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hazelfoureyes · 2 days

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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x you

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mariasont · 2 days

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you should do more aaron hotchner x reader but they get drunk together and they just have a make out session or something 🤫🤫

Strawberry Wine - A.H

a/n: i took this the bimbo reader route because i'm slightly obsessed with them lately so i hope you don't mind <3

thank you so much for requesting xoxo

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: hotch is a lot more flirty when he's got some alcohol in him

warnings: kind of suggestive?, flirty hotch, making out, mutual pining

wc: 0.9k

You were vaguely aware of the dizzy sensation taking hold, your steps a little unsteady, cheeks a little more flushed. Penelope's voice, usually so clear, now sound like she was yelling from afar, her excitement over a new cooking show barely registering with you. It all faded into the background as your focus narrowed on one person alone--your boss.

Concentrating on something else was the logical choice, but logic seemed to falter in the face of such distraction. I mean, you had eyes after all.

He looked exceptionally good tonight. Jeans. He was wearing jeans and a zip up. His casual look held an irresistibility about it that you rarely got to appreciate, and now it's all you can dwell on. You could easily blame your preoccupation on a few drinks, but in all honesty, you'd be just as enthralled sober.

Your name was floating through the air, and as you turned, you saw Morgan. His grin was wide, the kind that told you he'd been trying to catch your attention for longer than you'd realized.

His eyebrows lifted, bumping against you with a shoulder as he waggled those same eyebrows. So childish. You knew what he was referring to. He was the first one to catch on to your little crush, but despite his behavior you knew he'd never divulge your secret.

You nudged him back, not realizing your own strength until you were almost toppling over. You only found your footing when you felt hands on your waist. You leaned back, assuming it was Morgan. You were wrong.

"You okay?" His voice was soft and low, a soothing sound that tempted you to both lean into him and step back in a fluster.

You glanced around, only to realize that Morgan had disappeared, leaving you with Hotch. You clamped your lips together, fighting the urge to let a stupid smile spread across your face, but the wine's influence made it challenging.

"Yes."

The room spun just a tad more as you tried to focus on Hotch, his usually sharp gaze softened just a bit more tonight.

He chuckled--a rare, perfect sound that made you tingly all over--and leaned closer. "The wine seems to be doing its job. How many glasses in are we?"

You giggled, but the sound was more like a hiccup. "I should be asking you that," you said with a lopsided smile. "But then again, I guess I mean glasses of scotch, right? You seem like a scotch over wine kind of guy."

"Do I?" His voice was rich and warm. He stepped forward, his eyes briefly flickering to where the rest of the team congregated in Rossi's kitchen. However, they seemed miles away. "You smell good."

His compliment threw you off guard, you blinked, cheeks heating up as you swayed slightly towards him, voice a bubbly stream of words you couldn't control. "You think so? It's actually this new perfume--I got it on sale, can you believe it? And the bottle is just the cutest thing, all pink and pretty."

"I bet." He was smirking. Smirking. You were pretty sure you had stumbled into an alternate reality where Hotch was not just your boss, but someone who was relaxed, almost flirtatious?

"Here," you said, pointing to the middle of your chest. You were a little breathless, "this is where I spray it."

He gave a low hum, almost inaudible, stepping in until you were toe to toe. You caught the hint of scotch on his breath--just as you had suspected--and it made the room spin a little more.

His face moved down toward your chest, and you couldn't hardly believe that he couldn't hear your heart pounding against your ribs.

You inhaled sharply, the valley of your breasts rising to graze against his nose, so lightly that it might have gone unnoticed if not for your intense focus on him.

"What do you think--?" you started to ask, but as he raised his head, your noses were nearly touching, and the rest of your sentence dissolved.

The realization of how easy it would be to kiss him struck you, tempting and terrifying all at one, and you hesitated, knowing that was one line you shouldn't cross.

But you didn't need to cross it because he obliterated the line with a kiss that thundered against your lips before you could even blink. A smile bloomed against his mouth, and you returned it full force.

It was as if you were tingly from head to toe, like fireworks were exploding all around you, like you were floating on a cloud.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as if the space between you could vanish entirely. You felt his broad hands sweep and down your spine, your tongues vying for dominance, the rich, smoky taste of that scotch lingering in your mouth, as if you were absorbing its essence through every five senses.

It was as if you were back in high school, making out under the bleachers, hiding from the rest of your classmates. You didn't want it to end, but reality intruded like a dream dispelled.

The click of a camera snapped you back to the present, his arms still wrapped around you protectively, hands on the damning evidence.

Gathered at the window there the team was, Garcia's fingers curled around her phone, its lens aimed squarely at you. Your surprised came out as a high-pitched squeal mingled with their distance laughter and cheers. You pressed your face into the fabric of Hotch's zip up, silently pleading for the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

"Next time, we'll opt for the bathroom. Less room for an audience."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

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monstersflashlight · 3 days

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Hey, I was wondering g if you could make a sleeping in the dark part 2? If it's okay to ask could you possibly do a chubby!reader?

Crying in the middle of the night in the darkness but the minster comes out to think reader is crying because of the dark. Reassuring her that it's oka and the dark isn't scary but, reader then explains that she wasn't crying because of the dark. The monster gets all confused and asks why she was crying. Reader tells the monster that she was insecure abt her body, then further explains that's she's been being treated badly in her work/school environment by her peers because of her body/looks.

Thank you if you respond, I mean it could be a she part and not part 2 but again, thank you.

-🦝 anon.

Hi 🦝 anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. I really wanted to do justice to this request. As a chubby woman myself, I know perfectly well the struggles of being fat in a society that doesn’t like fat at all. I try not to make any comments about the body of the reader if it doesn’t play a part in the action bc I want ppl to imagine themselves there as they want. Even when the monsters use terms as “little human” think about it like the monster is so big you are tiny, doesn’t matter how big you are in real life. I love a good size difference, so there’s that. I hope you don’t think this means you need somebody to tell you you are pretty, beautiful or hot, because that’s not true, you are all that without anyone saying it. Believe me, as someone who likes boys, girls, and everything in between, fat bodies are hot like burning. But I do get the necessity to hear it sometimes, and this story is born because of it. That said, I hope this is as cathartic for you as it was for me, this short hit really close to the heart for me. <3

Part 1 if you haven't read it

Sleeping in the dark (part 2)

Night monster x chubby fem!reader || orgasm denial || tw: fatphobia

You were, once again, crying in your room, ugly sobs that made it hard to breathe and your heart beating faster. You felt his presence before he could make himself known. “Oh no, little human, I thought we went past the fear of the dark.” His tone was so soft you felt your heart skip a beat.

You sniffled against the pillow, “is not that.” You tried to tell him more, but another sob broke from your chest.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at your statement, like there weren’t any other reasons why you could be crying about. You guessed as a monster in your closet he probably didn’t know much about the horrors of the world. He lived in a bubble of darkness inside your room, after all.

“They- They called me fat,” you told him in between hiccups.

“Who did?” His tone sounded dangerous. You looked up from your pillow, trying to see something in the dark of your room. You could see his silhouette, but nothing else. You wished you could turn the light on, but you didn’t want him to go.

“Some random dude from the office. They called me fat. They thought I wasn’t listening but they called me fat and made fun of me. I thought I was past that, but there’s always someone that reminds me how ugly my body is.” He growled at that statement. You ignored it and kept talking, “they always tell you to love your body, but when it comes to being fat, they want you to hate yourself. And I try to fight it, I try every day, but sometimes is just too much.” You sobbed again, he touched your knee and you felt his arms closing around you two seconds later. “I just want to be pretty.” You cried against his chest, your voice muffled by his skin. He growled and you felt it against your teary face.

“Don’t say that. You are pretty, you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful human,” his voice was filled with desperation for you to believe him.

“You have to say that, you’ve only seen me,” you joked. The laugh you let out was swallowed by the sob that broke free right after.

“You are wrong.” He touched your skin, wiping away some tears with his thumb. “I’ve lived thousands of years, I’ve known many humans, some of them have known me. You are beautiful. You are perfect.”

“No, I’m not. But thanks for saying that.” He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a scream. He tore your clothes apart and you felt him caressing every inch of your skin at the same time.

“Beautiful,” he told you. He touched every part of your body, caressing your skin like you were a work of art, whispering endearing words against your ear. He told you every single compliment you could think of, and then some more.

It felt wrong to feel like that, you felt like he was lying, but he couldn’t be. It felt like he was forcing you to acknowledge every single cell in your body. It felt like he was pushing the words in your soul, trying to imprint them there so you wouldn’t feel ugly never again. You cried, at every single word, a tear ran down your skin. He didn’t wipe them out, he let you cry as he caressed your skin. When he parted your legs and positioned himself there, you kept crying.

Your pussy was so wet, and your soul felt so raw.

He started slow, licking your wet lips, playing with his tongue all over, but where you wanted him the most. He never shut up, telling you how pretty you were, how wet, how wonderful for him, how perfect. You were rapidly approaching to an orgasm when he said: “Say nice things about yourself if you want to come.” You shook your head, grabbing his head and trying to push him to eat you out again. “Say it,” he ordered. His voice was hard and commanding.

“I- I can’t,” you cried out. There was no way. You didn’t feel it, it wasn’t true. You weren’t pretty. You weren’t beautiful. His words seemed like a lie, but his actions spoke volumes. One of his hands never stopped caressing your soft tummy, your wide hips. His other hand played with your pussy, thrusting in and out in a tortuous way.

“Say it!” He insisted, his tone angry as he pushed two fingers into you forcefully. You cried out, almost there, so close but so far.

“I- I’m pretty,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. He rewarded you sucking your clit into his mouth, the touch of fangs against your vulnerable flesh made you shudder.

“More,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.” Each word was rewarded by his fingers rubbing perfectly inside of you, a torture like any other, driving you insane with pleasure. “I’m hot.” Each word he forced out of you felt like he was taking a weight from your chest. You felt like you were going to float away.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” He kept playing with you, getting you close to the edge just to go away when you stopped talking. He forced you to be nice to yourself, to say all the things you didn’t believe you were. But he did, he believed. And for the moment, that might be enough. He thought you were beautiful, he thought you were hot. Maybe… maybe he was right. He never lied to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and the pain-pleasure he was giving you when he flicked his tongue over your clit as he hit your G-spot. “Come for me, pretty human. Show me how perfect you are.” And you did, falling apart around his tongue and his fingers. The attack on your senses crashing down onto you.

You had an out of body experience, the tears cool against your cheeks, your rapid breathing coming into short exhales as he played with your pussy to drive you further up. You came so hard you think you saw stars. You felt boneless, your body and your soul completely spent. You felt him cleaning you with a soft cloth, your eyes closing already.

“I will stay with you,” he murmured as you were falling asleep. You felt his arms closing around you, his hands caressing your body, from your wide hips to your soft tummy… He made you feel special, he made you feel beautiful.

#part 2 #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #night monster #night monster x reader #night monster x human #fem!reader #tw: fatphobia #🦝 anon

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icarryitin · 2 days

Text

Help Me?

spencer reid/gn!reader

i love being in this guy’s brain there is just something so Character about him🧡 and happy birthday to you anon!!🥳

masterlist

word count: 4.5k // warnings: injury description (dislocated shoulder), mentions of injections and pills for pain relief, poor and inaccurate medical knowledge, non-sexual undressing, would you believe me if i told you the sexual tension in the second half of this was accidental? for those reasons this is 18+

“Try it, see what happens.”

You appear out of the shadows ahead of them, the gun in your hands aimed carefully at the Unsub’s back, like a goddamn guardian angel.

The guy isn’t going to give up without a fight, even with three federal agents to contend with, that much is obvious. His grip on his weapon is far shakier than any of yours, fingers twitching ever closer to the trigger. You’ve made the split second decision to launch yourself at him before he has the chance to fire off a shot.

Which means Spencer has a front row seat to the sickening thud of your side against the ground when you tackle the Unsub. He’s grateful that he and Hotch aren’t staring down the barrel of a gun anymore, but less grateful that it’s come at the price of the grimace clear on your face. You’ll be bruised for sure, going down as hard as you do.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks you as he hauls the Unsub up by his cuffed wrists. You take a moment to check yourself over, mentally inventory every joint and nerve, before you nod. Spencer holds a hand out towards you, which is taken without hesitation and you start pulling yourself up off the ground.

The crack of your shoulder as it pops out of the socket is so loud that the vibration of it tingles through your interlaced fingers and all the way up to his own.

A sharp yelp, followed by a weak whimper that makes his stomach flip, and he drops your hand like it’s scalding hot. You pull it into your chest with your good arm, palm cradling your elbow to give yourself a little support. Maybe you’d hit the ground a little harder than you meant to. It’s definitely dislocated. He can’t help but feel like it’s his fault.

Maybe that’s why he’s manoeuvring around you, where you sit pouting in a dusty heap. It’s what he tells himself anyway, as he slips large hands underneath your FBI vest – fingers pressed snugly against your ribs, separated by only a thin shirt, and he carefully helps you to your feet. The action has his face dangerously close to yours, so close that he’s terrified you’ll be able to hear how shallow his breaths are. But you seem to be far too focused on your own breathing to really register his proximity. Hotch is ahead already, Unsub in tow, but you’re the only thing Spencer is worried about right now. Someone else can collect the abandoned firearm from the ground, he has more important things to do. Like getting you into the care of a professional instead of his clumsy hands.

“Can you walk?”

A rhetorical question if he’s ever asked one. It’s your arm he’s pulled out of the socket, not a leg. You nod anyway, gently, but you don’t pull away from him. Instead your voice is soft, unsure.

“Help me?”

Of course he does, as if he’d be able to do anything else.

Does he really need to keep a hold on you, help you across the warehouse floor and out to an ambulance? Probably not. Does he do it anyway? Absolutely. You don’t seem to mind the closeness, judging by the way you lean into the solidity of him as the two of you shuffle towards the open door. He relishes in it, just a little. Because for all the camaraderie and familiarity that has built your friendship over the past few years, touches like this are so rare. Rare and usually instigated by you, when a case has hit him a little too close to home. It’s precious. To have you in his arms the way he’s wanted, wished for, literally dreamed about. There’s an irony in his earlier misplaced attempt to help you up, somewhere. Why can he only have you this close when one of you is hurting?

Raised eyebrows from the rest of the team be damned, he’ll carry you to the ambulance if he has to. He doesn’t but he’d try if you asked.

Spencer has seen all manner of terrible things. He’s seen them happen to strangers, friends, he’s been the one under the spotlight more than once. But he finds himself wholly unprepared to watch you wince as you hop up onto the back of the ambulance, legs dangling over the edge, arm still cradled protectively close to your chest. You flinch almost violently when the paramedic approaches you with outstretched hands which, in turn, only makes you hiss in pain. Your apology is small, quiet, sheepish. Everything he knows you not to be, which only makes him feel that much worse about being the reason you’re in this position in the first place. He’s not, the little logical voice in his brain tells him it was the fall you took, but he’s the one who offered to help you up. Can’t take that back.

“Do you have to?” You’re arguing with the paramedic when his brain checks back in to the conversation.

A sling has been placed by the open medical bag beside you, but it’s the object next to it that has your eyes wider than dinner plates. A needle, carefully sealed in its little package, ready and waiting to give you the pain relief that all three of you know you’re in desperate need of. There’s no way your shoulder can be reset here without it.

“You look at dead bodies all day, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of this?” The paramedic means well, he knows she does, but the grating sound of the sterile packaging being ripped open only serves to shrink you away from it even further.

“Phobias are rarely rational. In fact, the dictionary definition refers to one as being an extreme or irrational fear of, or aversion to, something. Phobias relating to medical procedures are pretty common actually.”

The barely hidden eye roll he gets from the paramedic would suggest he’s not helping the situation, but it’s the look that you give him. The one he gets across coroner slabs and conference tables and crime scenes, that tells him he is.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to, considering this is kind of my fault,” Spencer holds his hand up between you, wiggling his fingers in front of a sad little smile, “But squeeze away.”

“I don’t know, I might break it.” You’re going for a light-hearted joke, but your gritted teeth pay you no favours.

“Then we’ll call it even.”

You take his hand, and he wonders if he’ll need to ask the paramedic to break out the defibrillator next – judging by the way his heart stutters in his chest.

And, to your credit, you only almost break it. The first squeeze is tight, muscles in your forearm trembling as the needle plunges deep into your shoulder. It won’t be enough to completely numb you, the paramedic confirms, but it’ll go a fair way towards dulling the pain. You should really go to a hospital, a bodge job in the back of an ambulance isn’t exactly Bureau protocol, but he knows that isn’t happening. God forbid you ever get shot, he’s sure that getting you treated properly for something like that would be more traumatic for you than any injury.

The second squeeze isn’t something he’s prepared for. You hang onto his hand as though your life depends on it once the paramedic has decided the painkillers have kicked in enough, though her fingers on your shoulder still have you tensing. She tells you to relax, uselessly. Instead, you turn your head away, bury it into Spencer’s shoulder, and dig your nails into the back of his hand. His knuckles crack under the pressure, synchronised popping absolutely miniscule compared to the thunderous pop your shoulder gives when the paramedic manipulates it back into place. Tears seep through his shirt as they dampen his shoulder, the tension in your jaw gives away the sob you’re biting back. You swallow it before you pull your face from the security of his warmth – brave face, as always – and dutifully allow the paramedic to tug the Kevlar vest over your head to make way for the sling she’s prepared.

You’re too on edge to really pay attention to the instructions she’s giving you, too preoccupied on slowing your heart rate to hear about the over the counter pain meds you should take, how long you need to keep the sling on. So, Spencer listens. He remembers, as he always does. He nods and tells her he’ll make sure you do everything by the book, because he knows you won’t be on your way to the doctor’s office in a hurry if your recovery doesn’t go to plan.

