to see his eyes under his drooping sunglasses just an inch away from yours. You couldn't help but sigh in admiration. Of course he knows how you feel. "I love you more Toruu~ Now let's go." You gave him a genuine and bright smile. Walking over to a shaded area near the lake, surrounded by tall grass.

He leaned down to press his cheek against the top of your head and placed one arm around you. His other hand was holding up his phone for a selfie. After you took some pretty and funny photos, he surprised you by bringing out a polaroid.

"Eh?! Since when did you bring that with you?" You asked him. Satoru gave a sneaky smirk, "Well. Since you talked non stop about loving the vintage aesthetic recently, I thought it would be good to make a small scrapbook or photo album of this trip."

".... who are you and what have you done with my husband..."

"Hey! That's rude. I'm always nice and sweet." He pouted and widened his eyes, using a finger to push down his shades. "I knowww~ Just kidding Toru, I love your ideas. I'll help you with it then."

"Of course you will pumpkin." He squeezed you against his side, not caring about anyone who might be looking at both of you being overly affectionate in public.

He took pictures using the polaroid camera every now and then. Taking your hand and leading you around, Satoru did not give your thoughts a chance to move away from him. He didn't hesitate to tickle you when your guard was down and poked at your cheeks with the most annoying grin.

After that it was just you and him. Enjoying your precious time together, undisturbed by anyone else. By the time the sun was setting, you dragged him over to an Izakaya. "Should we have dinner here?" You asked him.

"Ooooh! Looks like they have good meat and eel. That's fine with me." He replied. You both enjoyed dinner and had a bit of sake. Satoru always looked cute with flushed red cheeks and that big stupid smile of his. "Well you look cuter than me for once Hun." He quipped back.

You smiled as you wiped that teriyaki sauce off the corner of his mouth for him. It was a really peaceful day.

Walking back to the inn, you noticed a shadow moving quickly just by the corner of your eye. This is why you don't think about work during your free time. Feeling chills run up your spine, you turned to see a curse, staring straight back at you. "Ah shit I left my sword back in the inn."

Not even having finished your sentence, you watched as Satoru flicked his wrist and took down the 2nd grade curse in an instant. "I told you not to worry darling. I'm not going to let anything hurt you." He tutted and booped your nose playfully, eyes shining.

"Heehh~" you pretended not to be impressed but by the look on his face, you knew you didn't do a good job of hiding it. He just chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Toru I can't walk like this."

It was like trying to lug a 190cm tall clingy infant. "I'll protect you with my infinity from all sides love." He looked really happy, just prancing around with you in his arms as you both made your way back to the inn.

💜💜💜

You both settled back in and got ready to take a bath. It was a really good day and everything went smoother than you thought it would, knowing your chaotic and unorthodox doof of a husband.

"Dinner was so good. This was a great idea Toru, thank you." You smiled up at him. He smiled back, so soft and gentle with you. The way he never is and never will be with anyone else.

"Now then, I'll be taking my payment from you." You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face. Your husband of 5 years still confuses you until this day. "I'm sorry?" you felt affronted as you asked the question. You had no problem paying your share of the bills, heck you earn a lot as a 1st grade Jujutsu sorcerer yourself.

But Satoru spent about over a month pestering you about wanting to treat you to a short staycation with him. "Yes", he replied slowly making his way towards you, towering over your shorter frame. You stood your ground and craned to look up at him.

"Thank you for the meal sweetheart. You will be my dessert." He removed his glasses and threw them aside to showcase his bright blue eyes. You shivered from the intensity, and his lips turned up in a smirk. His words were somewhat funny, but his tone was dead serious.

He wasted no time, leaning down to suck down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, after he pulled one side of your kimono off your shoulder. "Sa-Satoru!!, hah- ", his grip on you was way too tight.

"Baby, I am so sorry I can't wait any longer. Won't you be good for me?" Satoru asked as he took a step back and cupped your cheeks in his hands.

It's true that this man has no self-control, always palming your ass down the hallways at Tokyo Jujutsu High. But you rarely see him as desperate as he is now, that it was actually endearing to you. So you relented, earning a grin from the man.

He helped you out of your kimono, littering small kisses on your forehead and cheeks, before he started biting on one ear.

Unclasping your bra, he reached down to grope your breasts. You stared at him as he suckled on one nipple while toying with the other. His eyes opened to meet yours, and you could feel the growing wetness between your legs.

You also reached up to pull his Yukata off, undoing the tie on his waist. "I love it when you hair is done up darling. I can bite as much of your neck as I want." He growled out against your shoulder, biting and sucking wherever he can.

Your mouth watered upon seeing the outline of his hard-on straining against his boxers. On the other hand, Satoru stared unashamedly as you pulled down your panties, keeping your legs together to keep your slick from dripping down your legs.

Impatiently, you reached up and ran your fingers through his locks. "Satoru~" you whined. He only smirked in response. In one quick movement, he gathered you into his arms and brought you over to the small washing area with the soap and shower-head.

He was still in his boxers however. You just stared at it, drawing closer to press your hand and rub the outline. He let out a long moan, which led to you to quickly look up and snap out a hush. "The neighbours might hear us Toru." You whined.

"Tch, Let them hear. They can't touch or experience us anyways. And I want to show off my lovely little wife." He leered down at you, finally removing his wet boxers and throwing it onto the ground.

His hard cock sprang up and slapped against his abs. As if moving by some force, you immediately dropped to your knees. Rubbing soap onto his waist, thighs, and finally pumping his cock with your soapy hands. You looked up to him as you "cleaned" him off with innocent eyes.

Satoru wasn't impressed. "Don't tease me baby or you'll regret it." He pulled you up and brought you into a deep kiss. You both gathered more soap and started washing each other off.

With his hands moving slowly down the sides, Satoru didn't hold himself back from touching every nook and cranny of your body. From your neck, to your shoulders, down your breasts, going to your thighs and legs. His hands were rubbing at your skin, inching nearer and nearer to your cunt. Until he suddenly pulled away, making you cry out at the loss of contact.

"Be good for me and let me clean you first kitten." He whispered.

No other words were shared as you both rinsed and washed each other off before moving to the onsen.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you in a hot spring." Satoru smirked as you both dipped into the water. You sat on his lap and clasped your hands behind his neck, straddling him. His hands gripping either side of you waist tightly.

"No I don't know." You turned away from him as you rested your head against his chest. He hummed. Both of you resting for a bit. You were both in the same state, antsy for action, but trying to enjoy the hot springs at the same time.

For a while you both just stayed soaking in the hot water. Until you started grinding down against him. He just stared down at your figure. Breasts spilling against his chest, the slope of your s line with your ass under the water. But you refused to meet his eyes.

Satoru didn't really like that very much. He pinched your thigh hard. "Ow!,' you yelped. "Toru what was-" you finally turned to look up at him, but faltered and stopped moving. His eyes were bright and his expression dark. "I thought my baby was going to be good for me tonight. You don't wanna beg me later just to come right? Or does daddy have to make you do just that?"

As soon as he said the word daddy you felt your insides clench around nothing, thighs quivering. He looked down towards your body, grinning at your response. He pulled you out of the water, sitting down on the ground beside it.

"Suck me off baby and I'll consider making you cum."

You crawled over on all fours towards him. You kissed him first, then trailed downwards, licking off the water and sweat on Satoru's abs and the outlines of his hard muscles. He groans while staring at you, pupils blown so wide his bright blue eyes actually look dark for once.

You can see the carnal lust raging behind him as you squeeze your breasts together while kneeling and licking his abs. You leave small butterfly kisses as you slowly make your way down to his aching member.

But, he groans as you skip past it and suck love marks into his lower thighs. "Pumpkin, please -UNGH, p-please don't tease so much." Satoru groaned. You smirked up at him, meeting his eyes while sticking your tongue out and licking one of his balls. Sucking it into your mouth and covering it with your spit.

He reached down to lift your chin up, thumbing your lips as he watched the saliva trickle down down side of your mouth to his fingers. The current sight of you is so lewd and dirty that Satoru almost came on the spot right there.

You decide to humor him and move to licking the head of his dick, while grabbing a hold of the base and slowly pumping it up and down. Satoru threw his head back. He looked up, seeing the night sky and the stars twinkling while feeling hot pleasure run through his body. He felt like he was floating.

You tried deepthroating all of him in one go, but he was just too big. "Baby, your mouth is too small for daddy's cock isn't it?". You whimpered in response. Trying to swallow as much of him as you can while using your hand for the remainder of his length.

Quiet mewls escaped the sides of your mouth as you opened your aching jaws wider. Tears started running down your face. You didn't stop as you relaxed your jaw and took more of him, swallowing what you can while pumping. He bucked up without warning, causing your gag reflex to react. Then he pulled you off.

"That's enough for now. I wanna make sure I stuff every bit of cum I have inside of your pussy baby." He pulled you up over him, this time with his back to the floor as he spoke.

"Lemme eat you out, I've been waiting for this all day." He was salivating at the sight of your pussy, positioned in front of his face. You lowered yourself onto him slowly. Impatiently, he tugged you waist down, smashing your lower lips against his mouth. You let out a loud yelp followed by heavy breaths and mewls as he ate you out.

Thrusting his tongue in and out of your walls. He loved the taste of you, always thirsty for more. You tried to grind your pussy against his face. But he held your legs in place with one arm, wrapping around your behind. The other hand was playing with your clit.

In no time at all you were sobbing and cumming all over his face. Satoru didn't spare you one second of rest. He pulled away and lined himself up, pushing into you during your orgasm.

He immediately started fucking into you earnestly, grabbing a hold of your waist and lifting it to pull you on and off his cock. "Toru, it's too much for me, I can't-" You could barely get the words out of your mouth as you slurred them out with your eyes shut.

"Yes you can. I know you can. Because you're made for me and only you can do a good job for me like this love." Satoru grunted as he pumped into you like there was no tomorrow.

He loved it when your walls clenched and squeezed against him tightly. Especially when your whole body shook during an orgasm. Whenever you open your eyes all you can see are the stars blurring due to your movements. You both came like that, with your backs arching. His cock stayed hard, twitching as it spurted and filled you up.

He suddenly felt the sensation of eyes on him. As the user of six eyes, his senses were wide alert at ALL times. He looked to the side of the wooden wall, and saw dark eyes staring back at him.

He didn't stop thrusting. You whined and mewled as you ground your hips against his. "Fuck, such a slut for me. Love it when you cry and make those noises babe. Just look at me. I won't look at any other person, man or woman. I'm yours as long as you're mine." He growled out.

He pulled out to reposition you. Dragging your body on top of his. Your back against his chest. "Daddy, I want you. I want more!" You whined out. You positioned his cock at your entrance.

"Daddy will give his baby what she wants. You've been so good to me after all love." He smirked inwardly pushed back upwards into you, thrusting at a fast pace. (Satoru chose the position because he knew you were both being watched. He loves to make other men so jealous of him having you).

You could only squeal and try to hold yourself up against him, putting your palms against the floor. But it was no use. He grabbed your thighs and kept fucking up harder and harder, making it hard for you to hold onto anything.

"Yes just like that baby. You're so good to me. You don't need to think. I'll make it so that you don't have to do anything else. You only need to feel my cock yeah? My doll is the best when she is crying on my cock." He moaned out.

The man on the other side of the wall was joined by a few other men. Satoru used his ability to see through the wall following the movement of their cursed energy and saw that they were touching themselves to you.

"Daddy, please more. Daddyyy~" you were slipping further into subspace. Soon you couldn't speak clearly anymore. Just babbling nonsense while bouncing on Satoru's lap and staring hazily up at the sky.

"I think we have company." He laughed out. You snapped out of your haze to see peeking eyes behind the bamboo sticks. Satoru just thrusted harder. "Let's give them a show of their lifetime hmm? I spy old men wanting some action. But they won't be able to touch you baby."

He reached up with one hand to grope your breast and the other stayed below to play with your clit. Sex to him was almost like an art form. He knew exactly how to play with your body to bring you to your strongest orgasms.

You tried to cover your body up but he pulled your arms away. "Don't run away baby, daddy's here to protect you. It will be okay."

At the end of the day you trusted him and his six eyes, so you let go. Pussy clenching harder at the thought of being watched by unknown strangers.

"That's it, my angel. So good for me. You're leaking far more than normal slut. You like it when people watch you get fucked?"

He reached up with his cum stained hand to spit into it. Then shoved his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suckled on and cleaned his fingers for him. He continued to grope you as he pounded away.

Satoru wasn't too worried about the spectators next door. He can see them clearly. Several middle aged men (probably sharing a larger room) messily jerking off to both of you. He saw the way their eyes travelled across your breasts and cunt, which was oozing with his cum.

He hit a hard deep spot inside of you which caused you to squirt hard, a large amount of liquid spraying out. Satoru quickly put his hands over your clit and furiously rubbed at it, wanting to prolong your squirting. You were crying out loud at this point. It was just music to his ears.

One man groaned out, causing you to tense and tighten and Satoru to moan out.

"You love putting a show on huh baby? We should do this more often if it gets you tighter and wetter around me." He snarked out while you drooled and asked for more.

He didn't stop thrusting until he came a few more times inside of you, changing positions.

The men watched as you rode him, your breasts bouncing up and down, while you placed your palms flat on Satoru's chest. They stared at the cum flowing out of your pussy, being fucked back into you by Satoru. The way you both groaned as you clamped down tight and milked his cock.

Soon you found yourself laying on your side with one leg up with Satoru spooning you from behind. What was frightening was his stamina and power.

His thrusts never lost strength and soon you just felt like his cock was drilling a space inside of you, just for it. You felt so boneless in his hands when you both finished, laying down on your sides.

"Babe…. You okay? We need to clean up." Satoru whispered against your shoulder.

You could only mumble incoherent noises. Squeezing around his softening length, still plugged inside of you to keep his cum inside.

Satoru gave out a soft sigh. Then gathered you into his arms and took you away from prying eyes. He just turned and smirked at them as he walked away with you, butt naked.

The watchers were disappointed that the show was over. Satoru then cleaned you both with the shower head in the washing area and wiped you down with soft towels.

You stayed silent the whole time. Your head felt like it was in the clouds. Just letting Satoru do his way with you like a doll. "You were really good for me tonight angel. Nobody else can touch you but me." He chuckled darkly.

You just listened to his simple commands such as putting your arms up when he dressed you in your nightgown. 'I always love fucking her dumb.' He smiled to himself as he settled you into his arms in bed.

"Next time I'll be fucking you in the water." He whispered. He brought you closer to him, tucking your head against his neck. Kissing your forehead and patting you to put you to sleep.

🎇🎇🎇

The next morning you were absolutely horrified to see people staring at you, when you both left your room to check out. 'I bet they heard us last night. And who were the ones peaking at us?!?!' you frightfully thought to yourself.

Satoru didn't really care. Smiling brightly at the attendants and thanking them for your amazing stay at the inn.

"Toru I really enjoyed my stay, but it's hard to be happy now knowing that we did it at the expense of our neighbours stay." You whispered, hitting him. "Darling I'm pretty sure they enjoyed the show." He winked at you, shameless as ever.

Suffice to say, you decided not return to said hot springs for a while out of shame.

End notes: 🙈 this fic started because I just thought of Satoru's abs wet with steam and sweat but it evolved during the last edit. Hope you guys enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated 💜

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fic #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

we’re fools (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, a lot of sexual references, but also a lot of fluff, bucky and reader are in love, also bucky gets cheesy and he hates it

(other parts) (masterlist)

part 3/3:

Bucky thinks he fell in love on a Tuesday.

“This year, I’m gonna ask Peggy Carter out.” It’s the first day of their third semester and Steve is putting his black baseball cap in his perfect hair, checking his reflection on his phone screen. One of the freshman girls winks at him and he shyly half smiles.

Usually, Bucky would tease him about it, but now he’s attention is wholly on something else. Someone else.

A girl at the other end of the hall, holding a paper juice box, wearing a gaudy denim dress that stops right before her knees.

He’s certain he hasn’t seen her before and judging by the adrift look on her face he deduces she’s in her first year. Is she pretty? He can’t decide. She’s definitely something. And if he stares at her a bit longer than socially acceptable, well let’s say, it’s completely unintended.

“Buck, did you hear what I said?” Steve says at one point and Bucky isn’t sure for how long he has been lost in her figure.

“Yeah sure.” The girl starts walking at their direction -it must be your lucky day, Bucky-, clutching the golden heart jewel around her neck. She’s looking at the doors, she’s looking at the big campus map they have on the wall. She’s looking everywhere but at him and it’s almost offensive considering the amount of time he spent looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” And then she’s there standing a few steps behind Steve. Almost hidden behind his colossal demeanor. “I can’t seem to find the Admission Office.”

A small nervous laugh escapes her lips and Bucky watches the little wrinkles around her eyes, the subtle blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t look pretty. No. She looks consuming.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”. He replies a little too fast. He had to beat Steve. He had to talk to her.

She smiles at him and somehow, along that smile, Bucky thinks he fell in love. With you.

(bucky barnes has been in love with you for 563 days)

“Did you just kiss me?”

His voice is barely a whisper and his vision is blurry and it’s weird because suddenly he realizes how scared he’s of you. Of the power you have on him. An alarming craving. Every addiction he can’t control combined. Bucky isn’t afraid of many things, not exactly. But he’s afraid that you’ll take his heart and break it, if you want to. And he’s more afraid that he’ll just allow you to. He wonders, for the split of a second, if you have any idea how everything changed when your lips met his. How something inside of him shifted.

“I’m sorry,” You finally answer and he needs a moment to compose himself, “I’m so sorry I just thought-”

“Shut up, I’d died if you hadn’t kissed me.”

“What?”

It’s innocent and terribly oblivious, the way you ask him that and he half smiles, almost touches your palm before his mind stops racing. Ignores the alcohol in his body. Reminds him that he’s Bucky Barnes, that he’s clever and brilliant and a little bit narcissistic and that he doesn’t do love. Not anymore. And that people adore him for that. And that he needs to uphold it. At least try to.

“I’m not repeating that soppy thing I said,” He drawls and smirks, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hall. He has his mask back on. He’s playing his part again. And then he takes a quick step, opens his door and turns around, swift motions and hard grips and suddenly your spine hits the walls of his room. “But you can repeat that sexy thing you did with your tongue.”

Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows he’d perish and wither in a blast if you asked him to, yet he would never admit that. At least not so fast. And specially not to you. He has built his persona so carefully, wore it like an armor, it has become a second skin.

His chapped lips scratch soft against your neck, his hands play with the end of your dress and you observe the way his orbs are colored darker now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s a show he’s practiced. His touch is sharp, like a razor, cuts through your epidermis, comes close to your veins and the muscles of your heart.

And you’re ready to close your eyes, savor every minute of it, offer yourself like an altar and let him wipe the rationality out of you, but the moment his fingers find the wet silk between your legs there’s pain and your throat dries out instantly.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong doll?”

“Can we stop?”

There’s the cruel split of a moment where the anxiety inside of you flares up dangerously and you fill like on the edge of a cliff, like falling and it’s horrible. And then you see his body relax, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing.

“Thank God you asked.”

“Barnes,” you hit him with your elbow, “You’re doing wonders for my self esteem right now!”

“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a grimace, “It’s just that I’m drunk and I prefer if I’m not drunk when we have sex. I want to remember the whole thing.”

A strange sensation tingles somewhere between your ribs and your stomach, something so pure and new, and it raises goosebumps all over you. And you smile at him.

And somehow along that smile, Bucky’s mask starts to fall.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt within your first month in college, is a year older than you, a proud boy that always asks the right questions and always gives the right answers, with charms and wits of a living god.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt the night you kissed him in the narrow aisle, may have a sharp tongue but he also has the sweetest lips, soft and liqueur like.

Bucky Barnes, you learn some days later, doesn’t want many people to know about you two, and sits three tables away during lunch.

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Your mind is racing with dozens of hurtful possibilities, some more or less, and Bucky looks at you, eyes widen and surprised.

“Why would I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know,” you take the tea cup in your hands, drink and stay silent for a while, observe the way he’s fidgeting with his fingers, “Why else would you avoid me whenever there’s someone else but Sam around?”

It takes some time before he walks closer, sits next to you by his bedframe and touches your hand, your skin freezing under his.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Your heart almost stops, because Bucky is never scared, and his answer feels strangely heavy and bitter from his lips when he says, “I just don’t want anyone to ruin this.”

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk like he usually does, just stares at you with narrow eyes and a quick breath.

“Bucky, I hate it to break it to you,” you say, a glint of amusement in your voice, “But I don’t think others care that much about us.”

You cup his face in your hands, guide him backwards, his back hitting the pillow and it’s the first time he has no choice but to comply.

“And even if they do,” you breath in, wet your lips and tease the corner of his mouth with your finger, “It’s not our problem.”

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, shifts even closer to you, his heart not missing a beat. And when you kiss him, he smiles. And somehow along that smile, Bucky becomes more of himself.

