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#as a psych who has specialized in it for years

scientia-rex · 6 months

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Listen, I know we dunk all the time on people who think they can flawlessly tell who’s trans, but as a doctor looking at bodies is my job. I can tell who has heart failure or liver failure from looking at them. I can identify Parkinson’s from a shuffling walk or hip arthritis from an antalgic gait. I cannot, for the life of me, clock every trans person visually.

You know how I know this? When I started at this job, my new boss told me that a member of the staff transitioned a few years back and everyone did some learning and was supportive (or else). He told me this bc he knows gender care is one of my special clinical interests, right up there with psych and migraines. And when I met my new team I said to myself, ah! There is the trans person. I felt SO bad for her being seated next to the vaguely fascist Republican Ortho guy. I told her repeatedly about how excited I was to have the opportunity to care for trans patients.

Turns out not only is she cis, SHE’S a Republican. I made her uncomfortable! I was like cisgender? With THAT hair???? GIRL YOU ARE SIGNALING THINGS! There are SIGNIFIERS!!!!

So yeah no. People can’t “just tell.” I ought to have gaydar and I ruined an entire work dinner for that woman.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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imfinereallyy · 9 months

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Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

#steddie #stranger things #wayne munson #modern au #wayne likes to play match maker but unlike dustin he is good at it #steve harrington #eddie munson #implied ronance #platonic stobin #nurse steve harrington #my writing #request game #steve x eddie #ficlet

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comradekatara · 1 month

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i don’t want to watch natla but i appreciate very much you posting about “zuko’s little faggot diary” that shit made me crack up laughing ty

that’s just canon to me. he’s a boy who loves to monologue. of course he keeps a diary. how else is he gonna keep track of his special interests. where else is he gonna write down his angsty poetry. you know he spent months tracking aang down taking detailed notes on his garb, his fighting style, his flight patterns, and not once ever bothered taking note of his name, even though he easily could’ve learned it from the million times katara screamed it over the course of their fights.

which, if you’ll allow me to go on a tangent, is another thing that bothers me. when ppl are like “zuko learned their names because they all say one another’s names constantly.” and you think that means he actively made an effort to REMEMBER it????? you must be out of your damn gourd if you think that the most one-track minded human being in the history of the universe is paying attention to anything that doesn’t directly interest him in that very moment. but i digress.

i just KNOW that zuko was soo mad that he lost his diary after his ship got blown up by zhao because years of precious poetry and avatar lore, burned to cinders by that PHILISTINE!!!! and then as a refugee in the earth kingdom, he languishes, diaryless, because he’s too embarrassed to actually spend what little money they have on something so extraneous. and then once back in the fire nation he obviously can’t keep a diary because azula will do everything in her power to read it (he learned that the hard way as a child). but then, finally, once he flees to the western air temple, he can actually keep a diary again, now that he is surrounded by nice, normal people who don’t actually care enough about him to snoop through his belongings.

or so he thinks.

now, aang, being a respectful young lad, would never share his findings with the rest of the group, especially since none of them have actually warmed up to him yet. but that doesn’t prevent him from reading everything zuko has ever written in that diary. and of course, he doesn’t tell zuko, because he has the tact and savvy to know that if he alerts zuko to his snooping, then he will simply hide his diary better, or even worse, stop writing in it altogether. and zuko can’t stop writing!! for he has a poet’s soul!!!

also, zuko has somehow gathered a lot of information on sokka that aang himself did not know, despite being friends with him for nearly a year now (like the fact that he dated the moon??? or the fact that his mother was killed by the fire nation??? although that one he really should’ve figured out on his own. considering that he and katara are siblings, and thus logically would share a mother). and so aang really needs zuko to keep updating his SOKKA LORE notebook because he feels kind of guilty that he knew basically nothing about his friend and yet zuko, the least observant person he has ever met, is somehow an expert in sokkology (although aang is deeply offended on katara’s behalf that he simply refers to her as “sokka’s sister” or sometimes “the angry one”).

for the record, aang never actually puts together WHY zuko is so fascinated by sokka. he’s just like “of course he’d be intrigued by sokka. he has a very complex mind, what an adventure to attempt to fathom the depths of his psyche.” like he just assumes that zuko is using sokka as a case study for completely innocuous reasons. he also assumes that zuko, like any teenage boy with eyes, is infatuated with katara. not at first, obviously, because to zuko she is still “girl sister, long hair” but eventually. once they reconcile, and become friends. and then his diary makes a sharp turn from carefully documenting any and all sokka lore to “katara said this really funny thing today” “katara is so nice and pretty” “katara is such a good waterbender” and suddenly aang is NOT having fun anymore!!!! halt the presses!!!!!

so aang just kind of sulks to himself for a while because it’s not like he can TELL anyone about his NEW ROMANTIC RIVAL in the BID FOR KATARA’S AFFECTIONS, but he does try to vaguely intimate to sokka and toph that it bothers him. and toph’s just like “what?? you mean all those times she hooked up with haru at the western air temple???” and aang’s just like. “HARU??????!!?!!??!?!?”

anyway. zuko isn’t a complete idiot, so after a few good years of being friends with aang, he finally catches onto the fact that aang has been keeping up with his diary every time he visits the palace, after like, the fourth or fifth time that aang accidentally lets a piece of information slip that he only could’ve known via reading zuko’s diary. so zuko decides to mess with him, and starts keeping a fake diary in the place he used to keep his real diary (columbus style) and writing shit in it like, “aang’s recent experimentations with facial hair are so embarrassing. just because you’re finally old enough to grow a weak little mustache doesn’t mean that you, under any circumstances, SHOULD. i bet katara is throwing up puking every day just having to kiss his horrendous furry mouth.” or, “katara said that she thinks roku was not only hotter, but also a way better avatar than aang, and personally, i agree. if he was still the avatar today no one would ever go hungry and we would have total world peace.” or, “aang is way too comfortable going shirtless. if i had that scrawny lanky body i would cover that shit up with a big ol sweater every day.” or, “aang said something really mean the other day and it hurt my feelings and i cried alone in my room for 3 hours. aang is literally a bully????”

and aang can’t even SAY anything because zuko is allowed to say whatever he wants about his friends in the privacy of his own journal, but also he decides that if zuko truly hates him so much, then he will simply stop visiting the fire nation so frequently, out of respect to his friend. at which point zuko realizes that he may have gone too far, so the next time aang visits him, he puts his real diary in his drawer with an entry that reads, “i can’t believe aang keeps falling for my fake diary prank. he doesn’t even know that im messing with him. and he never will, because my system is flawless, and i’ll never ever lose track of which diary is the real one and which one is the fake.”

at which point aang runs headfirst into a meeting between fire lord zuko and his senior council and is just like “ZUKO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!” and tackles him in a hug with no regard for propriety. he nearly gives zuko a concussion from the force of his hug. but dammit if it isn’t worth it.

#boyfriendgideon #asks #all of this is canon btw.#zuko #aang #aang&zuko #katara&zuko #aang&katara #sokkaxzuko #also yeah. don’t watch natla. truly NOT worth it in the slightest . u made a good call there

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hollyhomburg · 8 months

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Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

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Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

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allwaswell16 · 1 month

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in March 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #60 | ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

☁️ you were in my dream by staybeautiful / @harruandlou

(E, 60k, acquaintances to lovers) Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

☁️ Always a Bridesmaid by @kingsofeverything

(E, 29k, age difference) The night before his best friend’s wedding, Harry falls into bed with a silver haired stranger who makes him wonder what his own forever might look like.

☁️ Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie

(E, 19k, omegaverse) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

☁️ The Room Thief by @2tiedships2

(NR, 15k, omegaverse) When Louis comes home and is confronted by his knothead alpha flatmates, he knows it won’t result in anything good, but he didn’t expect to be left homeless, effective immediately. He definitely didn’t expect to fall for the specific knothead who stole his room.

☁️ Simmer Down and Pucker Up by @silverstuff50

(E, 9k, exes) When Louis' sister invites his ex to her wedding Louis is not a happy bunny. But his friends are wankers and their meddling causes the sort of drama that Louis would usually beat the crap out of them for. Usually...

☁️ and then, i wait there for you by punk_pillow_princess / @punkpillowprincess

(M, 9k, established relationship) Harry has always dreamed of having his “happily ever after”, but hasn't found the right one yet. Suddenly, he meets Louis.

☁️ you can be my lover, i can be your love by @wildhalos

(M, 9k, canon m/f) the one where Louis may have accidentally fondled his best friend, and it's not weird unless they make it weird. Harry's almost positive. She swears.