JJ popping up in your field of vision seems to lighten your mood, the stiffness falls away and you choke out a laugh alongside a sarcastic comment about heroics being above your paygrade. It’s fake, the laughter. Your spine is still rigid, smile a little too tight to be true. But nobody else seems to notice. They’re just glad you’re alright. Something about your rapid mood change scratches an itch in his brain, the smallest part of it that’s just a little smug. Because you don’t let on about your fear to the others. Just him.

Spencer piles into the back of the second SUV after you, behind Rossi and Emily, and takes it upon himself to make sure you’re strapped in. Admittedly, you could manage it yourself, but he doesn’t want you to. There are eyes on the back of his head when he leans over to carefully pull the seatbelt across you, when he makes sure to steer clear of your sling, but they’re easy to ignore when you’re watching him the way you are. Your quiet affirming hum follows the click of the seat belt plug when you meet his questioning gaze, calming the pounding in his chest and he doesn’t pull back right away. Involuntarily, his eyes drop to your lips for the barest of moments.

He could kiss you.

Right here, right now. In the back of the SUV, with your arm in a sling, and your colleagues watching on. He could do it. But he doesn’t.

He knows what he wants your first kiss to be like – a little pocket of his brain is dedicated to it, plays scenario after scenario in the moments before he settles down to sleep every night. Silly little bedtime stories.

Except they’re not silly, because somewhere along the way he stumbled out of his harmless little crush and into something much more serious. He knows what it is, he won’t put a name to it. Instead, he daydreams. It’s not always the same, the location varies - sometimes you’re at work, in the bullpen or the conference room, or obscured from the rest of the team by the metallic bulk of an SUV. Sometimes you’re in his apartment, in the kitchen, by the window in the living room, in the doorway of his bedroom. Sometimes it’s just a street corner, at night, at midday, dawn, dusk. But you, you’re always the same. You always look at him with a smile that could light the entire city, and he just tells you.

Spills his guts out all over the floor, every part of him left raw and vulnerable, as he tells you he loves you - has always loved you. Maybe even before he met you. He tells you how his heart stopped in his chest that first morning you walked into the BAU office, how he nearly spilled his coffee down his shirt, how his glasses steamed up with the heat from his cheeks. How Derek, JJ, Garcia, the entire team has been teasing him for literal years. How sometimes he thinks he catches you looking at him, but that’d be just too good to be true wouldn’t it?

And then your smile grows, and you take a step further into his space until there’s scarcely any room between you. That’s when you tell him you do look at him, you look at him all the time. Because you love him, just as hopelessly and desperately and effortlessly as he loves you. That’s when he kisses you. When he grasps your face in his hands and takes a deep breath of you before crashing into you with a bruising force. You take it, of course you do, just as eagerly as he pours himself into it. The kiss of a lifetime. That’s how he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of that, not now.

So, he pulls back, plugs his own seatbelt in, and lets himself wallow in the post-case stillness that settles in the car. Punctuated by Penelope’s voice through the speaker on your phone though it may be. She’s relieved, a little mad that you’d put yourself in harm’s way, but ultimately glad you’re safe. He smiles to himself at that, he can’t help but agree.

Quantico’s parking garage is dark this time of night, of course it would be, but the chill of the concrete seeps into his bones. You shiver beside him as he helps you slide out of the SUV. Goodbyes are short, sweet, exhausted. Each member of the team wandering towards their own vehicles, leaving you and Spencer standing alone under the fluorescent lights.

“Let’s get you home, superhero.” He grins at you as his hand settles gently on the small of your back, guiding you towards the street exit.

It’s not far to the train station, the streets are still busy even at this time of night. Tourists and businessmen and politicians all alike. But you don’t get jostled in the slightest, he makes sure of it - carefully weaving through the throngs to get you safely to your platform. It’s only as he steps onto the train with you that you realise his own home is in the complete opposite direction. It’s borderline unfair how fuzzy he feels at your concern for his own journey.

“I said I was getting you home, not getting you to the station.” He can’t help the fond smile that settles on his features as you look up at him from your seat. He’s chosen to stand, partially in front of you, as a sort of makeshift barrier between your injured arm and any potential commuters who might stumble into you. He holds his hand out to you expectantly and it takes you another moment to fish your keys out of your bag. They’re placed softly in his palm, your fingers barely brushing his. The touch is so gentle compared to the way you almost squeezed that same hand to death only a couple of hours earlier. He just about manages to suppress the shudder that threatens to buckle his knees, and he counts his lucky stars that your building is only a block away from the train’s destination.

The thought only occurs to Spencer when he’s halfway over the threshold of your apartment, too preoccupied with getting you back safely to realise he’s actually never been in your home before. Organised chaos is the term he’d use. The open plan kitchen and living area is tidy but cluttered, books of every genre piled on shelves with no real strategy, a haphazard stack of second hand vinyls that are mostly Tom Waits sit atop an old record player, a small collection of cacti in mismatched terracotta pots are lined up on your little kitchen windowsill. The cupboards are a deep green, which should really be at odds with the peach tinged wash on the walls, but the combination is just soft enough to work. It’s very you.

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to stay.”

Your name leaves his lips in the same tone it usually does before he can stop it, the same heavy sigh that wraps around the letters more often than not. God, you know exactly how to push his buttons, even when you don’t mean to. You’re missing the point entirely – he wants to take care of you. It’s so rare that you let him.

“Nice try,” He says as he sets your work bag down on one of the chairs at the round kitchen table, “Get changed, I’ll fix up some dinner.”

“You will?” The teasing grin on your face is either because you don’t think he can cook, or because you can’t. He’s leaning towards the former.

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents.”

You stand there for another long few seconds, just watching him. It’s not dissimilar to the look you gave him at the ambulance, in the SUV, on the train home. Like there’s something you’re desperate to say to him; only, you’re not sure how to say it. So you turn on your heel and close the bedroom door behind you.

Spencer physically has to shake off the weight of your gaze before he can move again, even after you’re gone. His own bag finds its place beside yours, jacket folded and draped neatly over the back of the metal chair. It’s the kind of dining set he’d expect to see outside a Parisian cafe, as opposed to being tucked in the corner of a DC apartment. Chipped white metalwork and all, probably originally a garden set, but it fits the eclectic thrift store vibe you’ve curated throughout the space. He finds himself drifting towards your overstuffed bookshelf, to the beat up record player and the pile of albums - the protective sleeve of each one shabbier than the last. He’d been right at first glance, the collection is mostly second-hand Tom Waits albums - with a little Queen, The Magnetic Fields, and Fleetwood Mac in the mix. The album on top is the most dog-eared, and he doesn’t have to employ a single one of his profiling skills to know this one is the most loved, most played, and he’s sure you’ll appreciate the comfort of some background noise. So he’s concentrating on sliding the record out of the sleeve, carefully placing it onto the turntable, and setting the needle down.

The bluesy first bars of Tom Waits’ Heartattack and Vine fill the room at the same time you open the bedroom door, looking more than a little sorry for yourself. And, to his credit, Spencer does a pretty good job of not laughing at the picture of you in the open doorway.

You’ve got yourself tangled up, all wrinkled shirtsleeves and oozing embarrassment - one sleeve dangles empty by your side where the other is still firmly encased by the sling, your sole free arm pokes out of the bottom of your sweater. Your eyebrows are drawn as you look everywhere but at him.

“Can you…?” You trail off. A breath pushes its way out of your lungs, half-sigh and half-helpless laugh.

“Come on.” He erases the distance between you in two strides, hands turning you at the waist before he can even really think about what he’s doing. You shuffle into the room ahead of him, soft rug shielding your socked feet from the cold of the wooden floor. He’s pleased to find the same decorative tastes extend through to your bedroom.

Another bookshelf, also stuffed to the brim with enough material to start your own bookstore. A little wooden desk by the window paired with a chair that doesn’t match, the wall to the right of it is plastered in multicoloured post it notes - a few of them catch his eye, reminders and ideas and shopping lists. Your bedspread is the same dark green as your kitchen cabinets, although it’s mostly obscured by a mess of patchwork blankets and jewel toned decorative pillows. Your sunshine plush has pride of place balanced against the left-hand bedpost on top of the headboard. Even without an eidetic memory, he’d remember the look on your face when he won it for you. Undercover at a travelling carnival in Oregon, the job at hand was to lure out an Unsub whose tastes fit you to a T, but he’d been uncharacteristically powerless to resist at least trying to get something for you. Your cover was a couple, anyway. He’d only been in character. Not only do you still have it, but it has pride of place, and something about it has his pride rearing its head.

You’re fussing with your pyjamas, a threadbare hoodie and garishly patterned sweatpants, when he turns his attention back to you. The reality of the situation seems to hit you both in the same moment.

Spencer is going to have to undress you.

It’s not how he imagined it would be - and that is definitely not something he needs to think about right now. He could keep his eyes closed? Although not being able to see where he should put his hands is arguably more dangerous than it would be to pay attention. He has to clear his throat before he can find his voice.

“I’m going to have to take this off,” He gestures to the sling, hoping he sounds less noticeably wrecked to you than he does to himself, “But we’ll go slow, okay?”

It’s cruel, is what it is, to watch you nod your agreement, to witness your unshakeable trust that he won’t hurt you so closely. Ultimately, it’s not overly different to the way he checks over your protective vest. There’s a strategy, a system to it just the same as the task that lies ahead, and he’ll follow it step by scientific step.

The sling is first, straps carefully undone and the support sliding off your arm - you both support it, your elbow in his palm where yours settles under your wrist. The one free hand you have between you, Spencer’s, works your shirt up over your uninjured shoulder and tugs it over your head. His eyes never drift beyond what you’ve asked of him, though it isn’t for lack of temptation. He slides the remaining sleeve off of your injured arm with a touch so light that neither of you wouldn’t know it was there if not for the skim of his fingers over your bare skin. Your hoodie replaces your work shirt just as carefully, in reverse. Injured arm first, head, uninjured arm. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he concentrates on looping the sling over the thick cotton, securing your arm tight to your chest again. Job done, and without too much embarrassment. He’d call that a success.

“Would you mind-” You struggle for a moment, “The clasp is fiddly.”

Spencer doesn’t know what you mean at first, and then it clicks - and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You need him to undo your trousers. He can do that, he can do it. He might feel like he’s about to spontaneously combust over the request, but he can do it.

There’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for you, to tell the truth.

It takes him longer than it should to slip the hook out of its clasp, usually nimble fingers fumbling under the weight of both of your gazes. But he doesn’t stop there. Because his usually brilliant mind is buzzing with static and his hands are moving of their own accord and the teeth of the zip on your trousers as he pulls it down is loud.

Spencer pulls back like he’s been shocked, while your eyes remain firmly glued to his hands. Hands that now wring themselves with anxiety as he quietly asks if you can manage the rest. You don’t respond verbally - it takes another long second, but you start shimmying the trousers off of your hips with your free hand. The slightest glimpse of bare thigh has him spinning on his heel and marching towards the kitchen in search of food.

He’s not thinking about the soft material of your sweatpants being pulled carefully over your legs in the other room, as he roots around in your kitchen cupboards. He’s not. A can of chopped tomatoes, a handful of half-empty spice jars, just about enough dry spaghetti for two. It’ll do. A pot of water is set on the stove to boil, the noise is enough of a distraction when the bedroom door opens again behind him. You shuffle about for a few minutes, digging around your shelves and Tom Waits’ gravelly tone cuts off abruptly to be replaced by the softer voice of Stevie Nicks instead. The volume ticks down a couple of notches before you join Spencer in the kitchen as he warms the tomatoes and spices alongside the boiling noodles, moving around him with the same ease you do in the office. You pull out two bowls that don’t match - one is shallower and wider and glazed a sunshine yellow, there’s a chip in the lip of it. The other one is smaller, deeper, glazed navy blue instead and with a cheeky face etched into the pottery. Its nose protrudes slightly, rounded out on one side. He can’t help his smile when he dishes out two equal portions and the red sauce drips down onto the bowl’s nose. He swipes at the mess with his thumb before handing you the bowl.

“Thank you.” You search out his gaze this time, urging him to look you in the eye. For cooking, or what he’s sure is your favourite bowl, or staying. He’s not sure. He wants to tell you that you don’t have to thank him, he’d drop anything and everything at any moment if you needed him to. But something in your eyes has stolen his voice, a flicker of something he’s far too terrified to acknowledge. So he only smiles, takes the yellow dish in his hands, and follows you to the comfort of your vintage floral couch.

It’s not a table dinner kind of evening, you seem to have decided. Although the precarious balance of the bowl on your knees suggests otherwise, as you try to eat one handed. Spencer leans forward to pull the cushion from behind his back, his own dinner temporarily abandoned on the floor in front of him, and he picks up your bowl to slide the cushion across your lap in lieu of a tray. Your laugh is quiet, you don’t look at him, but whatever tension had built in the bedroom dissipates with the sound.

Even so, he shoots off a text to Penelope while you’re preoccupied with your spaghetti, asks if she can lend you a helping hand for the next few days if you need one. You shouldn’t need the sling for more than a week anyway. She responds with a smiley face and a kiss almost immediately. It’s not the first time in his life he’s thanked whatever mystical force is responsible for Penelope Garcia.

Spencer will corral you to the doctor’s office for a checkup in a few days, he’ll make sure you do your stretches, he’ll set alarms for your painkillers. And, ultimately, he’ll come back if you ask him to. He’ll help you in and out of your pyjamas if that’s what you want, of course he will.

Regardless of the way it sets his insides aflame. He’ll do it for you.

yes i know reader inserts are blank slates yes this apartment is basically just my own flat no i don’t care thank u🧡🧡

#acts of service as a love language is so underrated he just wants to hELP YOU!!!!#AAUUGGGHHHHHH anyway #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #the canyouniverse #lou writes

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nectardaddy · 2 days

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don't ever leave - inumaki toge

cw: mentions of blood and death, anxiety/panic attack, light angst in the beginning

notes: not my fav but it's been sitting in my drafts forever, sorta edited

His throat was raw and scorched from words already, thinking to himself he would only make matters worse if he spoke at all. But what would he say if he could? What could he say at all?

How does one offer comfort without words?

It was past midnight, and the young man grappled with the very thought alone as he held you. Holding you tightly as if you would slip away at any moment. Violet eyes watched as tears slipped down your cheeks, feeling his heart strings tie themselves in knots at your broken form. You held onto him tightly, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his shirt that he had worn to bed because letting go meant being alone. And being alone made your mind race.

He didn't realize how missions strangled you, how much they choked you until you were gasping for breath even when you were safe. Didn't realize how much bloodshed and trauma his mind had already become accustomed to or completely blocked out - thinking as though if he did such, everyone else must, right?

He was so terribly wrong. Closing his eyes in guilt because that was so far from what you had done, and he hadn't even noticed. He witnessed the outpour of emotions he had long since forgotten when he opened his tired eyes to you that evening. An evening where he went to sleep rather early from the events of the day; an evening were his throat singed with pain and he winced with every swallow. An evening where he thought you did the same as you gave him a small smile before heading to bed.

But you didn't.

Unbeknownst to him, you tossed and turned, the inner turmoil of emotions bubbling up and over as you laid in bed. Tears running down your face in the darkness of the night as you repeated today's events in your mind - all the while he was sound asleep. Texting him to see if he was still awake, but with no reply you held your breath as you walked to his room. Choked sobs leaving your lips as you opened his door, too afraid to wait and knock as someone might have heard your cries.

You only craved the comfort of a man who couldn't even speak to it.

He was confused when he heard the door creek open and quickly shut, confused when the sound of soft cries hit his ears, and concerned when he heard the gentle call of his name. Groggy eyes opening at the noise only to find your shattered frame, haphazardly wiping your eyes and shoulders slumped - oh god why were you crying?

Now he was sat up in his bed, holding you like his life depended on it; because in that moment, he thought yours surely did. Pale fingers running down your back as he believed he shouldn't speak a word, he couldn't speak a word. His throat was raw and scorched from words already, thinking to himself he would only make matters worse if he spoke at all. But what would he say if he could? What could he say at all?

That you were alright? His words would snap you into a false sense of security, no longer feeling your emotions but shoving them down even further. Ask you what was wrong? You would spill your guts to him involuntarily, whether you wanted to share or not. Even if he were to utter a safe word, his throat was so shredded it would send him into a coughing fit. Then you would care less about your own feelings and more about his well-being. He was at a loss. So he held you. Unwavering in his hold as your tears didn't seem to stop, but wanting nothing more than to ease your mind.

"Sometimes I don't even want to be a sorcerer at all," he heard your mumble, your words jumbled and hushed as you kept your head in his chest. He could only nod gently, hoping you understood that he was listening, as you continued on. "I can't bear seeing you hurt yourself because I'm too weak to do anything."

His heart sunk in his chest at your statement, closing his eyes once more as his mind raced to block out the memory. But to no avail. The mere thought of the blood that pooled in his mouth earlier that day made him sick, and the visceral reaction that came with the thought of harm coming to you was nauseating. It was a thought he desperately wanted to speak to, one of which he only wished to utter the words he wanted.

He would rather succumb death than have you meet the same fate.

As much as the man swore to himself, to his friends, you didn't have such a foothold in his heart, his life would shatter without you in it. He vowed he would never, not in a million years, be so attached to someone he would risk his very own life. But here he sat, voice mutilated and hoarse as he had done just that. Yuuta would tell him it was, morbidly, romantic, but the young man would wholeheartedly deny ever doing such a thing - he was only doing the mission assigned. But he was naive to think such a thing, naive to push his own feelings aside for the sake of ego.