It goes like this;

People read it in his eyes. How his gaze never leaves you even while you’re writing a test and he needs to concentrate, how he looks mesmerized when you braid your hair while scanning the textbook in front of you. How he could find you even in the middle of the biggest crowd.

People see it in your reactions. How your fingers always wrap around his wrist, almost instinctively, before he leaves, and you kiss him one time on the lips, and then one more on the cheek. How your voice changes as soon as he enters the room. How you’d know he’s here even without looking.

You really have to try to be oblivious to love.

(text messages between classes)

(10:26 AM) bucky: hey does taylor swift have to be playing in the background when we have sex

(10:27 AM) you: it’s not even noon bucky what the hell

(10:27 AM) bucky: i went through your spotify and APPARENTLY you have a “🍆🍆🍆” playlist

(10:27 AM) bucky: and it’s just taylor swift and hozier???

(10:27 AM) bucky: who the hell wants to have sex with a taylor swift song playing

(10:28 AM) you: I’m gonna kill you

(10:28 AM) bucky: nah <3

It’s surprisingly easy, dating Bucky Barnes, and by the end of the first month, you feel at home, at ease. He talks a lot, way more than you expected him to, he shares his favorites, the way he always underlines quotes he likes in the books he’s reading or how he never eats anything that has soy in it. He shows you everything about him, not just who he is, but who he’s ever been. And it’s beautiful.

And you observe how he breathes easier now, smiles more. He doesn’t keep his guard up, doesn’t flinch when nobody’s looking at him.

He thinks it’s weird.

He thinks it’s weird, because kissing has always been an act of foreplay to him and he never paid much attention, but now, with you, he could spend his whole life kissing you.

But when you start pulling at the buttons of his black expensive shirt, well, it’s not like he’s complaining. He presses his body against yours, his hands almost shaking, his fingers burying in your hair, slowly tugging.

“Bucky,” You breath in his neck, “I may be bad at this.”

“What?” He whispers as he leaves wet trails all the way to your chest.

“I haven’t done this before, so I may be bad at it.”

He stares right at your lips, notices your sweet cherry scent mixing with the sharp notes of his aftershave, touches the spot under your eyes and smiles.

“Guess we’ll have to do it over and over again then.” He’s half laughing, half kissing your shoulder and you can feel your cheeks flush and your entire being tighten.

And then his cold fingertips draw circles on your inner thighs and you close your eyes, and Bucky forgets how to breath.

“I probably sound like a fool but, I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t plan on saying it that early, but he’s here, warm and glistening and in your arms and you can’t go another minute without hearing the words out loud.

“And I probably sound competitive but, I’ve been in love with you since God knows when.”

(AH IT’S FINISHED BUT YAY THEY’RE IN LOVE)

tagging: @tonystankschild @osterfieldshollandgirl @roguesthetic @buckyjms @ohladymacbeth

#i had one of the worst months but hello hello i am back #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #college au #au!bucky barnes #college au!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #hassandra #fools

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood, language, brief nudity. Later chapters will be M Warnings: Nah fam Summary: Local vampire finds out she can't kill soft human (because they're soulmates, baby), human becomes insufferable bastard, oops they fuck later. Soulmate AU where if one person gets injured, their soulmate feels the same amount of pain and receives a scar in the relevant area.

1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

It’s not that you had expected to survive this- being locked in the dungeon of Castle Dimitrescu, waiting for the day you’re picked to be someone’s meal. Oh no, you had given up on surviving long ago, it was just that… well, you had hoped that someone with a softer touch would do you in. But here you were, too exhausted to cry, hanging naked in front of none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her eyes were trailing you up and down, examining every inch of your skin, every flaw, every unique trait. It was like she was making a mental map of which parts of you would taste best. Goddamn, you wanted to spit in her face, or scream, or say something, anything that might make her feel even an ounce of what you had felt for weeks.

But you know that she’s already planning to kill you, and to make it painful. Why give her any more reason? Why dare her to find a worse way to end your life? There was no good answer, so you stayed still, just watched her move. Maybe if you looked bored enough she’d make it quick, just stab a knife in you and drink you up like a capri sun. Or, maybe, if you kept a straight face, she would admire your courage. Oh, how you longed for people to think of you kindly now, in your last moments, when dying clean and pretty was no longer an option.

Pulling a blade from some hidden sheathe, Cassandra approaches you with a wicked grin. There’s still blood on her lips from her last victim. Had they not sated her? Or had she been like this for some time? When she inevitably drank from you, how long would your blood remain on her lips? You weren’t sure that you wanted to know. In your mind, you picture her cleaning up as soon as she was done with you. It does not make you feel any better. Neither does the way she traces a finger across your chest, left to right, practicing for the incision to follow. She pauses to lick her lips, making direct eye contact as she does.

What happens next passes by so quickly that you don’t process any of it until the whole ordeal is over. The blade’s tip digs into your chest, just below your collarbone, before dragging along half the width of your torso. It hurts like hell, but you manage to keep your misery to yourself. But your pain is soon replaced with confusion; Cassandra screams, loud enough to echo throughout the basement, doubling over herself. In an instant her knife has clattered to the floor, forgotten. Instinct takes over your brain, the default programing kicking in, and you say something that fills you with instant regret.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a bit quiet, and raw, worn out from lack of hydration. But it is enough, evidently, for Cassandra to hear. She’s rising back up and glaring at you, one hand clutching her chest. Something in her expression tells you that she thinks you’re mocking her. While that wasn’t technically the case, there was a part of you that found joy in this, watching your captor get a taste of their own medicine. The question left in your mind was why she was in pain. “I’ll take that as a no,” you said, again left with regret at your choices.

Now her hand is swiping at your face, nails cutting you open. Once more she hisses in pain, now clutching her head, shaking a little as she does. When she meets your gaze, you see that she’s more confused than anything. More than that, you see the marks on her face, knowing instantly that they match your own. Oh hell no, you thought, grimacing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Cassandra growled through clenched teeth. Bouncing back and forth on her heels, she seems tense, unsure of how to process what’s happening. You feel the same way, desperately wanting to pretend that this doesn’t mean you’re her soulmate. Maybe the universe had just messed up, crossing some wires, or decided to pull a prank on the two of you. Either way it was better than the alternative. Eager to think about something else, you start considering your options. The first that comes to mind is ridiculous. Stupid, really. But would it amuse you? Absolutely.

“Not gonna lie, I feel better about the idea of you killing me now. Feel free to make it painful, darlin’, I won’t mind,” you snarked, lips curling up into a smirk. Oh boy was it satisfying to watch Cassandra’s response. One of her hands raises to smack you, only for her to freeze before releasing a torrent of swears. Hurting you meant hurting herself. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little aching? Haven’t you ever imagined what it’s like to be on the other side of things? Under the blade yourself, blood soaking your skin, eyes too dry for even a single tear? Poor thing,” you purred, tone as teasing as it could get. Apparently it’s aggravating enough for Cassandra to fight through the pain, as she slams her fist into your stomach, leaving both of you gasping for breath. “This is fun-” you pause to cough out a few drops of blood- “really, really fun. Hey, if you kill me, how bad do you think you’ll feel?”

Before Cassandra can react, either to speak or hurt you worse, the sound of approaching footsteps draws her attention. From where you hang you can’t see much, too many cells and hanging bodies blocking your vision. But your “soulmate” seemed to know who was coming. Her face scrunches up a little, and she adjusts her robes, trying to cover the mark on her chest. Had you not still been coughing, you would have sarcastically asked her how she intended to hide her face.

“What the hell is going on, Cassandra?” An unfamiliar voice asked. The footsteps grew louder, and faster, until the new figure stood in the same cell as you. Not even bothering to spare you a glance, she approaches Cassandra, reaching to examine her face. “Did a prisoner manage to get you? I’ve told you a thousand times-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, sis,” Cassandra snapped, pushing away her sister’s hand. Both of them are visibly tense, and for a moment they stand still, staring each other down. Then the sister (who you assume to be Bela, from things you’ve overheard recently) shifts her focus to you. Something tells you that she has no intentions of being gentle.

“Did you do this, you rotten little thing?” Bela questioned, glaring at you hard enough to send a shiver down your spine. But that doesn’t stop you from trying to have some more fun.

“Oh, of course I did! I rattled my chains real good, scared the shit out of her, made her fall on her own knife a few times. You know, like that one musical?” You must look insane as you speak, grin wide but face dripping with blood. If it unnerves Bela, she hides it well, though you doubt it does. As soon as you’re done poking fun she’s pulling out her sickle. Still grinning, you make eye contact with Cassandra, who realizes what’s happening a second too late. Then the two of you cry out in unison, as the blade carves into your shoulder. Instantly Bela pulls back, stunned, turning to her sister with genuine concern. “I might have lied. Rest assured though, it was for comedic purposes.”

The next thing you know the two sisters are shuffling away from you, Cassandra begrudgingly being dragged along by Bela. Though the younger of the two had been adamant about not receiving help, she now had little choice in the matter, skin searing from your blood bond. Even you are starting to breathe harder than you’d like.

“Was it something I said?” You barked, barely able to manage a fit of giggles between your coughing. Bela shoots you a glare over her shoulder, but quickly returns her attention to her sister. They talk, quickly, soft enough that you can only make out a few words here and there. It’s hard to make meaning from it, especially considering their vastly different tones. Cassandra is pure anger, gestures fast and wide, while Bela is oddly solemn, even regretful. When you finally catch a couple full sentences, things start to make a little more sense, though you wish they didn’t.

“We can kill them painlessly, in their sleep. That way you won’t have to suffer,” Bela whispered. She’s doing her best to comfort her sister, despite the tension in the room, gently patting her on the back. Briefly, you make eye contact with her. In that moment she looks equal parts executor and unwilling jury. But she looks away quickly, even shifting her angle to prevent it from happening again.

“No, fuck that, fuck this, I’m… I’m not killing them. Nobody is,” Cassandra growled, daring to emphasize her point by pushing Bela away. Now it’s her turn to look at you, brows furrowed, eyes betraying something more than just anger. Somehow it’s a million times worse than when she first came in. You strain yourself trying to look away, cursing the chains keeping you in place, resorting to closing your eyes and pretending none of this was real. “I don’t care what you think, Bela. They’re already my ‘meal’, might as well get what enjoyment out of this that I can.”

Again, footsteps echo through the basement. Tension locks your muscles in place, and your eyes are still clamped shut, to the point that you don’t realize your chains are being undone until you’ve hit the ground. Cursing under your breath, you finally open your eyes again. There’s blood on the floor, only some of it yours, and you’re suddenly aching for a bath. More than that, though, you’re praying for something to cover yourself with. Certainly Cassandra didn’t need to see everything, now that you weren’t a piece of meat for her to enjoy? As if reading your mind, the middle Dimitrescu daughter flings open a nearby cabinet, messily searching for something. Eventually she gives a hum of approval, then tosses a blanket in your direction.

“Put it on, dipshit, then follow me,” she snapped, already walking away. For a moment you’re tempted to stay there, sitting still, waiting to see how long it would take for her to notice. But one look from Bela sends the thought back to whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of. So you’re moving, hastily, awkwardly wrapped in a somewhat itchy blanket. Other prisoners eye you as you pass, some shouting curses or even spitting at you. At first Cassandra takes no notice, or simply doesn’t care, but eventually the noise seems to irritate her. Turning back, she takes her sickle in hand and slams the handle into the bars of a cell. It’s loud, making you flinch, but gets everyone’s attention. “Next one to make a peep gets the blood eagle!”

“Is that, like, a sex thing?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself. Laughter rings out around you from the few prisoners capable of it. Cassandra is seething again, looking about ready to kill you. Then she’s shifting into swarm mode, spreading out wide, insects barreling through half the occupied cells. A few cries escape the prisoners, as the flies take bites out of them, cutting a perfect balance between pain and (a lack of) lethality. They’d be suffering for days to come, every movement making their wounds ache. “Not a sex thing, got it,” you muttered to yourself, just as Cassandra reforms in front of you. This time she grabs the blanket you’re wrapped in, using it to tug you forward, sending you towards the exit.

“Shut up for five minutes and I might let you put on actual clothes,” she growled, keeping one hand on your back to guide you. The offer is the closest thing to kindness you’ve seen from her, and you have half a mind to do what she says. Would you actually manage to keep quiet for that long? Well, you were certainly looking forward to finding out...

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #*evil laughter*#i know I said this would have fluff #but it turned into humor oops #yes this will be the best trope #enemies to friends to lovers

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Kind like you (JJK x Reader) 💜🔞☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff/romance, smut, angst, comfort, friends to lovers

Warnings: kinda dense Jungkook, JK being a brat, slight Tsundere JK, Koo struggling to sort his shit, kind reader, Crush!Reader, soft smut, praising, groping, kissing, pool sex, aftercare, heart to heart convos, they talk about toys lol,

Summary: Jungkook dearly wants to be kind like you. He wants to be so sweet, and gentle, and soft like you’re with him all the time; yet all he does is tease and pick on you, it seems.

Jungkook isn’t kind.

He likes to portray himself as such, whenever it’s needed, but he’s unable to quite make this characteristic a part of himself truly. It’s not like he’s a bad person, not at all; he’s helpful, caring, and well mannered. But he’s mean, he finds it funny when he gets onto someone else’s nerves. It’s like playing a game for him; and he loves winning. He’s good at it; it’s natural for him.

Then there’s you. You’re even more awkward with strangers than he is (which says a lot), but you’re everything he wants to be. You’re so soft spoken, always seeming to know what exactly to say in any situation. You’re kind, always thinking about everyone around you before you think about yourself, typically asking everyone else’s opinion first before you make up your own. You don’t like it when people fight, you never get possessive over things like he does. It’s even the tiniest things to him that make you seem so goddamn angelic; like that one time he whined about the fact that you got the last pack of butter cookies, immediately taking one for yourself to stuff between those soft looking lips, before shyly giving him the rest of the pack- still almost full. He had taken them without thanking you. He thinks about these moments a lot. He wants to treat you like Jimin does whenever you two interact. He’s so sweet with you, easily complimenting you and making you blush with his words, always playfully holding you close without ever making you uncomfortable. It’s weird to Jungkook how much that pisses him off the most. Whenever he’s alone in a room with you, you look uncomfortable- but when it’s Jimin, or Taehyung, you seem at ease. You joke around, and hug them like it’s second nature, while at the same time, you can’t look him into his eyes at any point of time.

He hates it.

He’s talked to Yoongi about it, after he’s seen you leave his studio one day. He knows you sing, he’s heard your voice, has saved every single cover song you’ve made on his phone to listen to them whenever he needs to just shut off his mind and think about nothing. He wants to do a duet with him, yet he knows he won’t be able to ever publish it because of his position in the industry. It frustrates him, yet he would be happy just singing with you for fun- he doesn’t need to publish it, he doesn’t need anyone else’s opinion on it; but he can’t ask you, it doesn’t matter how hard he tries. He can’t get the words out, even teased you for your voice before.

“You sound like a kid!”

He wants to take it back so desperately, but now, weeks after that comment, it would be weird wouldn’t it? It would just make him look like the fool he knows he is. So now he’s sitting in Yoongis studio, listening to your voice by second hand of you will, having been too unsure to come inside while you were recording. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. “She sounds great, no? Really like the slight tilts she has here..” Yoongi murmurs, placing the visual pointer of his mouse on the spot he’s talking about. He’s right, and Jungkook wants to say that, but he simply shrugs. “You don’t like it?” He asks, and Jungkook again, simply lifts his shoulders.

“Not my style, I guess.”

But Yoongi sees past that attitude as he raises his eyebrow questioningly. “Since when? You sing the same kind of songs all the time too.” He says, and Jungkook just chews on the inside of his lip. “You feeling competition?” Yoongi teasingly asks, and Jungkook scoffs.

“I’ve been trained for years, she’s a simple YouTuber. There’s no reason for me to feel competitive.”

But Yoongi suddenly laughs, burying his face in his hand as he stops the song. “Do you have a crush on her or something? You’re acting weird as hell Jungkook.” He says, and looks at Jungkook, who seems like he doesn’t react- only the tips of his ears grow red, as Yoongi laughs again, breathlessly as usual. “Oh my god you do! Little Jungkookie’s got the hots, I can’t believe it!” He barks out, and Jungkook whines.

“I don’t!” He says. “I absolutely don’t. She’s way too shy, and she’s so girly and all..” he complains, but Yoongi continues to smile. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Topic change then.” He says, and Jungkook nods. “Why were you and Taehyung fighting yesterday? Heard you’ve got him quite bad with a pillow.” He asks, and Jungkook groans.

“You said we’re changing the topic!” He says loudly, and Yoongi seems to have the time of his life.

“I am! How should I know the fight was about her?” He asks, and Jungkook kicks his legs with frustration.

“It wasn’t!” He said, and Yoongi raises his eyebrow, resting his head on his hand.

“Why are you getting so defensive then?” He asks.

“Because he shouldn’t send her a topless picture of him like that.” He says.

“I thought it wasn’t about her?” He chuckles.

“Fuck you.” Jungkook retorts, and it’s where Yoongi draws the line.

“Hey hey, calm down yeah? Didn’t mean to poke too much.” He says, and Jungkook nods, apologizing under his breath. “I thought you didn’t like her?” He asks, and Jungkook shrugs again.

“Never said that. But she’s so awkward around me.” He says, now a bit more defeated.

“Ever tried being nice to her?” Yoongi asks, while he continues working on the track to take some pressure off the maknae.

“I don’t know..!” He whines and throws his head back. “In my mind it’s so easy; go up to her, say hello, maybe tell her she looks nice, done!” He exclaims. “And then I say hello and screw it up by making a joke on her account and boom, congrats, fucked it up again.” Jungkook sighes, and The rapper doesn’t say something for a moment until he responds.

“You’re just not like that, I guess.” He explains to the younger one. “But you could try to tone it down a bit. Some of the things you say are actually quite mean.” He scolds gently, and Jungkook nods.

“I don’t know how to do that though.” He says.

“Wrap your compliments up in you remarks.”

“How?” The younger one asks.

“Well, you can’t say she looks nice, right?” The older one asks, and Jungkook nods. “But you always call her shortie.” Again, a nod. “Tell her she looks like a doll.”

“But isn’t that mean too?” He asks, and Yoongi snaps his fingers.

“It’s one of those comments that makes you think. Is it an insult? A compliment? You don’t have to go all in. Tease her in a way that can be taken positively as well. She’s smart enough to get innuendos like that.” He explains, and Jungkook seems to understand as he nods.

Maybe he’ll try that next time.

The next time you’re visiting them, Jungkook is as ready as he’ll ever be to make things count. As you take off your shoes, and hang up your red jacket, he snickers, as he walks by. “What’s up red riding hood?” He says, and he can hear Jimin chuckle from the couch as you follow him into the living room. “She looks like a Disney character with that bag and the jacket.” He says teasingly, and to his own surprise, he can see the edges of your lips move upwards into a shy smile, because he remembers vividly how you'd once told Jimin how much you liked the old classic disney films instead of the new ones.

It’s working, and it’s making him feel daring. Jimin retorts something along the lines of if he’s the wolf in that case and if he would eat her, and he finds his head suddenly on your shoulder, gently reaching over your now seated form on the couch to steal a dumpling from Jimin as he speaks.

“Nah, I’d only eat the ugly ones.” And this time, you’re actually giggling.

It makes his skin tingle.

And the night goes on like that, his typical picking covered in icing sugar, as he watches you become restless on your spot on the couch across from him. He grows addicted to the view, of that sight of your teeth digging into your lip as you grow giddy under his hidden compliments, and Jimin seems to catch up on it pretty quickly. He watches in fascination, as Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, and Jungkook himself feels a pull on his heart when he states that he's slightly (very) upset that you're leaving so early, even though it's almost one in the morning and he typically never even so much as waves you goodbye whenever you leave.

He doesn't mind the slight bullying from his hyungs after he'd waved after your leaving form before you dissappear from his sight.

Jungkook isn't kind.

He likes to portray himself as such, whenever it’s needed, but he’s unable to quite make this characteristic a part of himself truly. It’s not like he’s a bad person, not at all; it's just that he can't help himself when it comes to you. He's quite the sadist really, always bathing in the slight pout and amusing anger radiating off of you whenever he does something to rile you up. It's just like now; even though he knows you hate it, he loves to take advantage of the difference in height between the two of you. He laughes while holding his bowl of cereal while you struggle on the very tips of your toes in the kitchen, trying to reach the pack of sweet breakfast treats that he had placed way higher than necessary.

But it's when you climb onto the counter that several things happen.

First, it's the unintended panty-shot he gets, his pupils practically zooming in on the soft pink fabric on display for his greedy self, making him feel like a schoolboy that just sneaked a glimpse of a naughty magazine his friend had brought into class. It makes his mind fill with images of you, oh-so sweetly laying underneath his form as he pulls the cotton fabric to the side, ready and wanting as you patiently wait for him to connect your souls and bodies in the most intimate of ways.