☁️ What we parted ways with by louisismycat / @liminalkittyfics

(M, 6k, exes) Alpha Harry is surprised to see omega Louis at his matchmaker’s cocktail party for millionaires. Years ago when they were together, Louis loathed schmoozefests with rich people.

☁️ That’s the way love goes by bella28

(T, 4k, soulmate goose!) In a world, where soulmate geese are sent to the people who can't figure out who their soulmate is, Harry finds himself stuck with a goose when he is attending a concert of his favourite artist Louis Tomlinson.

☁️ Stand Not in Front or Behind by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(NR, 4k, omegaverse) Harry Styles always knew his purpose in life was to be a pawn in an arranged marriage to assure allegiances. He never actually put much thought into his future partner.

☁️ Pussy Juice by @homosociallyyours

(M, 4k, girl direction) While she manages to dodge the bar's "special" drink, the Pussy Juice shot, she can't avoid the feelings that come up when her former teacher (and teen crush), Louis joins her and her friends for the night.

☁️ pretty please? by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 3k, girl direction) Harry gets impatient for her Valentine’s Day present.

☁️ Lipstick Like Dynamite by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 3k, established relationship) the one where Louis is a professional football player who loves seeing his boyfriend in lipstick, a fact that Harry likes to use to his advantage

☁️ Green Coffee and Morning People by @insightfulinsomniac

(T, 3k, uni) Louis has a crush on the prettiest boy he’s ever seen — the curly-haired guy who sits next to him in his Community Psych class and brings strangely-colored drinks to class with him each day.

☁️ You are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by @dreaminrainbows

(M, 2k, pining) Louis is a hot bartender and Harry is pathetically in love with him

☁️ When you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect? by INnenaHeart / @thechavier

(M, 1k, sexuality crisis) Louis realizes he's into men because of a long hair, chelsea boots wearing, Harry

☁️ The Devil's Hour by silverkiiwii / @tomlinsins

(NR, 1k, established relationship) Harry and Louis are going on their first roadtrip and they have very different interpretations of what leaving in the morning means.

- Rare Pairs -

☁️ Unplanned Circumstances by @haztobegood

(E, 8k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn has worked his whole life to be one of the top spies in the Agency. When he returns from his latest mission, the unexpected reappearance of a one-night-stand could change everything. Part 1 of Unplanned Circumstances

☁️ Baby, I'm Right Here by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 1k, Zayn & Louis) The one where Zayn and Louis are best friends and, after much prompting from their family members, try and give dating a go.

☁️ if it feels like love (then it must be love) by localopa / @voulezloux

(G, 1k, Niall/Shawn Mendes) niall and shawn are in love. if they could both realize this, that would be lovely.

#ficrec #28th appreciation #1dficvillage #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghome #trackinghappily #ficsfor4am #hltracks

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 4 months

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Love and Liabilities (Agatha Harkness x FemReader): Chapter One

Summary: While you attend a pretrial conference for your current case, you’re stunned to learn your opposing council is your former ex…and law school professor, Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, Light Choking, Light Degradation Kink, Mommy Kink, Hate Sex

A/N: Hi :) This idea has been bouncing around my brain since the promo pics came out. Lawyer Agatha, the gift we all need for the new year. This is my first real attempt at writing smut, but I hope y’all enjoy. Updates will be around every 2 weeks. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜 Also a special shout-out to my sweet beta/girlfriend, Sarah, thank you for always listening to my crazy ideas.

Smoothing out a wrinkle from your pantsuit, you looked over your case materials from outside the courtroom. It had been almost a decade since you graduated law school, and you’d spent the time since working in corporate law as a junior attorney, before leaving the firm and working your way up as a top prosecutor. To say you were married to your job would be an understatement. It wasn’t enough to be good, you simply had to be the best. You’d always pride yourself on your ability to dig deep in a case and pull out missing details, or find a crack in a seemingly perfect alibi. You were ruthless, but you knew you had to be. The defense attorneys you found yourself battling in court were absolute sharks, and if they sensed an ounce of hesitation on your end it would be a total bloodbath.

Dealing with criminal defense cases was as interesting as it sounded, although it wasn’t what you envisioned you’d be doing after law school. You had different dreams back then, more altruistic visions of helping those who needed it. Closing your eyes, you saw a brief flash of the strikingly blue eyes and dark hair that caused you to change your choice of career, before you quickly shook those thoughts aside. It had been almost ten years since you’d allowed yourself to think about her- about any of it, and it wouldn’t benefit you to take a stroll down memory lane before the biggest case of your career.

A law clerk eventually came by to inform you the judge was ready for you. This was it. Gathering your materials, you walked through the details again in your mind. Pre-trial conferences were relatively helpful when trying to reach a plea bargain, review evidence, as well as decide what to present to the jury. There was no doubt in your mind that this case would go to trial. After all, a woman who kidnaps two children and takes them to a small town in New Jersey didn’t leave much to plead innocent from. What was the name of it, Westchester? Westmont? No, no, you mentally crossed those out, until the name finally came to mind…Westview. Westview, New Jersey.

The room was relatively empty, and you recognized the judge, Carol Danvers. She had a reputation for being rather uptight, but was typically fair in her rulings. She’d moved up through various circuit courts throughout her career, and you’d heard rumblings she was being eyed for a potential Supreme Court nomination. Setting your briefcase on the empty chair next to you, you thought of any possible hiccups from the defense. Supposedly a brief psych evaluation had been done after the incident to rule anything out, so they wouldn’t try and plead insanity, right? You couldn’t see Carol ruling in favor of that. There was the small problem of genetics; the woman was the boys’ birth mother. But, you’d looked over the adoption contracts, as had your colleagues, and they were airtight. It had been a closed adoption, and from what you could tell there had been no contact for over a decade. Plus, with solid testimonies from both families and multiple eyewitnesses you weren’t worried of whatever argument the defense would make in her favor.

Speaking of the defense, you quickly realized the defense attorney hadn’t arrived yet, which was a bit unusual. Racking your brain, you tried to remember the name of the attorney Yelena said was leading the case, but no one came to mind. Pepper Potts perhaps? Carol also appeared to notice the lack of the second attorney, as she whispered with one of the law clerks. You could barely make out what they were saying, but she sounded annoyed. But, no matter, you knew this had absolutely no impact on you.

Carol finally sighed in defeat at whatever the law clerk told her, something about hitting a fire hydrant? “Well, as we’re waiting on the defense to resolve their…tardiness, will the prosecution step forward?”

Standing up, you grabbed a copy of your materials, evidence, testimonies, anything the judge would need, before taking a step towards the judge. “Your honor, the state of New York is ready to move forward with our case. You’ll find sufficient evidence to dismiss any plea deal, as well as ensure we can schedule a trial date.”

Handing the papers to the judge, you watched as she flipped through them, an unreadable expression on her face. Minutes passed before she looked up at you. “The prosecution is dismissing the plea deal being proposed by the defense?”

Nodding, you recalled the deal that had been sent over to your office. It was preposterous, and was heavily dependent on the mental state of the defendant, or rather the lack of mental state of the defendant. “Yes, your honor. The state has inculpatory evidence to convict the defendant, as well as a number of witnesses willing to testify.”

A voice you’d only heard in your dreams for the past decade spoke up, and you nearly froze in place. “Inculpatory evidence? That’s a rather bold claim, I’d call it circumstantial at best.”

It couldn’t be. Paralyzed, you forced yourself to ignore it, to ignore her and keep your eyes locked forward. It couldn’t possibly be her, you would have remembered hearing her name as the defense attorney. Clearing your throat, you continued, trying to keep yourself calm. “With all due respect, your honor, the typical procedure for a case involving the abduction of a minor is what we’re basing this precedent on-”

An obnoxiously loud cackle cut you off, and nearly made you whip your head around in annoyance. The slow clacking of heels echoed throughout the room, followed by the faint scent of Burberry that invaded your senses. Brief flashes of lecture halls and late night office hour visits intertwined with the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey. Lengthy, heated arguments over the moral justification of various Supreme Court rulings whilst being undressed and pressed against the door. Diamond jewelry and lavish bouquets being delivered to your modest law school apartment as you sheepishly explained to your roommates you were seeing an older woman. Secret rendezvous in dimly lit piano bars in Manhattan which would end in a king size bed in a penthouse you could never dream of affording.

It all led back to the same thought, the same woman you’d done your best to let go of. The very same woman you currently found yourself standing face to face with. Agatha Harkness. Clever blue eyes met yours, and a slow smirk painted her perfect red lips. She hadn’t changed much over the past decade. Her dark hair, now peppered with some gray, was pinned back with a few loose strands framing her face, and you briefly thought of how well it suited her. The fitted black pantsuit which accentuated her features, and black heels that made her look deceptively tall as she towered over you.

