#but still wanting nothing to do with him in general
Text
🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ General Dating Headcanons ❛ ✧
Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Wyll & Halsin
# Note: content warning for very brief talk of abuse and general trauma
back to navigation ´ˎ˗
🌿┊ASTARION
Talk about touch and attention starved. This guy wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it hit him in the face. Whenever you're nice to him or touch him without any innuendo, he's on edge. You must want something from him. Why else would you be doing this? It doesn't make sense.
Speaking of which, touching him out of nowhere usually doesn't end well. He has a tendency to flinch. He cackles and says he just thought he saw a bug, "Silly me," but you both know better than that.
He grows used to it, however. It just takes some warming up to. Eventually, the discomfort fades, replaced by a yearning so strong he swore he felt his heart beat again. When his brain realizes you don't want to hurt him and it's safe to be around you, he starts craving more contact. He's too prideful to ask, but he's not good at hiding it, either.
He loves any kind of compliment, don't get him wrong, but the ones that have nothing to do with his appearance seem to stick more. He's heard every single little praise possible for his face and body — but for his personality? For his mannerisms? If it ever happened before, he can't remember it.
Insists he doesn't like cuddling and only does it because you want to. But the one night you didn't, you woke up to him clinging to you anyway. He said he must've done so in his sleep, completely ignoring the fact elves can't sleep. Deception: critical failure.
Surprisingly protective. If you get hurt during a fight he goes ham on the enemy while yelling for someone else to take care of your wounds right now. He lost everything he had after Cazador — lost even himself to the hands of that sick, wicked man. He can't afford to lose you too.
The relationship started with him trying to manipulate you, sure, but that's not the case anymore. He cares. He genuinely cares for something other than himself for the first time in two centuries, and he's scared you still think you're being tricked by his charms. Again, he's too prideful for constant displays of affection, but he does say "I love you" more often than ever. Maybe if he says it enough times, you'll believe it.
He stares a lot. There's just something so endearing about seeing you in your own little world, oblivious to everything else, or at least oblivious to his gawking. It's the most honest part of you, the most yourself you could be, and he enjoys it from afar.
🌿┊GALE
So needy. You leave him at camp for a few hours and you come back to him acting like he needs to be sent to the seaside for his health. A year of living as a hermit does things to a man's necessities for attention.
Loves your scent. He doesn't share his clothes with anyone (that fabric is expensive, dammit), but he insists you wear them so that they smell like you later.
Despite being a cat owner, he's very dog-coded. Will do things with the sole purpose of receiving praise or kisses from you and gets extremely pouty when he doesn't.
Speaking of kisses, he takes any excuse conceivable to kiss you. Good morning, good night and good luck kisses are very much mandatory. Doesn't even have to be on his lips, he's more than satisfied with a cheek or forehead kiss as well.
He enjoys being taken care of, even if he complains. When you scold him for not sleeping over some ancient tome, he can't help but feel loved. Will return the favour, of course — especially if it comes to food. He's very insistent with the "three meals a day" thing.
Will read to you, there's no way around it. It's relaxing for both of you, so he doesn't see why he shouldn't. He also says he can pay attention better to the text when he says it out loud, anyway. You having your head on his lap as he does it is merely a bonus.
🌿┊WYLL
If this man has any flaw, it's that he's always trying to make every moment you spend together perfect and forgets to just lay back and enjoy himself. Even then, he only does it because of how much he loves you.
The last romantic! Goes all out with dates and gifts — fancy restaurants and the biggest bouquets you've ever seen. Money is no object when it comes to you. Truly a good old-fashioned lover boy.
Definitely has a saviour complex — the type to say "I can fix them" unironically. He just loved you and wants you to be okay, and if he has to drag you there himself he will.
Will go on rants about how smitten he is with you and how perfect you are on a daily basis. If you have to leave for the day, he'll write it as a love letter instead.