He didn't want to pull away, but he so desperately wanted to speak to your statement, to ease your mind in some way, shape, or form. The tears you shed made his heart wring and shatter. 'It's alright,' he signed, trying his best as he only pulled away one hand as to hold you with the other. 'I'm alright,' he reassured.

"You can't even speak, Toge," you quipped, your voice harsh as it was filled with tears and sorrow. Within your own words, you found yourself clutching his clothing for dear life. Hoping that if you guarded him, as you did your mind, he wouldn't slip through your fingers. Not whisk himself away through means of being a victor, a protector, because how could one protect if they were gone?

'But I'm here,' he signed, a simple statement that even he reveled in. Sorcery was a sinful business, a lethal business; one of which that broke the spirit, mind, and body. A morbid testament to those who ever dared to join the fray - it was win or die trying. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

Usually, the young man wasn't favorable with emotions, never knowing what to do, if anything at all. But it felt natural for his fingers to touch your chin, instinctive for his touch to be gentle and caring as he offered you to look at him. Violet eyes meeting your own troubled ones and pale fingers thumbing away a tear that slipped down your stained cheeks, he gave you a small, tired smile. "M' here," he choked out, his voice hoarse and broken. Seemingly a whisper compared to your own, as he couldn't find the strength to project.

The act made your heart melt within your chest, and few words were enough to set it ablaze. Though it was coarse and fractured, they were the only words you needed to hear in the moment. He was here, he was alive, he was breathing - hopefully now until the end of your days. "Don't ever leave."

@inumakis-boo @inumakisser

I know you'll appreciate this lol

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toge #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki toge x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #jjk inumaki #jjk angst #jjk fluff #inumaki fluff #inumaki angst #inumaki x reader #gender neutral reader

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jrow · 1 day

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May Prompts (28)

Day 27 here. Start from the beginning here.

Empty

He stares at the empty box.

Sherlock isn’t saying anything.

Sherlock opened the gift a good two minutes ago and still hasn’t said a word.

He watched Sherlock for the first minute or so, and saw only a blank expression. So now, he stares at the empty box because he’s terrified about what that blank expression means.

God, he had been so relieved that this was finally happening. His plan coming to fruition. He wanted to wait until Rosie was having her nap for obvious reasons but the past few hours have been excruciating. To be honest, it had taken quite a bit of will power not to thrust the gift in Sherlock’s face the second they arrived at Baker Street.

The hopeful glances from Molly this afternoon hadn’t helped.

But, he made it. And a few minutes ago, Sherlock removed the paper, opened the box, and pulled out the silent violin, various accessories and case. And then said nothing.

So, John is staring at the empty box. He was wrong, the wait this afternoon was a cake walk compared to this.

Finally, after another minute of silence, he looks up tentatively. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief at what he sees.

Sherlock, standing perfectly still, staring at the instrument in his hand.

This is an expression he’s seen before—back when he asked Sherlock to be his best man. It’s a sort of far away look that means Sherlock isn’t angry or busy thinking of how to weasel his way out of this conversation. It’s a look that means Sherlock has made a deduction he can’t quite believe.

It’s time to force Sherlock to say that deduction out loud. Make it real.

“Happy birthday, finally. What do you think?”

“It’s a silent violin.”

“Yes.”

“Top of the line. The London Philharmonic violinists use these to practice.”

“That’s what I was told.”

“You like when I play my violin.”

“Very much.”

“And Rosie loves it.”

“Yes.”

“So, this isn’t a gift for when you are here during the day.”

“Course not, you have your Strat.”

“And, if there is no one to disturb, I can play my Strat at night.”

“True.”

“Mrs. Hudson can’t hear it from her flat.”

“Hmmm.”

“I would only need a silent violin if there was someone else here at night. Sleeping.”

“Yes.”

“Your old room—it’s Rosie’s now.”

“Absolutely.”

“We made that decision during the rebuild. A child’s room. She naps there sometimes. Plays there a lot.”

“Yes, she loves it.”

“Your old bed and dresser are gone. The room upstairs just has a little toddler bed and that child-sized table and chairs. And toys.”

“That’s true.”

“Plus the bookshelf Mycroft made but pretended he bought. All the books he filled it with.”

“Yes. It’s the perfect room for her.

“We could fit a little dresser in there but not much else.”

“No. That’s all she needs though.”

“You can’t sleep there. Couldn’t sleep there.”

“No, it’s Rosie’s room.”

“You can’t sleep on the couch in here either. It would have been awful for your shoulder before your fall. Now it’s out of the question.”

“Agreed.”

“If Rosie is sleeping here regularly, I could use the silent violin so I don’t wake her.”

“Yes. Every night.”

“But that means you would be sleeping here too.”

“Of course.”

“You would need to sleep in a bed. That only leaves one option.”

A deep breath. “Correct.”

“Well, two options. But, you would never ask me to move from here.”

“Course not. This is your home.”

A pause.

“People would talk.”

“Good. I’d expect no less.”

Another pause.

“You have assumed I am gay for some time now.”

“Yes. Is that assumption correct?”

“Yes.” A sharp inhale. “I have assumed you are not entirely straight from the beginning.”

“I think that’s a fair way of putting it.”

“You rebuked people when they assumed we were a couple.”

“I did. Years ago. Haven’t for some time now. You said you were married to your work, but that’s not true anymore either, is it?” He knows he needs to push Sherlock, just a bit.

It works. Sherlock shakes his head, as if coming out of a daze. “I … what’s that?”

He blushes. Sherlock has spotted the case. Was that too sentimental? “It’s errr…the case. For the violin.”

Sherlock slowly runs his hands over it. “It’s her handprint.”

“Errr … yeah. I know pink isn’t exactly your thing, but I let her pick.”

“Her hand is so small.”

“Yeah. But soon it won’t be.” He takes a deep breath. “Thought it would be a nice snapshot of how small she was when she moved in. Because I hope we’ll be here for … well, as long as you’re here.” In for a penny. “If you’ll have us. If you’ll have me.” He smiles. “If there’s space for me in the room down the hall. ‘Cause you’re it for me, Sherlock. I think you always have been.” A feeling of relief washes over him. Whatever happens, at least it’s all in the open now. At least the box is empty.

A long pause. “I think I am going to faint,” Sherlock finally says and then promptly crumbles to the floor.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

#johnlock #wip #may prompts 2024 #possibly anticlimactic?#but the gift is finally given!

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hugsandchaos · 3 days

Text

Danny in an Encanto crossover gives the impression of someone trying to befriend a stray feral cat and bring them inside to give the love and shelter, but the stray feral cat doesn’t trust them and keeps hissing every time they get too close.

Although, I’d love to see everyone being completely accepting of Danny. They don’t look at him with suspicion or hatred when they see him slip up, they’re amazed! He has powers just like the Madrigals? That’s super cool! And he has more than one? Not just phasing through solid objects, but also invisibility and sensing ghosts nearby? Even better!

I bet that Bruno would relate to him in a way. They were both looked down on for their powers, but in different ways. Bruno because he mostly predicted bad things with no control over it, and Danny because a lot of people, including his parents, really didn’t like “Phantom” because the sole reason that he was a ghost. Alma knew that it was Bruno who had the powers, Danny’s parents didn’t know he was the ghost they keep shooting at.

Also, Danny 100% defends Bruno from any villagers who blame him for having bad visions. Bruno’s lacked social interaction with other humans for ten whole years, but Danny’s up for fighting for him. His favorite line to use was “If I’m a child and I have to explain this to you, what does that say about you as an adult?”. He didn’t get in trouble for it.

Danny talks about space and teaches them about it! He’s more than happy to explain it all and answer their questions the best he can!

Danny eats Julieta’s food and is honestly freaked out because his ribs are suddenly not broken anymore. Take it a step further and say that he’s sleep deprived, and one of the side effects of having food that heals you is that it can make you really tired if you haven’t slept well for a while, so you can’t help but take a quick nap. So he just falls unconscious after a few bites and wakes up in the early morning not knowing what year it is.

It doesn’t get rid of his death mark, though, which confuses everyone. Speaking of his death mark, Danny doesn’t like to talk about it, but eventually explains that it’s a scar from being zapped. He doesn’t go into detail or talk about what exactly the incident did to him, though. He just mentions that he got zapped and has a scar from it.

Eventually, the Madrigals will come to the realization that he doesn’t just have ghost-like powers. He’s actually a ghost. Half ghost, at least.

Also, Danny swears he sees Pedro around the house, not just in the paintings, and the most often place is by Alma’s side. He’s even had conversations with him. To everyone else, it looks like he’s talking to thin air, but he seems so fixated on something that’s actually there and listens to nothing so much that they think he’s actually being serious. Once, during a conversation with Alma and she was telling him about Pedro, he looked at her very confused and said “What are you talking about? He’s standing right next to you”.

At first, she was upset, but he said it with way too much confusion and conviction that she starts to realize he’s serious. Every time someone says that he isn’t, Danny gestures to nothing and goes “Are you blind?! He’s right there!”. In his eyes, Pedro really is there, looking awkward because this kid sees him and is arguing with his family about it.

Honestly, Danny doing something by himself and then suddenly turning around and making immediate direct eye contact with Pedro would be really funny. Pedro is honestly freaked out because something seemed off with the kid from the beginning, and he just made eye contact with a ghost?

Oh, and you best believe that after being treated so nicely by everyone, Danny will start throwing hands the second another ghost tries to cause them trouble.

Make it even better by combining it with Good Vlad. The two just show up one day trying to find a place to live. Their dynamic confuses more than a few people because people usually treat their god father or technical uncle with love and respect. Danny’s constantly getting on his nerves for the fun of it, doing things including but not limited to taking his coffee. He also calls him a “fruit loop”, which apparently means someone insane. Vlad calls him “Little Badger”, and yes, he’s actually been bitten by Danny once because Vlad startled him when he grabbed him to pull him out of danger and Danny’s first instinct was to bite him.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #encanto #encanto x Danny phantom #danny phantom x Encanto #danny phantom crossover #Encanto crossover

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ashwhowrites · 12 hours

Note

Hiiii I’m the anon that sent this: Reader gets broken up with by a guy that she actually really liked but in reality this guy was a douchy football player that was rude to her friends (but she didn’t know about that.)

It was meant to be a request if you’d wanna write it!

And id say that Eddie does have a crush on reader.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The friend

Y/N waited years and years to fall in love. She grew up watching princesses find their prince, and she wanted to feel that. She wanted to feel loved by someone who chose to, someone who looked at her and would do anything to be with her. Even if he had to fight everyone to do it. She wanted to see what it felt like to be cared about.

To her, Greg did just that. She was smitten with the jockey football player the second he sent her a dazzling smile during a game. It was like his eyes found hers in the crowd, it was fate.

It didn't take long for him to ask her out and for her to say yes immediately. She was swept off her feet and never landed. He was sweet and romantic. He showered her in love and compliments. She thought he was perfect all around.

Eddie and her friends had other thoughts. Greg was two-faced but Y/N wasn't aware of that. Chrissy hated Greg, and she hated cheering for someone like him. He was selfish, cocky, and an ass. It took a lot for Chrissy to dislike someone, and she hated Greg, that meant something.

Eddie had two reasons to hate Greg. One reason was that Greg never had nice things to say to or about Eddie. Greg believed he was trailer dirt and a freak, just like everyone else. But Y/N didn't know that. The second reason was that Eddie was helplessly in love with Y/N.

Did he have the chance to go for it? Definitely but he was terrified. It was scary enough to tell a girl he liked her, but to tell his best friend? He wasn't sure he could handle the rejection.

Eddie and Chrissy grew closer over their dislike for Greg. Chrissy knew Eddie was in love with their best friend before Eddie realized it. Chrissy never understood how Y/N didn't catch on. Eddie was in no way good at hiding it. He stuttered over sentences, clumsier than ever, smiled the second she looked at him, and he'd do anything she asked.

Once Eddie saw her with Greg, he believed that was his sign that they would never be anything more. Eddie and Greg were two completely different people.

When the news broke out that Y/N and Greg broke up after almost a year together, many people had things to say. But no one would say it to her. Eddie felt relieved that his year of suffering was over. But he knew it was a matter of time before some new guy came along. He wasn't sure he could let that happen.

~~~

"I don't understand why he broke up with me," Y/N sobbed. Her head was in Eddie's chest as she soaked his band tee in her tears.

Eddie softly held her in his arms. His chin was on her head as his fingers ran through her hair.

"I don't either, babes." And he was honest. He couldn't imagine ever breaking up with her. She was easily the best person anyone could be with.

"Do you think it's because I'm not pretty enough?" She sniffled, her head facing him as she pulled back away, letting him search her face for the flaws she believed she had.

Eddie smiled and cleaned off her tears with his thumbs. Her red puffy eyes, wet cheeks, and trembling bottom lip. He couldn't lie to her.

"No. I think even right now you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Eddie was dead serious. A sense of truth in his eyes as he barely blinked. His voice was deep and low, with no sounds of jokes.

The intensity in his face made her nervous and shy. She dug her head back into his warm chest as she held him tighter.

"He's the idiot who let you go."

~~~

Eddie was patient as his best friend recovered from the breakup. Chrissy and Eddie high-fived behind her back, sharing smiles and looks.

"I heard you and Greg broke up! Congratulations that guy was a di-" Dustin's voice was cut off, replaced with a groan.

Y/N turned around confused, Eddie standing next to Dustin with a smile. Dustin held his arm with a whimper.

"Congratulations? What does that mean?" Y/N pushed further.

Eddie and Chrissy looked at each other, trying to think of a fast lie.

"I know someone who likes you! It's a congrats to him!" Dustin said with a smile as he covered his lie. He looked to Eddie for approval and his smile dropped at the look on his face.

"Who?" Y/N perked up. For once, after a long week of crying, she smiled.

"That's not his place to tell. Why don't we go to lunch?" Eddie said, grabbing Dustin's arm and dragging him down the hall.

"That was weird," Y/N said as she turned to Chrissy.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Y/N asked. Chrissy stood with a huge cheesy grin.

Chrissy snapped out of her daydream of Eddie and Y/N finally together. Quick with a lie.