The other thing however wipes away those images, as his doe eyes widen. It's the realization that you're wearing pink fuzzy socks, on a marbled kitchen counter, the danger of slipping as high as it can be. He knows you're clumsy, knows you're always attracting trouble wherever you go, and it's the small moment of your knee bending, your foot a breath too far off the counter, as you suddenly loose balance. He practically throws his almost empty bowl on the kitchen table before he reaches you, luckily managing to make you fall ontop of him than the cold kitchen tiles below.

At first, it's awfully quiet- there is no one here other than him and you after all. Then, the pain hits him, drumming like the beat of his favorite song, making him drop his head on the floor with a groan. You immediately move at that, getting off of him as you look for anthing that could be the cause. It's when he holds his hand, red seeping through between his fingers that you move. Grabbing kitchen towels for first aid, you help him as best as you can, as he watches you, pain already not so bad anymore as he looks at your delicate hands working on his larger ones with so much care.

He's ready to use it to his fun, yet he stops himself when he sees the tears on our cheeks. "Why're you crying?" He asks, and you suddenly sob more loudly, sniffling as you continue to try and clean his scrape on the back of his palm with running water. He shuts the water off, his hand not even bleeding that much anyways anymore, as he holds your shoulders, body folding over a bit to properly look at you. "Hey hey, why're you crying? I'm hurt here!" He chuckles, but it doesn't seem to do much good- as you just continue.

He suddenly grows more gentle, the hug a bit awkward at first, the close proximity weird for you both, but once he starts to softly rock you both from side to side, his unhurt hand running over your back before he sloppily wipes your tears off of your face- intentionally messily to make you giggle and push his hands off. "You're such a crybaby!" He laughs, as you hold his hand in yours, looking at it again.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, looking up at him, and he swallows hardly as he suddenly grows uneasy with the closeness of you two.

"No, it's just a scratch." He says, suddenly cleaning up the kitchen table where he spilled some of his leftover cereal and milk- simply using it as something to distract himself to calm down. "Why were you even climbing there at all? That's dangerous as hell." He said. "You could've just asked me to get it for you." He ends, and its the most truthful thing he's ever said to you.

Because that's where his deepest intentions with you were hiding. He's so used to being the youngest, of getting away with so much and getting babied by everyone around him, staff or his members, that he craves to take care of someone instead for once. He wants you to ask him for help. He wants you to hide behind his back when you're terrified of Taehuyungs tickle-attacks, he wants you to loose to him when playing video games, just so he can pull you onto his lap, his hands over yours on the controller to show you how its done. He wants you to proudly tell him of any achievement you manage to make no matter how small, just to gain his praise.

He needs you to need him.

Because whenever he's with you, he knows that those compliments and that pure amazement on your face is not because you want something in return, it's simply what it is. You make him feel so appreciated, so desired, so wanted for himself and not for his outside qualities. Because at the same time he loves how passionate you get whenever you notice that you know something better than him- how excited you get when you explain something to namjoon or to Hobi. He want's you to teach him things too, he want's to know what you can do, what you're better at, not because he want's to get better than you, but because he knows you're so much smarter in so many things than he is.

It's your voice that gets him out of his internal terror.

"Oh.. I didn't want to bother you though." You meekly say, and he wants to groan at this, to throw a fit, to be frustrated with you because that's exactly what you never ever do; you could never bother him to the point where he would refuse to help. No, he wants you to bother him. "I-what?" You say, and he suddenly turns around abruptly.

"What?" He asks, terrified if what he thinks just happened really did.

"You said 'But I want you to bother me'..?" You ask, and he wants to slap himself.

"I- I mean, I meant it in like, you can bother me, it doesn't matter much, you know?" He scrambles out, drying his hands after washing his bowl and leaving it in the sink. He suddenly grows uneasy with you in the room, yet he stills at your next words as if frozen in time.

"Oh.. I-" You start, before you step closer. "Thank you then, Jungkookie. I appreciate it." But its not only that, it's the tiny sentence you say and the action that follows that simply fries his mind. "You're not so bad after all." And you place a small kiss against his cheek.

You kiss his cheek.

Your soft lips touched his skin.

And he stands there for a while longer, not knowing what to do.

Jungkook isn't kind.

But over the course of days where you start to grow more and more comfortable, more daring, and more used to understand his language, he slowly mutates into an overgrown puppy.

He demands your attention, loves the way you blush under his teasing, and craves the way you squirm around whenever he's close to you. He's almost certain he's got a chance with you, making his own creativity thrive under your spell. He takes more photos than ever before, starts to be even more active (after you'd accidentally let it slip that you actually like how strong he is and that it makes you feel safe), and all in all simply falls for you.

But its all gone to waste at a certain dinner with his hyungs, that his food suddenly tastes stale, and his appetite is gone. "I want to confess to her, you know? I think I really got a chance." Jimin says, and Yoongi glances at Jungkook, concerned for the youngest since he knows his secret crush. "I mean she even gets along with the brat here!" He playfully says, playfully hitting Jungkooks shoulder lightly, but he doesn't seem an innocent gesture in it. No, Jungkook is riled up, and suddenly stands at the table, taking his cutlery and dishes to discard them in the sink. "Jungkook?" Jimin asks, confused, but Yoongi shakes his head with a sigh after the youngest simply retreated into his room for an early night.

"Jimin, I don't think that's a good idea." Yoongi says, and Namjoon seems confused. "I don't intend to be rude, but your interest changes weekly. Now it's her, the next week its someone else. Jungkook however-" He calmly explains, ignoring the slightly offended look of the dancer across from him. "You know him. He's never shown interest before- in anyone." Jimin slowly seems to understand, as Taehyung nods at it. "He really likes her. Think about it. Once you take that step, there's no going back. There's no 'lets stay friends if we break up' because that's just awkward. There's no second chance for Jungkook."

Jimin slowly nods, suddenly without much taste for his food as well. "I didn't know, honestly."

"It was kind of hard to see not gonna lie." Hoseok chimes in, putting his chopsticks down as he swallows the last bite of food. "He's all over her recently." He explains, and everyone nods.

This wasn't just a simple crush for him.

This was full blown love.

Jungkook isn't kind.

But he also can't say no to you.

He wants to be mad, he really tried to as well. But it's just- he sees your smile and hears your voice, and he's all in your hands, ready and willing to your very command. That's how he finds himself at your tiny apartment, helping you to put up some of your latest paintings on your walls- because initially you'd asked if he or his hyungs had a ladder in his dorm, but after you'd told him you'd use it to climb up to hang some paintings, he'd instead told you he'd help you instead, just to make sure you wouldn't fall and have an accident or something.

He want's to be mad, because he knows Jimin must've made his move at this point.

You seem so at ease, so happy, your steps so light and almost jumpy he wants to cry internally at how cute you are, for someone that isn't him.

"Ah, yes, that's perfect!" You say, and he slowly steps down from your chair he'd burrowed to boost his height a little, your hands weakly trying to steady him while he finally reaches the floor again. "I've made some cold stew yesterday, do you wanna stay and eat a little?" You ask, and he wants to nod, but doesn't.

"I don't wanna intrude or something." He says, grimply smiling as he brings the chair back into the kitchen area where it came from. He hates how deflated you suddenly look, how almost sad you simply nod as you trail after him like a lost pet, something many would find bothering, yet he loved it. He loved how you were always around him like a little shadow, as if to silently stay close to him. "So, you and uhm.. Jimin?" He asks suddenly, unable to keep the words inside.You blink, once, twice, before tilting your head in question. "He.. hasn't talked to you?" He asked, and you shook your head.

"No, what would he want to talk about with me?" You ask, and a very terrifying thought comes into his mind, like a tiny devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear. He hasn't made his move yet, so if he plays his cards right, he could still steal you from him quick and swift. You'd be his, he knows you're too kind to say no if he confessed, and Jimin would stand no chance. But just like the tiny devil, a tiny angel was there as well. Who was he to interfere with someone else's romantic life? He knew Jimin liked you enough to ask you out, and even though his hyung was never one to stay long, it would be an absolute dick move of him to ruin his chances.

But he loved you.

"Oh, you mean about you and me!" You suddenly said, and Jungkook almost choked on his saliva. "He said something about you liking me, and uh, that I should confess to you even though I know you're not interested in me like that- I'm sorry if he said something weird, it's just a weird crush, I'll get over it-" But he short-circuits, and blurts out what comes to his mind before he can think about it.

"Don't!" He says, a little too loud, and your eyes grow wide. "Don't.. get over it. I-" He's suddenly confused, overwhelmed, and has no idea how to handle this sudden turn of events properly. Should he kiss you now like in the movies or something? But he should also ask if he should, otherwise its without consent, but it would kind of ruin the moment, and oh god why do his hands suddenly get sweaty, thats so gross-

It's the shy and delicate touch to the very tips of his fingers, hand splaid out on the kitchen table that you're touching with yours, cheeks red and eyes down, and he suddenly thinks, 'fuck those movies', as he leans in and kisses you, slowly, just to make sure you're okay with it.

You're so okay with it.

He grows hungry at the movement of your lips, brows furrowing as he lets himself ride this wave of pure euphoria, holding your cheeks so lightly that you barely feel his touch at all. You snake your arms around his head as you tug him down a bit more, and his neck aches, so he simply reaches for your behind to help you up on the kitchen table for better leverage. "You're-" He starts between kisses, and can't help his smile. "-mine." He ends, and you nod with excitement, just as high on happiness as he is. "Can I, like-" He starts, almost frustrated with how he can't stop his lips from chasing yours even if he's the one talking. "-Touch you?" He finally gets out, and again, you nod, even if the tips of your ears grow a bit red at the suggestive question. His hands suddenly wander, over your shoulders down your sides, before they find your thighs. He loves the softness of them, his fingers on your knees as he opens your legs so he can get even closer to you. As if on instinct, your socked feet pull him towards you, and he chuckles at that, finally slipping his tongue between your lips as you push a hand into his dark hair, making him groan. He cups the sides of your breasts at first, delicately feeling them, before he squeezes gently, getting a proper idea of their plushness under his fingers.

He loves them already.

"I don't-" He starts, and is breathless just as you are as he places his kisses on the side of your neck. "I don't wanna fuck you on the kitchen table baby." He finally gets out, and you mewl at that. "Hm?" He asks, but you shake your head, too shy to say anything to that. He suddenly reaches for your behind, lifting you against his chest as he walks around with you, making you and himself laugh as he opens the wrong door before he finally finds your bedroom- cozy and cold due to the open window you always leave so that you can sleep better at night. You sigh at the cool feeling of the sheets underneath your hot body, and he grins down at you as he can't feel anything but pure ecstasy. Suddenly, he laughs, and groans lodly against your chest as he lets his forehead rest against it.

"What?" You ask between a laugh, and he begins to whine.

"I don't have a condom, fuck." He drawls out, and he really feels like an idiot. He's a fully grown man, he should have shit like that with him at all times, especially when he knows he's gonna visit his crush- but its so sudden, so unprepared, that he simply didn't think this would ever happen. He's deflated, painfully hard, and frustrated with himself, as you speak up again.

"Uhm, theres an orange handbag in the bathroom, its like, next to the shower. I think I still have one in there."You say, and he looks up questioningly. "It was a joke-present from a friend, please don't ask." You say, growing shy again as he simply chuckles, before getting up and searching for the bag you mentioned. It's safe to say that he doesn't only find the condom, but also a still fully packaged vibrator toy, in the same bag. His interest is definetely woken, but he decides against using it to tease you this time.

He'd get his chance soon.

But in that moment, as he climbs ontop of the bed again, it's all about you and him- its not about mindblowing sex or unusual experiences. He just wants to be inside you, close to you, he wants to claim you in ways that only lovers can. He's surprised, when he takes off his shirt, that you suddenly hold your arms high.

You're absolutely adorable in his eyes.

He chuckles as he helps you out of your sweater, kissing your nose, your cheeks, your lips, as he unhooks your bra to finally get a skin to skin feel of your breasts. He loves it even more like this, warm and soft under his palms, and you mewl in enjoyment as he continues his antics. He doesn't even notice when you'd discarded your shorts and underwear, his pants gone in a flash as his inked fingers reach between your legs to sloppily prepare you for him.

He knows he's a bit more on the.. bigger side, to say the least, a grower more than a shower, and it used to make him nervous in a weird kind of way. You're so delicate, so sweet, that he doesn't want to hurt you, and hes slow and steady as he finally enters you after putting on his protection. But you take it, you're such a champ, and pull him towards you by his neck as he moves slowly.

He picks up his pace at your demand, lost in euphoria as he lets himself go, lets himself enjoy as his mind is filled with your voice, your sounds, your scent, your everything. This is what he wanted, this is where he wants to stay for the rest of time. Not nescessarly buried withing you (although that's not a bad sound he thinks), but in your embrace, within your presence. He want's to stay at your side forever, keep you close to him so no one can hurt you, not even yourself.

He comes with a whine, an arch of his back, and his fingers on your pearl, desperate to get you over the edge as well.

It works.

And he's happy, exhausted, and absolutely in love as he falls down the mattress at your side.

"I always thought it would be weird." You said after you'd both taken a shower and cleaned up properly. He'd texted his hyungs, telling them with obnoxious emoticons that he's spending the night with his girlfriend, and Jimin plus Yoongi had reacted with a vomiting emoji.

Yet they were happy.

"What would be weird?" Jungkook asks, his hand running up and down your arm as you laid next to him, snuggled up onto his body.

"You know, having sex." You said, and it takes a moment before he suddenly snaps his head to you.

"Wait, that was your first time?!" He exclaimed, utterly shocked at it as he'd been convinced you weren't a virgin. You have had boyfriends before, he knew that, hell, he'd seen them too, and considering you were pretty close agewise he couldn't imagine. He feels bad about it, if he'd known, he would've made it more special, hell he would've asked you more times if you were okay with him taking something so precious from you. Now you could never get it back and he'd fucked it up.

"I mean, kind of?" You explained, suddenly hiding your face. "I mean, I've done, like, stuff with men before.. and I also used a.. you know, 'thing', but like, never the real.." You tried to come up with different names for the things you wanted to say, yet you simply ceased to talk.

Jungkook chuckled. "You used what? A dildo? Like, a fake dick?" He said, and you hit his chest with a whine, utterly mortified by his way of talking. "Come on I saw that vibrator in your bag there, but I never though you were a virgin!" He said, and you whined again.

"Technically I wasn't!"

He scoffed playfully. "Baby your first time was with a toy considering what you just told me, that STILL means you were a virgin!" He argued, and you groaned, trying to get out of his grasp now. "Come on, at least tell me if my dick was better than that rubber-cock?" He asked, and laughed full on at the way you hid your face behind your hands with a yell. "Don't hurt my ego, say it!" He laughs, and tickles your sides.

"Yeah yeah okay, your dick was better stop!" You laugh, and he grins, suddenly pulling you close to him as he hides his face in your hair.

"Oh baby-" He sighes out. "I love you so much."

"And I hate you." You mumble, before he playfully bites your ear.

"Jungkook no, they could see-!" Yet he doesn't let up, uncaring. The hotel they were staying at had a strict privacy policy- at this point his agency could ruin

them with a snap of their fingers just because they leaked a single strand of his hair. He wasn't concerned at all, as he continued to bite and kiss at your neck,

unable to keep his hands to himself as he grows hard.

He loves the high he gets from being in danger of getting caught.

Its silly, in a way, but it feels like a rush of some sorts. It's like he's a teenager again, sneaking in candy even though he's on a diet just to feel bratty, and its not

much different now, even though the scale is another. This was actually dangerous, but since no one else was staying at the hotel, and his hyungs had all gone

to bed, he refused to give in.

He wanted you, and he would take you.

Jungkook never liked sharing, nor giving away what was his when he himself didn't openly give it away. What was his, was his, there was no room for

discussion, even though he'd become a bit more understanding nowadays. Yet he would never let anyone see you like this, so vulnerable and wanting for him,

ready to become his slave to quench his thirst for you at anytime. You loved him just as much as he loved you, and this exchange of feelings always got him

riled up to the point of desperation.

Just like now, as he helps you stay afloat with his forearms underneath your own arms, kissing you silly while he pushes his thigh upwards underwater, feeling

you rut agains it like an animal in heat. He loved how you got whenever he pushed your buttons right, loved the sight, the sound, the entire situation. It ruined

porn for him in a way, modern erotica in no way reaching the level of satisfactory aesthetic that the sight of you could bring him. He'd taken pictures and videos

of you in nude positions and explicit situations to keep him entertained whenever he was far away, because whatever he found online of strangers couldn't bring

him a release worth working for anymore.

So it was utterly welcomed by him, when you had surprisingly told him that you had arranged to share the hotel room with him, and that you were tagging along for two weeks of his tour. Of course, his happiness was mostly simple enjoyment that you were there at his side, that you would sleep right next to him, yet it also was of a more carnal side of himself. And now, while his blood was still hot like lava inside his veins, adrenalin still high from his last concert, he was desperate to let go, end this day in a way he never thought he properly could.

He sloppily pushed the barrier between himself and your core to the side underwater, pulling his length out of his swimtrunks as well, uncaring on making it romantic. He knew he didn't need to always go overboard, he was clingy and touchy enough that you always felt appreciated and loved, even if he was impatient like that. He groaned out, mixed with a chuckle as he suddenly realized what he was doing, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck to bite and leave open mouthed kisses, rhythm just as steady and on-point as onstage just hours ago.

He came quicker than he'd liked, tattooed hand gently pushing you over the edge as well. you whined as he helped you out the pool, utterly mortified but still happy at the way he simply picked you up bridal style, carrying you out and back into your room, ready for a good nights' sleep.

The best he had ever gotten while on tour.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Green Sky Highway

Phic Phight Phic for @deuynndoodles

The Fenton Ecto Cell Bettery (aka the Better Battery) was designed to draw power from not only an internal, pre-charged store of ectoplasm, but also from ambient, atmospheric ectoplasm. This meant that it would never run out of juice so long as it was in the Ghost Zone. The Specter Speeder was designed to travel in the Ghost Zone. Thus, the Betteries were the perfect power source for it. In theory.

In practice… Well, that just wasn’t working out, and Maddie didn’t know why. She gripped the underside of the dash and tried to push herself deeper beneath it to get a better view of the machinery.

“Maddie? You see anything?” asked Jack, who couldn’t fit under the dash. He’d been inspecting as much of the engine as he could from the inside, which wasn’t much. The Speeder wasn’t designed to be serviced while free-floating in the Ghost Zone.

Which, now that she thought of it, was a serious oversight.

“Everything looks fine,” said Maddie. “Except that it doesn’t have any power. Nothing’s lighting up, but all the connections look good. You?”

“I can’t get anything to work. Anything. It’s like… we’re in some kind of technological dead zone. But that doesn’t make sense.”

Maddie pulled herself out to see Jack vigorously scratching his head and shedding dandruff everywhere. “Ghosts do tend to disrupt technology.”

“But we fixed that. We designed all our weapons to work with that.”

“We know there are things we don’t know,” said Maddie, “and it’s always good to find new things! Though not pleasant to find them out like this…” They should really test their inventions more, honestly.

But it had been over a year of testing since they opened the portal. They had to jump in at some point, didn’t they? That was the whole point of the portal.

She sighed. “Well, we didn’t have a lot of forward momentum when the portal cut out.” She looked out the window. “We could see if we can get out and engage our jetpacks.”

“Uh, about that,” said Jack. He swung open the door to the jetpack cabinet. The empty jetpack cabinet. “I may have forgotten to put them back after refueling them.”

“Jack…”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Maddie massaged the bridge of her nose with her mostly-clean knuckles. This was a repeat of the handle inside the weapons vault. At least he wasn’t pushing the blame for it back onto Danny or Jazz. That would definitely have started a fight.

On the other hand, there really wasn’t any guarantee the jetpacks would even still be functional, so maybe it was for the best. For certain values of best.

She groaned.

There was a knocking sound. “Is that coming from the engine?” Maddie asked.

“No…” said Jack, slowly. “I think it came from the door…”

They both turned to stare. Something moved outside it. They shifted to get a better view out the window.

Phantom was out there, tapping on the door with a ten-foot pole.

“That little unnatural abomination,” cursed Jack under his breath. “He’s going to scratch the paint!”

Phantom apparently saw them and waved. “Hey!” he shouted, just loud enough to be heard through the walls of the Speeder. “Do you guys need a lift?”

Jack and Maddie turned to each other.

“How did he know we were here?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Do you think he followed us?”

“It wouldn’t be difficult, but I’m surprised he didn’t show up on our detectors.”

“He does seem to have the ability to drop off of them.”

“True,” said Maddie. “So, how do we handle this? Fenton bat?”

“I don’t know, Mads. He might be, uh, sincere? That time with the ectofiltrator he did help me.”