Always holding you close, but there's no possessiveness to it. It's a display of affection, not ownership. He's yours as much as you are his.
Loves taking showers together. Not for any sexual reason (though he wouldn't complain if things ended up going down that path), he just finds it incredibly intimate and genuinely enjoys washing your hair for you.
You're not just another romance to him — you're the love of his life, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, if the gods allow it.
🌿┊HALSIN
Despite the whole "Desire flourishes wherever it finds purchase" thing, he genuinely doesn't see himself falling for anyone else as he did for you. It's nice to know he could still indulge if he wanted, but for now, he doesn't.
Loves having his hair played with. There's just something so soothing about it. Or maybe it's his wild shape talking, asking for pets. We'll never know.
Always finds an excuse for you to sit on his lap. Again, not for sexual reasons, he just likes wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head or shoulder.
Even though he isn't one for commitment, he has a constant, extremely severe case of baby fever. He obviously wouldn't push you if you're not ready, but he does make his sentiments on the matter known.
Stepping dangerously close to smut territory with this one, but he loves how small you are compared to him. The way he engulfs you entirely when he hugs you or how your hand disappears under his as he holds it — it's endearing to him.
I cannot go without mentioning how good his hugs are. Like, seriously. He's so warm and gentle but still strong and it makes you feel safe. It's the best thing in Faerun.
Loves how you look like wearing his clothes. It ties into the size difference thing, since they just look huge on you. Also, much like Gale, he has a thing for your scent, so there's really no downsides.
#bg3#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate 3 x reader#astarion x reader#gale dekarios x reader#gale of waterdeep x reader#wyll ravengard x reader#halsin x reader#bg3 headcanons
322 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Pitfalls of Silk (m)
synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series
p.jimin x f.reader
⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k
⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst
⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3
⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni
The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.
While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!
But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.
You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.
Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.
In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.
It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.
Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!
Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!
The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.
Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.
A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?
“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.
It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.
Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.
What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.
You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.
You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.
You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?
…
You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.
Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.
You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?
Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.
Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.
If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.
It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.
But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.
Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~
Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–
Bang.
What the fuck was that?
Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.
A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.
You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…
Human.
Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.
The room, it freezes over.
Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.
If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.
That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.
But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.
The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–
At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.
No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.
The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.
You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.
Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.
He sees you before you see him.
“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.
Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.
Just as petrified as you.
Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.
Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.
He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.
The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.
He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.
Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.
He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.
What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–
Holy shit he must be frozen solid.
It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.
His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.
Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.
The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.
“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.
“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.
“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”
You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.
It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.
He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.
He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.
Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.
You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.
You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.
Don’t notice the recognition on his face.
You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.
You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.
The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.
Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.
You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.
Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.
You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.
You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.
“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.
You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?
Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.
“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.
“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.
“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.
“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”
It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.
“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.
“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”
You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.
“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”
You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.
“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”
“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”
“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.
“I’m sorry…”
He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”
The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.
“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.
“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”
He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.
“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.
“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”
You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.
“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”
He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.
“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”
“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?
You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.
His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.
Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.
“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”
“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.
“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”
He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.
“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”
“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.
“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”
Mate. Mate. Mate.
Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.
All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.
He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.
As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.
Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.
To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.
Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.
You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.
You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.
Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.
One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.
But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.
So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.
A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.
“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.
It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.
He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.
Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.
Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.
You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.
“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.
You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.
But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.
“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.
His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.
“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.
“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”
Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.
A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”
He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.
“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.
“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.
Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.
How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.
You frown.
“Min, I’m so sorry…”
He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.
“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.
“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?
“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?
“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.
Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.
Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.
Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.
“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”
You shake your head, “what?”
“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.
You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.
“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.
He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”
You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.
“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”
His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?
The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.
Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.
You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.
A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.
“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”
You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”
A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.
He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.
Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.
He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.
“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.
“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”
A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.
You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.
He can.