For a moment it was as if no time had passed at all, and you were back in her lecture hall. But as quickly as that oddly nostalgic feeling overcame you like a tidal wave, it swept away, leaving you with the reality of the situation. Clearing your throat, you looked past Agatha, keeping your focus on Judge Danvers. “As I was saying. While looking at prior cases involving the abduction of a minor we were able to set a precedent that-”

Agatha let out another cackle, and it took everything in you to not roll your eyes. However it appeared Carol was at the end of her rope with patience, as she banged her gavel twice. “Does the defense have something they wish to share with the rest of us?”

“Your honor,” Agatha drawled out, her voice sweet like honey, “The prosecution is making bold assumptions on precedents that do not directly follow the evidence of this particular case. To rule anything otherwise would be direct defamation to my client.”

“Defamation?” You all but hissed, momentarily forgetting you were in the middle of a courtroom. The answering smirk Agatha gave you only fuelled your fire. “Your honor, the defense is all but negating the direct evidence of the defendant’s guilt. We would like to proceed to trial while throwing out the plea deal.”

Agatha’s shark tooth grin widened, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was baiting you to get a reaction. Typical, as she always prided herself on being ten steps ahead of her opponent. Taking a deep breath, you regained your calm composure. It would do you no good to allow your emotions to take over. That would merely ensure Agatha to have one more victory over you, one more thing she would take away from you. But things were different this time, you weren’t some feeble, naive law student fawning over her professor. The playing field was finally leveled, and it was about time she realized that.

Unfortunately, you forgot Agatha never played fair. You curiously watched her grab two folders from her briefcase, all but tossing one at you whilst handing Carol the other. “While we’re discussing the plea deal your honor, I’ve included additional information regarding my client’s psychiatric evaluation.”

Practically tearing the folder open, your eyes scanned the lengthy documents before landing on something that nearly made you fall over. Before you could get a word in, Agatha continued on. “Due to our country’s ever failing healthcare and medical practices, my client has been unable to receive a proper psychiatric evaluation. Your honor, I am requesting a continuance to this trial until my client can get the help she needs.”

Carol’s focus remained on the papers, an inscrutable expression coloring her features. “I’m granting a one month continuance for the defendant, Wanda Maximoff, to be given a psychiatric evaluation. As long as Miss Maximoff follows the terms of her probation and doesn’t leave the state of New York, we’ll resume this conference one month from today. Thank you to the prosecution and defense, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to see the smug smirk on Agatha’s face, you packed up your materials, including the folder Agatha gave you, and did your best to hurry out of the courtroom. It was foolish to think you’d beat Agatha at the game she taught you to play. That’s what it always was to Agatha, a game. It was like everyone around her was playing checkers while she was constructing the most elaborate game of chess known to man. All while she moved you around as whatever piece she desired; because that’s how she viewed you, as an object she could twist and mold to her liking until you outlived your usefulness.

Ignoring the familiar sound of her heels approaching, you drafted a quick email to one of your colleagues with the news of the trial being halted before going to order your Uber. You didn’t have to look up to know Agatha was standing in front of you, because that was just part of her intricate plan. She surely knew you were furious, because of course she did. Hadn’t she once told you she knew everything? At the time you thought it was a cheeky remark to make you laugh, but looking back you came to terms with the fact that the only person Agatha Harkness could ever care for was herself.

You were growing weary of the rising tension, so you finally broke the silence, keeping your eyes locked on your phone. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure,” Agatha replied, and although you weren’t looking at her you could practically feel her gaze burning into you. “I never took you for a sore loser, dear.”

There it was, she was trying to get her claws back in you. Keeping your tone even, you checked on the status of your Uber. “I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to. I’m just doing my job.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, your phone was ripped from your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, angrily whipping your head up and your eyes narrowed, meeting the deep blue eyes you used to get lost in. “Give me back my phone.”

“Checking for your ride?” Agatha mocked, arching an eyebrow up at you. “Is that more interesting than talking to me?”

“Watching paint dry would be more interesting than speaking with you,” You retorted, your discomfort quickly growing.

“Now darling, is that any way to speak to me?” Agatha teased, her voice gradually dropping in volume. “It’s been so long.”

Glaring at her, you tried to pry your phone from her hands, but she put it in her back pocket. “And whose fault is that again?” Your voice was laced with venom, you subconsciously wanted to make her feel as badly as you had. “Should we take a stroll down memory lane and recall what caused this?”

Agatha’s gaze hardened at that jab, and you momentarily wondered if you pushed too hard. “I’m surprised you’re leading this case. I thought you wanted to,” she paused and used air quotes, “‘help the voiceless’, not strangle them.”

“How dare you,” You seethed, not caring that your voice was growing in volume. “I’m just doing my job, Agatha. Besides, isn’t strangling the helpless what you do best?”

Agatha tilted her head back, and let out another cackle. “Doing your job? You’re trying to imprison an innocent mother.”

“Your innocent mother kidnapped two minors and took them over state lines,” You fired back, vaguely aware that Agatha was taking small, slow steps towards you.

“She’s still their mother,” Agatha pointed out and you felt your face grow red from rage.

“Regardless of DNA, it was a closed adoption. She waived her parental rights,” You argued, unaware of anything but the infuriating woman standing in front of you. “Surely you’ve been practicing long enough to know how to read a contract.”

“And I thought I taught you to read between the lines of said contracts,” Agatha countered, and you knew she was testing your argument, it’s what she always did. “Things aren’t always black and white, dear.”

No they weren’t, you silently agreed. By this point your back was to the wall of the deserted corridor, Agatha still towering over you. Your faces were practically touching, and you could practically taste her lips. Both of you were panting from the exertion of bickering, and it wouldn’t take much to close the distance. She was so close, closer than she had been to you in so long. Having her back in your orbit, taking over all of your senses, made you forget the reasons you were so angry with her. Instead, it made you remember how many other times you had found yourself in this exact same position.

You could feel your ironclad restraint begin to slip away, and Agatha appeared to notice it as well. She let out a low chuckle as she turned her face to the side, her breath now hot against your ear, and allowing her to whisper, “Looks like it still doesn’t take much to get you riled up, does it?”

Shuddering, you struggled to get your breathing even, thinking of the many reasons why this was a horrible idea. Your history aside, you were on opposing sides of what would most likely be a very public case. It wasn’t just unprofessional to be doing this, it could potentially jeopardize your whole career. But it was hard to think about any of that when you locked eyes with the woman you had spent so much time trying to forget. Her right hand left your waist to push back the loose strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear.

Each movement was slow, and delicate, and as her fingers slowly trailed down your neck, she gently squeezed, before gradually applying more pressure, and you had to physically restrain yourself from moaning. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and had to close your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. Agatha’s lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open kisses on your flesh while her fingers began to move lower, cupping your left breast before slowly pinching your nipple. This time you couldn’t stop the quiet moan that left your lips, and Agatha quickly used her free hand to silence you, covering your mouth.

“You always had a problem being quiet,” Agatha murmured, lips still on your skin. “Let’s find somewhere more…secluded to continue this, hm?”

Feeling yourself nod, you opened your eyes and let out a pathetic whine as she let go of you. It didn’t take long to find an empty storage closet, and Agatha practically shoved you inside before slamming the door behind her.

Pressing you against the bare wall, her eyes scanned yours before asking, “Are you sure?”

Being with Agatha like this was the greatest euphoric high, and it always left you wanting more and more. It didn’t have to mean anything, and you certainly didn’t want it to. It was just two people working out their frustrations, right? You nodded again, grabbing her right hand and placing it back around your throat. “Are you going to choke me again or are you too much of a coward?”

She nearly growled at that, and squeezed, a little rougher this time. You pressed your face into her shoulder, trying to silence the noises you always made when she touched you. She had barely started but it was so good, and you didn’t hesitate when she used her free hand to try and remove your blazer. Taking a step back to take off your blouse and bra, you nearly tripped over some boxes, and her hands steadied you.

“Careful,” She lightly teased, eyes still dark from arousal. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Her hands skillfully unhooked your bra, carelessly tossing it to the side, before lowering her mouth to your breast, and lewdly sucked. As if she anticipated the noises you’d inevitably make, she roughly pressed two fingers in your open mouth for you to suck. Moaning around them, you eagerly sucked and sucked, thinking of where you wanted her fingers to go next. Agatha’s tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it enough to make it go erect before using her teeth to pull. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, your last functioning brain cells wondering how she could still have this strong of an effect on you.