"It's good to see you smile again, now let's go eat."

~~~

Another week passed. Two weeks since her heart was shattered but she could feel herself healing. She had to thank Eddie for all of it. He was always there, holding her as she cried and talking her through everything.

Her mind was still thinking about who Dustin was talking about. The idea of a guy liking her made her feel less insecure. Maybe Greg was the problem and not her. She drew blanks as she tried to think who it was.

She hoped it was Eddie, but that felt like throwing wishes in an empty fountain. She was nowhere Eddie's type. She wasn't edgy enough or listened to the same music he did. She barely understood Hellfire and his ideas. He wasn't much of her type either, but there was something about him that she would never find anywhere else. He was one of a kind and she figured that's why she fell for him so hard.

Eddie never made moves, so she figured he didn't like her. That's why she had no problem going out with Greg. She thought maybe if Eddie showed jealousy, she'd have her answer. But he was just the same, nothing changed.

She was staring at the wall as Eddie woke up from his sleep. His tired eyes took her in. He had his arms around her already, he pressed his chest against her back tighter. She felt her body get warm as his arms squeezed her against him and his face snuggled into her neck. The soft breaths of his nose hitting her skin, his warm body against hers. Do all best friends cuddle in the same bed?

"How long have you been awake?" His deep and tired voice made her bite her lip. She wiggled in his arms, he loosened them as she turned around to face him. She kept herself in his arms, snuggling closer until she was nose to nose-with him.

"I never fell asleep," she whispered

The moon shined into the room, reminding her she had been trying to sleep for hours.

"How come?" He asked, his palm flat against her back as he softly rubbed the bare skin as her tank top slid up. She shivered as his hands touched her skin.

"A lot on my mind," she said truthfully. She admired his eyes. No matter how many times she looked into them, the brown continued to take her breath away. She took in the rest of his face. The bridge of his nose, the red lips she craved to taste. The slight hair growing above his lip, she knew he'd shave in the morning, but she loved being the only one who got to see it. His frizzy hair spread out on her pillows.

"Greg?" Eddie asked, admiring her face the same way she was with his.

"No," Y/N said, "about who that guy is Dustin brought up." She nervously bit her lip as she watched Eddie's reaction.

"Oh, how come?" Eddie asked, he hid his nervousness with a yawn

"Do you know who it is?"

"Uh no," Eddie said his eyes looking elsewhere

"Then why are you looking away?" Y/N smiled, she poked his cheek

He nervously laughed

"I don't know who he is," Eddie said, looking into her eyes as he finished the sentence.

"Such a bad liar! tell me," she squealed excitedly. He groaned as she left his arms. Sitting up, she looked down at him.

"Why do you want to know so bad? Are you ready to move on?" Eddie asked, maybe this was an opening.

"I don't know. Feels nice to know someone else likes me. And depending on who it is, I think I'm ready to give it a shot." She shrugged

"I can't say who it is, but I'll give you some hints." Y/N smiled as Eddie sat up.

"He has dark hair and dark eyes, he admires your beauty. He likes how smart and creative you are. He loves it when you laugh, it makes his heart race. He smiles whenever he thinks of you. And he's been dealing with these feelings for years." Eddie said, too lost in his confession that he was scared he gave too much away.

"So you are close friends with him?" Y/N asked, she turned her head in confusion. She would not believe that any of Eddie's friends had a crush on her.

"I think I said too much," Eddie chuckled nervously and laid back down. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes. "Let's go back to sleep."

Y/N thought in silence for a few seconds. She thought long and hard about what he said. The guy he described matched his appearance. Eddie always complimented her looks and laughed at all her jokes. He seemed nervous to talk about the guy, scared he said too much, which meant he was worried she would find it out. He dragged Dustin away when he brought it up, which told her he was worried Dustin would spill the beans.

"Y/N?" Eddie asked, cracking open one eye

It was Eddie

Eddie had a crush on her!

"Y/N" Eddie said again, both eyes open as he went to sit up

But Y/N pushed his body right back down as her lips smashed on his. Eddie's eyes widened in shock as her lips moved against his. Her hands were on his shoulders as she leaned down.

After his shock, he kissed her back. His hands reached up and held her hips. Their kiss grew deeper as Y/N straddled his lap. He sat up, lips still attached to hers. He moved on hand up to her head and pushed her head further into the kiss.

Y/N felt every part of her body light up with electricity. Her hands moved into his hair. Something she spent years wanting to do. His lips tasted better than she imagined. He was soft but controlling. It made her head spin.

Eddie pulled away, his eyes heavy in lust.

"That was...wow." Eddie breathed out, he blinked a thousand times. Believing if he blinked hard enough, this moment would vanish. But to his luck and prayers, she was still on his lap.

"You are the friend," she said, breathy as she still waited for air to return to her lungs

"Uh yeah," Eddie nodded

"Thank god," she smiled before her lips smashed into his again.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites

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marlynnofmany · 2 days

Text

The Mechanic’s Burden

I pushed my way into the engine room with a tray of food, wondering what was keeping Mimi from his meals this time. He was a dedicated sort, taking his job as spaceship mechanic seriously, and sometimes that meant long hours grumbling in the guts of the ship.

“Dinner!” I called. There was no sign of green tentacles among the viewscreens of the main room, and I didn’t feel like guessing which passageway he’d gone down.

“Thanks,” grated Mimi’s rough voice from somewhere to the right. “Up here.”

I followed the sound of someone rummaging through a toolbox to find Mimi perched on top of one pipe among many, in front of an open electrical panel. Wires were everywhere, most held aside with twist ties to bare the problem area. Mimi clutched tools in many tentacles. He was the very picture of an annoyed octopus digging through his toolbox for more. I wasn’t sure which pipes he’d climbed to get there, dragging the toolbox up to what was head height on me.

“Hi,” I said. “Where do you want it?” There wasn’t space for the tray on the curving pipes next to him.

“Eh, over there.” Mimi gestured with a mini-welder toward a mostly flat surface on a bit of engine housing at knee level. “I’ll get to it eventually.”

I set it down. “Hopefully you can take a break soon. This is pretty tasty: roast fursqueak from Zhee’s planet with some kind of Frillian shrimp sauce.”

“Hm,” Mimi said absently.

“The sauce is a good one, though it’s a flavor that kinda sticks with you.”

“Uh-huh.”

I dug in my pocket for a stick of gum, deciding that I’d rather not have that particular flavor follow me around for the rest of the night. Mimi was likely too distracted to care, but it was only polite to offer him one. “Want some gum for after you eat? It’s peppermint flavor.” (We’d already had the “this is food you don’t swallow” talk, so it was all down to taste. Not everybody onboard liked mint.)

“That’s the one that tastes cold, right? No thanks.” Mimi shoved the tools around a bit more, then heaved a deep sigh that made him seem to deflate.

I moved closer for a better look, trying not too breathe to much mint at him. “What’s the problem?” I could see a wire sticking out of the mess, with the covering stripped off the end and the fibers twisted flat.

“A stupid one,” Mimi said. He started putting tools back in the box. “It took me all day to track down where the disconnect was, and it turned out to be just one single loose wire. Can’t believe how much time I wasted checking everything else.”

I considered before speaking. “You know you can ask for help, right? Not everybody’s busy today. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

Mimi waved a tentacle instead of shaking his head-body. “It’d take longer to train someone else than to just do it myself.”

“You sure?” I pressed. “They wouldn’t have to know everything to be an extra set of hands. Or tentacles.”

“There’s a lot to know,” Mimi said. “Even this loose wire takes a delicate touch to weld back in place. You’ve got to put the welder on just the right setting, secure the wire but not get your flesh too close, and watch through a filter so you don’t hurt your eyes.”

“Yeah, sounds like welding to me,” I agreed. “Do you have a welding mask?” I didn’t see anything that looked like a face shield, or even sunglasses. Not that those would fit his cephalopod head anyway.

“A small filter is fine for this scale,” Mimi said, holding up a dark paddle-shaped thing. “The mini-welders don’t throw sparks.”

I realized that he had enough tentacles that he could hold a thing in front of his face and still be able to work. No need for goggles strapped to his head. Must be handy.

He was still talking, warming to the subject. “Now while I could train somebody else to weld effectively, I don’t want to risk she ship’s integrity on a rookie. I also don’t want to send anyone to Eggskin with burnt extremities because they tried to hold the wire in place without fastening gel.”

I peered over the edge of the toolbox. “Can you hold it with pliers?”

“This mess doesn’t leave much space for pliers,” Mimi said, pointing a tentacle tip at the nest of wires. At the depths of all those, I could see the spot where the stray wire was meant to go. I could probably get a hand in there. But yeah, pliers and the welder both wouldn’t make it easy to see what you were doing.

Mimi said, “Now I could disconnect a couple sections, but I’ve wasted enough time already. I’d rather just stick it, weld it, and be done. But of course I already used all the gel in this box.” He gave the toolbox an irritated rap with the welder.

“Want me to go get you some?” I asked. “Where is it?”

“Ah, that would take too long to explain. I’ll just go grab it myself.”

“Wait. What about—” I took out my gum, wrapped it around the covered part of the wire, then reached in with fingertips and stuck it against the other end. “—That? Did I get it placed right?”

Mimi was quiet for long enough that I started to worry that gum was bad for wire casing, or was somehow explosive around alien welding tech. I probably should have asked first.

But then he raised the welder without a word, and held the viewing filter in place. I looked away while the welder glowed and fizzed.

“Done.”

I turned back to find him putting the tools away.

“Did it work?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Hooray!” I grinned. “Want me to peel the gum back off, or is the area still hot?”

More negating tentacle waves. “No, definitely too hot. I’ll get it after I eat.”

“Okay. Can I at least take this down for you?” I lifted the toolbox.

Mimi sighed. “Sure. Thank you.” He climbed down the pipes, suction cups popping quietly. That would have definitely been hard to do with the toolbox.

“You know,” I said, putting it down near his food, “Even Eggskin isn’t the only person on board who knows basic first aid. If they got hurt, we wouldn’t be panicking because they’re our only medic. You’d probably be doing your job even better if you made sure at least a couple other crewmembers could do basic troubleshooting.”

Mimi settled into place beside the tray, looking like he was trying not to sigh again. “You make a good point,” he admitted. “But I get pebbleskin just thinking about Blip and Blop rushing to adjust a loose rod, and jamming something that would cause a cascading failure.”

“Well yeah, you’d want to be careful who you entrust with what task,” I said. “But they’d be great at moving heavy things, like those panel covers you had to take off before.”

Mur scooped up a mouthful of food. “They probably would. As long as they follow directions and don’t touch anything else.”

“I’m sure they can do that!” I smiled. “If you need any wires cut or packages opened, Zhee and Trrili will be happy to do precise violence with their pincher arms. I can reach things up high, and…”

“And Paint would make a good heat sink, snuggling against overheated components,” Mimi said. “That’s occurred to me before.”

I laughed. “She’d probably love that. Who needs a heat shawl or other coldblooded accessories when you can take a nap in the engine?”

“She’d do it, too.” Mimi scooped up more food. “But no letting your cat in here. I know that animal likes warm things as well, and it would make the overheating worse.”

“You are absolutely right. No cats in the engine room.” I nodded. “Just crewmates.”

Mimi waved a tentacle and mumbled something about writing up a list of training possibilities after he ate. I left him to it, wishing him a good meal, then leaving with my minty gum and a quiet smile of triumph.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writblr #writeblr

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 13 hours

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i was sitting next to this guy while hanging out with some friends, and he was always a little flirty, and i never responded to it but i've stayed friendly ya know? this time he put his hand on my thigh, and i just kind of brushed him off and moved away and everything was fine. Now tho, everyone around me is acting like this is a huge deal and he shouldn't have done it and like,,, i get it, but also he wasn't aggressive and he backed off right away so i don't think it was a big deal at all 1/3

now tho my friends want me or themselves to confront him about it and i'm just so ??? because genuinely it was such a small thing to me and it feels like people around me want me to make it into a big deal for themselves more than to stand up for me since i don't think this needs to become A Thing at all, especially for a dude i've met twice and will probably rarely ever see in my life. idk how to get them to back off because it feels like they're not listening to me or don't believe me 2/3 but to put it in perspective i've been more uncomfortable in the past with men putting their hands on my shoulder/arm when trying to pass by in a crowded space than this guy trying to flirt and backing off the second i moved away. any advice on getting my friends to chill? 3/3

hi anon,

this is an interesting one. do you think your friends would recognize the irony if you pointed out that it sounds like they're being far more pushy and dismissive of your boundaries than the man who they want you to stage a confrontation with?

it's noble of your friends to want to look out for you, of course, but supporting people who we perceive as the recipients of inappropriate behavior means listening to them when they express what they actually need to feel supported. in your case, it's letting the entire thing go because this barely even registers as an issue.

I have to say that I'm incredibly inclined to agree with you here; while this lad may have been a bit forward in putting his hand on you, it sounds like his reaction - dropping it and backing off - was exactly what you were hoping for. human interactions are always going to have messy little edges where we bump up against each other and the signals don't quite line up; that's not a crime. what matters is how people react when they're given a No. by your account, this lad took it like a champ, understanding your no and backing off accordingly.

if that's good enough for you then I think it's really overbearing and, as you alluded to, a little self-serving of your friends to keep trying to pursue this and lambast a guy for a completely reasonable interaction. what exactly are they hoping to accomplish? do they want him to make an elaborate written apology to you, a thing that you've made very clear you don't want? do they want him to promise never to touch someone without explicit verbal permission again, a fairly ludicrous amount of control to demand over someone else's behavior? like. what is the end goal, gamers? what are we actually trying to accomplish? are some of your friends perhaps reacting to this based on their own past experiences? that's understandable, of course, but inappropriate when they're ignoring your own expressed desires in favor of their ideas about what they think you should want.

listen: you can't control your friends' thoughts, but you can ask them to shut the fuck up. if you haven't already, I would recommend sending out some kind of mass statement (there's a groupchat, right? this feels like a groupchat situation, which I say as a terminal group chatter) telling everyone that you, personally, are done talking about this and don't want to hear any more about it, and if anyone wants to confront thigh guy about it then they're at liberty to do that but they'd better make very clear that they're not doing so at your request or with your permission.

if you're feeling extra cunty you can top that off with a little "please respect that, since you all say you're so worried about my boundaries" but that may be a little much.

#sex edventures 2024

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saneabandoned · 3 days

Text

You weren’t loyal to me.

Oh, but they were. That’s why they never questioned you, they know how loyal you are, how you pride yourself in that, and never thought you’d actually leave. That’s why they never went after you, they just couldn’t believe you’d really left, left them, they didn’t know how to search for somebody who made it clear he didn’t want to be found. They were loyal, they just never expected you not to be.

I was one of you.

They know. They remember, and how couldn’t they, when they are not the same without you, they don’t see things the way they did with you standing next to them. They lost their balance the day they lost you, there is an empty space now where you once were and it’s just not the same anymore, not without you.

You still are. A brother, a friend. You are standing in front of them, and they’d take you back in a second, you need only ask.

You may have forgotten, but I haven’t.

Believe it, they can’t either. They just can’t wrap their minds around the fact that you’re not there anymore, that you chose to leave them, after everything you’ve been through together. They never looked for you because they didn’t know it was possible you didn’t want them anymore. They thought you’d forgotten, they never could.

And it’s why I’m going to give you what you never gave me: a chance.

They never gave you a chance because they didn’t think you needed it. They would never presume you’d wanted it, that you were ever even thinking of betraying them, that you needed something else other than them, than what you had together. They gave you a chance, don’t ignore it. They’re giving it now too. They’re here, aren’t they?

But you’re too proud, too stubborn, too insecure. How could they want you when you left? You can’t admit the mistake you made because you don’t think they’ll forgive you, and what then? You’d have lost your purpose, you’d be left alone, again. The kind of loneliness you never knew existed, the one you felt for the first time when you left them, only it would be worse because you’d know they don’t want you back this time.

You can’t bear to hear their refusal, which is why you prefer to have this on your own terms, you won’t beg, you want them to beg. Beg to join you, beg for you to come back.

Just a bit more, and maybe you’ll yield.

You want to feel that they’d missed you, and to be able to have someone watch your back again, someone to care enough for you to risk defending you. You weren’t made to be on your own, not like this, and you know it.

But you won’t break, why won’t you break?

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sammis-svsss-brainrot · 11 hours

Text

Theoretically if I were to host an event in which the Scum Villain Fandom tried to write PIDW would people be interested?

I discussed this with my good friend @spaced-out-scribbles a while back but here few details that I have in my head, please stop me if someone has already done something like this before

As we all know PIDW, written by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, was the source material that Shen Yuan transmigrates into

So wouldn't it be funny to have a "canon" source material for people to reference?

Step 1 would be to compile every reference to PIDW in SVSSS to figure out how long Binghe's white lotus arc lasted and how long actual plot occured before it devolved into shitty smut

Step 2 would be to compile a list of fic writers and maybe artists perhaps that would be interested in recreating PIDW based off of the information occuring in Step 1

A discord server is put together with everyone interested in this project

There could maybe be a list of people assigned to each referenced arc that would maybe hold applications the way that a zine would perhaps? With people applying to write specific portions of PIDW if they wanted to write the marriage of a specific wife or a portion of a specific arc

And anyone else that wanted to participate is assigned a random wife number and told to go wild with the longest, shittiest description of how Luo Bingge was a total stallion lead, and married his new wife of the week

All of these fics and/or accompanying art are submitted to a GIANT ao3 collection (bonus points if everyone involved creates a pseud that's named as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for this project) and with everyone's contributions all put together you get a semblance of what PIDW would have looked like

Bonus points if no one else has any idea what happened in a previous wife plot, so the story is not at all coherent towards the later chapters, because I fully believe Airplane had no idea what the fuck he's written before as he got to the end of PIDW

Someone is assigned to write the final shitty ending that made Shen Yuan so mad he died and transmigrated

If anyone wants to contribute to PIDW after the project, the collection could remain open but moderated to make sure chapter numbers/wife numbers stay consistent and that's about it