“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.
You have to buy those glasses.
Being a spider is just too difficult!
At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.
It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”
Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.
Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.
You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.
That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.
His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.
His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.
In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.
At least, that’s what he tells you.
The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.
Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.
It always works. Always will.
Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.
No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.
r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.
You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–
You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.
Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.
But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.
Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.
You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.
Or maybe you’re over thinking things.
Yeah. It’s probably that.
“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.
His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.
Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.
He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.
“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.
He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.
The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.
You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.
“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”
“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”
His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.
You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.
“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.
Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.
Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.
The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.
Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.
The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.
Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.
Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.
And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.
A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.
“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.
Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.
It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.
A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.
A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.
To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.
“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.
He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.
He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.
You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.
Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.
He’ll win it soon. August.
“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.
Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!
“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”
“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”
His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.
Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.
That’s what he promises to himself.
“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.
Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.
Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.
His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.
You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.
Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.
You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.
“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.
Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.
You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.
Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.
Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.
“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!
You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.
But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.
If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.
“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.
Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.
Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”
“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.
His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.
Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.
“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.
Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.
“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.
“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.
You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”
His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.
He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.
It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.
Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.
Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.
It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.
“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”
His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.
How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.
Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.
He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.
Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.
But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.
Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.
Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.
Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.
Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.
So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.
You think you might hate them.
You sigh.
No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.
You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.
“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”
August 11th.
A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.
Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.
Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.
But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.
“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.
“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”
“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.
You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.
Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.
You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.
Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.
August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.
A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.
Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.
“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.
Gorgeous, gorgeous you.
Mate.
“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.
No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.
Wait, does he have your love yet?
Now he isn’t sure.
All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.
More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.
The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?
Wait, spider.
Spider.
His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.
He hasn’t even presented his web yet.
He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.
“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.
That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.
He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.
The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.
He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.
So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.
He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.
He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.
Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.
“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.
He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.
“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.
Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.
He hadn’t even noticed it.
He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.
Leave. Leave. Leave.
The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.
Leave. He needs to leave.
He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.
A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?
No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?
He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.
The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.
A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?
You are.
“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?
And so you do.
He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.
To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–
Shit.
He needs to leave.
Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.
His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.
He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.
The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.
You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.
It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.
He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.
You’re sick of it.
Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.
So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.
Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.
You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.
Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.
Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.
He doesn’t. He never would.
His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.
You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.
His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.
Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.
Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.
You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.
Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.
Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.
You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.
“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.
“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”
Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.
You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.
“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”
“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”
“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.
He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”
Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”
“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.
It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.
You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.
“Okay.”
He holds your hand as you walk.
Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.
You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.
The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.
Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.
He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.
It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.
Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.
You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.
Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.
As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.
You almost want to curl up in it yourself.
Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.
You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.
“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”
He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.
He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.
Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.
He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–
No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.
“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”
His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.
You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.
You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?
Oh.
It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.
You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?
Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.
You’re an idiot.
“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.
His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.
“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.
The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.
You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.
Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.
Only him.
Only Jimin.
He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.
His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.
He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.
His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.
His spider is winning.
“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.
“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.
His spider has won.
Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.
His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.
You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.
His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.
Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.
He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.
Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.
Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.
He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.
You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.
His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.
“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.
“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”
He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.
Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?
He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!
His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.
A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?
“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.
His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.
“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.
Tie you up. Breed full.
Breed you.
His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.
His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.
See exactly how you struggle against the strings.
Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.
You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.
“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.
Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.
He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?
“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”
You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.
“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.
Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.
He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.
You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.
Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.
“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.
“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.
You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”
The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.
You’ve both done enough waiting.
It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.
The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.
“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.
“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.
Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.
Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.
“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.
He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.
“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”
He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.
“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”
You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.
“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.
His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.
Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.
He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.
You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.
All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.
Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.
“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.
Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.
He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.
“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”
“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.
Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.
“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.
A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.
“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”
His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.
He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.
“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”
He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.
No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.
“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.
“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.
His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.
Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.
He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.
Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.
He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.
The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.
“I love you.”
“Y/n! Hurry up!”
The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.
“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.
“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”
He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.
You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.
He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.
He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.
All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.
You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.
It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.
Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.
“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.
You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”
He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.
You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.
His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.
The human way is never easy for him.
“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.
“Hybrid’s do it different?”
“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.
“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.
“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”
He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”
Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.
The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.
“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.
The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.
“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.
You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.
The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.
“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”
“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”
“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”
You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.
Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.
“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.
You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.
And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!
© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.
#jimin x reader#jimin smut#bts x reader#bts smut#bts#jimin#park jimin#park jimin x reader#yandere bts#yandere jimin#hybrid bts#hybrid jimin#jimin x you#jimin x y/n#hybrid bts smut#bts reactions#bts drabble#bts oneshot#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts hybrid au#jimin fanfic#jimin fic#bangtan x reader#bangtan#bangtan smut#🖇️ ctrl.the pitfalls of silk
297 notes
·
View notes
Text
Of Sea Foam and Iron [3]
general masterlist | series masterlist | taglist
Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap
a storm hits
wc: 3.9k
warnings: historical au with lots of inaccuracies, mythology!au, nudity, talk of war and gore
Cold linens awaited you when you truly woke from your rest as John and Simon’s presence had dissipated.
There was no chin to rest against the top of your head, or a strong chest to press against your back. In fact, the only proof that they had ever been there at all was their lingering scent on your skin. You closed your eyes as soon as they fluttered open, trying to draw back the memory of their hands on your waist and the comforting weight that accompanied it. It was only a pale imitation of the real thing, and it left your chest yearning for something you knew you would never gain the courage to ask for.
When your eyes opened for a second time, they did so with a great huff from your lungs. Pale sunlight and a strong breeze drifted through the cracks of the closed shutters, and though salt was always ever present in the air, you could smell the promise of rain hiding underneath the brine. It would be a good day to stay inside.
Usually you didn’t need your himation in the warm summer months, but without the golden sun to warm the house, a heavy chill pricked at your body. You wrapped the thick wool around your shoulders before you descended downstairs on creaky steps. Simon was already hard at work for the day, and you hardly got halfway to the landing before you heard his hammer echo with its metallic clink in the courtyard. All Simon had done since the day the two of you were bound together in matrimony was work. In the beginning, you were certain that it was to distance himself from you — his unruly wife — but once John returned home you thought he would allow himself to rest. Yet, it seemed as if that’s all the man ever wanted to do.
“Mornin’ little dove,” John grinned.
A strong fire blazed in the central hearth of the home where dancing flames attempted to lick John’s back as he sat faced away from his hard work. Blue eyes sparkled with a warmth that rivaled the fire behind him, and you almost felt a smile flitter across your lips. There was nothing different from his gaze that morning compared to the previous day, yet his fingers twitched as they rested on his bent knees as if they searched for something.
“Morning,” you replied, voice meek as you adjusted your himation.
Johnny’s hand slipped off of his knee where he patted the hearth next to him invitingly. “Come, get warm.”
Your bare feet hardly made a sound against the floor as you crossed into the threshold. Each step brought the warmth of the flames along your legs where they dethawed your cold toes and fingers. John watched you with careful eyes as you situated yourself on the stone slab next to him, and he hummed once you settled. Heat prickled up your spine and it chased away the residual morning cold that clung to your body; though, you were unable to tell if that was because of the fire, or because of John.
“Rain is coming,” he said. His head tilted back to look up at the ceiling as if it were the sky instead. “A storm, maybe.”
Over the roaring of the fire behind you, a dull roll of thunder grumbled somewhere in the distance. It was not frequent that your city received storms, as Poseidon often smiled upon you. Though one could argue he was angry, if the storm was mild, perhaps he only sent the rain to assist with the farmers and their crops.