She let out a low hum, clearly enjoying this as much as you were before moving to your other breast, only this time she bit down, and the rush of pain and pleasure flooded you. Unable to cry out as she fucked her fingers further down your throat before adding a third, causing you to gag around them. Releasing your breast, Agatha panted out, “Look at how pathetic you are, sucking on my fingers like a good little slut. What a good girl.”

Whimpering around her fingers, you clenched at the filth spewing from her lips. You hated this, how easily she could flip the switch and have you dripping and wanting her to fuck you through the floorboards. Agatha cooed, using her free hand to gently stroke your face, and roughly pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She was face level again, and you watched the gears turn in her head as she weighed out what to do with you. That same free hand cupped your jaw, and she was so close, your brain buzzing from the endorphins. It was so good, you hated how good it was.

Her normally perfectly red lips were stained and parted slightly as she looked at you with an indecipherable stare, and you were still breathless from her earlier ministrations. Before you could fully comprehend what you were doing, you grabbed her hair and smashed your lips together. You swore you heard her groan, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and you had no time to contemplate it as you felt her tongue teasing the entrance of your mouth. It has been so long, so very long, but you fell back into the familiar dance you could never forget.

Everything Agatha did she dominated, for she had such a strong presence that was impossible to ignore. Just kissing her was enough to get you off, as her tongue expertly swirled around yours, sending you further and further from the edge of reality. You were so far gone you barely noticed her hands moving lower, and lower, until they were pawing at your ass. Groping and grabbing, she was insatiable as she conquered your mouth. You broke apart for merely a second and without speaking, you helped get rid of your pants, slightly stunned you were still this in sync after all this time.

But again, you had no time to ponder that thought as Agatha quickly slammed you against the wall, and you couldn’t help but moan at the pain. The same fingers you eagerly sucked on were now teasing your entrance, rubbing gentle, slow circles. Agatha’s breath was hot in your ear, and you whined, trying to thrust your hips up for more friction. You needed more, you needed her more than ever before. Going without for so long was fine, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like, what she felt like; but the second you remembered you couldn’t bear a second without it.

“Someone’s awfully worked up,” Agatha taunted, her voice softly whispering in your ear. “Did you want something?”

“Agatha…” You breathed out, your voice nearly cracking. “Please…”

Her fingers teased your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, causing Agatha to silence you with yet another kiss. “Behave,” she murmured against your lips, “Do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fill that sweet little cunt?”

Mewling, you again tried to tilt your hips up, desperate to feel her inside you, but her other hand kept you in place. “Agatha, please, I…I need it, please fuck me.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “I know your brain just melts when that pussy gets wet, but we both know that’s not what you want to call me, is it?” Blushing, you tried to avert your eyes but it was impossible. She nipped at your lips before continuing. “Be a good girl and beg for it.”

“Mommy,” The words slipped past your lips and you felt another rush of heat between your legs while Agatha moaned.

“Good girl,” Agatha praised you, and before you could prepare yourself she roughly entered you with two fingers, filling you completely.

Her fingers were so long and so good, hitting the spots you had trouble reaching. You couldn’t help but clench around them, and she groaned in your ear. Wasting no time, she set a fast and hard rhythm, skillfully fucking you better than anyone else since her had been able to.

“I almost forgot how good your cunt feels around my fingers,” Agatha hissed, nibbling on your ear, “Suck me in, slut.”

Your hips met her fingers, and you desperately chased your orgasm. “Harder, please mommy fuck me harder.”

Putting all of her weight on you, Agatha swiftly added a third finger and you nearly squealed at how full you felt. Her fingers were so deep, and you were so close, so very close to the edge.

“Such a good whore for mommy,” Agatha cooed, and her voice was strained, you could tell she was close too. “Do you want to come on my fingers?”

“Mommy please,” You cried out, unable to focus on anything but wanting to feel her fingers make you come harder than you could ever remember.

Agatha’s hips rested against your knee, and she began riding your leg, chasing her own high. “Come for mommy, baby. Soak my fingers.”

Twisting her fingers and hitting your G-spot again, and again causing you to quickly unravel. Feeling your orgasm coming, you clenched around her fingers, needing her to stay inside you. Your knees buckled and you swore you saw stars, unable to speak as you silently cried out. Agatha came right as you did, grunting in your ear and roughly thrusting against your leg as she came undone.

“Fuck,” She panted, keeping her fingers inside you as you continued to twitched around them. “Good girl, such a good girl for mommy.”

Breathing heavily, you gradually felt yourself come back to Earth. You were drenched with sweat, and you were sure you looked positively debauched. Agatha was staring at you with yet another inscrutable expression on her face, and you felt yourself relaxing around her fingers as she slowly pulled out. You grabbed her hand, and lewdly cleaned her fingers off, watching her eyes darken once more as you made a point to swirl your tongue around them until they were clean.

As your brain fog cleared, you were all too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing around you. With every high that came with being with Agatha, it was almost always followed by an indescribable low. There were so many things you wanted to ask her, so many things you needed to know. Brief flashes of arguments and slamming doors. Dozens of unanswered calls, and late nights spent wondering what you had done wrong to deserve her random outbursts of anger. But with every argument, every heated fight, it would always end the same way; with Agatha pressing you against some surface and having her way with you.

There had been so much more going on at that point than you were aware of, and as the pieces slowly came together, she was too far gone for you to be able to help. You’d begged and pleaded with her, but it never mattered. What was it your therapist had said to you? You couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Letting go of her nearly killed you, and now you made the mistake of opening that door again, knowing how much more complicated it would be. You weren’t just her law student anymore, you were on opposing sides of a trial.

It appeared Agatha was having the same train of thought as you, for she wordlessly helped you find your clothes. In spite of her just being inside you, you made a point of turning around as you got dressed, as the air in the room seemed to drop and any of the warmth that had been there prior had disappeared. There was so much you wanted to say, yet simultaneously wanted to get as far away from her as you could.

Agatha finally broke the silence as she fixed her hair, and she was back to her usual condescending self. “You know you’re wrong pursuing this case, right? It’s not too late to back out.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed your phone from her back pocket and saw your Uber driver understandably canceled your ride. That would certainly tank your rating. You quickly ordered another before replying with, “You know this meant absolutely nothing to me, right?”

Pushing past her to exit the room, she let out another cackle, the sound like grating nails on a chalkboard in your ears. You knew she wouldn’t follow you, and you were thankful for that. This was an indiscretion, a momentary lapse of judgment. You’ve been on edge with all the extra hours you’ve been working; you weren’t thinking clearly. The courthouse was still relatively empty, and you left the building, trying to get the thought of Agatha out of your mind. Why did she have to be so infuriating?

Your Uber eventually rolled up and as you got in you went to check your work email. It never failed to amaze you how quickly your inbox would fill up when you didn’t check it for more than five minutes. Scrolling through, you vaguely listened to the music your driver had in in the background, until a familiar song started playing. Frank Sinatra, a favorite artist of a certain attorney. The Way You Look Tonight had always been one of her favorites, and you could remember the last time you listened to it together.

Your mind absentmindedly drifted, the memories you’d tried to lock away slowly creeping back up to the surface. It seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget, she didn’t want you to. Settling into your seat, listening to Frank Sinatra, you thought back to the first time you met Agatha, or rather, how you met Professor Harkness.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha harkness smut

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elliehase-blog · 2 months

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The Valentine's Surprise

It’s just a random day in February and Roman bursts through the door, bringing a blast of cold air from outside into Virgil’s room.

“We have a problem!”

“Hm,” Virgil replies without looking up from his book.

“It’s an emergency,” Roman says more emphatically.

Virgil lifts an eyebrow slightly. “Is the house on fire? Should I run for my life?”

“Much worse.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman unceremoniously flop down on the armchair next to him, burying his face in his arms.

“We have no date for Valentine’s Day,” he says in a tone of voice in which other people say, ‘I only have six months to live’. “Why do I think of this so late every year? Why? Why is Valentine’s Day always so sudden?”

Virgil smirks behind the pages. “Yes, it’s hard to believe that they put it so spontaneously and completely arbitrarily on February the 14th again. Is it no longer possible to rely on anything in life?”

Roman fishes for a pillow and throws it in Virgil’s direction. “Not funny, Mister Sarcasm!”

It becomes more than clear that Roman, with all his pre-Valentine’s heartbreak, isn’t going anywhere else. Virgil struggles with himself for a moment before finally putting the book aside and turning to Roman.