Obviously this would be a huge project to wrangle and would need a lot of people involved to actually make it work and take a lot of time, so if this is something people are actually interested in, it would more than likely not be able to come to fruition until the start of 2025 at the absolute earliest with all the prep work it would take to get a project like this accomplished but I thought I'd throw it out there to see if people would be interested, so reblog to spread the word if this is something you'd like to see!

Once again, if someone has already done something like this please let me know, I've only been in this fandom for like a year and a half so I'm aware that a lot of fandom events have occured before my time in the fandom

#svsss #luo binghe #sammi speaks #airplane shooting towards the sky #pidw #proud immortal demon way #poll #tumblr polls #fandom event #fandom #fan event #if this gets enough yes votes ill make a separate blog or hell even a Twitter account and send out a formal interest check/timeline

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seaofgoldensand · 1 day

Text

a love so cruel, it's a sin.

rafayel x mc (they/them | GN reader)

god of the tides, forbidden sea timeline

word count: ~1.5k

tw: angst, blood, murder, stabbing, major character death

summary: love will be the downfall of lemuria. rafayel has heard this one too many times and thought of it as a bunch of rubbish words, not that he would ever fall for someone, right? how can someone fall when all they have been taught is to protect and rule over an entire civilization. he would have a horrible wake up call that forces him to choose... his people, or them.

writer's note: this is the first time i'm using they/them, so if you see any mistakes or me using feminine pronouns, please excuse it. i'll look through this again at a later time. anyways, i hope you all enjoy this because phew... it's been a while since i posted something like this and oof. just stashing it.

to kiss a lemurian is to grant the human the ability to breathe underwater.

they remembered something in the myths they read through the duration before the day they were to be sacrificed to satisfy the sea god and keep the lands safe from the god’s rage. so they had already accepted their faith; however, of course that acceptance washes away like the waves crashing against the ship that held the offerings and them.

rafayel, annoyed by the humans, could only scoff as he overheard the men speaking about what the sacrifice and offerings will do for the sea god. all rubbish.

and he thinks they’re no better than the rubbish he was brought up to believe in or rather place his duties upon.

to protect and rule over the entire civilization of lemuria.

love would be the downfall of lemuria.

suppose the seas are lucky that rafayel had no inkling when it came to love. it was hard to even form some understanding with the concept when it was never introduced. his devout follower shouldn’t have anything to do with him possibly falling in love with them. they were just a tool for the elders (such as himself) to ensure the survivability of lemuria.

the elders never truly cared for anything else other than their sea god and lemuria.

and rafayel had no inkling as to why he would save the human, perhaps it was to get back at the humans for the misconceptions about sacrifices and to appease the angry god or perhaps he was so desperate to find a devout follower just to get elder amund off his back about the prophecy. regardless, he now had the human with him, but he didn’t know how much they were going to mean to him.

the elders saw it immediately the moment rafayel brought the human into one of the rooms rather than in some cellar below the palace. they see the way rafayel looks at his newfound devout follower and what was once something innocent and nothing derived from feelings within they had made sure rafayel would never experience to make the ceremony run as smooth as possible.

the past transgressions of the prior sea god were beginning to show in rafayel and the elders have then since begun panicking. somewhere in the cracks of the prophecy on the slate spells the tragedy of a god falling in love with a human and the downfall of lemuria would commence.

it was hidden underneath the gold paint that was near impossible to wash off, so no one, but the elders knew of the mistakes that were made and what had to be done in order to ensure the fall of lemuria will never come true.

that is why rafayel’s teachings had nothing to do with falling in love. if anything, they would deter him from even looking into the subject.

“what exactly is love, elder amund?”

“something that will bring down the entirety of the civilization we have lived with for many years.”

“is it truly that horrible?”

“love blinds you from your duties. it pulls you into the depths of nothingness—a facade of something beautiful that evidently makes you forget your people. you... forget who you are.”

rafayel thinks thinks it’s a bunch of bullshit, but then again, the concept of love never crosses his mind. if he were to pursue such a thing, it would be to spite the elders. and so he thought that was exactly what he would be doing.

until it wasn’t just out of spite, but out of feelings that they managed to pull from him. it is shared between glances towards one another, the subtle brush of rafayel’s fingers against theirs, and the fleeting kisses the god would steal from them.

it is only a tragedy when the god loves a human back.

rafayel figured out what the elders were planning to do. the day he brought the human back to the surface under the guise of having them show him what the sunrise looks like, he meant to keep them there and not to return to lemuria, but little did rafayel know that the elders had already spoken to them about the truth of the ceremony.

how rafayel needs their heart otherwise he and the rest of lemuria would be turned to seafoam and all its glory would crumble to ruins. they agreed to continue the ceremony unbeknownst to the god himself. that is until something his devout follower stated made him aware that they were willing to give their heart just for him to continue his duties.

his duties he never wanted to begin with.

and it is then that he utterly despises, not only the elders, but his existence in general.

the night comes to where all hell is let loose.

rafayel had made it clear to the elders that he would not abide to prophecy and surely there is some other way to maintain the entirety of lemuria without having to cut the heart of a human out of their chest.

“it is rubbish.”

“it is the prophecy, rafayel!”

“then i refuse to do so... i—”

“do not speak it, those words should not be carried through the currents.”

rafayel pauses with a smirk on his face. “i love them. i will not take their heart even if they are willing to do so.”

“rafayel!”

but rafayel was already gone and meeting with his now lover, holding them close and cupping their face. they share a kiss and then more, limbs tangled between the sheets as they proclaim their love to one another. neither of the two lovers knew of the horrors that would come after their first and last time intertwined both in body and soul.

that would be their final night together. spoken secrets between the two, the pinnacle of lemuria’s impending downfall.

it comes too quickly and rafayel is enraged by his foolishness. he is too late when he meets with them again. he already felt something off. the way they smiled at him wasn’t the way he remembered them doing so. it felt distant, as if something else was controlling them. they weren’t the person he had allowed himself to fall for.

“rafayel, my love... come closer. i’ve missed you. i need you.” they whisper with a knife behind their back. “let us leave this place and live together happily. would you not like that, my lord?”

“you—” he shakes his head, but his feet move. his body yearned for theirs, there’s a scent he catches from them, oddly enough through the currents of the water that pushes against them, their clothes flowing by it and he couldn’t help but continue the steps towards, almost as if hypnotized as he gets closer to to them before stops before them. “this is not you.”

“or perhaps... you never know who i truly was. did you not wish to take my heart for the sake of all of lemuria? how foolish, rafayel. you are utterly fool—”

they stop the moment rafayel grabbed their face and pressed his lips hard against theirs as if somewhere in the back of his head, that kiss would break whatever spell the elders had placed upon her. “come back to me.” he whispers, desperately as he clings onto them. “come back to me, and we will escape this place. just me and you—”

but his efforts are proven futile; his lack of ascension to godhood did not match the ancient powers of the elders who have lived much longer than he has. their magic is far more potent than anything he was able to conjure. and he knows this the moment he feels a dagger—his dagger—stabbed through his chest. the blade twists and pulls, repeatedly. he lost count after the first few stabs and yet he holds onto them tighter.

“i will not... i cannot kill you like they wish for me to do... my love, my devout follower... my... my beloved pearl.” he speaks weakly, between harsh breaths.

but he watches as his lover’s face twists into something foreign to him. the look in their eyes lost to the spell and he watches as their resolve slips.

they’re laughing.

they’re taunting.

“oh, rafayel, help me! help me! save me from this wretched curse placed upon me!” they giggle with a mocking tone that pierces through rafayel's chest until he finds himself collapsed on the floor.

he couldn’t understand if this was their true nature or the nature of the spell, but he feels the pain intensifying even more as his lover’s face contorts to something of sheer insanity. they flee the palace and the wake of their rampage, shrills coming from within the palace walls carry through his ears. and his final moments punctuated by the elders filing into the room.

“we tried to help you, sea god.”

“those who go against what is written in the prophecy must be punished.”

“this is what lemuria becomes because of your betrayal.”

“this is your fault.”

“you chose them over your people; you chose love... and love will be the downfall of lemuria.”

the words ring in his mind as visions of lemurians being slaughtered fills his head and the last of it was the beginning and ending to the lemurian civilization and whalefall city brought to ruins with the rest of lemuria soon to follow suit.

all because he had chosen love. and tragedy spares no one, not even the gods.

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redrose10 · 5 hours

Text

It took me longer than I wanted, but it’s finally here and I can’t keep editing it and putting this off. This is something I’ve been working on for a few weeks. It’s not exactly how I had planned it in my head, but I guess that’s how it goes. I was going to try something a little different so I do have a spicy bonus chapter that I was going to include as an extra, but I just don’t think I’m good at writing smut so I’m not sure if that will ever get posted. Let me know if you want it though.

Messages and comments appreciated! This is the first time I’ve ever attempted something like this so be kind please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi black cat hybrid X Female reader

Summary: When your good friend shows up in the middle of the night begging for your help, how can you say no. But what if their request makes you start questioning everything you’ve ever believed in?

Warnings: Physical abuse, sexual abuse, swearing, light smut (nothing too graphic), mention of no consent, mention of death/dying and murder, violence, weapons

Word Count: about 14,800 😯

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuffling to your front entrance you felt a range of emotions like anger at whomever was pounding on your door at 3am in the rain and also fear because someone was pounding on your door at 3am in the rain. Taking a peak through the front window the fear disappeared when you saw one of your best friends, Namjoon. However, that fear was now replaced with worry. Namjoon was not the type to be out at this hour unless he had a good reason and what concerned you most was what he wanted with you right now.

Swinging open the door he greeted you first, clearly in a hurry. He looked nervous.

“Hi Y/N. I’m so sorry to bother you at this hour, but there is nowhere else I can go. Can we please come in?”

“We?”, you asked brows furrowed.

Namjoon stepped aside and you saw the smaller frame that was hidden behind him, the hood of a sweatshirt blocking their face. Trusting that Namjoon wouldn’t bring anyone around that would hurt you, you motioned for them both to come inside and take a seat. You offered some towels to dry off and started the kettle on the stove to get them something warm to drink.

As you finally took a seat across from the two Namjoon cleared his throat, “Y/N I’m sorry again for just barging in like this. I just really need your help. It’s been kind of a rough night.”

You nodded, but remained silent as you waited for more information. The person sitting next to your friend had yet to make a sound or even look at you giving you an uneasy feeling.

Thankfully Namjoon took the hint and continued, “We completed a raid today. Something we’d been working on for a long time now.”

“Ahh there it is.”, you thought to yourself. Namjoon worked for the the Hybrid Protection Agency or HPA. They were like the FBI, but specialized in hybrid affairs. You had heard numerous stories of them raiding businesses and buildings that were being used as fronts for different illegal operations involving hybrids. You turned your attention back to your friend to hopefully find out what he wanted with you.

“Have you ever heard of Lee Yan?”, he asked.

“No I don’t think I have”, you shook your head not failing to notice the other person flinch at the mention of the name.

Namjoon continued, “He also goes by Viper.”

“Ooohhh.”, your heart skipped a beat. Viper was known as one of the most ruthless hybrid traffickers in the game. He didn’t care who he had to hurt or even kill to achieve his goals. He owned 90% of all hybrid operations and was consistently listed as the most wanted criminal in the HPA’s database. You’d heard Namjoon ramble on and on about how much of a scumbag he was.

“Well we’ve been watching him for a while now. We got wind that he was going to be in town tonight to check on one of his hybrid houses.”

Just hearing that name made you cringe. Hybrid Houses were technically legal because they operated under the guise that they were there for hybrids to use when their natural instincts kicked in. Thanks to the increasing costs of using Hybrid Houses more and more owners started opting to pay for suppressants while some of the harsher owners chose to force their hybrids to just push through it without any help at all by locking them away until it passed. So now the houses are still advertised as such, but really they’re mostly being used as coverups

You realized you’d been completely ignoring everything he was saying so you sat up a little straighter trying your best to focus.

“Anyways, we showed up and raided the place. We managed to rescue about sixteen hybrids. We arrested two of Vipers guys, but unfortunately he was able to get away. Most of the hybrids are being taken to local shelters, a few had to be taken to the hospital. But one of them needs some special care which is what brings me to you.”

“I’m sorry what?”, you asked choking on air. Namjoon knew better than anyone that you didn’t exactly agree with owning a hybrid or anything hybrid related. In your views they were people more than animals and should be treated as such, Therefore they shouldn’t need an owner and you hated the way the government basically deemed them property. Hybrids had fewer rights and protections than any other species and you hated it. Namjoon had attended a few Hybrid Rights rally’s with you so he knew your views on this and you were honestly a little angry he was even trying to bring you into this.

Namjoon chuckled, “I guess I should’ve introduced you from the start. This is Yoongi.”, Namjoon spoke gesturing to the person next to him.

Your eyes widened in surprise as the mysterious person slowly pulled down the hood of their sweatshirt. Barely poking out of the top of a mop of black hair were two black fuzzy cat ears. A long fluffy black tail curled out from behind him. With so much going on you hadn’t noticed that your friend’s new friend was a hybrid. The hybrid, or Yoongi as he was called, quickly made eye contact with you before returning his gaze back to the floor. He reached for his tail slowly combing his fingers through the fur. You figure it was probably a way of self soothing.

“Nam-, Namjoon I’m sorry but how am I supposed to help?”

“Right, so Yoongi is or uh was Vipers personal pet.”

The sound of that word made your stomach twist. He was a grown man and shouldn’t be considered anyones “pet” and it infuriated you that people even had thoughts like that.

“When Viper took off he left Yoongi behind probably thinking one of his men would protect him, but one of our guys took him in thinking he was just one of the hybrids from the house instead. We can’t take Yoongi to a shelter. Viper will have his guys scouting every shelter with 100 miles from here. It’s not safe for him to stay with me either since I could possibly have a target on my back. I need him to stay here with you.”

You felt bad for the chuckle that you let out knowing that this probably wasn’t Yoongi’s first choice either, but you just couldn’t stop it.

“Namjoon, I can’t just take in another person. I can barely afford to feed myself let alone someone else. Plus you know how I feel about owning hybrids. It’s wrong. They’re people and shouldn’t be owned like an animal.”

Yoongi felt an odd fluttering in his stomach. No one had ever referred to him as a person before.

“Look Y/N, I’m desperate. I’ll send some money your way to cover the extra food and stuff. And you don’t have to officially adopt him. We just need to keep him safe until we get Viper in custody and then I’ll figure something else out.”

Namjoon reached over and placed a hand on your knee. You knew when he resorted to physical touch that he was serious.

“Please Y/N, he’s been through hell and back and has nowhere else to go. I need someone that he can trust. That I can trust. I can’t let him get back into the hands of someone like Viper.”

You peaked over Namjoon’s shoulders to see Yoongi with his hands folded in his lap. His bangs plastered to his forehead and still damp from the rain. He looked at you for barely a second before looking away, but even in that quick glance you could see the desperation in his eyes. You could only imagine what he had been through. Someone like Viper couldn’t possibly treat his own hybrid well when to him all they were there were play things and money makers.

“Okay.”, you spoke barely above a whisper, but Namjoon still heard you. He smiled before looking back at Yoongi trying to give him a reassuring squeeze that everything was going to work out for the better.

Thankfully the kettle sounded giving you an out of the awkward situation. While in the kitchen preparing the drinks you could hear Namjoon and Yoongi whispering back and forth.

“She doesn’t want me here. I can just go back to my owner. I don’t want to be any more of a burden than I already am.”

“Trust me, she’ll come around. It’s just a lot to take in. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think she’d take good care of you.”

He was right. You would try your hardest to take care of him even if this situation isn’t exactly ideal for you.

After a drink and some pointless small talk you walked Namjoon to the door as he continued to give you instructions, “So don’t take Yoongi out of the house for any reason unless it’s an absolute emergency and call me immediately if you do. I’ll stop by with some clothes and stuff for him in a day or two plus some extra money.”

You nodded in agreement unsure of what else to say at that point. After he left you made sure to use all the locks on your door suddenly feeling a little less safe than normal. Yoongi was still sitting in the same spot on the couch not having touched his tea.

“I can make you something else to drink if you don’t like it. Or maybe something to eat? Are you hungry?”, you asked awkwardly.

“No thank you. I’m okay.”

“Okay… well… I’m gonna go take care of a few things. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded as you scampered up the stairs to your bedroom. After taking a few minutes to calm down and catch your breath you started grabbing whatever you could think he might need.

Digging through your drawers you found a t-shirt and a pair of old sweats that you thought should fit him after making a hole for his tail. Then in your closet you found an extra pillow and some blankets. Your spare bedroom was pretty much being used as storage so Yoongi was going to have to sleep on the couch which you felt terrible about so you decided to start looking online for a bed getting yourself distracted. You weren’t sure exactly how long he was going to be staying, but you figured it would be a couple weeks at least and you didn’t want him sleeping on the couch that whole time. You’d been meaning to finally set up the spare room so this was the kick you needed. You had to use pretty much every cent you had to afford everything, but it was needed.

After getting everything ordered you realized you had been locked away quite a while longer than you’d expected and got very worried about Yoongi. Rushing down the stairs with blankets and pillows in hand you found an empty couch.

“Fuck did he run away already?”, you panicked. Namjoon was going to kill you. Walking into the kitchen to find your phone you spotted a lump of black curled up in the corner. Getting closer you recognized the tail and ears. A wash of relief flooded over you as you bent down and tried to softly wake up the sleeping hybrid.

You tried to be as gentle as possible, but he still startled awake quickly backing into the corner before letting out a small hiss and curling in on himself.

“Hey it’s just me. It’s Y/N. I’m sorry for scaring you. I didn’t mean to.”

He looked back at you with wide eyes, still unsure of you and the situation.

After he finally calmed down and realized it was only you he relaxed a little before standing up.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor to begin with?”, you asked concerned.

He shrugged, “You were gone a long time so I thought you just went to bed for the night. I didn’t know where you wanted me to sleep and I didn’t want to wake you. I usually get put on the floor or in the garage, sometimes outside so I just chose right here.”

Your heart hurt at that while your face flushed with anger.