“That’s one, single, datapoint. He’s a been a menace every other time we’ve encountered him.”

“I don’t know that we have much other choice,” said Jack, nodding towards the dead engines and the empty jetpack cabinet.

Maddie huffed out a sigh, then looked back at Phantom, who waved again.

“Fine. We still have to decide how to deal with him while we’re cooperating with him. Or if he decides to show his true colors.”

“Good idea.”

Danny knew this had been a terrible, terrible idea the moment his parents opened the door to the Speeder armed to the teeth. Why did they always feel the need to do that? None of the weapons, with the possible exceptions of the Fenton Bat and the Fenton Crowbar could even work here.

How his parents had, on their first jaunt into the Ghost Zone, managed to run smack into the Time Locked Lands was beyond him. They had to go to the one place in the Ghost Zone that the Speeder wouldn’t work and after coating the Speeder with some kind of anti-ghost spray that Danny absolutely refused to touch again. Ever. Especially in ghost form. Except with a ten-foot pole.

(If they’d left the spray off, he could have just pushed the Speeder back out of the Time Locked Lands. But, no, they had to make everything as difficult and painful as possible.)

“I am not carrying all that,” said Danny, flatly.

(Especially because it would all turn back on once they left the Time Lost Lands, and if there wasn’t a Specter Deflector under all that, he’d eat his own belt.)

“Then we aren’t going anywhere with you!” proclaimed Maddie.

“You’re stranded in the middle of the Ghost Zone. I don’t think you have a choice.”

“We do!”

“I could literally just fly over there and snatch you right now. Plus, again, stranded. Do you even have any food in there?”

“Of course we do!” said Maddie. “We aren’t incompetent.”

Jack looked guilty. Danny decided not to bring it up.

“Okay, but still, you’re going to run out eventually, and then you’ll still be floating in the Ghost Zone with no way to get out. You aren’t going to get another friendly ghost coming by.”

“I’ve never seen a friendly ghost to begin with!”

“Maddie…”

“I can just leave, you know,” said Danny, planting his hands on his hips and bluffing for all he was worth. He was not leaving his parents here to be used as hostages or who knew what else.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t call the bluff. They shouldn’t. No sane, reasonable person would. He was their only way out of this mess. On the other hand, his parents had never been completely sane, reasonable people.

Danny thought his odds were about fifty-fifty. Which meant he could hope.

Jack and Maddie had an intense, whispered conversation. This, thankfully, lead to them divesting themselves of most of their visible weaponry. Which meant that they still had more guns on them than most professional soldiers during a firefight.

Well, it was better than he’d expected. But it was still too many.

“Take the Specter Deflectors off,” he said. “What do you think will happen if I try to carry you and you have those on.”

There was muttering.

“Come on, come on,” said Danny, snapping his fingers. Which really shouldn’t work through his gloves but did anyway.

Sometimes ghost nonsense was good for making lasers fly from your hands, and sometimes it was good for tiny aesthetic breaks in physics. It was a grab bag, really.

“Alright,” said Danny. “I’m going to fly over and pick you up. Don’t hit me.”

Oh, jeez, he was not looking forward to carrying them all the way over to the portal. Sure, he could bench press a school bus, but there was a difference between holding up a school bus for a minute and carrying two people who hated his guts a mile through enemy territory while flying slowly enough not to give them windburn.

Sure, it’d probably only take a few minutes, even then, but those would be the longest few minutes in his entire life. Not counting his actual death.

Being carried by Phantom had to be the single worst experience in Jack’s entire life.

It wasn’t the speed or the lack of control – he loved carnival rides – or the height – Jack couldn’t tell you how many buildings he’d jumped off in pursuit of ghosts – or even the fact that Phantom was a sinister specter, and ectoplasmic emanation, a putrid piece of protoplasm – he’d been carried by ghosts before, usually ones who were a lot more upfront about wanting to kill him.

Actually, Jack didn’t know why he didn’t like it. He just didn’t.

Maybe it was just how uncomfortable it was? But Jack did way more uncomfortable things. Like interacting with his sister-in-law. Brr.

Maybe it was the lurking feeling behind every interaction he ever had with Phantom that there was something he just wasn’t seeing, some hidden truth that would make everything about Phantom, every contradiction, every confusion, make sense.

Nah, that couldn’t be it. Maddie would have figured it out by now. That’s why they made such a great team. He noticed the things she didn’t, and she noticed the things he didn’t.

“You’re going the wrong way,” snapped Maddie.

Just like that!

Wait. That was a really bad thing.

“I’m not going the wrong way,” snapped Phantom. “I’m avoiding Walker’s prison. I don’t know how he didn’t catch you on your way out, but I’m not eager to be thrown in jail for a thousand years.”

“Ghosts have jail?” asked Jack surprised.

“Depends where you are,” said Phantom. “Walker isn’t really a sheriff, though. There’s no government behind him and he just makes up rules randomly so he can lock up anybody he doesn’t like.”

“Like you,” observed Jack.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re even wanted by whatever passes for the law here?”

“First, rude. Secondly, there are realms in here that are just as organized and civilized as any country on Earth. Just because you opened your portal into the equivalent of post-apocalyptic Detroit doesn’t mean it’s all like this.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Maddie.

“I could arrange that, you know,” said Phantom, stilling.

Jack laughed nervously. “Maybe another time?” The ghost would do what it would do, but they didn’t need to encourage him to bring them even deeper into the Ghost Zone. They were currently banking on Phantom’s obsession with heroics to get them home, but if they changed the equation… Yeah, Jack didn’t want to deal with the consequences of that.

Ghosts were like computers that ran only one program. One homicidal, destructive program.

It was like that thought experiment about an AI whose job was to maximize the number of paperclips. It’d just keep on making more and more paperclips until nothing was left. Which was why they had to be stopped.

Easier said than done, as Jack and Maddie had learned.

“You don’t have to be so freaked out,” muttered Phantom. “It isn’t like I’m going to kidnap you or anything.” He pretended to sigh.

What was the point of that? He had to know that Jack and Maddie wouldn’t fall for his tricks. Actually, come to think of it, he was miming breathing, too, and had been the whole time.

Maybe that’s why Jack was so uncomfortable. The constant undercurrent of deception.

Hmmm… something to think on.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, pointing.

“Uh,” said Phantom, who did a double take.

Ooh, that wasn’t reassuring.

Danny clenched his teeth, his parents’ reactions to him weren’t reassuring, and even less reassuring was the way Pariah’s Keep had moved from its usual creepy location and to this new creepy location. Not that there were any non-creepy locations in the Ghost Zone. It was part of the place’s charm.

No, really. Some part of Danny craved the creepiness. He was half-ghost, after all.

(Even if his idea of creepiness was, according to his friends, sort of lame.)

But back to the main point. The keep really, really shouldn’t be here. And it was creeping him out.

It should be okay to just… fly past it, though, right? Just being in its airspace in the past hadn’t done anything bad. So, flying by with his parents in tow shouldn’t do anything either. Right?

Danny put on more speed, just in case. This coincided with a bunch of large ghost ravens (or were they crows?) dive bombing them and forcing him to land to defend himself and parents. The only land around being the rim of the island that supported the keep.

He knew something like this would happen. Maybe not exactly this, but he just knew he’d be attacked and everything would devolve into nonsense, and—

Huh. The birds weren’t attacking him, just his parents. Oh, these were racist (mortalist?) birds. Gross. Trust Pariah Dark to have bigoted birds. He called up a shield to protect his parents. Whereupon they shot him in the back, shouting about how he betrayed them to the birds, because why not?

Why was his life like this?

He pushed himself up off the ground. Starbursts twinkled behind his eyes. Neither his parents nor the crows were in sight. The crows could have gone anywhere. His parents on the other hand…

There was only one place they could have gone.

Well. At least none of the nonsentient traps would work on them, seeing as they were humans. What were the odds that they’d run into one of the sentient defenders?

Well… considering the ravens?

Yeah. That’d be about one hundred percent.

“Maddie, I don’t know about this…” said Jack, examining the tall, vaulted ceiling.

“We had to get away from Phantom. This was the only way to go.”

“But he came here for a reason, Mads,” whispered Jack, tip-toing.

“Yeah, this is definitely a trap. But what can we do?”

“Jack? Maddie? This is not a place you want to wander around in! Oh, holy—” There was a loud thump.

Maddie grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him forward. “We have to get away from him.”

“Come on! This is a floating island! I’m your only way off! Why are you like this?”

“He has a point,” said Jack.

Maddie stopped. “I guess he does.”

“This is literally the worst place you could have picked to run away!” A sound like a very large door opening and closing reached their ears. “This is Pariah Dark’s place! Where did you even go?”

“Mads?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s Pariah Dark?”

“I think that was the name of the ghost that sucked the town into the Ghost Zone a few months ago.”

“Please, guys! I’m trying to help you here! This place is ultra-dangerous! You could accidentally – yikes! – wake up Pariah Dark.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Yeah,” said Maddie, “maybe we should.”

“Phantom!” called Jack. “Phantom! We’re over—” The floor opened up underneath them and they fell into the dark.

Maddie woke to a dark room, tied to a chair. She noticed the faintly glowing ghost in front of her and jolted backwards.

The ghost wore a set of painted and engraved plate armor, a pair of lavender-white eyes glowing from behind the slats of its visor. A knight, of sorts, Maddie supposed.

“You…” droned the ghost in a painfully stereotypical ghostly moan. “Enemies of the king… why have you come here?”

“Huh?”

That was Jack’s voice. He was tied behind her, apparently.

“We don’t have anything to say to you,” snapped Maddie.

“Uh,” said Jack. Something twisted behind Maddie. “Are you a friend of Phantom?”

“A friend? A friend?”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” muttered Maddie.

The door of the room flew off its hinges. “Fright Knight!” shouted Phantom, pointing a glowing finger. “Wait, you aren’t Fright Knight. Who are you, and what do you want with my- With, uh, the Fenton ghost hunters? Who I don’t know very well at all. Promise.”

“What,” said the ghost.

“What,” said Maddie.

“What,” said Jack.

“Okay, forget everything I just said.” He gestured at the ghost. “Who are you?”

“My name is Paladin, my liege.”

“Okay, okay, cool, cool. I- Wait, what? What did you call me?”

“My liege?”

Phantom looked like he was having an existential crisis.

“Maddie was right!” exclaimed Jack, who couldn’t see Phantom’s face. “You did lead us into a trap!”

“What? No? I’ve never even met this guy before! You are a guy, right?”

“Yes, my liege.”

“Right. I’m going to put that on the backburner and freak out about it later. How are you- Why are you—” Phantom shook his head. “Why are you here in Pariah’s Keep?”

“It’s your keep.”

“Since when?”

“Say what now?” asked Jack and Maddie at once.

“Look, this is news to me, too. But, back to the question. You. The keep. Why? I mean, you weren’t here before.”

“That is because Pariah sealed me, my liege. When you defeated him, I was released and immediately swore fealty to the true king. You.”

“I am so freaking out right now, but we’ll revisit that. Later. Right now, I have to get these guys home.”

“But they have hostile intentions towards your person, my liege!”

“Everyone has hostile intentions towards me. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t attacked me yet.”

“Ah. My liege, perhaps you should seek the services of a priest, if all your experiences with new people are such.”

“Is that the medieval equivalent of a therapist?”

“I fear I do not know what that is. Why do you ask?”

“Because the last time I talked to one of those, they purposefully picked at every one of my insecurities and then tried to murder my, uh. Someone close to me.”

“An evil counselor, then,” said the knight, gravely.

“I want to agree with you, but somehow I feel like you’re talking about something completely different than the image in my head.”

“That may be true, my liege. Doubtless, you are very wise.”

Maddie was… lost.

Very lost.

Even so, her prerogative was escaping. She started twisting, trying to get to the knots around her wrists.

“Did you, uh, pilot the castle out here?”

“Yes. I sensed that mortal enemies of the king, that’s you—”

“I will debate that as soon as my brain stops screaming at me.”

“—had entered the Realm.”

“Right. Yeah. Thank you. But I can handle these guys. And I need to get them home. Please. I made a deal with them.”

“With these?”

“Hey!” said Jack, offended.

“I mean, I use the term deal pretty loosely.”

“Hey!”

“But yes. Please. Just. Dang. How did you tie them up that quickly?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Do you mind if I take the chairs?”

“They are your chairs, my liege.”

“I’m still not used to that.”

“Are you quite certain you want to take them? And just… Let them loose? The dungeon here is very functional. We even have an oubliette.”

“Raincheck. But thank you. Really, I mean it.” Phantom flew behind Maddie, and she protested as the chair she was in was yanked upward. “Uh… I might have gotten turned around a time or two, so if you could…”

“Of course! The keep does seem to have sustained some damage, so we will have to take some detours.”

“Phantom! Phantom! Put us down and untie us.”

“Nah, I think I like this better. Your kids can untie you once I bring you back!”

“You’re going to drag us all the way through the Ghost Zone?”

“That’s the plan.”

The rest of the flight was surprisingly pleasant. No one attacked, and his parents were much easier to carry in the chairs. Sure, they struggled, but the struggling was much more manageable than the wriggling from before.

They were mad at him. But they were always mad at him. So.

No loss, really.

With the utmost carefulness, Danny set them down in the middle of the lab, still tied up, and then began zapping then tossing their most troublesome inventions into the gaping maw of the portal while they screamed at him.

Normally, he wouldn’t do this, especially after successfully rescuing his parents and hopefully raising their opinion of him, but some of those inventions were painful. Like. A lot painful. And dangerous. Also, he was doing his level best to avoid thinking about the whole ‘king’ thing.

Which he couldn’t do forever.

Especially since Jazz walked down the stairs, probably drawn by the screaming, to see Danny shoving half of the Ghost Catcher through the portal sans-strings.

“Uh,” said Danny.

“Get that ghost, Jazzy-pants!”

Danny vanished and fled upstairs.

Jazz had seen many strange things in her life, but that scene was one of the weirder ones.

It took some time to untie her parents, longer to extract herself from the ensuing rant and their attempt to salvage their equipment from Danny’s all-too-explicable rampage. Honestly, she was surprised Danny hadn’t snapped earlier.

She opened the door to his room. It was empty. She squinted. He was not just leaving her hanging like that, with no context to what happened other than their parents’ ranting. She opened her door.

Danny was lying on his side on the middle of her rag rug, hugging Bearbert Einstein.

“A ghost told me I was king and that I needed a priest.”

Oh boy.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

396 notes · View notes

pingutats · 3 years

Note

could you write a really fluffy bit on harry kissing every single self harm scar on your body? like, stroking them and cuddling with you and reassuring you that your body is beautiful and okay even with scars? 🥺

thank you for requesting this! this was genuinely quite therapeutic to write so i’m glad i did it — it’s longer than i meant it to be at about 2.4k words, but anyway. here’s a difficult conversation with new boyfriend!harry.

major trigger warning for discussions of self-harm and scars. this is not a story for everyone, and could definitely be triggering if you are not in the right headspace. please be responsible and look after yourselves <3

this is also pretty unedited so forgive any mistakes. okay!! onwards!

It’s getting late when Harry asks you, ‘Do you want to spend the night?’

The meandering film you found on Netflix is drawing to a close, finally. The characters are on a boat, drifting away into an Italian sunset. You barely have a grasp of how they got there — mostly, you just listened to Harry talk over the dialogue about a pretty little café he knows just around the corner from where this scene was filmed, or how cool the water gets at night there and so the actors must have been shivering. All of it wrapped up, of course, in a quiet suggestion to take you there someday so you can see for yourself. You get a little thrill every time he says something like that. It means he’s thinking of a future with you, which means he wants one, even though it’s only been just over a month since you’ve been seeing each other.

He trails his fingers up and down your arm, bringing up goosebumps beneath your sleeve, and looks at you. ‘Or I can drive you home, if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.’

You hum. ‘No,’ you say. ‘I’ll stay. I’d probably end up falling asleep in the car anyway. I’m so tired.’

His dimple appears. ‘Good, because I’d probably fall asleep at the wheel.’ He grabs the remote and turns the TV off, then pushes himself off the couch with a groan. He holds his hand out for you. ’C’mon, then.’

You grab his hand and he hauls you up, his other arm coming up to your back to pull you into his chest. You fall against him, grabbing his biceps to steady yourself. The two glasses of wine you’ve had tonight have thrown your balance off. He presses a kiss to your hair as you giggle. Then he brings his hand up to your jaw to tilt your head up to look at him properly. You nearly melt at his green eyes.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’ His gaze is completely sincere.

You haven’t slept together before, both in the literal and figurative senses. You haven’t had sex with anybody at all, actually, and Harry seems to have picked up on your hesitancy. He’s never asked for anything. He lets everything stay on your terms.

That’s what makes you trust him.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ you tell him.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, just to make sure. ’Right,’ he says, breaking into a smile.

He finds a new toothbrush in his cupboard for you, and you brush your teeth together. It feels like a big step to do these nighttime rituals with him. It’s so domestic. He shares his cleanser with you and offers his moisturiser that smells like vanilla. You imagine spending every night like this.

As he leads the way back into his bedroom, he pulls his shirt off. ‘I get hot at night. D’you mind?’

You giggle — you can’t help yourself, at the sight of his muscled torso with all of its tattoos. He’s so handsome. ‘Not at all,’ you tell him.

He throws the shirt into a hamper in the corner, and the birds on his chest seem to fly with the movement of his shoulder, then looks back to catch you ogling him. He chuckles, and the sight of his dimples gives you butterflies.

‘You like?’ he asks.

You narrow your eyes. ’Are you flexing?’

He relaxes. ‘Yeah, a bit. Just wanna impress you.’

You snort at that. ‘Like you need to do anything to impress me.’

He grins. ‘D’you want something more comfortable to sleep in?’ He rummages around in his drawer for a moment, then pulls out a t-shirt and holds it up for you. It has an incredibly faded image of Flinstones characters on the front. ‘How’s this?’ he asks.

You smile at his courtesy. ’Perfect. I love your t-shirt collection, by the way. Where the hell do you find things like this?’

‘Oh, you know… Here and there.’ He tosses it to you.

You catch it with some semblance of grace — you’re proud of yourself for that. ‘Thanks.’ You glance at the bathroom door. ‘Alright. I’ll just… get changed in here,’ you say, slipping through the ajar door.

‘Alright, love.’

You shut the door, and realise you’ve forgotten to turn the light on, leaving you in pitch-black. You grope against the wall for the switch and turn it on, and take a deep breath. Why are you so nervous, so frazzled? It’s just Harry. You shimmy out of your leggings, then pull your sweater over your head.

You look at your reflection. Well. There’s a problem. It’s easy for you to forget when you’re alone, or wrapped up in layers of clothing — it’s just a part of your body now. Artefacts from a different time, years ago. Even the memory of how you got them — how you gave them to yourself — is slipping away, thank God. It’s all a haze. These scars were carved by a girl that you don’t see much anymore. They aren’t really a painful reminder anymore, just a fact of life. You know they're there. The problem is, no one else expects it.

You stare down at your wrists, seeing the lines that never faded. Maybe if they were all like the thin white lines, barely visible until you look closely, you wouldn’t mind. You’re going to sleep, anyway, and it’s not like he’s inspecting your forearms. No, it’s the three darker ones, hard twisting scar tissue that you can feel even through sleeves. Times where you went just a little too deep, were a little too reckless. The ones you regret the most. They’re big, and ugly, and too obvious. He’d notice them right away.

But he gave you his t-shirt.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brows. You adjust your pose, twisting your arms around so the inside of your wrists are hidden, facing behind you. You look ridiculous. You know, as soon as you see Harry, you’ll reach for him, and he’ll see.

Would that be so bad?

You look down at your arms again. It’s been years, and they’re still there. They’ll probably be there forever. They’re as permanent as the tattoos on his skin — except those are beautiful, and what you have is not. You can’t show this to him. The world where these scars exist, and the world where he exists, should never cross over. It wouldn’t be right.

You pull your long-sleeve back on, covering them again. Then you put the t-shirt, which is long enough to be modest on you. This is fine, right? It’s better than any alternative, at least.

You leave the bathroom holding your folded sweats up to your chest, nervous now realising that you are standing in front of Harry in just your underwear, more naked than you ever have been in front of him.

He’s checking something on his phone as he sits on the bed, back against the headboard and long legs stretching down the covers, but he brightens up at the sight of you. His gaze drops to your legs — which makes your cheeks burn, but his boyishly excited expression dissolves your nerves — then rises up again to your shirt. He frowns at the long-sleeve.

‘Are you cold?’ he asks. ‘I thought it was pretty warm but I can turn the heat up if you need.’

You shake your head, dropping your sweats on the floor beside the dresser. ’No, it’s fine.’

He sits up straighter, swinging his legs over the side so his feet rest on the ground. ’Can’t be comfortable to sleep like that.’ He hesitates. ‘You didn’t have to wear the t-shirt if you don’t want to.’