“Why are you bothering me with this anyway? Patton seems to me the right side to contact for your problem.”

Roman sighs deeply and tragically. “No, it has to be you,” he confesses and comes finally to the point. “You’re the one who can push this problem into focus.”

‘Ah’ thinks Virgil, only mildly surprised. No one ever comes to him for advice. Especially not Roman.

“Listen, Princey, weren’t we all agreeing on not psyching ourself out over some day and instead celebrating love in all its forms?”

He knew that the topic would come up again, no matter how well Roman coped with the whole thing on the outside. You don’t have to be a genius to realize that his thoughts still revolve around Nico Flores and the unclear relationship.

“Ugh.” Roman sighs again. “It’s just…,” he starts to explain and his voice sounds husky, as if he had a cold. “I’m Thomas’s romantic side and I should do something, right? Valentine’s Day makes me sentimental, and I want to throw around grand gestures, but… What’s the point of embracing love if you never get anything back?”

That was too much of an exaggeration, even by Roman’s standards. Virgil would like to make a sarcastic remark again, but he can’t. Not when Roman looks like that, so worked up and hurt. It always causes a strange tug in his chest that he can’t quite explain.

“Wow, that’s a gloomy way of seeing it.” Virgil swings his legs over the edge of the couch and stands up. “Come on, you stayed already for too long in my room. Breathe, okay?”

Roman allows Virgil to grab him by the arm and carefully escort him out of this dark corner of the mind.

“Better?”

“Better,” Roman agrees, but still sounding a little helpless.

It’s unbearable.

“Okay, you know what, let me show you something.”

Almost energetically, Virgil manoeuvres them in the direction of the stairs. It’s kind of surprising how little defensive Roman is about all of it. Usually, he is protesting and whining a lot more. For now, he just raises his arms in a questioning manner.

“Virge, what-” he stops abruptly. Roman has the widened, panicked gaze of a deer on the highway that suddenly and abruptly finds itself in the middle of the headlights of an approaching truck.

“Oh my goodness! Are you kidding me?! What’s… Why…?”

Virgil bites his lower lip, amused. “My pet spider wanted a friend, and you’re always into battling monsters, so…”

“No, no, no… No!”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Unconditional, requited love.”

Roman looks at Virgil, then at the spider and his tiny self, and finally back to Virgil again.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Virgil crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. To be honest, he’s just a little smug about it. You can’t choose where Cupid’s arrow will land.

“What can I say, you make my spider feel special and awesome.”

The corners of Roman’s mouth twitch. It looks like a smile he’s suppressing. “I will tolerate this nonsense,” he says benevolently. “But it’s not at all solving my problem.”

Virgil should walk away now, leaving Roman behind with nothing but his self-doubts and fears. That’s at least what the old anxiety would do. Damn it, he is not the one who is usually comforting people! But then again… it’s all about family, right? At least, that’s what Patton would say.

“I can’t believe that I have to point it out.” Virgil sighs and feels a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Love always comes around for us when we least expect it. You don’t have to force anything, Roman. Accept and acknowledge what you already have. There’s a lot of affection in different ways and forms around you. You’re just not seeing it clear.”

It’s strange to have said it out loud after it’s been rumbling in his stomach like an ulcer. Strange and relieving at the same time.

Virgil clears his throat. Anyway, it’s not that he meant anyone specific. What matters is, that Roman’s face suddenly lights up with a warm, knowing smile. It makes Virgil feel a whole lot better too.

"I knew I could count on you," says Roman softly, and no one is commenting it.

💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️

I hope you enjoyed the small (not beta-read) story. I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes my german brain wasn't seeing.

#sanders sides #sander sides fanart #sander sides fanfic #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #valentines day

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imagining-in-the-margins · 11 months

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hi!! do you have any fic recs for non-bau!reader x spencer? i’m not too picky just would love to read about navigating a domestic relationship with an agent while being entirely NOT in that field! so maybe something fluffy (but never opposed to smutty). thank you in advanced 🧚‍♀️

Hey friend! I've compiled most of my Civilian!Reader fics here, although I will say not a lot of them focus on the difficulties navigating the job. For that, you'll find the most luck with my two most popular series below. Otherwise, it's a somewhat eclectic group of fics, which I hope you can still enjoy ❤️

If anyone has any favorite fics that the anon might be interested in, please share them in the comments or reblogs! Self-promotion is always welcome!

S.R. Series (NSFW, 18+ MINORS DNI)

The Birds & The Bees (ongoing series): Prof!Spencer, Virgin!Reader. Reader interviews for a position as Dr. Spencer Reid’s Teaching Assistant, and Spencer learns something special about her.

Here to Misbehave (completed series): Spencer meets a girl he can’t get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there.

S.R. SFW Oneshots

Dead Air: Professor Reid is hesitant to be a guest on his old student’s true crime video series, but is surprised to find it’s not so bad.

Defining Family: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Devil’s Advocate: Spencer’s been hooking up with the defense attorney in secret. At some point what was purely physical turned into something else.

Fairytales: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Funny Thing Fate: Autistic!Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Haunted: Spencer’s never told anyone what happened in prison.

Growing Pains: Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry. When he confronts his wife, he learns it belongs to their teenage daughter.

Intentions: Spencer’s teenage daughter wants to have a conversation with you about your intentions with her father.

It’s Personal: Reader reminds Spencer’s team that it’s never appropriate to ask someone for their age, even if they’re dating their coworker.

Java Jive: Spencer and Emily take a break at the local coffee shop and she makes an understandable mistake about barista Reader and Spencer’s relationship.

Kitten Love: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call.

Maddening One, My Goddess: Spencer has a one night stand… on February 13th. The next day, he is confronted with a familiar face on his pre-planned double date.

Not Your Backup: Spencer and JJ argue about her jealousy of his girlfriend.

Quid Pro Quo: Spencer is entranced by the law student in his class.

Rib Cage: Spencer realizes Reader is the one, but it might be too late. He has to find her.

Serendipitous: Spencer’s pretty sure Penelope mixed up his blind date.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

Style Theory: Fashion student Reader meets their favorite scholar and teaches him a lesson in self-love.

The Perfect Plan: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

The Prodigy Path: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style.

S.R. SFW Blurbs

At Ease: Spencer comes home to his partner and finds them still asleep.

Birthday Wish: Spencer is sad he can’t reach you on his birthday.

Favorite Person: Reader just needs a little extra reassurance sometimes.

S.R. NSFW Oneshots (18+, MINORS DNI)

Big Bad Wolf (Part 1, Part 2): Spencer is overwhelmed by the apparent innocence of an elementary school teacher he meets on a case.

Blush: Spencer finds something surprising in his girlfriend’s sock drawer after he’s released from prison.

Cupid & Psyche: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him.

Devil in the Backseat: Reader is a little too much (and Spencer's into it).

Get Lucky: It’s 3AM and a pipe burst in Reader’s apartment. She is soaked, angry, and forgot her wallet and phone. Her neighbor Spencer tries his best to make the night not terrible.

I Like It Like That: Spencer is jealous after a rowdy party.

Kiss ’n Tell: Reader gets drunk on a night out with the girls and accidentally mimics her boyfriend’s habit of oversharing.

My Boss’s Daughter: Spencer’s fling with his boss’s daughter is definitely going to get him fired.

Relief in Regrets: Spencer turns to his ex-girlfriend in a time of need.

Rewrapped: Reader tries to be cheeky, but regrets it a little too late to do anything about it.

Rodeo Show: Spencer and Reader weren’t planning on having an audience that morning.

Schrödinger’s Relationship (Part 1, Part 2): Reader finds out Spencer has been dating a kind and cute woman (when he’s not spending the night at her house).

Study Session: Spencer really hates his student, but he can’t resist her.

Vienna: Spencer is a bona fide 40-year-old virgin. After a few months of dating Reader, he finally decides he wants to change that.

Yellow Light: Everyone thinks Reader is dangerous. Probably because she’s Cat’s sister. But is that why Spencer likes her?

Happy reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #answer #answered

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genericpuff · 3 months

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Hello, brazilian anon here! So I have been following criticisms of LO for a while now, and Psyche and Eros caught my attention in special, because their relationship is legit a racist trope commonly applied to indigenous people: Woman of color is put in a arranged marriage or pressured into marrying a guy from her village/tribe but "falls in love" with a white dude who "saves" her from her abusive and "uncivilized" family. Think of Disney's Pocahontas. This trope is commonly used to dehumanize non-european/anglo-saxon cultures and portray them as barbaric, and is rooted in colonialism and its direct heir, imperialism, as a means for colonizers to justify and sugarcoat raping and forcing women of color to marry them. So not a good look for Rachel.