Stretching out your hand you motioned for him to follow you into the living room. After finishing setting up the couch you turned to Yoongi who was still shyly standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry you have to sleep on the couch tonight. I don’t have a spare bed at the moment. I did order one though which is why I was gone so long. It should be here in a day or two. But the couch is really comfy and I can get more blankets or pillows if you need them.”

While you felt like a terrible host for having him sleep on the couch, Yoongi looked at you like you’d just given him the world.”

“I-I can sleep on the couch?”, he asked still unsure.

“Yeah of course. Like I said I’m sorry I don’t have a bed for you but it’ll just be for a couple days.”

You saw the first glimpse of a smile before he went to sit down.

“Oh wait!”, you exclaimed and then made a mental note to try and not be as loud when you noticed how he flinched at your quick movements.

“Come with me.”, you motioned for him to follow you to the bathroom. When you got upstairs you showed him the clothes you’d laid out plus a towel, “I figured you’d like to take a hot shower and have a change of clothes. These should fit you for the night. If you bring your clothes downstairs I can put them in the wash so you’ll have them for tomorrow.”

An awkward silence filled the room as he looked around in disbelief so you just nodded before closing the door behind you and heading downstairs.

Thankfully the rest of the night went by smoothly and you’d almost forgotten all about the hybrid sleeping on your couch downstairs until you heard his soft snores filling the air. Peeking over the railing you spotted Yoongi still curled up in a little ball on the couch. You could see his ears swivel with the noise of a few birds chirping outside. How long had it been since he was able to sleep deeply like that?, you wondered.

As quietly as possible you tiptoed past him and made your way to the kitchen to get some coffee ready. About twenty minutes later Yoongi came walking into the kitchen looking incredibly grumpy. He was definitely not a morning person you thought to yourself.

“Good morning.”, you chuckled.

“Good morning.”, he scowled.

“Would you like some coffee or orange juice? I have some milk.”, you asked unsure of what his diet normally looked like.

“Water is okay.”

You nodded and handed him a glass.

“You can sit down you know.”, you said pointing to the chair across from you.

“Sorry. I’m not usually allowed on the furniture.”

“Yoongi you live here now too. At least for a while. You can sit on the furniture, watch tv, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You don’t have to be afraid. I promise nothing bad will happen to you here and I’m not going to hurt you.”

He nodded in understanding, but you could tell that there was still a lot of apprehension there.

“Speaking of which, what would you like for breakfast? I’m not the greatest cook, but I can get by.”

“I’m okay. I don’t need to eat anything.”, he shrugged, but his stomach said otherwise following with a loud grumble.

“How about some scrambled eggs and toast?”, you asked which he gratefully accepted.

He offered to clean up the kitchen for you after breakfast and then you both headed to watch a little tv and wait for Namjoon who said he’d be over in the afternoon. There was quite a bit of awkwardness in the air as you both sat on opposite sides of the couch neither of you really knowing what to say or do. After three episodes of some random baking competition show you had put on there was a knock at the door. Yoongi’s ears laid back into his hair as he scrambled to try and find a hiding spot before you could answer it.

“It’s just Namjoon.”, you said after peaking out the window.

Your friend walked in carrying several bags of clothes and supplies.

He and Yoongi carried everything up stairs before returning back to the couch. You offered Namjoon some water as you took a seat across from them.

“So how did last night go?”, he sighed.

“Alright, I think. I have a bed coming for Yoongi. Should be here soon.” You peaked over at Yoongi hoping he’d agree. He nodded his head.

Namjoon took a sip before continuing, “So I have an update about this whole situation. I got a call this morning that Viper has been located.”

Yoongi visible tensed up and you had to stop yourself from reaching out to him not feeling like you had that right yet.

“Okay so they caught him?”, you asked.

Apprehensively Namjoon continued, “Not exactly. The last tracking we have of him is at the airport. It appears he fled the country. We don’t know exactly to where, but our best guess is he probably went somewhere with super lax laws surrounding hybrids where he can hide out and be less likely to get caught.”

“Okkaaayy so what does that mean for Yoongi?”, you asked.

“Umm well he’s still not out of the woods yet. Viper will have his guys looking all over for him. We heard they were already at the shelters on 38th and another on Rose Ave asking about him so he’s going to have to stay here a little longer.”

“Oh okay that’s fine.”, you responded almost a little too quickly for your liking.

Suddenly Namjoon turned his attention to Yoongi,” Why don’t you go upstairs and start unpacking all the stuff I brought?”

Yoongi wasn’t dumb and he knew that was code for I need to talk to Y/N in private so with an eye roll he agreed and headed upstairs.

Once you heard the door close you turned your attention back to Namjoon, “Joon I guess I’m just not understanding why this guy would go through all the trouble to find Yoongi. Couldn’t he just find another hybrid to abuse? Like why is he so set on finding Yoongi that he has guys searching all over for him?”

He took a long deep breath before continuing. His voice barely above a whisper trying to stop Yoongi’s enhanced hearing from listening in.

“Well he’s more than just a pet.”

“Ugh please don’t use that word.”, you spat in disgust.

Namjoon chuckled., “Alright well I’m sure you’ve noticed that Yoongi is particularly attractive. Like more attractive than your average hybrid or person.”

You nodded your head because of course you had. Yoongi was very handsome with his chiseled jaw and cute button nose that sat perfectly under his beautiful cat eyes. His sweet gentle nature combined with his politeness made him all that more attractive on top of it. Unfortunately you were starting to have an idea of where Namjoon was going to be taking this conversation.

He snapped his finger at you, “Reel it back in Y/N. Daydream about Yoongi another time.”

You rolled your eyes before motioning for him to continue which he did, “Well because of that there are people in this world that will pay a pretty penny to spend a night with him, for whatever reason. Some want to fulfill their sexual fantasies as I’m sure you expected, others just want to have a companion, and some want to fulfill other desires that may not be so legal being done to other humans or animals. Either way Viper just lost his biggest moneymaker who brings in a lot of repeat and new customers so he’s not going to stop until he finds him.”

You felt sick thinking about how Yoongi and all these other hybrids have been treated.

“I just need him to stay here for a while. Maybe you can help him come out of his shell a little. You know show him that not all people are bad.”

You licked your lips, “Yeah sure. Of course he can stay here.”

Namjoon smiled, “Thank you Y/N. I owe you big time.”

“Yeah you definitely do.”, you chuckled.

Namjoon went up to say bye to Yoongi before coming back down and giving you a hug, “Alright I’ll keep you updated. Let me know if you need anything.”

The following morning Yoongi’s bed was delivered and thankfully he was quite handy building the bed by himself in just a little over an hour. You tried to help, but mostly just stood off to the side handing him whatever he needed and offering words of encouragement.

After the bed was made you stood back taking a look at the room that was slowly coming together.

“Maybe we can get you a tv or something. Or a computer? Do you have any hobbies?”, you said sneaking a look at him.

He shook his head, “Y/N, you’ve already done more for me than anyone else ever has. I don’t need anything else.”

His words hit you. The thought that having a small bed and a couple hot meals was more than this poor soul had ever received combined with what Namjoon had told you earlier, it broke you.

“Enjoy your room for a while. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”, you said before slipping out the door so he couldn’t see your watery eyes.

You may have gone a little overboard on ordering and definitely won’t be able to afford takeout for a while, but seeing the look on Yoongi’s face as he was devouring the pizza made it worth it. Over the last few months he had started opening up to you little by little. First it was little things like his favorite color or how he has always wanted to try pizza but was never allowed. He was still pretty skittish and didn’t seem to like being touched or even really be any closer than just sharing a couch. You didn’t blame him at all. But he had become a very important part of your life in a short time.

Then last night during a particularly severe thunderstorm you heard a soft knock at your bedroom door. Cracking it open you saw him standing there squeezing one of your favorite hoodies close to his chest. You wanted to question him about how and why he had it because you’d been looking for it for weeks, but the terror in his eyes diverted your attention. A loud clap of thunder rang through the air causing him to get low to the ground in fear using his hands and your hoodie to cover his ears. Without even thinking you grabbed his wrist pulling him into your room and tucking him in your bed. You thought he would protest, but he just burrowed deeper into the covers. Once back on your side the realization hit you that you were now sharing a bed with Yoongi, which other than a few accidental brushes against each other, was the closest the two of you had ever been.

You couldn’t deny that there had been some feelings brewing over the last couple weeks. You tried really hard to pushed them as far down as possible, but they kept coming to the surface. Yoongi had been through so much and there was no way you’d ever spring that on him, not right now. Especially when you had no idea at all if he even felt somewhat similar about you.

Another clap of thunder hit and you felt him jolt next to you with fear.

“Hey it’s okay. It’s just a storm. It should be over soon.”, you’d said trying to soothe him.

“I know, I’m sorry. It just loud noises sometimes scare me. It’s dumb.”

“Its not dumb. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He stayed silent for a few moments.

“Can you just hold me?”

His request stunned you into silence.

“N-never mind. It was a dumb idea.”

Before he could scoot away any further you grabbed his hand to stop him and pulled him closer so your arms could fit over him. He buried his face in your neck and instantly you could feel some of the tension leave his body. You prayed he wouldn’t feel your heart about to beat out of your chest. You thought it would be awkward, but it actually felt quite nice and comforting. After giving him a few minutes to settle down you decided to bring up something you had been wondering about.

“Hey Yoongi?”

“Mmhm?”

“Why do you have my hoodie?”

The tension retuned.

“Umm well I found it one day when I was cold so I wore it but then I realized that it made me feel better. I just started hugging it when I feel overwhelmed or anxious and you’re not here or if I didn’t want to bother you. It smells like you and it helps me relax. You can have it back though. I’m sorry I took it without asking. Please don’t be mad.”

He panicked and tried to unwrap the fabric from his body, but you stopped him, “No no it’s okay. I was just wondering. You can keep it. I have a closet full of them. And you never bother me. Ever.”

After some reassurance he happily settled back down and not long after you heard the faintest rumble come from his chest. “Yoongi are you purring?”, you asked trying to hide how happy it made you that he felt so comfortable with you.

“Shut up. Sometimes I can’t help it.”, he said embarrassed that his body had betrayed him like that. He was trying to act mad, but even in the dark you could see the faint hint of a blush on his cheeks. You just chuckled before allowing him to snuggle in a little closer.

After a while you’d thought he had fallen asleep as the purrs died down, but then he spoke, “Thank you for letting me in here. I’m sorry I woke you up for this.”

“Don’t be sorry. I am always here for you. I promise.”

He chuckled, “I really hate thunderstorms. I feel like such a little kid sometimes.”

“Is it the loud noise?”

“Kind of, but it’s more than that.”

He then went on to tell you about one of Viper’s regulars, Mrs. Cho and how she’d always book time with him during thunderstorms because her husband was a meteorologist and was usually busy during those times. Apparently she was in to pain and he tried his best to describe the things she had forced him to do before his voice started cracking and you told him he didn’t have to go any further. Talking about those moments seemed to bring back a lot of painful memories for Yoongi as he spent the rest of the night clinging to you while whimpering himself awake every so often until you could soothe him back to sleep.

That night seemed to change something between the two of you. Over the following weeks Yoongi became a lot cuddlier, often choosing to sit next to you while watching tv and getting into bed with you at night even if there wasn’t a storm outside. You both cooked meals together, his arms around you more than he actually helped cook. He’d help you in your garden since it was only in your backyard blocked off by a fence and he liked getting some fresh air. Your feelings grew deeper and deeper too, but you couldn’t ever bring yourself to say anything. It wasn’t worth the risk of ruining everything you had with him.

So that’s why you decided to splurge and surprise him today with a pizza party thanks to the bonus you got at work. You knew it wouldn’t just magically make everything better, but it also couldn’t make it worse.

He told you over and over how the pizza was the best thing he’d ever tasted and you had to keep reminding him not to overdue it so he didn’t get a tummy ache.

You were just finishing up the dishes when a knock at the door pulled your attention that way. Like usual whenever someone came over Yoongi bolted for his room to hide until he knew it was safe to come out. You were a little nervous to open the door yourself. They still hadn’t caught Viper and you hadn’t heard from Namjoon in several days which was weird and there was an incident at the grocery store last week where you swore a man was following you, but nothing ever came of it so you chalked that up to just some creep following you around.

After peaking out the window you excitedly swung the door open before jumping into the man’s arms.

Yoongi sensing that you weren’t in danger peeked around the corner and saw you hugging it out with some guy. It made his chest constrict, a feeling he didn’t like. He knew he was starting to have feelings for you, he thought he had pushed those all the way down, but apparently not. He made his way down the stairs to the two of you standing right beside you so you’d notice him which of course you did right away.

“Yoongi! I’m glad you’re here. I want to introduce you to my good friend. This is Jungkook.”

The two men nodded a greeting at each other. You missed the way Jungkook eyed Yoongi up and down. Suddenly Yoongi got a really uneasy feeling about this person. He tried pulling you into the other room, but you brushed him off. You invited them both to take a seat with you but you were a little surprised that Yoongi decided to sit right next to you almost on your lap, but still between you and Jungkook. His tail was puffed up and swinging shortly showing his agitation as he glared at you friend.

“So Kookie how have you been?”, you asked offering him a drink.

“Kookie? Why don’t I have a nickname?”, Yoongi scoffed to himself.

“Pretty good. Traveling a lot. How have you been?”, Jungkook asked.

“Good, working a lot.”

The two of you went back and forth making light conversation. Yoongi was getting more and more angry as time went on. He just did not like this Jungkook, but he couldn’t quite place why. He knew a part of it was jealousy because it was clear you and Jungkook

had some history from the stories you told and he knew you’d never be interested in him in that way as much as he was starting to want that.

After what felt like hours you finally walked Jungkook to the door with Yoongi following close behind.

“It was so nice to see you Y/N.”, he smiled.

“Yeah of course. You, me, and Namjoon will have to get together some time. Just like our old college days.”

You both chucked followed by Jungkook extending his hand out towards Yoongi. That’s when Yoongi saw it. On Jungkook’s wrist was a tattoo of a snake. Or more specifically a viper. It was a marking that all of the close associates of Viper had and THAT is why Yoongi didn’t like this guy. He was bad news.

Without thinking he lunged forward attacking Jungkook. His need to protect you overtaking his fear for a moment. You looked on in shock before realizing what happened. By that time Jungkook had already thrown a punch causing Yoongi to fall to the ground.

“Bye Y/N. See you around.”, he said before smirking at Yoongi who was still laying on the floor.

“What the hell Yoongi? Why did you do that?”, you said dropping to your knees next to him.

Softly you moved his hand seeing the welt already forming on this cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get some ice.”

Back in the kitchen and with a bag of frozen peas on his face you went back to scolding him, “You can’t just go around attacking people Yoongi. You could get in a lot of trouble. Especially as a hybrid they’ll look for any reason to deem you as a delinquent.”

Yoongi continued to stare at the floor.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”, you asked letting more of your annoyance show through than you had planned.

“Jungkook works for Viper.”

“No he doesn’t. He works with Namjoon for the HPA.”, you chuckled.

“Y/N, I’m serious. He has the viper tattoo. I saw it.”

You were starting to feel the frustration bubbling.

“Yoongi lots of people have Viper tattoos. It’s like a pretty common thing.”

He shook his head, “No it’s a specific tattoo that all his closest guys get. It’s like some initiation bullshit or something.” He took a breath before continuing, “They only get it after they’ve proven their loyalty by murdering a hybrid.”

“There’s no way. Jungkook would never do that. He’s always been for trying to improve hybrid rights.”, you shook your head.

Yoongi removed the bag of peas revealing the red welt, “Y/N I’ve seen that tattoo hundreds and hundreds of times. I know what I saw.”

You still didn’t want to believe him. Jungkook was one of your closest friends. You never would’ve let someone like that into your life. Unable to stop the words from spilling out of your mouth you’d told up backing away from him.

“You’re just jealous Yoongi.”

He scoffed, “Of what?”

“Because for the last couple months I’ve been devoting all my attention and energy to you until now when I showed the slightest bit of attention towards another guy so now you’re making up lies to make me hate him. You only want me for yourself.”

Now it was his turn to laugh, “For what? You’re just my temporary owner. Fuck every guy in the city. I don’t care. I’m just trying to protect myself and that means not having that guy around.”

His words stung you a little. You were starting to catch feelings, but to him you were just another human that had ownership of him as a pet, nothing more.

“You’re lying.”, you whispered.

“Y/N I’m not lying. You need to call Namjoon. Now! We’re both in danger.”

You shook your head, “I can’t believe you Yoongi. I never thought you’d become such a problem hybrid.”

You heard him audibly gasp and you instantly regretted saying it. While referring to a hybrid as a problem hybrid might not seem like much of an issue to a human, to a hybrid it was considered derogatory since they have had to fight for a long long time to prove that they too could be a productive part of society with no issues just as any human could. So calling one a problem hybrid deemed them a lost cause and basically meant they should just be locked away and remain nothing more than a pet on a leash.

“I’m sorry Yoo-.”, you tried to say reaching forward for him, but before you could finish he threw the bag down on the table and ran up to his room slamming the door behind him.

It had been a week since you last saw Yoongi. He refused to eat meals with you. He no longer sat behind you while you worked or cuddled next to you while watching tv. Your bed felt colder and lonelier too after you’d gotten used to him quietly crawling in with you in the middle of the night.

At the end of the week you decided to reach out to Namjoon to ask for advice, luckily for you he contacted you on his own through text. You figured he was probably somewhere that he couldn’t really talk out loud.

Joon: Hey how are things going? Sorry I’ve been MIA. Just a lot going on.

You: Honestly, been better.

Joon: Yeah I wanted to talk to you about that. Yoongi contacted me the other day. He said something about wanting to go to a shelter.

You felt like you were going to be sick. You had tried to apologize several times for the problem hybrid situation, but he never wanted to hear it. You had no idea that he hated you so much he’d rather risk it living in a shelter, but you also couldn’t really blame him.

You: Yeah I let my emotions get the best of me and said something that I shouldn’t have. I really don’t want him to leave, but I won’t force him to stay.

Joon: Technically since you’re not his owner you can’t force him to stay anyways. It’s just still not safe out there and if he goes to a shelter it’s only a matter of time until they find him. What set this all off? Maybe I can talk to him.

You: I don’t even know any more. Jungkook showed up and Yoongi just attacked him. Said he was working with Viper. And then we got in an argument.

You: Have you seen Jungkook recently?

Joon: No I haven’t. He suddenly quit the agency about 9 months ago and I haven’t heard from him since.

Joon: Listen Y/N, I know you and Jungkook have or had a thing, but maybe it’s best to listen to Yoongi. He’s been in Vipers world most of his life. He knows a lot and if he’s saying Jungkooks bad news then he means it.