“That would be nice,” you mused.
John chuckled warmly. “You like the rain?”
“I think so,” you answered. “I like the water. The ocean.”
“A fine thing to love.”
Instinct told you to look at him, yet you refrained from doing so. Despite the familiarity in the tone of conversation, John was still a stranger to you. Some man who had returned only yesterday to embrace your husband while dressed to gut enemies. Still, he was kind, but despite the fire at your back, you were silent and cold.
“I… wanted to talk more about yesterday,” John continued through your silence. “I’m sure you still have many questions, as Simon isn’t the most prolific.”
“Prolific?” you repeated with your snark hardly restrained. “He’s spoken a handful of words to me since we’ve been married.”
“Like I said, quiet,” he repeated with a poorly hidden laugh. “Though, I wasn’t much help prompting answers from him yesterday, either. Dead on my feet after traveling. Took us just short of a fortnight to arrive home.”
John rubbed at his eyes as if the exhaustion still plagued his vision, and yet even with his movement you did not glance at him once. Looking at someone often brought a weakness about you that you had difficulty conquering. There was something about their eyes that had you see the humanity within them, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. You would have hated to crumble in front of him.
“Well,” you prodded, “perhaps you can get an explanation out of him, then. He spoke not a word of your existence and then introduced you as my second husband? Such terrible madness.”
“I already got an explanation out of him this morning while you slept,” he sighed. “Which is why I want to talk to you. I’m better at explaining things than Simon is.”
Bewildered, you finally allowed your eyes to fall on John. “Must you be so casual about this? Was this not a surprise to you? Coming home to your husband having wedded himself illegally to someone else?”
“Simon is not my husband.”
Your expression betrayed the icy exterior you used to conceal that softness inside. It was difficult to tell if it was because of your confusion, but you found your heart aching at those words. John could not look at you when he said them, and though they left his tongue with ease his tone was soaked in a somberness that burned.
“Soldiers aren’t permitted to marry,” he explained, blue eyes trained on the floor in front of him. “They say love gets in the way. Muddles things up. Soldiers have only one duty, and it’s to the state.”
He paused.
“I would have liked to have married him.”
If it wasn’t for the pain in his voice, you would have been afraid. The lost longing painted you to be the ruiner; the pitiful being that tainted something that had not gotten the opportunity to bloom. A desert-like dryness settled on your tongue. It tasted worse than sand. It was bitter, grainy, and promised to end you.
“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.
“Don’t be,” John said with an attempt at humor. “I told him to find a wife. To get married. Have children. I would have hated for him to wait around forever just for me.”
“Could you not have waited? I thought soldiers were only required to serve for two years,” you pondered.
John hummed again. He did that often, as if song better suited his ideas than mere words. Thick fingers pressed into the joints of his wrists as he massaged tired muscles and traced faded scars before answering you.
“Most only serve for two years, yes,” he concurred. “But, you don’t earn the name Ares’s Dog by serving the minimum. My heart is here in the city, but my home is in the viscera leftover from battle.”
He paused as he twisted his torso to look behind him. A large hand reached for a split log in the pile just next to the fire, and John expertly tossed it into the flames. The fire cracked loudly, content with its meal.
“No. I told him to marry, so it wasn’t quite the surprise when I came home and you were already here,” he explained as he repositioned himself. “Find a wife. Start a family. And if his wife would have me too, then I would stay. But it seems things weren’t that simple considering your… situation.”
“Yes,” you concurred, voice soft. “It wasn’t… proper.”
“Simon told me what your father had to do to protect you. I’m sorry you had to witness such gore,” Johnny consoled. “I understand why he would hastily marry you off to Simon if it meant having the protection you deserve. And, well, knowing Simon as well as I do, he didn’t hesitate at all in marrying you if it meant aiding you.”