OH YEAH IT IS

(you just opened Pandora's Box by mentioning Pocahontas around me LMAO)

It's even more egregious when you consider how Rachel changed the original myth from Psyche undergoing trials on her own to her ... being turned into a nymph servant for Aphrodite. Like huh. Is that really your final draft, Rachel? Have you thought this through?

I made a very spicy post about this like a year and a half ago and honestly I think it's still worth talking about because it's incredibly telling that Psyche had her entire story uprooted and replaced with a version where she's transformed into a non-POC character to disguise herself as a servant to a woman who's already racist towards nymphs. It's got that issue of "take the black character and transform them into an animal/other being that isn't black so that we don't have to have a black character onscreen for more than 10 minutes."

And yeah, you can tell how much Rachel is absentmindedly taking from Disney without challenging what those stories were portraying or asking deeper questions to get to the heart of their messaging. Pocahontas is rightfully panned for being a very white-washed version of a story that was written in the blood shed by Native Americans at the hands of colonizers. "Pocahontas" herself, even, was not some independent native woman who fell in love with the "one good white guy" on the boat, she was a teenage girl, whose life was spared but made worse when she was forced to travel overseas to be used as a prop to justify their continued actions in murdering and colonizing the "savages" overseas; she was then forced into marriage and had to carry the children of her captors, all while being treated as an exotic spectacle by the people around her who would undoubtedly kill her at the first sign of disobedience.

Her name was Matoaka. Her life and story is not something that should be romanticized. It's a tragedy and much of what instigated it is still alive and well today. She only lived to be 21.

I don't know if Rachel intentionally referenced or ripped off Pocahontas in Lore Olympus the same way she clearly has with Hercules and Beauty and the Beast. But it's incredibly telling in how she treats the racial divide between nymphs and gods and how she's twisted the Eros x Psyche myth into what it is that even if she did watch Pocahontas, she probably never realized how problematic it is at its core in the way that it's told.

In the original myth, Psyche is a woman who's meant to represent the fickleness of vanity - the loneliness it can make one feel to be admired and not truly loved, and the destruction that can be brought about in jealousy - and her pursuit in finding genuine love in Eros, a journey she travels alone, thematically with the rest of the story.

In Lore Olympus, she's an illiterate woman of color whose only purpose is to be Eros' wife, robbed of all agency so that she can be a trophy for him to earn, a test for him to pass. It's boring and really icky when you really peel back the layers of it with Psyche's character design in mind. Even when she finally does get more agency in her task to bring down Apollo - or at the very least, keep an eye on him - it's still at the behest of Zeus who gives her immortality not as a reward for overcoming the trials she set out to pass, but so she can be his errand boy. So once again she's not capable of doing anything motivated by her own best interests (especially when she already knows how dangerous Apollo is, why is she the one who has to follow this guy around?)

So yeah, no, not a good look at all LMAO

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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poopypeepyp · 12 days

Text

jean-paul and tim fighting in the batcave is what fandom thinks happened between jason and tim

it's so funny to me that fanfiction version of titans tower incident (teen titans 2003 #29) is basically what canonically happened during knightquest the crusade (tec #668 and robin #1)

tim is actually 14 years old so it was a fight between an actual kid and adult instead of two teenagers

tim is beaten up in his safe place by an ally who he used to have positive feelings about (i mean it was tim who broke in and sneaked around the batcave so i don't blame jpv for self-defense!)

tim is annoyed that he worked so hard to become robin only to be shut down by jean-paul and now having to prove himself to him (didn't go well)

(detective comics #668/showcase '93 #11)

tim sasses jean-paul

(detective comics #668/bloodbath special #1)

jean-paul strangles tim lol

(detective comics #668/robin 1993 #1)

jean-paul intends to kill tim? probably? not really? i mean he kind of threatens to later in knightsend but he is in a silly goofy mood

(detective comics #677)

jean-paul immediately regrets attacking tim and is very sorry and sad wet cat (tim is not buying it (angsty))

(robin 1993 #1)

jean-paul is not in full control of himself because of The System

The System is "lazarus pit rage" except it's a religious programming and instead of seeing green jean-paul hallucinates a templar knight telling him to be batman or something

the strangling incident has lasting consequences not only on their relationship but the plot too (tim can't shut up about it)

(batman #506/#507/#508)

(catwoman 1993 #31)

tim and dick become closer after that (also dick hates jp's guts lol)

(showcase '93 #11/#12/detective comics #681)

(batman: gotham knights #14 the issue is called sibling rivalry btw. you know)

also in his azbats era jean-paul thinks he is so much better and effective than bruceman (while he is actually having a mental breakdown) and bruce feels very responsible for how he fucked up jp's psyche and deems him one of his biggest mistakes (jp and batman angst real)

(azrael 1995 #1/#2/#36 look at him he's so sad)

after knightsend jean-paul feels very guilty and becomes a better person while struggling with mental health and The System (and fights evil cult that manipulated him with his new friends)

also i personally believe none of this would have happened if tim didn't give jean-paul a bad haircut

(batman #491)

#people should start writing fanfiction about it and call it “batcave strangling incident” or something lol #anyways i wish tim and az interacted more nowadays it would be funny. please dc i want azrael #they are brothers your honor or whatever #please note that during knightfall saga jpv is in a bad place mentally.. he gets better! he is more than edgy batman(i love him in any way)#by fanfic version i just mean the tropes and misconceptions that people write ok #dc comics #batman #batfam #batfamily #batbros #batboys #titans tower #titans tower au #tim drake #robin #red robin #jason todd #red hood #jean paul valley #azrael #azbats #jpv #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #fanon vs canon #jp doesnt want to endanger children in his own vigilantism and everyone acts like he's the bad guy🙄#where are these people who criticize batman for making robins “child soldiers” they would love this guy #this titans tower incident is whatever i just dont understand why everyone talks about it like it was important or impactful when it wasnt #i thought about including all my screenshots where dick calls jpv names but there were too many

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

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WIBTA if i cut off someone reaching out for help on tumblr? i am a very anxious person. ive been on tumblr a very long time because most all other social media terrifies me as someone who grew up with the wild west internet a decade past (im in my late 20s) so i feel sometimes with how reckless and spurractic people can be online in chatroom and especially clearly public platforms where any stranger, malicious or otherwise can just archive your digital presence for personal use.

more recently as someone who has been here during the pornban and as an asexual really enjoyed the quiet with no drama farming and a slow pace to talk about more unique political topics in a measured way it is something im strangely nostalgic for and a great example of my sensibilities to people when they insist that i use other platforms like discord or twitter or whatever clone for these services comes out of the old guard introducing feature creep to copy everyone else or any other indi "were the anti corporate version" of the endless scroll apps. i just dont want it. tumblr is special because im desktop only, been here for years, and i have kept track of every single change made so i have manually adjusted the change through hacks to evade every bad decision on here and make my set up look identical to how it was in 2010. so let it be understood that i tend to be a loney person because of this stubbornness. web 3.0 is too dangerous to people with addictive tendencies that my adhd brings out and my need to wear my heart on my sleeve. so i hope i defended my personality type enough to show why someone like me would see a post about some horrible abuses they have fell victim to who also share alot of the marginalized status as me and writing depressive things in the replys of others posts as to attention seek about it.

i directly interact with this person, not only to check if they are real (but wow, modern chat bots make this part horrifying for me. we really cant ever know for sure what is real anymore. trying to find warmth on the internet feels impossible now a days) i have multiple conversations at this point both venting and just casually shooting the shit. but the begging for me to constantly repost their paypal makes me so nervous in a way that i feel so guilty for because it reminds me of all the scams that get associated with this kind of ebegging and the reminder that capitalism takes away all warmth from human interaction to make them purely transnational and conditional. but then it just has been escalating where im so scared that now its not enough that im reposing on my 8 follower, all mutual blog, they are asking me to share it on other socials. accounts i do not have i have a flip phone and a laptop and i am tinkering with a windows 7 tower that will never be connected to the internet so i can always have software sit perfectly in its time capsule for when i need it. i do not have a way to help this person outside of what i learned from collage psyche classes. a part of me is so scared to just abruptly cut them off and just delete my entire account like i tend to do often on tumblr for a multitude of reasons, its a part of what lets people survive being here this long but i worry that would crush them if i did that, i dont want to make them feel more hopeless and unwanted then they already talk about. but i am text on the internet through a screen. i can only do so much. so would i be the asshole if i just deleted my account with a "i hope you hang in there, the world is a harsh place but keep moving" to cut someone so similar to me who is struggling out of my life?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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jozlyn-moon · 24 days

Text

The Cipher Twins

Ford’s Journal Entry:

(It’s long! And one of the first Journal Entries I’ve gone fully into making!)