‘No, I want to. I do.’ You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to figure out how to navigate this situation in a way that won’t end in him being annoyed or disgusted. ‘It’s just…’ You trail off, but one glance at his frown, at the way he leans forward and hangs on every word, makes your resolve crumble. You’ll have to have this conversation at one point or another. ‘Okay. Shit, Harry, can I talk to you about something?’

The way he answers immediately makes you want to cry. ‘Yeah, of course. Anything.’ He sits up straighter, pats the covers next to him, inviting you to sit down.

You sigh and cross the room to sit next to him, not daring to meet his eyes. How the hell do you explain this?

He moves his arm behind you once you’re sitting. Not touching you, but enough so he’s close. ‘What’s wrong?’ he prompts. ‘Do you need me to drive you home instead? Because I didn’t—’

‘No,’ you interrupt. ‘It’s fine. It’s just, I kinda…’ You take a deep breath. ‘Okay, please don’t freak out?’

He frowns. His next words are measured. ‘I’ll try not to. Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ you whisper. It feels like the greatest effort in the world, but you curl your fingers around the end of your sleeve and pull it up, revealing your wrists. ‘So, I have these…’ Your voice shakes.

‘Oh, baby,’ Harry says quietly, and that’s all you need to hear. His arm behind you reaches around and pulls you into his chest, hugging you close to him. His thumb rubs circles into your shoulder as you sniffle, his other hand resting on top of yours.

‘It’s in the past, you know,’ you say, muffled into his shoulder. He smells good, you notice. Not that it’s really important right now, but you appreciate it all the same. ‘Not a big deal. Just didn’t want to scare you or anything. ’S embarrassing.’

‘Listen to me,’ he says, pulling back and holding your face in his hands. He waits until you manage to look him in his eyes. They’re watery, you realise, and that might be the most painful thing about this night. ’It’s not embarrassing, alright? I don’t want you to feel like that. They’re part of you, and I really like you, every part.’ He smiles. ‘I really do, you know.’

You sniff, wiping at your cheek with your fingertips, trying to calm your tears. Suddenly all your fears seem ridiculous. Did you really expect him to turn you away, disgusted? Ask to never see you again? You knuckle at your eyes. ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey.’ He springs from the bed to grab the tissue box from the dresser and brings it to you, pulling out a tissue and dabbing under your eyes himself. He’s so gentle. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry, that you were worried to show me.’

You chuckle, grabbing a tissue from the box and blowing your nose. What more can you say to him? He’s so wonderful to you. It’s early days still, and you’re wary of moving too fast and coming on too strong. You aren’t experienced with relationships in the same way that you know he is. But you love him. You’re sure of it. You’ll tell him, one day. Soon.

‘You don’t need to wear my shirt if you don’t want to,’ he repeats once you’re calmer.

‘I’ll wear it.’ And to show him, in your sudden burst of confidence, you undress right next to him, taking off both layers and then putting the only t-shirt back on. You turn to him, and giggle. He’s turned his head away. ‘You can look,’ you tell him, nudging his knee with yours.

He looks back with a sheepish smile. ‘Didn’t want to be a creep.’ He scoots backwards onto the bed, settling his back against the headboard. ‘C’mere.’

You crawl over to him, settling with your back against his chest, sitting between his legs. His arms wrap around your middle, anchoring you to him. He presses kisses to your neck, the scruff on his cheeks tickling you. You curl up, twisting your neck away, giggling.

‘Harry!’

‘Sorry, love.’ His hands relax, and find your own. He rests his chin over your shoulder, and gently turns your palms upwards, so your wrists are visible to him.

You shiver, but allow it. You feel this is important. You don’t want to hide with him.

‘Y/N…’ he says quietly. You feel his chest push against your back as it expands with a breath. ‘Am I… am I allowed to touch them?’ he asks.

You’re surprised. You thought he would want to avoid them. You nod, then, realising he can’t really see you, you add, ‘Yeah.’

Your fingers are tense. You can’t help it. His thumb presses into your palm, massaging the tension away. He pulls the back of your hand to his lips and brings it back to your lap.

You close your eyes.

When he finds the first hard lump of scarring with his thumb, he pauses. He takes a shaky breath, then he runs his thumb up and down the length of it.

‘Y/N,’ he says softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. ‘Mm?’

‘You’re beautiful, you know.’ He pulls your hand back up to his lips, but instead he kisses the biggest scar on your wrist. ‘No matter what. You are.’

‘Harry,’ you whisper, because you don’t know what to say.

He kisses the scar again, then trails his lips up your wrist, covering them all. ‘I don’t want you to be ashamed of anything. You survived. That’s a wonderful thing.’ He drops your hand and cups your jaw, turning your head towards his. He leans around your shoulder to face you properly. ’I’m so fucking proud of you, you know?’

You never were good at taking compliments, so you just cross the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

When you’re lying together in the dark a little while later, with his arm thrown over you protectively and his soft breaths hitting your neck where his t-shirt doesn’t cover, you feel safe. Your arms are bare, you’re with another person, and you feel safe in this situation for the first time in years. It’s a wonderful feeling. All because of Harry.

You can’t wait to wake up in the morning and see his face again.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fic #self harm tw

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flooffybits · 3 years

Text

(Not Just) Friends

Idol: Kim Jungeun (Loona)

marshmallow: Kim lip x 13th member story inspired by the song friends by Ed Sheeran🤍

A/n: this one is done earlier because of a friend but i still plan on sticking to my schedule

☕buy me a coffee☕

Being attracted to someone of the same sex was a very difficult thing when you live in Korea due to it being a little more conservative compared to other countries.

Being attracted to someone of the same sex while being an idol, however, was a completely different conversation you were not ready to have with anyone.

Especially not when the person was someone in the same group as you - someone you had considered a really close friend.

“Unnie, pay attention!” You snap out of your thoughts to the sound of Yeojin’s voice and when her hand enveloped around your wrist, preventing you from mindlessly chopping a finger off. You were quick to retract the knife you were holding and looked apologetically towards the maknae, who had a bit of a panicked look on her face. “Sorry.” You mumbled before Sooyoung shook her head with an exaggerated sigh.

“I thought I could trust you in the kitchen!” She scolds playfully and you pout before turning back to the potatoes you were preparing. “I don’t burn the kitchen.” The comment earned a glare from your now brunette friend whilst Hyejoo burst out laughing at your little jab. “Hey, that’s a low blow.” Chaewon huffs and you shrug your shoulders when Sooyoung laughs beside you. “At least the worst you’ve done recently is just cutting up the food container, unlike Choerry.”

“Hey!”

Said girl pouted while Jinsoul gave her a small pat on the back. “At least you cleaned up the microwave afterwards.” Though even when she nodded, the pout had yet to leave Yerim’s face, making you smile as you put the cut vegetables aside. “Don’t worry, you guys are doing better so that’s a plus.” You assure them before moving to check on the beef to see if it was still frozen or not so you could cut them into smaller pieces.

Though in your busy state, you don’t realize the body next to you before an added pressure came to your left shoulder and when you turned, Hyunjin gave you her puppy eyes out of nowhere, making you raise a brow right before she muttered a quiet ‘aeong’ that made you break into a smile.

“What do you want this time, Hyun?” The cat puffed her cheeks before nuzzling your shoulder. “I’m hungry.” She stated and you hum while refocusing on the food you were preparing for all of them. “I know, that’s why I’m cooking.” You chime and she hugs you from the side with a whine. “I want bread.”

Of course she did.

“Don’t you and Heejin have a stash?” You question, grabbing a few spices to season the meat and the other huffed. “We finished it and we haven’t bought any yet.” She replies and you let out a small sigh before shaking your head. “Why don’t you buy now? I’m pretty sure you’ll be back by the time I finish.” But your suggestion earned itself a whimper from the latter before she’s pulling at your arm. “Come with me.”

Of course, your inability to decline your members of anything they liked was the reason why Hyunjin was pestering you into coming with her. That, and the fact that she knows you’ll get her more bread compared to Heejin.

Meanwhile, off to the side, as you and the cat continued to act like a married couple, a certain blonde watched with a small scowl set on her lips, arms crossed as she listened to the conversation you were both having.

Though, she knows that she shouldn’t be jealous, she couldn’t help the fear that maybe one day you would get tired of all the hiding. But then again, she remembers that neither of you were actually dating because you were too scared about the consequences of being found out by anyone, in or out of the group.

But she couldn’t say you were mere friends either.

“What were you expecting me to do? You know that I can’t just let Hyunjin go on her own.” You sigh, exasperated and Jungeun frowns more, not at all pleased with having to sit by and watch you and your friend act almost much more of a couple than you and her have ever been. “Hyunjin is old enough to do things on her own! She could have gone with any of the other girls if you told her no, too.” She retorted and you rolled your eyes before letting out a grunt. “Jungeun, me and Hyunjin are friends. I think you’re forgetting that fact.” You remind her and she huffs. “Friends don’t act like they want to go out on a date with each other.”

Something inside of you snaps at her words and you turn to glare at her. “Friends don’t look at each other the same way we do. Hell, friends shouldn’t even be kissing like we do, but here we are!” You snap and the room goes quiet as you both stare at each other, emotions bubbling and ready to spill over, but you’re quick to notice the rising tension, so you take a step back and shake your head, frowning.

“I’m going to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You mutter, pushing past the older girl and exiting her room, leaving Jungeun to stare after you before she let out a groan and collapsed on her bed, pressing a pillow to face as she did just so no one would come in and hear her.

She knows that you were right, but there was nothing either of you could do with the situation. Unless you wanted to get in trouble, this was the best you could manage without compromising the rest of the girls.

Later that night, you’re woken by the movement on your bed and a body pressing against your side, prompting your eyes to open.

The blonde hair was enough of a give away as to who it was, but the older girl doesn't let you speak when she just pulls you closer so you don't get to see her face when she buries it to your hair.

"I'm sorry." Is all she says and you blink in confusion before slowly letting your arms come around her waist and just shut your eyes again.

This wasn't anything new, but this was the first time that Jungeun's decided to be the one to come to you and apologize rather than sleeping it off and talking about it the next day.

While none of the members were bothered with the two of you sleeping in each other's bed, it bothered you both when someone else would do it with you.

And it just so happens that Jungeun isn't the only one that ever gets jealous.

"I get it, you have great chemistry and all, but did you really have to rub it in my face?" Jungeun scoffs at your words after you got home from another interview. Everyone had to be in their respective sub units, so it made sense that Jungeun stayed with Jinsoul and Yerim, and you with Yeojin.

But it just somehow made you a little uncomfortable to see Jungeun let the older girl pepper her face with kisses and act like you weren't there at all.

"Oh, come on! You know that Jinsoul unnie likes to be affectionate with everyone, so stop acting like a jealous girlfriend!"

You both shut up and Jungeun's anger diminished when she saw the look on your face as you clenched your jaw, only to let out a quiet sigh and your shoulders grew slack. The defeated look on your face was something new to her through all the years you've been together and it catches her off guard.

"Y/n, wait-"

"No, Jungeun. This needs to stop." You breathe out, because as painful as it was to say, you had to put your foot down instead of letting this cycle continue.

You were only hurting yourselves.

"We just need a bit more time. You know that we can fix this." She pleads and you shake your head, both desperate and frustrated at the same time. "Time won't fix this, not when neither of us can be brave enough to admit the truth."

She hates how it sounds like a breakup. But that was what made it worse.

You were never together to begin with.

“We can’t keep doing this, Jungeun. It’s only going to ruin everything we’ve worked for.” You try to reason but she shakes her head in a desperate attempt to have you change your mind. “But I really like you.”

And she sees it when you pause, because Jungeun knows that you were in too deep to say that you only liked her. She sees it in the way you look at her and the way you act towards her.

She knows that you’re dying from holding back with those three little words because it was make or break.

You just couldn’t risk it with the environment you both lived in.

“You know how I feel.” You breathe out, eyes turning glossy as tears begin building up, but you hold them back because you still had to face the rest of your members once you walked out the door. “But this can’t keep going on. I’m sorry.”

When you leave her room that night, none of the girls notice the difference. Jungeun doesn’t run after you nor do you run after her in the days that follow. Plastering a friendly look on your face when together, no one can see the toll it’s taking on either of you as you bury your feelings at the very back of your mind and focus on what mattered while she did the same.

However, it’s during one of Sooyoung’s recent vlogs where the older girl managed to pull you in with her and asked she did you makeup where Jungeun can feel the burning in her chest with how close your face was to her fellow leader.

And while Heejin was there with Haseul, she hates how close and comfortable you were with Sooyoung cradling your face and even sneaking in a kiss to your cheek every once in a while. Sooyoung was close to finishing and her expression lit up as she pinched your cheek when she showed your face to the camera.

“Wow! Y/n looks so pretty!” Heejin commented, awe laced in her tone as Sooyoung looked proud with her work before facing the camera. “You’re so cute, I could just kiss you!” She teased, drawing a laugh from your lips as you gave her a playful push. “You’ve been doing that even when you weren’t doing my makeup.”

“But you’re always denying my kisses!” She complained while trying to latch on to your arm as you pull your head back. “Because I don’t want them!”

“Yah! I’m your unnie, let me love you!”

The comment ended up with bouts of laughter from the members present, but Jungeun kept herself hidden in the corner before she eventually slipped back into her room and let her thoughts wander.

Grunting, you press your back against the wall of the practice room and let out a huff. Your legs were killing you with the amount of times you decided to go over the choreography of the dance you were studying. Since your schedule had yet to be filled, you opted for keeping yourself in practice just so your body wouldn’t be surprised once you had to start for your comeback.

Couldn’t they just tell you when to get ready?

Regardless, you did your best to just be prepared in the event that you did have to start practicing.

“You okay?” Kahei’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you lifted your head with a small smile despite the sweat running down your forehead. “Yeah, just a little tired. Thanks, unnie.” You respond before the older woman gives you a small pat on the head. “Don’t push it.” She says with a warning look and you nod your head, knowing that ever since your first performance for Butterfly, the girls would check up on you during practices.

After catching your breath, you were able to look around and see everyone who did come. Since Jiwoo was out doing her Chuu Can Do It episode, she was obviously not present to cause some noise in the room. Jinsoul was at the dorms with the rest of the maknae line except for Yerim and Heejin, who opted to come with you for practice. Sooyoung decided to stay back as well, just so there were people to look after the rest of the girls and that you wouldn’t come back to a burnt home.

Haseul had gone home for a bit, just to fix a few things, so you were only left alone with Kahei, Heejin, Jungeun, and Yerim. But even when you were all in the same room, the only person you were actually talking to was Kahei since Heejin was too busy with her workout and Yerim and Junguen were practicing a choreography of their own.

“Y/n, do you want to eat anything?” Kahei called from her place by the door, phone in hand and presumably talking with your leader. “Are you going to buy me food?” You ask with a little grin appearing on your face and the older girl playfully rolls her eyes.

“Another time. Haseul said she was stopping by the convenience store, so she’s asking.” She explained and you seem thoughtful for a while before shrugging your shoulders. “Can I have a drink instead? I want coffee.” You ask and the older girl shoots you an odd look. “You won’t be able to sleep if you drink coffee now.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure I’ll be knocked out from practicing.” You reason and Kahei let out a sigh before eventually agreeing. “Can you tell Haseul unnie to buy me a sandwich?”

“Sure thing!”

While you were busy with stretching your legs on the floor, Jungeun glanced in your direction as Yerim took a break and wandered over to where Heejin had already cooled down from exercising. She wasn’t too happy about your lack of food intake after hours of practice, but then again, she isn’t too sure if you would take anything if it was coming from her.

“Unnie, Yves unnie is calling you.” Yerim’s voice broke you and the blonde out of what you were doing and her thoughts as you turned to see that your phone was, in fact, ringing on the desk at the corner of the room before scrambling to your feet.

Jungeun watches as you answer your friend's call and exit the practice room with the kind of smile on your face that could only indicate that something had happened in the dorm. However, it doesn't erase the ideas of you possibly moving on from Jungeun and falling for Sooyoung's charms.

Since Sooyoung was also known to be very open about her support and affections towards you, it would only make sense that you might end up falling for her instead.

The thought scared her.

With her mind going a mile a minute, none of you were prepared as she jumped to her feet the moment you came back into the room after your call with the other girl. You looked clueless since she hasn't exactly approached you since your decision of stopping whatever it was going on between the both of you, but her next course of action surprised not only you, but everyone else present in the room.

With a hand to the side of your neck, the blonde tugged you forward before you felt the familiarity of her lips against yours. The surprise caused you to drop your phone before your hands went instinctively to her waist to anchor yourself.

All the longing and aching made your body react and almost instantly forget that you weren't supposed to be doing this anymore, but with Jungeun's warmth and the slight squeeze she'd given you, it didn't take long to allow yourself to get lost in her touch.

The only time you both pull apart is when the sound of a thud resonated in the, otherwise, quiet room meets your ears and Haseul stood at the entrance with a completely baffled look on her face, matching the rest of the girls as they all but stopped what they were doing and stared at the two of you. And in that moment, you snapped out of whatever daze you were in and looked back to the blonde, eyes wide as you covered your mouth.

"What are you doing?" You asked with panic lacing your tone and Jungeun stared at you, her gaze unwavering as she took your hand in both of hers. "You said we couldn't do this if neither of us will be honest about how we feel, right?" She says with a steady voice and you feel your heart jump at the spark in her eyes.

"I want to be with you. I'm tired of acting like you're just a friend to me when you're so much more than that." Her heart is racing, but her courage doesn't waver as she keeps eye contact with you.

She just needs to know you still felt the same.

"Jungeun, I-" She senses the hesitation in you, even when you don't pull away, and she sucks in a deep breath before bringing your hand against her cheek. Her soft eyes stare at you with so much warmth that it was practically radiating off of her and made you feel warm.

"I love you."

The words are hushed, but still heavy and you feel your own heart skipping a beat when she refuses to let go.

Neither of you have said those three words because it weighed heavily for both of you and you knew that it would change the course of your relationship. But she said it before you even had the courage to admit it to her.

"I love you, too." You murmur quietly, though your eyes quickly glance over her shoulder to see the rest of your members still absorbing what had just transpired. “But what do we do now?” You ask softly and she bites her lip before lowering your hand, though refusing to let go, as she faced your present members.

“I know you have a lot of questions, but before you say anything about Y/n and I, there’s nothing wrong about it and I hope you can respect our relationship.”

There’s a long pause in the practice room and your eyes fall on your leader, a bit more worried about her reaction since she's only just gotten back from her hiatus. But the seriousness of her expression makes your heart sink that you had to hold your breath while tightening your hold on Jungeun's hand.

"Is this true?"

Jungeun nods her head without hesitation as she looks at Haseul and Kahei, though the latter didn't seem too upset, having gotten over the initial shock. In fact, after finally understanding what was happening, the eldest looked almost happy with the announcement. "It took me a while to realize, but I do love Y/n, and I wish it didn't take hurting both of us for me to realize it."

Haseul gave the both of you a good look before her expression eventually melted and she happily walked over to envelope you both in a warm embrace that surprised both of you, but you both accepted it either way, relieved especially when Kahei had joined in, muttering a quiet “I’m so proud of you”.

Heejin came bounding over once your leader let you go and the slightly younger girl nearly knocked you over when she launched at you with a grin on her face. “I’m so happy for you!” She cheered when you caught your balance, forcing you to release the blonde whilst Yerim still stood silently in her corner of the room.

“I knew you were hiding something but this is so amazing!” As Heejin continued to blabber about how happy she was for you, you searched for Jungeun, only to see her staring at the youngest girl present and you soon turned to find Yerim with an unreadable expression on her face.

Though you were surprised that your members were fine and accepting of not only your sexuality, but also your relationship, you were sure that not everyone would be as accepting as others. However, Yerim was like a little sister to Jungeun, so you understood why she was worried with the usually bright girl’s silence.

“Choerry-ah.” Jungeun called softly, but the girl only frowned in response and Haseul looked as though she was ready to intervene if needed as Heejin finally released you with one final squeeze.

“Yerimmie, I don’t expect you to be fine with this, but I hope that you don’t get upset with-”

“You chose Y/n unnie over Soul unnie?” The girl suddenly spoke up and your brows knitted together while Jungeun looked surprised by the question as she waved her hands in the air. “Jinsoul unnie and I weren’t anything!” She clarified, making Yerim’s frown deepened and you were quick to understand where this was coming from.

Jesus, why were your members so extra?

“But I thought you and Jinsoul unnie were my parents.” Yerim protests and Jungeun finally let out a groan before she walked over to the younger girl and smacked her shoulder. “Yah! I really thought you were upset!”

You couldn’t help but watch the two with a smile before Heejin latched onto you one more time. “I know that you might have had a hard time with this, but I hope you know that we’re really happy for you both. And when you plan on telling the others, I’m sure they’ll be just as happy, if not more.” She states and you smile at her words, resting your head against hers. “Thank you.”