You: I just don’t see how that is possible. He’s a good guy.

Joon: Sometimes the worst people are the best at hiding their true colors. Just stay away from him until I do some more digging. Please. For yours and Yoongi’s safety. I’m going to talk to Yoongi and try to convince him to stay with you for now. I think it’s best.

You: Alright. Keep me updated. Stay safe yourself.

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves you knocked on Yoongi’s door with a shaky hand. Surprisingly he opened the door which you were not expecting so admittedly you were not prepared.

“Umm I just got off the phone with Namjoon. He said you wanted to go to a shelter instead. I’m not going to force you to stay.”

You handed him a couple old duffel bags you had, “So here are some bags. You’re welcome to take anything in the room. It’s all yours. Namjoon is going to look around and decide where he thinks it’ll be the safest for you to go.”

Gently he grabbed the bags from you. Just before he closed the door again you stopped him, “Oh and Yoongi, I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t mean to break my promise.”

Namjoon tried for several days to convince Yoongi to stay, but ultimately he was stubborn and had already made his decision. Namjoon had his sister pick him up early in morning a few days ago to take him to a shelter about three hours away. Namjoon wouldn’t tell you the exact location for your safety so that’s as much as you got. Now as you laid in bed trying to fall asleep while there was a raging thunderstorm going on outside you couldn’t help but worry about him. Was the storm hitting his area? How was he coping? He’d surely have a nightmare and you felt awful not being there to comfort him, but this is what he wanted even though it was all because of you.

You were just finally starting to fall asleep when a loud knock at your door woke you up. Tempted to ignore it, especially at this hour, you turned over trying to fall back asleep when you heard another knock. Then the possibilities flooded you. What if something happened to Yoongi? What if it was Yoongi?!

Jumping out of bed you sprinted down the stairs forgoing even checking who it was and swinging open the door praying to find Yoongi only to be met with the person who brought this all on.

“Hi Y/N, sorry to drop in like this again.”, Jungkook smiled.

You invited him in even though Yoongi and Namjoon’s words replayed in your head. You watched as he looked around your home before taking a seat.

“What do I owe the pleasure?”, you asked suddenly feeling uncomfortable with him here alone with you.

“Just thought I’d stop by. I was in the area again. Maybe we could go to that diner on Main. Like old times.”, he laughed.

You don’t know if it was the warnings or what, but this definitely didn’t feel like all the old times when Jungkook would show up at your door in the middle of the night wanting to go get chocolate chip pancakes while you both told corny jokes and laughed until the waitress finally had to kick you guys out. This felt darker, sinister even. Only made worse when you noticed the piece of black metal clinging to his hip that he tried to hide with his leather jacket. Jungkook had always been against violence especially anything that included weapons. You remembered when he first started training for the agency and had to learn how to assemble and use a gun. He despised it, almost quitting because of it, but he knew it was for the better of the hybrid community. If he really had quit the agency like Namjoon said then he would’ve had to turn in all of his weapons so the fact that he had one on him made your uneasiness all that more prominent.

“Yeah let me go grab my purse!”, you exclaimed trying to get away from him now realizing something was up. He grabbed your hand stopping you from going any further, “No need Y/N. I’ll pay.”

“Oh well at least let me go get dressed. I don’t want to go out looking like such a slob.”, you chuckled quickly bolting up the stairs before he could stop you again.

In your room with the door closed you frantically searched for your phone wanting to call Namjoon or the police or anyone for help.

Finding it lying on the floor you grabbed it quickly searching your contacts. In your frazzled state you failed to hear anyone creep up behind you until it was too late and you felt the cold metal against the warmth of your forehead.

A strong arm pulling you close against a body much bigger than yours.

“Y/N, put the phone down. You don’t want to do that.”, Jungkook growled in your ear.

“Why are you doing this?”, you asked slowly tossing your phone on the bed. “You were against abuse towards hybrids just like me and Namjoon. Now you work with the worst in the business?”, you questioned him.

“Look, I really don’t want to have to hurt you. I still care about you Y/N. That’s the only reason I didn’t just kill you the other night and take Yoongi then. Tell me where he is and I’ll let you go.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know. They took him this morning.”

You could hear him scoff as he pushed the tip of the gun against your forehead a little harder making you flinch in fear.

“Y/N, I won’t ask again. Where did they take Yoongi?”, he shouted.

“A shelter in North Provence. That’s all they told me.”, you spit out.

You cried tears of relief when you felt him pull the gun away before throwing you down on the ground.

“Thanks Love.”, was all he said before sprinting out of your home.

Quickly grabbing your phone you dialed Namjoon’s number.

North Provence was at least six hours away from you so double the time Namjoon had told you, hopefully buying you some time.

You called him twelve times before giving up.

You knew you had to get to Yoongi and make sure he was safe and apologize for everything. He had been right about Jungkook, but you had no idea where he was. Three hours away could be in any direction.

While getting dressed as quickly as possible you suddenly remembered that Namjoon had a cousin who ran a non-profit hybrid organization that would take in hybrids, rehab them, and then adopt them out. If you remembered correctly it was located about two hours and fifty minutes from you. You didn’t know if you were correct, but it was the only lead you had.

Making the drive there in record time you reached the shelter just as they were opening. You still hadn’t been able to contact Namjoon so you were doing this solo.

Namjoon’s cousin, Jin, greeted you at the front desk.

“Oh hey Y/N! It’s been ages. I really need to get on Joonie to start coming around more.”

You tried to smile, “I know , I know, I completely agree.”

“So what can I do for you?”

Trying to hide the shake in your voice unsure of how much Jin knows you took a deep breath, “Well I’d really like to adopt a hybrid and I knew this was the perfect place to come.”

He chuckled, “Well you certainly did come to the right place. Do you know what you’re looking for? We just got in this Labrador hybrid. His name is Hoseok or Hobi for short. He is the sweetest ray of sunshine and I think you’d love him.”

“He does sound very nice, but I was looking for more of a cat hybrid. Maybe a black cat?l

Jin looked up at the ceiling, “Hmm you know we do have a few cats. Come on back with me and see if there’s any that CATch your eye.”

He laughed hysterically at his own joke so you giggled along trying to hide the fact that you were two seconds away from vomitting.

“So right now we have four cat hybrids up for adoption. I think you’d really get along with Jimin the most. He’s not a black cat, but he’s very cuddly and playful. He’ll seriously be your best friend.”

You nodded taking a look though the glass rooms. You knew the owners of the shelters were just doing their best to find homes for the hybrids, but it felt so wrong walking through a long hallway staring into these rooms holding people for you to buy.

As mentioned Jin introduced to Jimin who immediately came walking up to the glass. Jin told you that Jimin was a Russian blue cat hybrid. He had beautiful fluffy gray hair and the prettiest greenish blue eyes. He shyly waved to you. Jin explained that Jimin had been rescued from a hybrid hording situation. He was very sweet and you had almost considered adopting him, but you had a different mission at the moment.

As much as it pained you to walk away you asked Jin to see the rest of the cat hybrids, but much to your dismay none of them were Yoongi.

“So see any that you like?”, Jin asked excitedly.

“They’re all very nice and I want them to all have good homes, but I was really looking for a black cat.”

Jin look apprehensive, “Weeeelllll we do have one black cat hybrid, but I don’t think he’s ready for adoption yet. Maybe if you’re willing to wait a couple months then you could adopt him. He’s only been here like a few days and he’s just really depressed and anxious. The thunderstorm last night really set him off.”

The more he described the hybrid the more it sounded like Yoongi.

You grabbed onto Jins arm, “Oh please let me see him! Please Jin!”

He looked at you confused by your excitement.

“I don’t know Y/N. I think a visitor would only stress him out more and I don’t want to do that.”

“Jin please. I promise I won’t even say anything to him. I just want to see him. Maybe it’ll help me decide if I’m really set on a black cat.”

“You’re lucky I love you like a sister.”, he sighed before leading you through a set of double doors.

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

“Just please try not to startle him. It seems like he’s been through a lot.”, he said leading you to a small room at the end of the hall.

Softly you tiptoed in front of the window. He was laying on a cot facing the wall. All you could see was black hair with two black ears poking out. That could be any cat hybrid and not necessarily Yoongi. You wanted to shout his name or beg for him to turn around. Anything to see his face.

You went to ask a question when suddenly an alarm sounded through the building.

“Sorry Y/N, I have to go check on that. I’ll be right back.”, Jin said before sprinting towards the back of the building.

You turned around prepared to gently knock on the glass now that Jin wasn’t around when you saw a familiar pair of eyes already looking back at you.

You’d found him. Quickly you began banging on the glass, “Yoongi are you okay? Yoongi please talk to me.”

Unfortunately he was uninterested in talking and turned back around to face the wall. His tail swaying lazily back and forth.

“Yoongi please! You were right about every thing. About Jungkook. He works for Viper.”

Still no reaction from him other than his tail coming to a halt .

“He showed up at my house. He held a gun to my head demanding to know where you were.”

That seemed to get his attention even more. You saw his ears swivel in your direction.

“I lied and sent him somewhere far away, but it’s only a matter of time until he figures it out. I need to get you out of here. Please Yoongi.”

You don’t know when you started crying, but you could feel the tears soaking the top of your shirt. Between the exhaustion and the stress and the fear you were reaching a breaking point.

Falling to your knees your face fell into your hands while you just sobbed. It wasn’t until you heard a tapping on the glass did you look up to see Yoongi kneeling in front of you on the other side. His palm pressed to the glass as he nodded.

Finally the alarm turned off which meant Jin could be back at any moment. You tried your best to wipe away the tears as you heard quick footsteps coming in your direction.

Thinking back to your high school drama days you you knew you were going to have to put on an act.

“I am so sorry about that Y/N. One of the staff members forgot to turn off the security alarm before going out the back door to receive a shipment. Have you given it anymore tho-, why are you crying?”, Jin said coming to an abrupt stop next to you.

You chuckled, “Sorry. You know me and how I get so emotional sometimes. Yoongi was just telling me about his past and I just feel so terrible about what he went through.”

Jin looked at you skeptically. Yoongi hadn’t spoken a word to anyone but he just told you his entire life story?

“Jin, I want to adopt him. Please.”

He looked between you and Yoongi. “No I don’t think that’s a good idea”., he shook his head.

“Jin, what’s the motto of this organization?”

“Everyone deserves a chance.”, he sighed.

“Sooo give me and Yoongi a chance.”

He looked over at Yoongi who gave him a nod.

Jin ran his fingers through his hair, “Alright, but don’t make me regret this. Either of you!”

Jin pulled you into a back room to fill out some paperwork. Thankfully he gave you the family and friends discount so you were able to afford the adoption fee.

As you were standing near the exit waiting for Jin to return with Yoongi you couldn’t help but feel the fear building now that you had found him. You tried calling Namjoon a couple more times, but without luck.

When Jin finally appeared with Yoongi following behind he handed you some more paperwork along with the bags that Yoongi had taken from your place.

You both ran off to your car and you didn’t waste any time to begin driving wanting to get away from the shelter just in case.

Yoongi had been silent this whole time until you heard his stomach grumble. You made sure to drive out a little further before stopping at a restaurant to grab something to eat.

After taking a sip of his milk he looked you up and down, “So what do we do now Y/N?”

“Well” you said finishing up the bite of your omelette. “To be honest I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d actually find you and if I did I didn’t think you’d leave with me. I’ve been calling Namjoon repeatedly, but he’s not answering. I don’t know who else we can trust.”

The table fell silent again as you both ate.

While Yoongi was staring out the window you took the opportunity to really look at him. He was noticeably thinner than you remembered. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. His lips extra chapped from licking them, a nervous habit of his you learned. His head hung lower than ever. You wanted to engulf him in a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay, but you knew you’d lost that right so you decided on an apology instead.

“Hey Yoongi.”, you’d said pulling his attention back to you.

“I, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for that night that Jungkook came over. I should’ve listened to you. I just didn’t want to believe that someone I had been so close to would have become such a terrible person. And I’m especially sorry for what I said. You’re not a problem hybrid. You’re the opposite actually.”

Unable to take his glare anymore you turned your attention back to your coffee.

He cleared his throat, “Im sorry for what I said too. I guess I just got a little jealous seeing how close you were with him. And then when I realized who he was I wanted to protect you and I was getting stressed out that you weren’t letting me.”

A silence fell over the table again except for you thanking your waiter for refilling your coffee.

“And uh thank you for coming for me. To be honest, I regretted leaving as soon as I got in the car.”, Yoongi whispered while staring into his pancakes. You gave him a smile before finishing up your meal.

“Well I have no idea what to do now. We can’t go to my place. Namjoon isn’t answering. I can’t really afford a hotel for more than a couple night.”

Yoongi took a final sip of his drink, “I might know someone we can trust. Can I borrow your phone?”

You were unsure, but you learned your lesson for not trusting him the first time so you handed it over and watched as he walked over to the entrance. After paying the bill you gathered your things and met him by the car.

“I have somehwere we can go. Just get on the highway and I’ll give you the directions.”

You did as he said ending up driving about two hours south before pulling up to a large farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. A perfect spot for a murder to go unsolved you thought. A man sitting on the porch swing sipping away on an iced tea got up ready to greet you.

Yoongi sensing your anxiousness reached over placing his hand on your knee, “We can trust him. I promise.”

You nodded still unsure but got out of the car following after him.

The man walked over and embraced Yoongi in a hug.

“Hello Taehyung. Thank you for taking us in.”, he said pulling away.

“Of course. You know you’re always welcome here.”, the man spoke in a very deep tone.

The two of them spoke in whispers giving you the chance to really look this Taehyung over. He had beautifully fluffy golden blond hair with deep amber eyes. Then you noticed two tiny little ears poking out of the locks and a long thin tail slowly swaying behind him. It appeared that he was a lion hybrid, which was extremely rare. Exotic hybrids were hard to come by, especially living out on their own in the countryside.

You were woken out of your thought when you felt a pair of arms wrap around you., “Ahh and this must be your friend you were telling me about. You’re right hyung, she is very beautiful.” You stifled a chuckle, but heard a very embarrassed Yoongi mumble something about needing to learn to keep his mouth shut before turning a bright shade of red.

Taehyung opened the door motioned for you two to follow him, “Come on in. I’ll show you to your rooms.”

You both followed him up the stairs and down a very long hallway. Taehyung was very friendly, but definitely a talker you learned. You felt like you were on museum tour the way he described each piece of artwork or architecture.

“I didn’t know if you two were going to be sleeping separately or together but just in case I have both options ready for you.”, he said opening two different bedroom doors.

You and Yoongi looked at each other awkwardly causing the lion hybrid to chuckled, “Well you two can figure it out together. I’ll let you get some rest and come get you when dinner is ready.”

You both agreed that it would be best to sleep in the same room, for safety reasons of course and not because there was definitely something still brewing between the two of you.

“So how do you know Taehyung?”, you asked trying to break the silence.

Yoongi sat down on the bed, “Well uh he actually used to also be owned by Viper and we were pretty close back then. Since he’s younger I always tried to protect him as much as I could. He managed to escape a few years ago though. We kept in touch the best we could. He always tried to get me to escape too, but I was just too afraid.”

“So what do we do now?”, you asked.

“I don’t really know. The easy answer is hideout and hope they’re able to arrest Viper before they find us. But I have a feeling it won’t be that simple.”

You chuckled, “Yeah me too.”

Taehyung called you both down for dinner. He greeted you in the kitchen with two glasses of wine.

At the stove stirring a pot was a beautiful woman. She didn’t appear to be any part hybrid, but fully a human like yourself. She greeted you with a smile, “Oh hi! You must be Y/N, Yoongi’s girlfriend.” The sip of wine went down wrong causing you to choke at her words. Yoongi threw Taehyung a glare causing him to put his hands up in defense.

The woman chuckled, “Sorry about that. My name is Lilly. I’m Taehyung’s wife.”

“Oh nice to meet you.”, you smiled.

She turned back to the stove playfully swatting Taehyung’s hand away from the bacon wrapped asparagus that were set out on a platter before he apologized with a kiss.

They looked really in love and after everything had happened it made your heart bubble with happiness to see it. It was not illegal for a human and a hybrid to get married, but it was extremely frowned upon by both the government and citizens alike forcing most hybrids and humans to never cross that line. You had never seen an issue with it and seeing a couple so happy made you really glad they had that option.

“Alright, let’s sit for dinner.”, Taehyung exclaimed clapping his hands together. Throughout the dinner Yoongi and Taehyung caught up and told stories. You and Lilly got to know each other. You had just finished up the last of the dishes when Taehyung invited everyone out to the back patio for a couple drinks.

“Soooo what are your next steps?”, he asked.

You had such a nice evening that you had honestly forgotten all about the whole reason you were there to begin with.

He continued, “You know Viper is going to have guys looking all over for you. Hell he’s probably still got them looking for me too.”

You hadn’t realized just how much Taehyung was also risking by having you guys there. He could be caught and imprisoned again.

Yoongi cleared his throat, “We’re not sure. Hopefully we can hide out here for a few days and then figure something out. Maybe finally get in contact with Namjoon.”

You nodded along in agreement.

“Well you’re both welcome to stay here as long as you need. We’ll help in any way we can.”, Lilly spoke up.

The next few days you and Yoongi spent a lot of time together trying to help out around the farm as much as possible.

Lilly and Taehyung had made a trip into town to get some supplies leaving just the two of you alone.

You were sitting on the couch cuddled liked you used to. Your back leaning against his chest. His arm lazily around your shoulder while his tail tickled your sides.

You were so engrossed in the movie that you hadn’t noticed Yoongi’s fingers lightly running up and down the exposed skin of your thigh until you noticed the goosebumps he was leaving behind. Slowly he seemed to be testing his limits by going higher and higher.

After a couple minutes of this you looked back at him catching his attention.

“What?”, he chuckled.

“Nothing.” Just as you’d figured he didn’t even realize he was doing it and there was no meaning behind his actions.

Then at some point his light touches turned into desperation. You don’t know how one thing lead to another, but somehow you ended up back in your room. Clothes discarded all over until you were left in nothing but your underwear. Yoongi fell back onto the bed pulling you on top of him. You happily obliged moving to straddle him making it more comfortable for you both. Hungrily you searched for his mouth wanting more. You ground down on him eliciting a moan that only encouraged you more. He helped push you down onto him again this time guiding you to hit just the right spots. You felt his soft tail wrap around your waist giving just a little extra bit of force. Between kisses and filthy words the cloth between the two of you became too much of a barrier to take any more. Without thinking you hooked your finger under the waistband of his boxers ready to release him when suddenly something snapped in Yoongi.