“How and Why that devil managed to “conceive”, and I use this term loosely, is beyond me. Especially when it’s taken in mind how careful with planning he chooses to be. But the outcome of two children that share such gains of his power is.. well- reckless, but that does give us a view that he isn’t as on his game as much as he once was, which in my eyes shows as a beacon of hope. Continuing though-

These two have been an eye opening pain in the ass to deal with in all the years that they’ve had to be in my life… and that’s saying quite a bit. From the oddities that sprout from their father’s genes to the oddities that come from each of their unique personalities that stem from their own special quirks, to study them has been an experience. Though, if I shouldn’t lie.. I may have chosen a favorite of the two for one reason or another and even if either manages to get a hand on my writing their opinion would not much matter in the end.

To begin on the first, Lily Cipher, a rambunctious but albeit pleasant kid to be around. An attribute which I could only give thanks to in the mother’s raising of both of the twins which I presumed had fortunately been enough to quell any evil nature that may have been held in her soul. Along with the fact that there had been no contact with the father in her and her sibling’s upbringing. Ignoring that fact- She can be described as a great help around the lab, seeing as age and stress have worn down my ability to keep steady with my motor and cognitive skills… she comes in handy as a shockingly fast learner, but to no surprise really as much as I don’t want to point the praise at where the origin of the ability may have come from, I do have my guesses to who it was passed down from.

She is a very curious and hyperactive child as well, being quite fascinated in the little things and anything that moves, she could only remind me of Mabel in her younger years in the most bitter sweet way possible. I pray for the moment that she’s alright.. but besides that point-

I find that she’s been a large help in also understanding, if not, being able to decrypt the genetics of my enemy, with her ability to shape shift into a form similar to the beings of Bill’s late home dimension, flatlanders as they’re called, she has given key samples of skin and DNA that have properties no normal being can handle nor have. I believe she and her brother are direct keys in Bill’s downfall. And while I wish to be optimistic to the outcomes of their existence at the current time, I do hold dread for whats to come. As while I may have positive outcomes with the more sweet hearted sibling… I have trouble describing the short tempered and snide one as such. Liam is another whole pile of bones to dissect but i’ll get to his summary soon enough.

Lily, and what baffles me the most about her, is how something so, well giddy and sweet by nature, can come out of such a creature that can be so, by choice, dangerously and maliciously evil. But then again, that damn triangle had always had his charms at his hand, so it wouldn’t be a complete surprise if that had passed along to his spawn.

And as much as I want to be paranoid of my enemy’s daughter, seeing first hand her grow up with no influence of her father’s morals and presence due to her mother separating from that devil before either of the twins were born- it lets me ponder on the thought of the nature vs nurture theory and how whether or not natures of the parents pass down to the kin and how much it actual effects their psyche.

Albeit with Lily, she works on her own will with a good moral stand point and natural urge to uplift others in sometimes slightly odd but endearing ways. Though i’m afraid that it’s her brother that leaves me still questioning the nature vs. nurture stand point, as I couldn’t say the same completely for her twin.

Liam Cipher, a more reserved kid but leaning on socially aloof by choice, is one who leaves me sleeping with one eye open. Literally. Seemingly gained the temper of his father along with a slew of other worrying traits that I would rather not be in the presence of while someone has lit his fuse. He is the sole reason why I had to ban or at the least limit the use of both of their magic to the mundane and simple party tricks after an incident with him that cost me half my sight with a fit he threw when he was younger.

Though as his mother insists to me greatly, it’s not the child’s fault for the traits he was born with, he can’t help himself she claims. And while true to some extents I can’t help but feel the dread towards the thought of another Bill like being sprouting due to the “freak accident” of them being somehow made into existence. From the personality to even the damn voice that the kid shares with himself and his devil of a father, I can’t just shake off the feeling of a tense shiver that always crawls up my back when thinking of him growing older.

The only saving grace, and what calms my already paranoid nerves falls upon the ones I could think have a good hand in quelling those unsavory traits, the one’s I label the family buffers. I.e his mother, sister, and at times the cousins that are there to talk him down out of a potential blow out. I couldn’t even dare muster the thoughts to wonder what he’d turn to if his mother nor his “siblings”, if I could even loosely consider the cousins as such, weren’t there to quell his snappy nature. But for the sake of my cortisol levels, I can’t let those scenarios overcome my already racing thoughts because I have enough to deal with now in taking care of both of the twins that have been enough of a hassle on my growing age.

Liam for the most part has made it clear that he has a distaste for me, I believe sprouting from my coldness towards his mother for being deceptive at the beginning of our begrudging guardianship over the kids. And he places it as if I have no good reason, if it wasn’t clear that I have some bother that hiding the children of that damned demon under my nose with what current family I have left wasn’t something to not be chastised for. Not to mention that her withholding from the implicit truth had allowed me and my great great niece and nephew to harbor an attachment to the twins which if I had known before hand their origin… would not have ended well for her.

But I am not heartless, I do understand the fears that may have accompanied the weight of telling the truth at the time. And I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t be one to not swallow my pride and say I know I would have probably acted rashly. But as someone who freshly lost what family they had left at the time I feel as if it would’ve been just.

I don’t hate either of them, even while one may be more a pain in the ass than the other. I do believe I care for them in some sense. Liam is a help to me greatly, I won’t downplay that factor at all, he’s the one that helps me draw in the newer journal entries and goes out to scout with Chloe to do some cartography of the surrounding landscape. A quirk he seems to be great at with a sense of great direction and keen eyesight, something even younger me couldn’t get down right away. My body can only do so much these days as I’ve already made my point earlier that my hands and even now legs can’t do what they did often like they used to.

He’s smart, more smart than he gives himself props for, he knows how to channel a certain charisma and silver tongue that lets him find the best supplies, of course if it isn’t the case that he had stole them in the first place. And like his sister, there is no second thought to where he got that ability from, but it’s better to not dwell on it, just for my sake at least.

Both are a handful in their own ways, but they have grown on me- and they do hold insight in how we may be able to stop weirdmaggedon once and for all.

And I pray that it can be in time.”

(If you made it down here thanks for reading it! I want to make sure I have Ford’s characterization down to some extent 😭 My grammar may not be all that great but I tried lol)

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #gf amber skies #gravity falls concept #alternate universe #stanford pines #lily cipher #liam cipher #journal #journal entry

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wordsinhaled · 9 months

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21 24 !! hugs for dream boy !!

thank you for the prompt and i’m so sorry this is atrociously late, i just got done prepping for an exam that is now over! ❤️

from the soft prompts list — “this is a very long hug now sort of hug” and “just really needed a hug sort of hug.” and i threw in ‘i missed you’ as a bonus

Dream has not known himself to be one for hugs, or indeed embraces of any kind.

Of course he understands their appeal, from the slightly removed perspective that is uniquely his as the lord of dreams. He has crafted more than one reverie of nothing more complex than a single, protracted, yearned-for embrace from someone special to the dreamer.

He comprehends—if only academically—that a simple hug can be, under the right circumstances, blissful. Healing. Transformative. So say the psyches of the visitors to his realm.

Still, Dream is not prepared to experience this firsthand. He is not prepared for the unrestrained enthusiasm with which Hob Gadling bounds up from his chair and opens his arms to him, as though this too is part of their familiar ritual.

Nor is he prepared for how much he is pleased by this welcome. For how much he feels immediately eased to be once again in Hob’s presence, even after so short a time.

Dream has surprised him; it is not their usual evening of the week but a Sunday afternoon, and the Inn is mostly empty: only a few patrons sitting at the bar, Hob comfortable at his customary table, sunlight streaming over the papers surrounding him.

It should feel like Dream is trespassing—he is unexpected, and Hob had clearly been busy—yet somehow it does not.

Instead, it feels startlingly ordinary—a tableau of Hob’s day-to-day life; one Dream finds himself pleased to become a part of.

Hob says, “Hello, my friend,” soft and full of fondness, as though a year of weekly meetings has done nothing at all to make a dent in the joy of calling Dream such. He opens his arms wider.

Dream does not normally indulge himself in Hob Gadling’s subconscious, but Hob was daydreaming of just this not a moment ago, loudly enough that Dream could not help but to see flashes of it.