“Can I have my girlfriend now? I haven’t held her in a while.” You look up to Jungeun’s pout directed at you and you giggle before lightly patting your friend on the side and then detaching yourself from her to welcome your girlfriend’s arms instead.

Your body melted into her and she let out a small sigh of content as she pressed another kiss to your temple. This was the first time you’ve felt warm again since the fight you’ve both had and maybe, just maybe, this was all really worth it in the end.

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #loona #loona scenarios #loona imagines #loona x reader #loona kim lip #kim lip loona #kim jungeun #kim lip #kim lip imagines #kim lip scenario

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dirtychocolatechai · 3 years

Text

meet-cute | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): fluff, awkward Bucky, vet appointment stuff, Alpine Request: Babes if you're lowkey taking requests can I lowkey make one? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺💕 something flirty and cute and maybe a lil spicy with Bucky and vet!reader where something's going on with Alpine? Not self indulgent at all 😻💖 Notes: This was the first thing I’ve written in months and it felt damn good. Funny story, I actually almost went to school to be a vet tech + shadowed a vet for two weeks and got to see some wickedly cool things.

This was a bit self-indulgent on my part because I had a cat who passed away some years ago because of struvite stones and I wished he had a happier ending like Alpine so I thought why not 🤷‍♀️💖

Taglist is open

(gif from google)

There’s nothing Bucky hates more than the stringent smell of industrial cleaners and clinical white walls - too many associations and shades of memory long laid to rest - except for when something’s going on with Alpine. The Turkish Angora was fine up until a few days ago when he started to hide away and sleep all day.

That wasn’t too concerning at first...

But then came the pained little noises, the frantic running back and forth from the litter box, the excessive grooming. The pit that started forming low in his belly grew, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong, very wrong, with his little buddy.

Bucky wasn’t about to fuck around and set up an appointment with the first vet office he could find that had a same-day opening. And now he’s trying not to fall apart at the seams while he waits for the docs to do their magic and tell him what the hell’s going on with his cat and what he has to do to fix it.

The vet tech collected Alpine a bit ago and every minute stretches into years, the cat’s pitiful meow echoing in his ears and those betrayed eyes burned onto the backs of his eyelids.

I know, Bub, I’m sorry but they gotta figure out what’s going on. It’ll be okay, they’ll take care of you.

His ass went numb from the plastic chair ages ago, his leg jiggling up and down at a rapid pace as he chews on his thumbnail and waits.

And waits.

God, he knows these things take time but he’d rather be back at home, curled up on the couch with Alpine pigging out on breakfast food and watching space documentaries.

How much longer-

“Alright, Mr. Barnes?”

The heavy door swings open with a click, a kind, professional voice preceding a pair of sensible shoes as the vet steps into the room with a clipboard cradled against her chest. His eyes snap up, skipping over her completely to look at the tech holding his cat who looks absolutely miserable.

She introduces herself but he’s not paying attention. He’s not meaning to be rude but all his focus narrows in on that white little face, the knot in his chest unfurling at the little mew.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he breathes, “Hey there, Little Buddy.”

The vet doesn’t push, in fact, she seems a little enamored with how much he melts at the sight of his pet. Her own lips quirk up into a soft smile while she stands off to the side patiently as Alpine’s set down on the metal table.

Bucky gets in a few good scritches under his chin, the beginnings of a purr just starting to vibrate his hand when the vet clears her throat delicately.

He clears his throat, heat burrowing into the apples of his cheeks. “Shi - uh, ‘m sorry.” A hand scrubs over the back of his neck. “I’m just - uh - y’know...”

Her laugh trickles down his spine like warm rain, the sound effectively drawing his attention away from the cat rubbing up against his side. He gets his first look at her and oh.

A bare face and a no-nonsense hairstyle greet him, her scrubs and white coat adding to the overall doctor vibe but she’s still breathtaking. The natural beauty in the curves of her face, the slant of her brows, the sparkle of her eyes.

He feels like he got sucker-punched in the chest, his heart giving a sudden throb that has him coughing like an idiot as he scrambles to not look like such a jackass.

“So,” he clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, “What’s - what’s wrong with him?”

Glancing down at Alpine’s chart, she hums and writes a note before glancing back up with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that can’t be managed with a special diet and watching his water intake.”

It’s like the weight of the world disappears from his shoulders, his broad frame practically heaving with his sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking- ahem, ‘scuse me - thank god.”

Her chuckle and sly smile have him blushing from the roots of his hair to the collar of his shirt, his stomach squirming in discomfort. Old habits are hard to break, especially ones his momma taught him with a box to the ear.

“You’re allowed to swear, Mr. Barnes,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through snow-white fur. “We’re all adults here.”

“No, no, I know...”

“Hm, anyway, his blood work came back and everything looks fine which is a good thing.”

And it’s back to business like that, any hint of personality hidden behind cool professionalism that Bucky thinks even Tasha would admire. Except for the playful gleam in her eyes as she sneaks peeks at him while going over everything they did and what they found.

“Struvite crystals are quite common in cats at low levels, especially males because their tract is longer and narrower.” She pauses, flipping to a new page. “Depending on the severity, they can clump together in the urinary tract and actually form stones. That’s where the true problem lies because get one large enough, and it can cause a blockage.”

He’s listening with rapt attention, soaking in the knowledge she’s imparting to him all the while, petting Alpine who keeps nuzzling him and making little sounds. Honestly, he could listen to her talk for hours even if he didn’t understand a goddamn thing.

She’s so animated when she speaks, holds eye contact and makes sure he understands everything without making him feel like an idiot. He’s had so many doctors who talked at him rather than with him, staring through him without seeing, more interested in the paycheck rather than their patients.

But not her, she cares.

Deeply.

He can see it all over her face and it’s utterly enchanting. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little enamored, charmed.

Turning the tablet towards him, she shifts closer and a waft of whatever perfume she’s wearing tickles his nose as she explains what the x-ray of Alpine’s abdomen found.

“These are the stones but thankfully they’re relatively small,” she points to several hazy white ovals starkly visible on the radiograph, “We caught them in time before they became a really big problem.”

Shit, she smells so good...

“Now, we’ll send you home with a special diet and see how he does. Also, make sure to up his fluid intake as much as you can. The food can take several months to start dissolving the crystals so we’ll have to do everything we can to help. Sound good?”

Bucky hasn’t pulled his eyes away from her face once this entire time, and how fucking creepy is that?

Quickly looking down at Alpine, embarrassment gnawing at his belly, he nods and wishes for the first time since he cut his hair that he hadn’t so he’d at least have a passing chance at hiding the blush burning its way across his face.

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the ball of white fluff to hold against his chest, a makeshift shield. “Is there anything else I should do?”

“No.” She smiles, writing another note and tapping away at the tablet next to her. “I do want to see him again in about a month for a check-up.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

The irony isn’t lost on him either.

How does he make this last longer? What can he do? If Sam was here right now, he’d be kicking him in the ass and bitching at him to ask for her number already, Ice Pick.

The clack of the chart being set down rings through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding so fucking final that he starts to panic.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

She’s already halfway to the door when she asks, “Do you have any questions?”

The word vomit spring from him, unbidden and sudden without any thought, more forward than he’s been with a woman in years.

“Can I have your number?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he curses, cringes and wishes he could snatch the very words from the air itself.

Great, I just hit on my vet.

No amount of backpedaling can salvage this but goddamn it if Bucky doesn’t try, stuttering out some half-assed excuse about wanting it just in case he thinks of something later.

When he glances up, he wishes he hadn’t. The vet tech is in near tears in the corner, biting her lips so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to bleed.

But it’s the absolute surprised bafflement on the woman he just inappropriately hit on that does him in, makes him about ready to burn all forms of identification and run for the hills.

Her brows nearly reach her hairline, her mouth slack, eyes startled. She gets ahold of herself before he does, and he barely stops himself from slapping a hand over his face.

Right when he’s thinking there’s no way he’s going to be able to show his face in the office again, her expression softens with gentle amusement and her lips twitch.

Struck dumb, he can only watch as she writes something down on a slip of paper before handing it over to him. He barely believes the string of numbers and the cheeky little call me anytime :).

The wink she sends his way is there and gone, so fast he almost believes he imagined it.

“For emergencies only,” she says, slyly. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees, almost tripping over the cat carrier as he hurries to stuff Alpine back in. “Of course, thank you. I...appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky leaves the room in a stupor, the world sharply shifted to the left as he heads to the front desk to make the follow-up appointment, but not before hearing the whispered, “Girl, you’re lucky. He’s fine!” and the “He is, isn’t he?”.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

Hey! Those are my three favorite Links too lol. Got any head canons for them?

No way, really? That's awesome!

And yes I do!

(Kinda long, so it's beneath the cut)

- These three, coincidentally, have the longest hair out of all of the Links. I know that JoJo draws Legend with a close cut, but all the official art has him with hair that falls past his shoulders, and I love it to much to accept anything else (I still love how JoJo draws him tho!)

- Walking fashion disasters, all of them. They like it though and no one can really stop them (they like that even more).

- On a scale of gremlin-ness, Wild ranks as a nine (he's not always trouble, but a lot of the time), Legend just behind him as a 7 (he just covers up well) and Four is so chaotic that they're on four different places of the chaos scale all at the same time!

- Legend and Four both are super close to Sky after some time, although Legend is more the 'needs to be toned down and asked to behave' while Four and Sky are more of the chill bros kinda thing. As a result, they're have a bit more of a sibling dynamic in that 'we're both close to the same person but we clash as much as we get along, but we're also stuck together' kind of way. Sky mentoring these two melts my heart :)

- Four is, of course, four people in a trench coat, and while Legend isn't, he does have the ability to split into multiple people as well, thank to adventure 6 in Hytopia. They have definitely bonded over this weird experience, and I know because I'm writing a snit-fic about it!

- Fire children, all three of them. Four tries to act somewhat responsible, but Red is a fire gremlin and there's really nothing the other colors can do to control him. Once the flame-based weapons come out there is no stopping them.

- Wild and Vio are both amazing archers, and if/when Four splits they will happily exchange tips.

- All three of these boys are crazy curious. Legend and Wild are both item's collectors and Four has Vio living in their head, so if the Chain finds something new, rest assured that these three will be the squad to try and figure it out together.

(Getting new tech or items is like Halloween for these boys, and they'll happily toss stuff back and forth like the trio of nerds they are, taking notes and trying stuff with it).

- Because they share interests, they are also highly touchy about when the others can join them in stuff. Wild's the most likely to let others join him in stuff, Legend can be touchy, but he will eventually cave if he's not too set on having his space. There is no bending Four's will.

- Legend is (of course) Fable's brother. But, while she got Hylia's powers and stuff, Legend got the musical talent. Fable can't sing for shit, and her fingers are as likely to get tangled in her harp strings as they are to break them.

- Four is the most firm out of the three, and the most stubborn. He's often the voice of reason (he does have a playful side though).

- Four likes teaching Legend smithy things. Since Legend never finished his apprenticeship, he's only got so much knowledge, and after the "when will you learn" incident, Four determined that he'd knock some sense into the vet's pink head.

- Both Four and Legend have at some point ended up in their alternate forms, and Wild was chill as could be. He thinks its cool, but he respects their boundaries and tries his hardest not to call them cute to their faces (he can't stop himself from thinking it though).

- Other than Wind, who could probably beat them all, they are the lightest footed Links, and each are skilled dancers. Four's batter at folk stuff, Legend at performance, and Wild at ballroom and barn dance related stuff, but once Twi pulls out a fiddle they're all quickly swept up into dancing because none of them can resist. They're all good dancing partners too, and with Wind at their side, they've managed to work out some stuff they can all dance to together.

- The least judgmental about shadows. Unlike the others, Wild has never met his shadow, and while Legend has, it was kinda brief and not particularly traumatic (shadow Four on the other hand still haunts his dreams) and of course we all know that Shadow and Four are besties 🥰

- On that note, Legend is highly protective of the other two. Wild because he's still so young at heart, and Four because the last thing legend wants is to see Four corrupted. He remembers the Palace of the Four Sword vividly, and he doesn't want a repeat. (It absolutely breaks his heart that he knows Four doesn't get a happy ending).

- Wild plays accordion and while his voice is untrained, he's got a decent set of pipes!

- Four play Ocarina, not as well as time, but it's still very beautiful.

- Legend has flat feet

- Barefoot trio. Flat feet are a nightmare in shoes, and Legend was a farm-boy, he'll shuck off his shoes the instant he can and just enjoy the grass or stone beneath his feet. Wild does the same for the very simple reason of being a feral gremlin who is very happy to lose his clothes and go wild. Four's feet are kinda odd shaped after transforming into a Minish so many times, so he also likes shedding his shoes (he had to make a special pain that would actually fit his weird lil feet) and just enjoying nature.

- Four and Wild are rediculously in tune with nature, Four because of his connection to the elements and Wild because he's Wild. Legend isn't closely connected, but he's got his own sort of love for different weathers and seasons after his 2'd adventure.

- The most colorful out of everyone, they are also the most artistic Legend paints and embroiders, and Four is good at sculpting, carving and, of course, metal work. Wild really likes to draw and his food itself looks like a picture (his frosted cakes are to die for, no one knows how he makes frosting do that)

- More of a niche headcannon related to a fic of mine, but; Wild has vitiligo. Most of it is hidden what with his heavy scarring and clothes, but while he's naturally pretty tan, he's got some big ol' white spots underneath his clothes and along his arms.

I will hold off on any more, I have a speech I need to rehearse and I got way too carried away with this 😅

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu four #lu wild #lu legend #lu shadow #linked universe headcanons #asks and answers #idiot answers

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hollyhomburg · 4 years

Text

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 7)

(Hybrid au) (YoonMinJoon x Reader) (Mafia au)

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers, hidden in the shadows. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks, but he only has until the end of the summer.

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok,

Genre: Hybrid au, Polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy, Mafia au

Tags: Domestic abuse, references to sexual abuse- and choosing to have sex even though you’ve been through sa, physical abuse, polyamory negotiations, Post-traumatic stress disorder, mute characters, brief gore at the end, pregnant m/c, frottage, marking kink, fingering, oral f. receiving, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied death but dont worry I do not write MCD!!!!

A/n: just for posterity's sake! i was drunk when i posted this! enjoy! full gangbang comes in (y/n) next chapter! (oh god im going to hell).

W/c: 10.5k

Song Rec: Like Real People do ~ Hozier

~ Series Masterlist ~

2 Years Earlier

- If Jeon Jungkook where so esoterically inclined, he would write a book on how he had become the most dangerous man in the underworld. It would be a short book though; because Jungkook had only 2 rules for himself. The first was to always get up after he’d been hit during a fight (even if it took him a second) and the second was to know when to mind his own business.

- Jungkook was always able to get up after being hit, Even when he’d been a street kid, with not a penny to his name and a whole lot of anger in his mouth. ready to spit vitriol at anyone who would pause and listen. He’d always been able to get up. The pain giving him a kind of sick clarity that he eventually sought out instead of tried to escape. Jungkook could never think as clearly as he did during a fight; or when he was in pain. And that was probably because of his father.

- But whatever. That man was 6 feet under, (his mother on the other hand- no- that bitch certainly had more than one dept to pay still). He didn’t have a lot of time or energy to put into dealing with that particular trauma (why he honestly felt like sometimes- he liked being hit). Most of his energy went into staying alive. Even now- when living and surviving teetered on the same edge. Jungkook had more pressing matters to tend to than dealing with his own fragile mind.

- The way he would get up and hop around for a second to soak in the clarity after being hit during a scuffle was one of the reasons why he’d been given his street name: The Playboy Bunny; further set in stone with his tattoo of the same moniker under his left eye. A cheekbone he’d tap and say “you want to hit me? why don’t you try your luck and see how well it turns out for you.”

- He was doing reconnaissance, Sneaking around the back alley with his hood up and his glasses on- disguising his black eye that was sure to get more than a few looks from passers-by. The ears of the playboy bunny tattoo peeking out over the top of his mask.

- He keeps his eyes on the crowd waiting for some sort of handoff- to see anything at all. But he’d lost his target through the crowd and has no drive to find them in the dizzying rush of people and umbrellas. Not yet. Not when the hum of addiction lurks in his veins.

- Jungkook pauses lighting a cigarette, when a commotion to the side hidden around a corner- blurs his concentration. The world snapping back into focus when he sinks his fingernails into his palm. Terse voices. A couple fighting in the alleyway perpendicular to his.

- Minding his own business was a particular skill of his- it took one kind of person to know when to step in, and another to know which problems weren't worth the headache. And unless it involved the acquisition money or some step therein, it wasn’t a problem worth getting into in Jungkook’s opinion.

- But Jungkook can’t stop his ears from hearing snippets of conversation, a low and angry male voice. The sound of a smack. “You just had to embarrass me like that, didn’t you? First, you come out dressed like a slob and then you act like a fucking whore- I swear if I see you give eyes to another man this week I'll beat you five ways to Sunday”

- The sound of a soft female voice, so quiet- almost indistinguishable from the pouring rain, “I wasn’t-” another smack.

- Jungkook has been hit so many times he knows the sound of it, the ragged gasp the woman lets out, also quite- like even the pain takes up too much space.

- His body starts to move before his mind thinks it through as he gives up position in favor of investigating the noise. There he sees it, ivy growing up the wall next to the back exit of some restaurant. A woman, small crouching in front of a grotesque man. A baggy coat buttoned tight around her small form. hair swept back in a tight bun. Red lipstick smudged. Though you check your hands and think its blood for a moment before you remember you’re wearing it.

- Jungkook waits for a moment before he watches you stand on shaky legs. you get up.

- The rest of the underworld might be old grudges and blood feuds but Jungkook was only here to be a businessman. He didn’t have time for ego and arrogance, let alone time for altruism...

- Usually.

- He looks on for a moment, too sluggish without nicotine, but Jungkook’s lingering stare almost seems to spur the man on. He’s wearing a jacket with a military patch, a badge; some sort of congratulation for service done no doubt. and Jungkook feels his distaste for the man deepen.

- “What you looking at punk?” he slurs. Stalking forward as if to shove Jungkook. He almost wants to tut- that would be an expensive action. Jungkook wonders if the man is maybe high or drunk or both. He’s has had his fair share of experience with junkies and he knows one when he sees one.

- “Nothing, just a pig beating his girlfriend.” The man settles for shoving Jungkook back. And Jungkook lets him. You don’t look up, don’t do anything but lean to the side, like the brick wall is the only thing keeping you up. Jungkook sees the back of your hand, black and blue, the other bruises on your neck. You only make eye contact with him once. Just slightly. Barely in passing.

- You look like Jungkook used to look. He remembers in the savage bite of an open-handed slap- the fear he sees in your eyes. He looks and looks. And it aches so viscerally as Jungkook watches you go, your hurt echoes through him. You look beaten down and broken like Jungkook used too; before he’d decided he was done taking punches from people who were supposed to love him- Were supposed to care.

- (Before he realized life wasn't supposed to hurt)

- He’s never been one to feel things for other people, the empathy sparing him through most of the suffering he’s seen. It’s not that he’s unfeeling; it’s just that Jungkook’s life has forced him to feel concerned only for himself and no one else. His own survival is his first priority; Not others.

- He watches you walk away, And you don’t look back at him. Rushing to keep up with your husband's steps. He waits until you disappear into the crowd before he lifts his phone to his ear and makes a call. “Hey, I need you to flag all of the cars that leave the parking lot, they’re just a couple, should be coming to you soon.”

- Jeon Jungkook had become the most powerful man in the underworld because of two reasons; by being able to take punches, and by knowing when to mind his own business.

- But For this, Jungkook thinks he can make an exception.

- (You won't remember meeting Jeon Jungkook, but Jungkook will always remember you).

~.~

Now

-It comes as no surprise that your little speech fades after a few days and the rest of the hybrids quick to return to treating Yoongi with a mix of disdain and fear. Though mostly- this seems to be caused by Minhyung's group and the other canine hybrids. Namjoon hears them whispering about ‘favoritism’ before they catch on that he’s listening in. And in the days following your impromptu departure from the farm, you find people quiet even further whenever Yoongi's brought up. Staring when Yoongi comes close, afraid to interact with him.

- Even Jimin is greeted mostly with silence from all but a few. The bunny hybrids don’t act so skittish anymore, and the cat hybrids could care less used to sticking to their own group. Taehyung seems to have encouraged the other bear hybrids to make an actual effort and they at least say hello now. It’s better than the derisive comments of the dog hybrids, or the snooty noses stuck high in the air of the dear hybrids and other exotic breeds.

- They know Jimin is close to Yoongi and Namjoon, and now he feels even more like an outsider that before (somehow it doesn't matter as much as before). The only ones who don’t act overtly different are the new hybrids; Hoseok and the small lion hybrid. but They were never around to learn how to hate Yoongi in the first place.