He wasn’t in bed about to make love to you, a woman that he cared deeply for, some might even say love. Instead he was back in one of Vipers “play” rooms. Loud music blaring, some person he didn’t know who had paid a handsome amount of money to have their way with him was grabbing him without his consent.

“Stop! Don’t touch me.”, he shouted making you recoil back like he had burned you. Maybe you had misread the situation after all.

“Yoongi what happened?”, you asked concerned. Instead of responding he fled back. Burying himself under the covers. You could hear the sobs come from beneath.

Quickly you threw on a shirt, yours or his it didn’t matter and gently made your way next to him careful not to touch him.

“Yoongi, it’s Y/N. No one is going to hurt you. I promise. You are just here with me. We’re at Taehyung’s. Remember?”

After a few minutes and a couple more affirmations his breathing started to slow and he peaked out from underneath the covers.

You smiled, “Hey are you okay? Can I get you anything? Maybe some water?”

He shook his head but you felt his fingers come rest against your hand before he intertwined them with your own trying to ground himself and bring him back to reality.

You gave him time to calm down. You didn’t dare move or speak for fear of setting him off.

“I’m sorry.”, he whispered after several minutes.

Lightly you giggled, “What are you sorry about silly? You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I ruined the moment. You probably think I’m some kind weirdo.”

You shook your head, “That couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m sorry that I didn’t check with you more. I should’ve been more careful.”

He pulled your hand closer to him so he could snuggle in your lap and you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I, I would like to try again one day. If that’s okay with you.”, he mumbled into your skin. The vibrations making you chuckle.

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready we can try again.”

You woke up the next morning to loud pounding on the door. Forgetting where you were more a minute you ignored it until you heard Taehyung’s voice. Jumping out of bed you were thankful you had both managed to get some clothes on after last night when you swung open the door. A very disheveled looking Taehyung greeted you.

“We need to get out of here.”, he exclaimed.

You looked back at him in confusion thankful that Yoongi had finally joined you.

He continued, “I just got a call from one of my friends in town. They saw Viper and a couple of his crew walking around. He’s onto us and it’s only a matter of time until they’re here. Grab what you can and meet me in the garage. We’ll take my truck.” Lilly came running up m to him ready to go but he shook his head, “It’s way too dangerous. Go up in the attic and lock the door. Use all of the locks. Stay quiet and don’t answer the door for anyone other than me. Just like we practiced. Okay?” She nodded and gave him a kiss before running up to the attic as instructed.

Meanwhile you and Yoongi grabbed your belongings which thankfully wasn’t much and made your way out to the garage where Taehyung was already waiting. You were barely in the truck before he sped off leaving the farmhouse behind.

“Fuck, where are we gonna go?”, Yoongi asked running a hand through his hair.

“How did they even find us so fast?”, you asked.

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea. Viper runs a very large operation. He probably has guys stationed in every city.”

Taehyung drove for hours only stopping for a bathroom break and to get some gas.

“What are we going to do? We can’t just drive around forever?”, you asked once back in the truck.

“A buddy of mine lives a little west of here. He’s an ex HPA officer. Maybe he can help us out.”, Taehyung said turning to Yoongi for assurance.

You were half way to your destination when your phone rang. The screen illuminated with Namjoon’s picture. You’ve never accepted a call so fast.

“Hello”

“Hi Y/N, I’m so sorry I haven’t be reachable. Some crazy shit has gone down.”

“Yeah you’re telling me.”

“Where are you?”, he asked.

“I have no idea. We’re with one of Yoongi’s friends. He was right about Jungkook. He works for Viper now.”

“I know. It’s unfortunate. Y/N, I’m going to send you my location. You guys can meet me here. I can get you somewhere safe.”

“Okay Joon. We’ll see you soon.”

As promised you received his location not long after. Taehyung punched it into his gps and made a uturn.

“Are you sure we can trust this guy?”, he asked feeling a little uneasy. You didn’t blame him after everything he’s been through.

“Yeah. I’ve known him since we were kids. He works for the HPA. He’s the one that initially brought Yoongi to me.” Yoongi nodded in agreement.

After an hour drive the truck pulled up to an abandoned looking warehouse close to the main river.

“Are you sure this is the location?”, Yoongi asked looking around and you quickly showed him your phone to verify.

You dialed Namjoon’s number surprised that he quickly answered.

“Hey are you sure that locatjon was correct? It’s like a creepy looking factory or something?”, you asked.

He chuckled, “Yeah yeah I know it looks rough but I’m inside. We’ve got a little operation running.”

Hanging up the three of you exited the truck and started walking towards the open door. Taehyung lead the way with Yoongi following close behind. He pulled you against him needing to know that you were safe there with him.

Inside the warehouse you didn’t see a whole HPA operation set up like you had imagined. Instead you found Namjoon tied to a chair with several men surrounding him all pointing their guns at the three of you.

You noticed that each man had the same viper tattoo that Jungkook had. Namjoon looked at you apologetically. His eye was bruised and his lip had clearly been spilt open.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess.”, he cried.

Instinctively you went to run to him but Yoongi stopped you. Pulling you close against him again. You wanted to protest, but were cut off by a high pitched laugh.

A strange man came walking in directly towards Yoongi positioning himself at eyelevel. “Well well well, you didn’t really think you could hide from me did you Kitty?”, he spoke running his finger delicately along Yoongi’s cheek.

You noticed the large Viper tattoo front and center on his chest. It didn’t take much to figure out that you were looking directly Viper himself.

Then as if you called him by thinking of him he set his sights on you hiding behind Yoongi.

“Ohhhh I see you’ve got yourself a little girlfriend. How adorable.”, he laughed.

“Don’t touch her.”, Yoongi spat.

“Please, I don’t want anything to do with your whore. The hybrid fucker can get lost for all I care.”

Viper walked closer to Yoongi until he was a mere inch from his face, “You know you’ve cost me a lot of money and time over the last few months. You’re going to have to make this all up to me.”

“Fine, just let Y/N go free.”, Yoongi said.

“No Yoongi, you can’t do that.”, you cried reaching for him, but Viper snapped his fingers and two of his men came over dragging you away. You tried your best to fight free, but they overpowered you.

As you were being pulled away you saw Viper kick his foot into Yoongi’s stomach dropping him to his knees in pain.

Something off to the side took his attention away from Yoongi though and you saw his face light up into a disgusting grin, “Tae is that you? I thought I lost you forever. This day just keeps getting better.”

Taehyung let out what could only be described as low roar making you jump in surprise forgetting for a moment that he was half lion.

“Stand down you overgrown house cat.”, Viper scoffed.

“Leave him alone. You have me now. Just like you wanted.”, Yoongi shouted.

You watched as Viper strolled over back Yoongi before backhanding him so hard causing Yoongi to fall over.

You screamed out his name, tears streaming down your face at the abuse he was receiving.

Viper rolled his eyes annoyed at the scene you were causing. He pointed to one of his men that currently had a death grip on your arm, “Finish her.”

Once again you felt the familiar cold metal against your skin.

“Noooo, don’t fucking touch her.”, Yoongi cried using what little strength he had left to try and break free.

Viper sadistically smiled seeing this all unfold., “Do it. Make sure Yoongi see it happen. It’ll be the first step in his punishment.”

You looked at Yoongi. His eyes were bloodshot and he was out of breath. A bruise on his cheek already forming. You mustered whatever you could manage to give him a small smile before closing your eyes. You could hear Yoongi’s pleas and cries. You wondered if you’d feel pain. You wondered if it would be instant.

Everything went silent. Then you heard the familiar sound of a gunshot so you braced. But you never felt pain. You never felt the impact. You thought maybe it really had been instant.

Then you heard doors slamming open and lots of shouting.

“HPA! Put your hands in the air before someone else gets shot.”

You opened your eyes to find dozens and dozens of HPA officers swarming the warehouse. The man who had held a gun to you earlier was facedown on the ground next to you, blood pooling around him.

Three HPA officers slowly walked towards Viper with guns drawn while a forth placed him in cuffs. The rest of Vipers men were quickly placed in cuffs too.

As soon as an officer grabbed the other guy who was holding on to you, you immediately ran to Yoongi engulfing him in a hug and sobbing into his chest.

“This isn’t over. You will pay for all of this. All of you.”, Viper spat at you as he was being dragged away.

“Are you okay? We need to get you to a hospital.”, you turned to Yoongi checking him over.

“No no I’m okay. I’m more worried about you.”, he said squeezing you a little tighter.

“We have a medic outside. They can check you both over.”, a familiar voice stated next to you.”

“Oh my god Namjoon! Are you okay?”, you exclaimed running into his arms.

“Yeah yeah. I’m fine.”, he smiled. “Just some good special fx makeup and terrible acting. Let’s go outside.”

Once in the fresh air you saw a face you never wanted to see again standing next to the ambulance. He gave you a nervous smile.

“What the fuck Jeon Jungkook?”, you shouted as he walked closer.

“Y/N, let me expla-“

He couldn’t finish the statement before your hand connected with his cheek.

“No Fuck you Jungkook. You held a gun to my head. You threatened me. You work for Viper and now you just want to stand here like nothing happened. Why aren’t you in handcuffs?”

Namjoon came in between you two, “Everyone just calm down. We have a command center set up next door. Let go over there, get some water, and cool down a little.”

You were in disbelief that Namjoon was taking his side. You looked at Yoongi for guidance and he nodded his head before reaching for your hand to follow after the two men.

Once in the command center and with a cold bottle of water in your hands you glared and Jungkook still not trusting him.

“How are you feeling Y/N? Can I get you something to eat?”, he spoke.

“Cut the bullshit Jungkook. What’s going on?”, you spat back at him.

“Firstly I want to apologize. That night at your place was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

You scoffed, “I didn’t ask for an apology. I want an explanation about why it happened to begin with.”

He took a deep breath before beginning, “The agency has really been putting a lot of effort into catching Viper. One of the ideas was to have someone infiltrate his group. Since I did mostly office work and was unknown amongst his men it was decided that it would be me. So about a year ago I started working on that. I pretended to quit the agency. The only people that knew about the whole plan at the time were Namjoon and the head of the HPA.”

“Wait, but you have the snake tattoo. Didn’t you have to kill a hybrid to get that?”

Namjoon stepped in, “It was all a setup. A retired officer who happened to be a hybrid somehow found out about everything. He was also in the final stages of cancer and volunteered his body. He wanted to make sure Viper was taken down for the safety of all hybrids.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

Jungkook cleared his throat and continued, “Viper got word that Namjoon had taken Yoongi to one of his friends. For some reason I had a feeling it was you. So I came over that first night to see if Yoongi was there and of course I verified he was. Two of Vipers guys were with me or I would’ve warned you that night.”

You could feel Yoongi’s tail swinging agitatedly next to you. A low growl rumbled in his chest, “So you purposely brought Vipers men to her house? They could’ve killed her!”

Jungkook scoffed, “I would’ve never let them hurt her. I had to keep the act up or they would’ve got suspicious about why I was there.”

The growl from Yoongi got a little louder so you rested your hand on his thigh to try and sooth him not wanting a repeat of that first meeting. Slowly you could feel him settle down even though his tail said otherwise.

Jungkook continued, “When I came back the second time I was planning on getting you both to a hideout for a while, but then Yoongi wasn’t there. I thought I was alone when I arrived, but once I got inside I realized that I had been followed so I had to act like I was there to get Yoongi.”

“Soooo you threatened to kill me to save your own ass?”, you questioned.

“No no no I was never going to hurt you. The gun wasn’t even loaded. I swear. I just needed to make it believable so that none of us would get hurt.”

“So then how did we end up here? How did you know where Yoongi and I would be?”

Jungkook continued, “Well that first time I was at your house and I punched Yoongi, sorry about that by the way.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes not wanting to accept the apology.

Jungkook continued, “I might have stuck a small tracker in your purse while you were distracted by taking care of Yoongi.”

After noticing your anger rising Namjoon took over, “When we saw that you went to Jin’s shelter we knew that you had found Yoongi. Jin confirmed you had adopted him. Then we tracked you to Taehyung’s address. We got his contact info and then told him everything that was going on. He agreed to play along and help us out by getting you guys to come here. Then we had Jungkook call Viper and tell him we had a tracker with Yoongi so that he’d come here too.”

“Wow unbelievable. Everyone in my life is a lier apparently.”, you shook your head.

“Y/N, I’m sorry we lied. We had to do what we needed to do so we could catch Viper. But I promise you were never in any real danger. We constantly had surveillance on you and if anything had ever happened we would’ve had officers there immediately.”, Namjoon said.

“I hope you can forgive me. I’m really sorry this had to happen this way.”, Jungkook spoke standing up ready to leave.

“I-I don’t know. Thank you for catching him, but I thing I need some time.”

He nodded in understanding and followed another officer out of the room.

Speechless you sat back taking in his words.

“So what happens now?”, Yoongi asked next to you.

“Well we have enough evidence to hopefully put Viper away for the rest of his life and we’ll continue to take down any of his operations that are still standing.”, Namjoon responded.

“Okay and what about me?”, Yoongi asked.

“Oh well you have a few options. We can take you directly to a shelter now that it’ll be safer. Or since you are technically considered a rescued hybrid you do qualify for fostering for a while to help you reacclamate back into society.”

Yoongi was silent but you could see him nod his head out of the corner of your eye. His ears twitched in your direction searching for any kind of sound from you.

The realization hit you. Unfortunately the way the laws were setup a hybrid could only live longterm with their legal owner and since you were not his owner that it meant he could no longer stay with you. Your whole life you had been vehemently against hybrid ownership, but the thought of never seeing Yoongi again made your chest ache.

“Ooorrrr if there’s someone who happened to already want to adopt you then we can work that out immediately.”, Namjoon spoke providing you the option to step in.

Biting your lip you nervously looked around. If you were to adopt Yoongi that would go against everything you ever believed and you’d only be helping the need to continuously adopt out hybrids. But then again you did care about Yoongi like you never thought possible.

“You promised.”, Yoongi whispered next to you, he voice slightly cracking.

Staring at the ground because you didn’t have the courage to look him in the eyes you could sense his steps walking closer to Namjoon.

“I can go to a shelter. That’s fine.”, Yoongi suddenly spoke.

Surprised, Namjoon put on his best fake smile, “Sure thing. Let’s get you over there so you can get settled in then.”

Yoongi glanced at you before following quickly after Namjoon. You felt the familiar burning sensation of tears beginning to form.

“Hey, would you like to come stay back at my place. You can go back home in the morning.”,

Taehyung asked next to you.

Nodding your head you stood up and followed him out to his truck. Once back at his place Lilly ran out greeting you both with hugs. Taehyung went to take a shower while you followed Lilly into the kitchen. She offered you some tea as you sat down across from her.

“You love him don’t you?”, she asked smiling behind her teacup.

“Who?”

“Yoongi. I saw the way you were looking at him.”, she chuckled.

“I-I don’t know. I do care about him a lot.”

“So go get him. Bring him home with you tomorrow. That’s where you both want him to be.”

You shook your head, “No I don’t believe in hybrid ownership. It’s immoral and wrong.”

“Look Y/N, If you don’t adopt him then someone else surely will. You’re not doing him any favors. But I know how you feel. I used to have that same way of thinking. Then I met Tae. I didnt want to adopt him. I mean he was my boyfriend, but then we talked about it. What would happen if someone asked to see papers? Or godforbid he ended up in the hospital and I couldn’t prove anything. They’d take him away and I’d never see him again. At the end of the day it’s just a piece of paper. Nothing has to change between you and Yoongi.”

“I just…I don’t know. Of course I want Yoongi to live with me. I don’t want him to think of me as his owner though. I’m pretty sure I’ve got some feelings for him but what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“Have you sat down and talked to him about it?”

You shook your head.

“Well that’s where you start. Then you make a decision from there. He seems like a smart guy. I bet he already knows what he wants.”

You took another sip of your tea before looking over at Lilly who was softly twisting her wedding raging.

“Did you ever worry about starting a relationship with Taehyung? Like how people would react?”

She laughed, “Oh yes of course! We both had our doubts when we first started dating. And I can still hear the whispers and see the fingers pointing whenever we go into town but we don’t care any more. We love each other and that’s all that matters. The only way to combat the discrimination is to prove to others that their hate can’t ruin you.”

Her words replayed in your head as you tossed and turned in bed trying to get some sleep. You wondered what Yoongi was up to. Was he sleeping well? Did they give him a nice meal? Had he thought about you at all?

After very little sleep you heard Taehyung and Lilly working in the kitchen. Quickly you packed what few belongings you had and headed downstairs. They greeted you with smiles and offered some breakfast. After you ate you thanked them for everything they had done for you and promised to keep in touch.

Taehyung helped you load your stuff into your car before walking back over to the drivers side where you were waiting.

“Alright you’re all packed up. Let me know when you get home safely.”

For some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to get in the car.

“Did you need anything else Y/N? I can get you some gas if you needed it.”

You shook your head before taking a deep breath., “So, umm… do you know where they took Yoongi last night?”

He flashed you the biggest boxy smiled you’d ever seen, “I was starting to get worried you’d never ask.”

After he punched in the address into your gps you began the drive there, quickly realizing you were on your way to Jins. Of course.

You sat in the parking lot for quite some time trying to work up the courage to go inside. You weighed the pros and cons of every possible scenario. As you sat there you saw Jimin, the Russian blue hybrid, happily running along with the young family who you were assuming had just adopted him. He smiled with pride as the families little girl clung onto him as they all loaded into their vehicle. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. That was the final push you needed to walk inside the shelter greeted by Jin immediately.

“Y/N I was wondering when you’d show up. I bet Namjoon $20 you’d be here before noon so looks like he’ll have to pay up next time I see him.”

You rolled your eyes, “So I’m guessing you know why I’m here then?”

“Yep, already have the paperwork filled out. Just need a few signatures.”, he said placing the forms in front of you.

“Can I see him first? I want to make sure he’s okay with all of this.”

Jin sighed but of course he brought you back down the hall to the same room he was in last time.

“Yoongi you have a visitor.”, Jin said punching in the lock code.

“I told you I don’t want to see anyone.”, he responded. The hoarseness in his voice broke your heart. He had clearly been crying for quite a while.

“Come on now. You can’t sit in the corner and sulk all day.”

“Jin please just leave me alone. I told you I don’t want to be adopted by anyone but Y/N.”

That little confirmation gave you the confidence you needed to step forward, “Well then let’s go sign some paperwork so we can go home.”

Yoongi spun around so fast he got disoriented tripping over his own feet. You giggled as you tried to help him back up.

“Y/N you really came back for me?”

“Of course I did. I promised didn’t I?”

“I thought you were against adoptions so I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”, he whispered.

You noticed he was wearing your hoodie. A small detail that made you smile.

“I think I can make an exception. As long as that’s what you want of course. And we agree to be equals.”

He didn’t even have to answer. When he walked over and wrapped his arms around you placing a soft kiss to your cheek, that was all the confirmation you needed.

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