And Hob Gadling’s daydream is thus: Hob would hold Dream’s narrow frame as though each atom of his form manifested in the Waking were cherished, with enough cherishing left over to bleed over into the Dreaming as well. He would squeeze hard enough to lift him slightly from the floor—if Dream would allow such a liberty; for Hob would fain do only what Dream would find pleasing and not a thing more. Hob Gadling daydreams of what Dream would smell like at the crook of his neck, were Hob to bury his nose there; of how Dream’s hair would feel brushing his cheek. He imagines it soft as cornsilk and ephemeral as shadows, which is, impressively, not far from the truth.

And in Hob’s daydream he says “I missed you,” quietly enough that Dream might not hear. But—secret fear, or dearest wish, or both?—there is every chance that Dream could hear, for Dream, Hob knows, does not have the hearing of a mere mortal.

“I missed you too,” Dream says aloud. He cannot help himself. Who is he, if not a bringer of men’s dreams? This one is easy to fulfill. It requires only that Dream offer up a truth he finds suddenly easy to admit, standing here, sharing the same shaft of sunlight that pools in the smile lines around Hob’s eyes.

Dream takes a step towards Hob, until it is only natural that he finds himself within the circle of Hob’s waiting arms.

He drops his forehead onto Hob’s shoulder, and curls his fists into the thick wool of Hob’s sweater. His hair, shadow-soft, brushes Hob’s cheek, and he knows that in this moment he smells of all that Hob likes best.

(Later, when he thinks of falling in love with Hob Gadling, he imagines he began to realize it then.

For it was a single embrace that set his manifested heart to swaying like a boat settling at anchor; a single embrace that made of him a leaf drifting groundward on a warm spring breeze.

A singular moment of bliss.)

#the sandman #dreamling #god this feels… very rusty but here it is #quite possibly not good at all but i have lost the ability to tell i am 😴😴😴

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noroi1000 · 1 year

Note

can u do a piece where suguru and reader broke up and suguru chase reader everywhere and then (u can do whatever u want with this!)

Crazy plan (slight yandere Geto x reader)

"This isn't okay!" You screamed as you watched as your dark, long hair billowed in the wind as it stood in front of him.

"It's not okay that you want to break up with me for no reason!" He told you with an angry face.

"You said you don't know if it makes sense for us to be together, Suguru. I answer you. It made sense so far. Now... Why do you hate non-sorcerers now?" you asked, calming your emotions for a moment. To at least try to talk to him.

You loved him. And you couldn't stop. You will still love him. But until he realizes that his thinking doesn't make sense, you two need to break up. For your safety. Physical and mental.

You don't know what he can do when he's like this.

If he hates people who aren't sorcerers, how can you help him?

He needs to understand his mistake.

No matter what he does, it won't change. No point in trying, because people never change.

You must continue to argue with him, even if your heart aches when you have to say those few words again:

"Suguru, we have to break off...." you said.

And when he stepped forward and tried to grab you with his hand, you pulled back. Even if you wanted so badly to feel his comforting touch right now.

Your heart was already apologizing to him.

Your hands wanted to grab him to hug him.

You wanted to tie up that messy hair that was cascading down his back and fix it. To make him look neat and well-groomed again.

However, first you had to take care of yours and his psyche.

Maybe he loves you enough to stop thinking about murder. About hating people.

It's as hard for you as it is for Him.

you love him. So. You want to be next to Him forever. But you can't help the fact that what he's thinking right now is crazy.

This is sick...

Your real Suguru would never do such a thing.

Your Suguru has always cared so much for you. He took care of everything around him.

And now...

He wanted to protect you. Saying you two shouldn't be together right now. He wanted to protect you from the fact that he might hurt you.

However, he couldn't live with the thought that you wouldn't be next to him.

You can't be with someone else.

You can't be alone. You think to be only with him.

You've been his girlfriend for almost a year. And you will still be. You will be his girlfriend until the end of the world.

You can be his wife if you agree.

To the end of the world.

And if you don't, he still loved you more. He will always be with you anyway. And only with you.

"Suguru, I'm sorry." You said and turned around. Walking a few meters away.

His heart started beating faster and faster.

His world stopped.

All he saw was your back as you walked forward.

He felt cold.

He always expected to lose, but he could never lose you.

You decided you had to break up. He knew it was hard for you.

He never wanted it. Because knowing that you two are going to break up is even more painful for him than the worst wound he could possibly have. More painful than death.

He saw you walking slowly forward.

He always tried to stay calm. However, now...

His eyes went wild.

Just knowing that he might lose you is too much for him. Far too much.

His eyes started to sting. Like he's about to cry.

What's he got to live for if it's not you?

His desires are not more important than yours. You are more important to him.

Whatever he can do only when you are next to him.

He won't give up what he wants.

And he wants you.

Therefore, you will be with him.

No matter what. You are everything to him. You are his loss and love.

All at once. There was always something special between you two.

He knew you didn't want to leave him. He knew it well. And he would never forget it.

He would never be able to think that you are his enemy. Because you are his love.

He moved his hand towards you.

Like he wants to catch you. stop you.

You turned around for a moment to look at him out of the corner of your eye.

Seeing his desperation and sadness, single tears started to flow from your eyes. You tried to grab his hand but it was too late.

You slowly cut the bond between you with the scissors.

And he and you felt the pain as it was cut further and further.

Until finally his pain turned into something like desire.

He wanted a better world. And a better world can only be if you are with it.

His eyes became sharp, dark.

Although there was still sadness on his face, there was also regret for what he was about to do.

"(y/n), please stop..." he called to you. Calm and sad. Almost silent.

However, you heard his words right. As if he was right behind you. Even if you were meters apart. Like he's talking right into your ear.

"Stop." He said more firmly.

Na The sound of his voice made you cry even more. You wanted to apologize to him, tell him you loved him. However, you couldn't. You had to wait for him to calm down. Until he doesn't want to change the world on his own.

It was the craziest plan you could have had.

Because you left the man you loved so much.

You had a crazy plan to leave him because he had a crazy plan. It couldn't have happened. It couldn't work.

A painful, crazy plan.

Suddenly you heard a chuckle and a black wall appeared in front of you.

"Baby... I know you love me... And you can't just leave it like that. I didn't agree to this..." he said calmly. "Turn to me. Show me your face."

You felt something wrap around your leg, then the other leg. Then hands.

You were immediately turned to him.

At that moment he was standing in front of you.

His face came very close to yours. His lips brushed yours softly.

Strands of his black bangs brushed against your cheeks.

He's bound you with a curse, and he won't let you go.

That's not his style. He would never do that to you.

Unless something happened that he never wanted.

"You can't leave me. You must always be with me. I love you, and I know you love me."

His fingers cupped both sides of your cheeks.

He squeezed your skin gently, smiling at your lovely face.

"We will continue to live together. And I will change the world for you. You are everything to me."

#jjk x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto satoru #geto suguru angst #suguru geto #Yandere Geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujustu kaisen

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dazai-fan-page · 1 month

Note

GO ON POOKS TELL US HIS SPECIAL INTERESTS (eats you)

OK SO!!!

Mental illness and the human psyche

- He obviously has an obsession with what makes people human, as to him it's not a species thing

- He knows how to manipulate people and that requires a decent understanding of how people work

- You look at me and tell me that man didn't walk into libraries and ask for the history of mental illnesses and learn how its been treated in the past.

- The mental image of 11 year old Dazai parroting facts about mental illnesses to anyone who was around makes me sad and therefore I like it.

Death/Afterlife/Religion

- The whole. Suicide obsession.

- I think he'd be very interested in what comes after as he's so caught up in dying

- He was constantly surrounded by death I think it's very very likely he wanted to hear the theories on what happens when you die

- Think of the potential olive branches. 16 skk got into a fight and so Dazai starts talking about what he thinks the nicest afterlife is. Chuuya wants to start a conversation without being too nice so he just "The fuck you think fish go when they kick it?"

- Pen pals w/ Fyodor trying to understand exactly what the differences are in afterlives varying by religion

now those two were obvious ik ik i just like them and i can actually back them up. the rest i just think hed think were cool

Alcohol

Chemistry

Mushrooms

- This one is entirely me projecting but listen to me mushrooms are so fucking cool and dhwbjanabsjskdbwhj

- New one after the Incident lol he started learning so he could get it right next time

Plants Found in Rainforests

Pokémon

Hat Making

(is eaten before i can list off my more deranged ones that are really more hyperfixations than special interests)

#bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x chuuya #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai #osamu dazai #skk #bsd #bsd skk #bsd dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #dazai bsd #skk bsd #dazai headcanons

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