- it's a little cute- the way that Hoseok will always shout Yoongi's name in greeting (though you're unsure if that's just his personality now that he's started to grow into himself). Hoseok is unbothered by Yoongi's reaction; to shy away from anything that will draw more attention to himself. But Hoseok's smile is so bright and elastic that even he has a hard time ignoring the otter hybrid. You hope there will be a friendship there eventually, that yoongi will open up to more than just your group.

- The little lion kit is a new addition too, she's not the only young feline hybrid you have at the farm but she is the friendliest. She gets pretty close to the other cats that work in the kitchen almost instantly. Probably on account of her young age (she's barely 7) and the eldest cat hybrid seems to be particularly fond of the little one.

- She's curious and kind to Yoongi too- excitedly running up to him more than once to show him a little rock or some flower she found- and yoongi will marvel and nod, and if Jimin is near- he'll lean close and tell her how pretty it is.

- She doesn't seem at all deterred by Yoongi's lack of voice. one day she even sees Jimin, her ears perking up excitedly, tail swishing. "Hello Yoonies voice!" it's a little cute- even if it does make yoongi splutter a little. But she's not exactly wrong; Jimin does talk for yoongi more these days.

- She Always comes bounding up to you and giggling happily to be picked up. Her little legs stretching around your waist, small bottom sat atop your baby bump. Making you get the kind of look that makes Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin sigh and look impossibly fond. They can only imagine what you’re going to be like once your little one is born. Your due date is barely 2 months away.

- In truth- you’re starting to get a little bit big. You say it one morning with Namjoon. After he asks you why you’re looking into the mirror with such a displeased expression. The sound of your terse voices alerts Yoongi and he comes to the door to your bedroom to witness your spat. Making a flippant hand movement at Namjoon to back off. Namjoon could smell your distress on you when you looked in the mirror, his voice tense but breaking. “Baby just tell me, why you think you’re not beautiful like that? let me understand. Cuz to me- you look more irresistible every day.”

- It’s not that you exactly wanted him to agree with you that you were nearing the size of a whale- but this doesn’t help at all either. His unending insistence- doesn’t he see? when he looks in the mirror doesn’t he see what you do? His instance that everything is alright doesn't help when you’re feeling this self-conscious.

- Yoongi helps you, fiddling with Namjoon’s closet for a second before he pulls out an extra-large white shirt of his and helps you into it- tying it loosely over your baby bump so that it flatters your waist a little more. The attention that Yoongi shows you clearly making you flustered. Then he drags you to the mirror, tugging your hair out of its bun, the tension going out of your shoulders.

- Yoongi doesn’t know it, but Namjoon does. Your late husband used to always be so particular about your hair, yanking on it harshly if it was left down. and An easy way to avoid him yanking on it was to leave it up. And sometimes you still pull it up convinced it’s safer even though he’s dead and gone. It’s scary how simple it is- but the second your hair comes down your whole body relaxes.

- All the while Namjoon watches from your bed. And you take in yourself, the baby hairs free-floating against your forehead; Yoongi curls one gently around his finger and then lets it go. You take in the way that the fabric hangs now, making you look a little more proportional, Yoongi gives you a satisfied smile behind your back and you have to sigh and admit it. “Okay- okay- I’ll give you this- I’m not a whale”

- “And even if you where you’d be a pretty whale.” Yoongi has the good sense to hurl a pillow in Namjoon’s direction, but it makes you laugh all the same- the heaviness in your chest abated a little. Your sleeve brushing Yoongi’s as you head downstairs, Namjoon trailing behind.

- The beach trip was a nice distraction from chores but the real work comes crashing down on them the next few days. Your little group feels closer than ever, you rarely part from any of them for long and their intention, their little acts of care never fail to make you feel flustered and taken care of.

- Jimin always holds out a hand for you to take when you’re stepping over uneven ground, Yoongi makes a startled noise whenever you so much as get close to a hose that might trip you, always gesturing for you to pause and take a break whenever you’re working in the garden. Namjoon too, always running back and forth from whatever project he’s working on to check on you and make sure you have water or food.

- At night, Namjoon takes your stretch mark cream from you, rubbing down your baby bump and your hips, the little lines of lighter skin on your waist get little kisses from him.

- Even if you want just a snack, Namjoon and Yoongi will bring you a full meal- convinced that you need to be eating more than you are. At dinner Yoongi fills up your plate- piling it high with more food then you could fit in your already crowded tummy. And he always eyes you suspiciously when you can’t finish the full plate. Namjoon too will level you with a look- asking if you really are full.

- Since your pregnancy has progressed, you’ve become a little moodier, and a little hornier whenever way the wind blows. And Namjoon doesn’t help that much at all- and by that you mean, he makes it worse. When he comes out of the field with his shirt off and tucked into his shorts all of his thickness, his muscles that make you ravenous.

- During lunch one day he drags you away to a forgotten tool shed, though it would be easier just to go up the hill to your bedroom- you feel like teenagers sneaking around like this.

- Namjoon presses into you as he hits the latch on the door, muffling your giggles with kisses as you hide from the hybrids outside, voices that you can dimly hear, unable to pick out any one particular yet- but you know they're there.

- You and Namjoon might bicker like an old married couple. But you also act like teenagers gooey and giggly and so so so in love. “Do you think that they can hear you like this? Or smell you, my love?” Namjoon is always quick to tell you how delectable you smell when you’re horny. His more sensitive nose-picking it up the second you feel a slickening between your thighs.

- You’re shaky when you respond. “I don’t know, maybe?” Namjoon always has this passionate intense air about him. He’s slightly possessive- but you’d never fault him for that not when it’s all about protecting and providing for you. Not when he always puts your pleasure first (you feel like you may have turned into a slight pillow princess with him).

- Namjoon heaves you up onto the edge of a bench and then gets on his knees. Gently lifting your leg over his shoulder. He’s always mindful of how much you can move in your swollen state. He checks to make sure he’s not bending your hips in an uncomfortable way.

- You put your hands back on the dusty bench to stabilize yourself as you lie back, Namjoon wastes no time in pressing his face close to your cunt and inhaling, His nose prodding at the thin fabric of your underwear. One of his ears caught on the hem of your dress. His fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs- so full and healthy it makes him hard in his pants.

- He’s slow with the appreciation of your thighs and hips. Hands gripping and moving on to touch and feel like you have all the time in the world. But you hear voices outside the tool shed you’ve commandeered and you could just slip out and go back up to your house- but somehow you like this better. The thought of being discovered stirring an unsure heat in your stomach.

- You can hear Taehyung's voice, and then- like a shock through your core- you hear Jimin’s. Namjoon can feel your jolt. And you realize- his sensitive ears must have known who it was before your own human ones did. He chuckles- teasing his fingers along the hem of your underwear, almost daring to slip inside.

- You almost whine when you think about what you’re being denied- the harsh pull of his fingers that you’re so addicted too, how thick his fingers and knuckles feel (almost as nice as his cock) when they pull out and push in.

- Yoongi and Namjoon have always had the most lovely hands, it’s strange that when Namjoon touches you- you think about Yoongi’s hands. The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. "you're thinking about them aren't you," The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. Because yeah; Yoongi and Jimin are apart of Namjoon’s pack too, and bonding and group sex are kind of the same thing to hybrids. You’d found that out the hard way when you’d found a group of cat hybrids all tangled together in the grass the other day.

- Namjoon is always so gentle with you because of your condition, but you find your hips jerking with want. His fingers still when he feels the way your wetness has spilled out the sides. His thumb pressed over your clit teasingly. “smell so good when you're like this So wet my love, are you thinking about them finding you like this?”

- “Y-yes” you confess, and Namjoon growls, nipping at you through the fabric, the feel of his teeth brushing you, over the sensitive skin. The fabric cushioning the feeling, makes you almost gush, and you know you’ll be shakily legged by the time he lets you get down. And that he won’t let you get away from him until he’s taken care of you in this way, sated you in every sense of the word.

- But he can also tell how shy you are, the heat under your skin at the thought of being discovered. always unsure how much of your dirty talk is a real want and not just something you like in theory. Namjoon knows the idea of sharing you with the others might seem like the most natural and hottest thing; to love you alongside them. but to you- a human, hybrid sex and hybrid bedroom dynamics aren't as given.

- So he leans close, sliding your underwear down your legs slowly, letting you feel the heat of his palms on your skin. You're getting worked up a little too quickly, your heaving breaths needy. God damn pregnancy hormones you'd say if you could think beyond the plush feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to your clit. “Gotta clean you up for them, if they smelled you like this- then they’d know wouldn’t they?”

- You prove Namjoons initial assumption wrong. “What if I-” you whisper- gasping quietly as Namjoon drags the fabric to the side and glides a delicate lick over your folds. “What if I want them to know?” the pleasure thrumming through your body as Namjoon licks up your slit. Namjoon stills, ears perked, eyes flashing in the half-light. The snarl against your cunt loud and echoic.

- The voices outside fall silent and Namjoon doesn't stop his ravenous licking no matter if you have to bite your lip to keep your noises in. One of your hands scrambling to pull at his hair and find something to grip onto and anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. Jimin is the first one to puncture the silence, “What was that?”

- Then comes Seokjin's voice “all of you- move along- whoever it is they probably don’t want the three of you listening in like a bunch of horn dogs” which is basically a confirmation that they were listening in, and that Yoongi was there too.

- When you finally exit the toolshed with weak legs, sure you’re going to have to at least got change your underwear. You find a bleary-eyed Seokjin a few dozen feet away, obviously upwind of the toolshed. he levels Namjoon with a tired expression. “You both have dirt on your knees” Namjoon has the good sense to look shy at that. You hastily brush off the spots on his, and he on yours.

- If Jimin and Yoongi smell anything on you later- they don’t say anything and the idea that they might make you feel hot all over whenever they lean in too close. You think you see a blush on Yoongi’s face more than once, and maybe see him adjust his pants out of the corner of your eye, but Jimin seems blissfully unaware.

- You have a check-up at the doctor’s office in the coming days. And although only Namjoon is allowed in the room with you (they have a two-person maximum because the ultrasound room is tiny), Yoongi and Jimin also accompany you. Namjoon comes bounding out after, waving the picture and smiling so so wide, both Yoongi and jimin leaning in close to get a better look- they’re so enamored with the little photo. And when you get home- Namjoon shows anyone that asks how the check-up went, eventually hanging it on one of the two fridges in the kitchen.

- Jimin is the only one who seems to notice the jealous looks- because you went out for ice-cream after and come home with them still partially melting (you’d had another craving- french-fries dunked in ice cream of all things). One of the other hybrids having heard Jimin talk to Tae about the beach trip too. They come to you at the end of the day, 2 bunnies, a cat, a fox and one of the bears- a mish moshed group of hybrids; petitioning you to start the beach trips for everyone.

- You can only fit so many people into the back of your truck so you pick a day and start a raffle for spots. Jimin throws his name into the hat just in case but to his surprise, Yoongi doesn’t. No matter how much Jimin bugs him too; He won’t agree to accompany Jimin to the beach again. Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes back tipped back against the grass, his sunhat crumpled. Offering up a few sweet tomatoes to soothe Jimin’s sour nerves.

- The peace lasts for a couple of days before they’re right back to treating Yoongi like shit and for some reason, it pisses Jimin off more. No matter how many times he’s heard Namjoon asks Yoongi to please tell him when anything happens. The snake hybrid seems unable to fight back.

- Jimin asks one of the hybrids why she won’t look at Yoongi (after the snake has already gone up the hill to retrieve another dish for dinner) and beyond a startled look, she just says “none of us can smell him” she throws a stack of paper towels down onto the table angrily. The deer hybrid across from them stumbling with their silver wear But she doesn’t need to re-iterate herself. Jimin understands- it’s hard to trust someone who can lie to your face- and in the world of hybrids where emotions can be decreed from a simple sniff, Jimin can’t say he doesn’t see where they’re coming from.

- Doesn’t excuse their behavior, however. After all- Jimin can smell Yoongi’s emotions through his scent and he didn't realize that was something strange until now. To Jimin, Yoongi’s scent is soft and sweet- something gummy and soft like a marshmallow. But that’s probably because he spends so much time with the hybrid. The others only spend so much time around him and are unused to his scent. And the fact that he never talks and never tries to socialize doesn’t help.

- Jimin can’t imagine not wanting to smell more of it- not leaning in whenever the other hybrid passes. Jimin wants to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck and rub his cheek all over it. The same way that Namjoon does to him in the morning if he shows up before he’s changed from his pajamas. And he knows he smells soft like sleep- an alluring smell to the older alpha when he comes down the stairs, ears straight up eyes wide as he takes in all of Jimin's vulnerability.

- and it might have to do with what Taehyung had said- that alphas eat up that sort of thing.

- Namjoon smells good too, his scent all soft mornings and sleepy walks, the older hybrid large and so pliant in his sleepiness, eyes swollen and face puffy as he hides in Jimin’s shoulder. Sending his pine scent all over so that it sticks to jimin no matter where he is. So that jimin will smell like Namjoon all day.

- One of the cat hybrids at the sink rolls her eyes. But when you come down the stairs smelling much the same. You touch his arm so softly in passing, like you can’t believe you’re allowed. And Jimin’s senses are a dizzying blur of cream, peaches, pine, and marshmallow.

- when he goes back to the barns, hazy at being scented by Namjoon so thoroughly. Taehyung levels him with a funny look and a chuckle. "you're more devious than anyone gives you credit for" thought Taehyung means it good-naturedly- it's good to have a friend to ask how to go about flirting with. the other hybrids gathered on the couch in front of the tv; some cartoon playing- pretend like they're not listening in.

- "How do you know so much when you don't have a pack of your own Tae?" he asks over breakfast, the two of them clutching breakfast burritos on their way to check Tae's bees. Tae doesn't meet Jimin's eyes "you're just lucky- most hybrids dont find a pack so easily Jimin" his words aren’t jealous- only a little patronizing. And Jimin accepts it because he knows he has a lot to learn.

- Taehyung is right- out of all of the hybrids at the farm, there are only a few who have paired up or even made stronger groups or multi-person packs. the bunnies and the cats don't form set generally- though there are a few pairs and more than a few throuples.

- Jimin as caught Yeonjun making out with a tabby more than once- has learned to avoid certain sections of the woods all together because everyone knows that's where the bunny hybrids like to go in the afternoons. The canine hybrids are the only ones who have packs, though there are more than half a dozen loners like jimin and namjoon.

- It's hard for Jimin to cohabitate with them even though there are other larger predators and more than a few prey hybrids living in Jimin's barn. he hadn’t really realized until taehyung pointed it out that each different pack occupied one corner of the punk room. More than once- the room in the barns has felt hostile if only for the packs that have claimed either corner of the bunkroom. it's usual to wake up and find more than one of the pups cuddling with another in one single bed.

- Having reciprocated love in his pack shouldn't feel like an impossibility to Jimin. But still, when Yoongi steps close- an inch too far away, his fingertips barely brushing- Jimin just- yearns. It’s a soft sort of yearning, the kind that has jimin jumping up whenever Yoongi needs something. Has him settling a think knit blanket over Yoongi’s nobly knees during movie nights, and sticking his own feet underneath the edge of the blanket. Feet Pressed to the clothed line of his calf. Maybe nothing will ever come of it, But Jimin yearns with everything he’s got regardless.

- In the late hours of the night, when Jimin lies awake thinking about the three of you. An instinct welling inside of him that says he should walk up the hill and fall asleep on your couch just to be closer to you three (the pack instinct- Taehyung calls it, looking a little bit sad himself when jimin asks him, the other hybrid moving away before jimin can ask exactly what that means) Jimin wonders if his feelings will ever be reciprocated.

- But love is a strange thing, it’s not just about saying it with kisses or touches- though Jimin wants them too. There is love in the small things, in building something together so that’s what Jimin tries to do. Every day- he takes to gardening with a new vigor. Shouting in joy when you harvest some of the tomatoes- filling up a whole gallon bucket with the amount that have ripened over the last week. Your peppers and cucumbers are beginning to produce more too.

- Jimin and Yoongi run to Namjoon just to give him a handful. The alpha gives each of them a sweet nuzzle in thanks, even if Yoongi chirps and moves back after a moment. A flush high on his cheek. Namjoon looking up at Yoongi from where he’s stopped- cheek on the elder's shoulder. The snake relaxing after a moment.

- You spend the rest of the day showing Jimin and Yoongi how to prepare the tomatoes to make a sauce, roasting them on low heat. Cutting garlic so so carefully, and whenever Jimin looks across the prep table- Yoongi’s gaze darts away. halfway through- yoongi stoops down, sticking his socked feet into jimin’s lap, and it feels so nice, to have their weight there.

- You go over to Yoongi at one point, and he tips his head back to look up at you. The back of his head is at the right height to lye up against your baby bump. And Jimin watches, as you slowly, so slowly, brush the hair out of his eyes and away from his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and he tips his face into your hand. Letting out a low happy grumble when you take his action as positive reinforcement, and drag your nails over his scalp. In Jimin’s lap, Yoongi’s toes curl.

- It feels strange- and Jimin can’t quite put his finger on it- but it almost feels like Yoongi is letting you all touch him more than ever. Suddenly okay with touches- as long as it’s in a more private setting. Jimin can’t say he’s unhappy about it. Maybe one-day yoongi will even let Jimin scent mark him.

- Jimin smiles at Yoongi’s happy little snake grumbles. And keeps chopping his garlic. Is happy to receive the same kind of scratch from you a few minutes later. Though he might abandon his chopping in favor of rubbing his face all over your stomach when the instinct strikes him. Jimin unintentionally lets out a growl when you start to move away. Slapping a hand over his mouth and apologizing, no matter how you and Yoongi laugh.

- Still, despite the happiness, you have in your kitchen, in your house, whenever you’re around each other. The rest of the world is not so kind.

- An adoption day comes at arguably the worst and best time. There is still a fair amount of friction between your group and the rest of the hybrids. And a few outsiders at the farm only make it worse. Though Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon aren’t the only hybrids who wear red stickers to indicate that they are not available for adoption.

- Hoseok surprisingly- grabs a yellow sticker. And the three of your hybrids watch- as Seokjin hovers around him- a red sticker on his own lapel- wary of all and anyone who interacts with the otter hybrid. His glares putting off all but the most attentive patrons. That's where it starts.

- Jimin is unfortunately caught in the middle when seokjin confronts hoseok. off to help the three of them bring down 3 trays of cut watermelon for the hybrids and the patrons. The dinner tables have been set out on the side of the field piled high with Hors d'oeuvre. You’re there with Namjoon greeting the humans. Games are set out too- for the hybrids and humans to play.

- it’s no secret that they’ve gotten close, and jimin had assumed they’d talked about it- but apparently not. Seokjin is so angry he’s nearly crying. “why- hoseok- why do you want to leave the farm?” Hoseok’s little otter ears are tight against his scalp. “I just- I didn’t want to assume?”

- “Oh- so you’d rather just- throw away everything that we’re trying- all of this- you don’t you dont want to stay do you-” Jimin has never seen seokjin looking so lost, and he knows enough to guess that Seokjin’s anger is at least in part to due to some trauma (later- Jimin will find out that Seokjin’s mother left him with his last owner- an abusive man- to save herself).

- Jimin knows enough to get in between them, telling them to calm down and spend a minute away from each other. Jimin ends up with Hoseok- “it’s hard Jimin- how do you, how do you have so much sureness with Y/n? with Namjoon and yoongi too? How do you look at them and trust that you should stay?” Hoseok's eyes remain on Jimin's red tag.

- Jimin sighs, thinking it through, “do you look at Seokjin and know he cares about you? like- do you know it in your bones?” Hoseok bites his lower lip, “yes- but-”

- “Then you should stay Hoseok,” Jimin walks Hoseok up to the main house where the stickers sit on the prep table. Changing out his yellow one for a red one. And when they head off back down the hill, Seokjin is waiting on the path with Yoongi, apologizing and dragging Hoseok away to the barns where Seokjin’s own private room is. Hoseok goes willingly, smiling up at the older hybrid. His narrow shoulders cuddled under one of Seokjin's wide ones.

- jimin has to admit, an otter and an alpaca are a weird combination for a hybrid pack (But no stranger than a pair of puppies and a snake). His thoughts drift towards Taehyung- and Jimin hopes that his friend won't end up alone. it must not be easy- to see all of you pair off like this.

- in some ways, that adoption day is full of just as much bullshit as they usually are. there are always people who dont understand the effort it takes to take care of a hybrid- they aren't just like any ordinary pet. it's easy to spot the ones that view them as pets- and less like people. You get a few rich people looking to adopt a companion as always.

- A substantial group of families also look to adopt similarly aged companions for their single children. And you agree to more than one possible test weekend. You’re always so particular about letting the children go, so wary and so careful in the way you let them interact with the families.

- Though they don’t have parents here- there are more than a few good role models and parental figures. More than one child chooses a red tag for themselves. And they always know have a right to it- no matter how young they are. You make it clear to the group of them; If they don’t want to be adopted they don’t have to be.

- You even get one couple- the woman withdrawn and sad, and a slightly jealous look at your own pregnant stomach says more than any words could. It’s pretty common for women who can’t have children to adopt hybrid children. and though some of it doesn't sit right with you, You aren’t one to judge.

- Jimin spends most of the adoption day helping you balance the need for food and for games. running back and forth to the house to help. Though there is a little work that needs to be done here and there just to keep the farm running as usual. grey storm clouds roll in halfway through the day, puncturing the blue sky- foretelling scattered showers and storms. and jimin hopes it will cut the adoption day short so that you can return to your routines.

- Jimin is just helping Yoongi putting away a broken badminton net When it happens- Jimin isn’t certain why it does. Only that he hears the words outside the shed after Yoongi's just excited to grab the broken rackets (Namjoon isn't the only clumsy hybrid you have at the farm).

- “oh sorry- ew gross,” a shrill female voice says, and then he rounds the corner and sees yoongi picking himself up from the dirt- a rich lady and her peacock hybrid looking down at him like he’s the dirt beneath his shoes. The peacock hybrid has Yoongi’s sun hat in his hands and there is another hybrid- a wolf hybrid from the farm with a green sticker on his shirt, who growls down at yoongi.

- His shoulders shake too the way they do when he’s been touched and he doesn’t want to be. Jimin has seen you brush your fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand, has even felt the coolness of the snake hybrid through the fabric when the elder grabbed his sleeve. Has touched him even more intimately as of late. But he knows that Yoongi can’t tolerate being touched by people he doesn’t trust- doesn’t want to touch him. basically, anyone, that's, not you, Namjoon, or Jimin himself.

- “Hey- what the fuck!” Jimin spits, grabbing the sunhat out of the hybrid's hand with a growl, his ears flat against his head. If Jimin had elongated canines like Namjoon they would be barred in anger as he shoves the larger hybrid back. Yoongi shrinks impossibly smaller behind him.

- Jimin is hot and itchy from the heat and the humidity, and he really just wants to shower and cool off. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with entitled people today. And more importantly- no one touches Yoongi on Jimin’s watch.

- The hybrid looks surprised to be talked to in that way, he’s nearly a head taller than Jimin let alone the slightly taller feathers that poke out of the top of his head that give him the appearance of several more inches- but Jimin’s intimidating enough with his set expression to send the hybrid huffing away. Feathers fluffed.

- The peacock's iridescent feathers stand up on end as he grabs the hand of his human owner, her diamond tennis bracelet glittering in the sunlight. “This was getting boring anyway. Sorry” he tosses over his shoulder at the canine hybrid, who looks so disappointed his ears pinned back against his head. They only give him that- barely a look, before they’re heading off down the hill in the direction of the line of cars parked on the grass.

- The wolf hybrid deflates audibly- watching the woman and the other hybrid disappear down the hill. promises of home and family disappearing in a moment, but Jimin has to think- if they’d be discouraged so easily- were they really worth it? The wolf hybrid doesn't seem to think so- Turning his angry tear-filled eyes on Jimin.

- But Jimin can see the hate in his eyes and knows not to mistake the tears for only sadness. “You both ruin everything” he growls out- before they too run back towards the barns- no doubt to tell the others how Yoongi had sabotaged their adoption. Even though that was far from the truth. in all honestly- yoongi just bumped into the lady- or more probably- the lady bumped into him when he was on his way out of the shed.

- Jimin holds out his sunhat to Yoongi, who takes it from Jimin carefully, Jimin doesn’t linger on the fact that his hand still shakes. Jimin’s hand lingers somewhere close enough where Yoongi could touch it could reach out if he wants too. If he wants to get that kind of comfort from Jimin's touch- then Jimin will willingly give it.

- a faint flush coats the elder's cheeks. Oh no- he must be overheating then, Jimin feels a rush of concern. He knows what you would do, hover your hand close enough to Yoongi’s forehead, usher him upstairs for a break in the air conditioning, and a glass of icy lemonade.

- All they can hear is the shouts of laughter at the games the others play in the fields, “I understand why you don’t want to stay in the barns, why you don’t want to socialize with some of them, they’re so unkind to you it makes me crazy.” Jimin shakes his head, sour anger filling him like a rotten peach.

- Yoongi, looks more than pacified, looking up at Jimin with an indecipherable look. Most of the time, Jimin can get a good guess on how he’s feeling but not now- not that indecipherable heaviness he finds there. or the strangely heavy marshmallow scent that’s fluffed around them. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s hat.

- After a moment Yoongi nods, and Jimin takes it as a thank you. They’re done for the day and dinner won’t be for another few hours or so. Jimin is ready to avoid some of the strangers and hopefully take advantage of the empty showers. The sky is grey with incumbent storm clouds when Jimin makes his way to the shower buildings which he finds blissfully empty; except for the bear hybrid Jackson that tosses a greeting at Jimin before exiting.

- Jimin doesn’t even bother to flick the lights on, instead of settling for the calm light that comes through the skylights, grey and hazy. the storm clouds have started to roll in properly. He hums as he disrobes, goes to grab his favorite strawberry body wash, and picks the last shower at the end, disrobing in relative comfort, glad for a moment of privacy.

- The blissfully Coldwater does wonders for his overheating muscles, relaxing his body deliciously from a day spent walking up and down the hill. he digests the chaos of the day- seokjin and hoseok fighting, yoongi getting shoved. you'd looked frazzled the last time he'd seen you, smile strained as you made small talk with most of the humans, Namjoon always close incase you needed someone to lean on.

- Jimin had been able to tell that your feet were sore just by looking at you. Namjoon will probably make you sit down before long, maybe he already has. You’ll probably cut off the adoption day because of the rain. Taking down names and information before you send them on their way. You rarely let a hybrid leave the farm after one adoption day, needing to have more private meetings and house calls to willingly part with one of them. You just want to make sure you dont release them back into another abusive household.

- He hums as he washes, lingering in the water and taking a longer shower than he usually would. He hums, testing the way his vocal cords wrap around the acoustics of the empty high ceilinged room.

Then he hears the scuffling of someone in the bathroom too and cuts off. A little abashed at being caught. The rustling getting closer and its a moment before he realizes that the rustling is coming from his own section of the bath. he smells him the second before he pulls the shower curtain gets pulled back.

- “Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, furiously grabbing at something to cover his nakedness. Jimin furiously tries to cover his crotch, grabbing one of the large bargain bottles of shampoo and hold it there even as cold water runs over his face. Getting into his wide eyes. “Yoongi what the fuck! You’re naked!”

- Jimin is glad that the rumors about snake hybrids having double the appendages as a normal hybrid are false but he can’t stop his blush or his wandering eyes as he sees the snake hybrid in full. Or the hot lick of arousal that shocks him through his core- especially when he recognizes the heaviness to Yoongi's scent as being arousal.

- there is a single moment, jimin can smell yoongi- can see the want in his eyes, can feel his own scent fluff out to meet his, yoongi sags under the weight of Jimin's scent as the surprise dissipates. "do you-" Jimin's face must be brighter than a tomato. He reaches out a tentative hand, "do you want to-"

- Before Jimin can do much more than that Yoongi’s lips are on his, tentative but firm and passionate, the fire leaking into him from Yoongi as jimin stumbles in surprise. The kiss tastes like thank you and Ive wanted to do this for longer than i care to admit and everything yoongi can't say, can't let slip past his lips. jimin drops the shampoo bottle which narrowly misses his foot as Yoongi’s hands come up to encircle his jaw so softly like Yoongi is holding the most important thing in his world. Jimin is so shocked that for a moment- he doesn’t kiss back and Yoongi retracts- not before Jimin chases his lips and the snake hybrid returns to him.

- It’s the first time Yoongi’s ever touched Jimin so bare, and the snake’s hands on the back of his neck feel cold and shivery but good. As Jimin’s back hit’s the wall and their fronts press together for a moment, just brushing. Then colliding with more force as they both realize how good it feels to be so close to someone you trust. It’s dizzying- intoxicating, and Jimin knows his mouth is moving sloppily even if he wants to kiss Yoongi with just as much intent.

- The snake hybrid bites- actually bites- down on Jimin’s tongue. And a strangled whine comes to live and die in his throat. A snarl in his ears from Yoongi's mouth as the snake hybrid keeps his biting, moves to Jimin's throat- bites hard Enough that Jimin knows he'll leave a bruise. "leave more- yoongi please mark me" jimin feels hot with the thought of it- the thought of all the other hybrids being able to smell yoongi on his scent gland.

- Jimin doesn’t know where to put his hands, he knows enough to know that Yoongi doesn’t like to be touched and unsure if it extends to right now. but it seems okay if he’s doing the touching. His hands sliding down Jimin's back to his waist. He’s a good kisser, the best that Jimin’s ever kissed (not that there have been many) and he tips his head forward to put as much scalding force as he can into it when yoongi leaves his neck in favor of his mouth, trying to match Yoongi’s intensity even if he can’t match his skill.

- Yoongi takes a step forward, and Jimin’s cock brushes his hipbone, and he can’t stop the way his hips jump at the contact, brushing into Yoongi further. Jimin’s blood boils with arousal. Yoongi is equally as hard compared to Jimin. And Jimin doesn't know if its water or precum that he feels on his skin. Can't look down to check.

- By the time Yoongi leans back and finishes running his fingers through Jimin’s hair and over his shoulders. Jimin’s so wound up he feels like he’s about the pass out. The cool water cascading over his back doing nothing to settle him. Yoongi moves his hips- testing the waters, as he grinds, works jimin’s hips into an unsteady rhythm. and jimin moans.

- Yoongi pulls back, looking at jimin, their noses brushing, like he can’t bear to have jimin farther away from him than this, want heavy in his eyes, and Jimin tastes the words on Yoongi’s lips as good as if he’d said them. “Yoongi” jimin breathes. Palms pressed carefully to the shower wall so that he won’t reach out and yank Yoongi closer. But he’s Weak against the wake of this of all this feeling.

- “fuck- kiss me again- can we- ” Jimin feels strung out, his body heavy with something like heat- maybe Jimin is actually having a heat and it’s not just in his imagination (he wouldn't really know what it felt like- never having had one before because of his malnutrition). But This kind of kissing is certainly enough to trigger one.

- Yoongi opens his mouth for a second, almost like he’s about to speak- or to try to, Jimin’s never been sure if he can- if it’s muteness or just Yoongi being selective. And then in the next moment, Yoongi’s gone, almost tripping on his way out of the showers with how fast he’s leaving jimin. A whine dies in his throat and jimin starts after him, But then Yoongi turns back. Gesturing with a hand for jimin to stay put. Yoongi looks angry, and it takes a moment for Jimin to realize that the anger wasn’t directed at jimin- only at Himself.

- Jimin stays in the shower, water thundering down around him as the sky overhead thunders too. Jimin listens to the faint sound of Yoongi dressing and then leaving the showers. Jimin lets him go. So sure that he has absolutely no idea what just happen- or even if he didn’t imagine the whole thing.

- jimin’s hand on himself doesn't feel nearly good as Yoongi’s did.

- Yoongi’s hands shake all the way back up the hill, and he hopes his wet hair won’t be too suspicious especially when a mixed group of hybrids crosses his path. Returning to the barns as most of the adoption day festivities have ended.

- Yoongi’s careful to keep his eyes averted. And like usual- the conversation comes to a halt when Yoongi passes them by. It no longer bugs him the way it might have once. They have a good reason not to want to associate with him. Yoongi’s body shakes with the weight of the things he’s done and the things he’s going to do.

- you gather with 3 families on your porch as you take down their names and contact information. You send yoongi a concerned look as he quickly heads inside the house. Pausing only for a moment before he decides to go to Namjoon first. Later- later he’ll ask you too.

- Stupid- he’s been so stupid recently. Touching you- indulging in these short sweet touches because he wants more so badly. Knows he can never have it doesn’t stop the wanting. If his owner ever found out what he’s done- if she ever found out what he’d almost done with jimin- she’d surely have Jimin’s hands for it.

- And as much as Yoongi wishes it were any other way- Jimin almost touching him does remind him of far worse times. Though he’d been the one to initiate it this time- the memories still linger.

- Times when foreign hands touched his skin as he’d thrashed and screamed trying to protest against the taunting words of his owner. “I’ve never been interested in snake dick but if you want him for tonight you can have him- just be careful- he bites” and he shakes with those memories. Though its been many years. like most kinds of torture- eventually, his owner had grown bored with using yoongi's body as a bargaining chip. Yoongi wonders if he’s ever going to be able to be touched that way without feeling the revulsion at his own body.

- Jimin had come close, but he'd known- known that yoongi didn't want him to touch him. Had seemed more than willing to be touched himself. the revulsion hadn't hit him until the end.

- The places he’s been touched without his consent feel black and decaying- or like ink, every time someone touches him- Yoongi’s surprised that ink doesn’t come away on your hands soft and delicate. But it didn’t change the fact that Yoongi wanted it- and wants it still.

- he wants to see you soft and sated the way you look sometimes in the morning when he can smell Namjoon on you- wants to cause it- maybe, someday in the future if you'll let him. He knows you’d be gentle with him. Wouldn’t put your hands anywhere he didn’t want. Would check in with him- going as slowly or as quickly as he wanted too. Namjoon would be able to be gentle too- Yoongi’s sure of it.

- He wants it, even though he knows that want only put you all in danger. He’s an incredibly selfish person. He hopes he never gets to have that intimacy with you, for your sake.

- yoongi should only let himself dream of something good before he goes- sinks back into that life. But the temptation for more is too strong sometimes, his want filling him up like sticky sweet syrup that pollutes every moment.

- Namjoon is on the second floor of your house and Yoongi takes the stairs two at a time. Folding laundry in what will one day be the nursery for your child. He’s taken the ultrasound up here now- hung it up so he can look at it. and Yoongi is reminded of A few days ago when he gushed about the development of your child to Yoongi in the kitchen comparing them to the size of a fruit. “a cute little cantaloupe- the cutest little cantaloupe”

- You and Namjoon have made the decision not to find out the gender, but the walls of the nursery are still pained blue, puffy clouds above and little flowers below, dandelions and daisies, a stalwart sunflower that curls over the arch of the door half-finished. Yoongi knows you work on the mural it whenever you can. But Namjoon gets a little paranoid about the fumes- you compromise and keep the windows open along with the door to your balcony to allow as much air circulation as possible.

- The crib, a fluffy white thing is already piled into the corner. And Yoongi remembers the first few weeks here when you and Namjoon had overzealously ordered it. He’d come downstairs after dinner one night and found both of you puzzling over the directions. And he’d shooed Namjoon away as he’d helped you put it together. The three of you ending up giggly and punch drunk tired by the time it was fully put together. And then had to carry it all the way up the stairs.

-A mobile of little felted flowers that Seokjin made you as a thank you present a hangs above the empty Crib- colorful and cute. And Namjoon has set the laundry on the unused changing table in neat stacks. All of the other furniture is piled into the center of the room so that you can paint the walls. He turns when he hears Yoongi, his tail swishing.

- “Hey Yoon- what you get caught in a rainstorm or something?” the rain splatters against the windows with a soft patter and Yoongi drips onto the floor. He never bothered to dry off after the unintentional shower with jimin. Yoongi makes a shrug that means ‘something like that’ and if the younger hybrid hovers on the way that Yoongi’s lips look a little kiss bitten and swollen he doesn’t say a thing. Namjoon knows better than anyone- what they talk about and what they don’t.

- He hands over the slip of paper; “jimin should move into the main house, you and I could clean out one of the storage rooms and move the stuff into the attic.”

- Yoongi watches Namjoon’s eyes rove over the words a few times. The hybrid purses his lips, “I’ve talked to Y/n about this- and she agrees- but I don’t know if he wants too? He seems pretty comfortable in the barns, he likes Taehyung and they’re friends. and we kind of want to leave it up to him if we can.”

- Yoongi snatches the paperback from him, annoyance flickering in his chest as he rolls his eye. Didn’t Namjoon see that nothing would change if they didn’t push him a little? Jimin is the type to take that kind of abuse again and again if it means not making a fuss. And Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens again. He turns it over onto the other side and using the wall as a place to write.

- “He’s already being treated differently because of me” 'me' being double underlined- so that Namjoon really understands what he’s trying to say. Yoongi just wants to make sure Jimin is safe before he goes. Before he needs to leave and before it gets too dangerous and too near a time when his owner will physically retrieve him. Not that Namjoon knows that Yoongi’s presence has an expiration date. Namjoon searches Yoongi’s face for a source to his desperation and finds none.

- Yoongi has never felt worse for keeping secrets. Maybe in another world- Yoongi would have confessed and asked Namjoon, with all of his connections to the police, for help. Yoongi knows enough to put the whole crime system out of whack and yet. Years of negative reinforcement and beatings have taught him to keep his mouth shut and that isn’t going to change now; not when Yoongi’s life isn’t the only one at risk and he knows you’ll all live if he plays by the rules. He doesn't care about his own safety anymore.

- The second he sees Yoongi’s distraught expression Namjoon steps closer Taking off his flannel and tugging it around his shoulders. Namjoon might not make moves to scent mark Yoongi but dressing him in his clothes is as good as he gets. Namjoon’s comforting alpha scent fluffs around him.

- Yoongi wonders if jimin feels the pull the same way he does. Dynamics are more mobile in snake hybrids and downright non-existent in humans. but they’re more set in canines. Namjoon puts his hand on Yoongi’s clothed arm and Yoongi shuffles close after a second. His nose centimeters from Namjoon’s neck taking in deep breathes to try and steady himself. He didn’t realize he was shaking.

- “It will be alright Yoongi, I promise. He’s gonna be safe.” Namjoon adds quieter. And below them both- in the first floor of the house, he can hear your voice, echoing louder and laughing at some sort of joke, Namjoon’s tail starts wagging at the suggestion of you. “I want them to feel safe too.”

- Yoongi wants to write “he should take my room- I won’t be staying in it soon anyway.” but Yoongi needs to make sure- before he leaves. Jimin has to be included in your little pack. He doesn’t want to think- about what the three of you will go through when he eventually has to leave. The days are counting down to the end of the summer.

- He’s fucking selfish, so selfish, to kiss Jimin like that when he knows he won't be able to stay in the hybrids life. He’s selfish every time he begs affection off you, every day he keeps Namjoon Company when he’s cleaning up the other barns. Yoongi writing out words in the dust when Namjoon asks him questions. Eyes only searching when Namjoon turns his back. Looking for any sort of hidden compartment. Completing his task even if it’s the last thing he wants to do. Betraying you like this.

- Jimin spends the rest of the day wondering if the kiss with Yoongi was just a dream. But later at dinner, Yoongi won’t meet his eyes, and jimin knows he didn’t imagine the kiss. Guilt sticks to Yoongi, more distracting than honey stuck between your fingertips.

- Both of them go to sleep still thinking about the kiss. Jimin wondering if it will happen again and Yoongi thinking that he’d like it too. His fingers running over his lower and upper lips, mind awash with the memory of jimin’s mouth on his. And night falls heavy like a weighted blanket on the farm. The sky a big sheet with holes poked through for stars. A heavenly breeze tempting away the summer heat.

- All of the hybrids safe and snoring in their beds. Some even paired- if they’ve got it. Two furry bodies packed close on a single bed. Some even dream of homes they mind one day live in or of the people that one day they’ll get to love. The idea of being kept and treasured lulling them into a drowsy haze of anticipation and security.

- That night, Namjoon knocks on Yoongi’s door. the hybrid leaning up against the doorframe as he watches the snake get ready for bed. “you know... you could sleep in our room if you want, we have an air conditioner in there too.” yoongi has a notepad ready, he knows that Namjoon likes to open all the windows and even the door to your balcony to let the fresh air in so that it feels like you're sleeping outside. He steels himself to think of someone other than himself before he writes- “I’m okay- thanks though” Yoongi writes out.

- Namjoon lifts one of Yoongi’s blankets to his neck before he leaves, thoroughly scents marking it before he leaves it with Yoongi. And Yoongi sleeps easy that night with his nose pressed to the blanket. Safe and secure in his room. Nothing bad happens to yoongi that night even though he cuddles close to the blanket, and when he wakes in the morning. his heart beats a steady thumping rhythm- his whole body humming with anticipation.

- It’s different to feel excited about being in love, excited for a day spent close to the people he cares about. And he knows he won't take a single day for granted.

- The crickets and cicadas chirping in the field. And in a low tone on the tree outside, a morning dove gentle and unassuming. The sun rising over the hills. Tastes of idyllic and smells of Eden. Like lavender and honey.

- A hand outstretched, scrambling in the dirt before it goes still, fingers just a few inches from safety. Blood mixing in with the sand. The morning is not perfect for everyone.

- But even you would say the morning was peaceful, if not for the dead body dumped at the end of your driveway.

Kofi

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