A scoff tore through your vocal chords so fierce it left a sour aftertaste on your tongue. John spoke of Simon as if he were Apollo himself, guiding the sun across the sky to bring light and warmth to the soil beneath your feet. You were certain that John’s feelings towards Simon weren’t unfounded at all, but though he had never been cruel or unkind to you in any way, he was not loving. Not to you, anyway.
“Could have fooled me,” you spat. “I feel like a ghost in this house. At least he avoids me like one.”
Despite your sour attitude and words, John only chuckled.
“His love is strange, yes,” he said. “It’s still new to him; love. Being vulnerable. Something he was never granted before. He’ll keep his distance, if you let him. I swear to you, you’ll find no finer man than him.”
Another roll of thunder shook the sky. It was stronger than the quiet whisper of one you heard minutes earlier, and it all but demanded attention. Both you and John looked up to the ceiling, and moments later the soft trickle of rain engulfed the house. Though none of the windows were open, you pulled your himation closer to you as if to stave off the breeze that beat at the shudders. The thick wool soaked up the heat of the fire like a sponge, keeping you well insulated despite the impending storm.
A content sigh left John as he carefully pushed himself to his feet. Soft trails of goosebumps prickled across his skin as he stepped away from the fire and into the cold, but he didn’t stray far before turning to face you once more. His hands reached for you where they hovered in the air, patiently waiting for you to accept his offer.
“Come. We should eat,” he urged.
It was not your first time putting your hands in his. He always seemed to want to hold you and gently guide you as if you did not know any better. Still, you accepted his assistance as he pulled you from the hearth. Somehow, his hands were warmer than the flames, and though you were standing on your own, he refused to let you go.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he said, blue eyes boring into you. “I told Simon to find a wife, and if she would have me, then I would stay. If you do not wish for me to be here, say the word, little dove. Your father might have wanted for you to be under my protection, but I will not share a bed with a woman who would want someone else. I will leave no mark on this place when I go, if that’s what you wish.”
No response rose in your mind or throat at his reminder, but a heavy fit of remorse weighed on your chest. He spoke those words as if he were the intruder. As if he had not loved Simon and lived in that house long before you ever came around. It was difficult to tell if you had fully accepted the idea that you lived with two men; though even if you hadn’t, it was something your father obviously wanted for you. Still, even if you didn’t want him around, you would not deny him the flesh and warmth of his lover.
“Stay,” you said, voice quiet.
John’s smile was the warmest you had ever seen. No hint of lust or darkness; only a pure appreciation for your kindness, something you felt like you weren’t capable of those days. His tongue darted out between his lips as if in anticipation, and you ignored the way it made your stomach churn.
“Then it is done.”
Trickling rain continued into the afternoon before it started to swell into a proper storm. Whistling wind became near deafening as it threatened to pull the house apart, and it wasn’t until the sky was black with clouds that Simon finally ceased his work and took shelter inside. With the amount of water that dripped from his clothes when he came limping into the kitchen for lunch, you were surprised he hadn’t drowned out there. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead and down the nape of his neck, and his chiton clung to his body in a way that certainly wasn’t comfortable. His frigid skin tinged pink with his scars extra angry and puffy.
Both you and John looked up from your food at the sopping wet mess of a man who dirtied the kitchen. Simon’s chest heaved with fatigue, and his feet hardly lifted from the ground as he meandered towards John.
“How’s the weather?” John asked facetiously.
“Frustrating,” Simon huffed. “Can’t keep a goddamn fire lit or burnin’ hot enough.”
He paused once he approached John’s side, eyes focused on the plate of food in front of him. Without a word, he snatched a fair size of cured meat off of it before taking a bite and turning around. Simon continued his pitiful shuffle as he exited the kitchen, shoulders hunched and legs shaking. John did not appear to mourn the loss of his food, yet his eyes stayed trained unwavering on his lover’s body as he rounded the corner.
“He seems upset,” you noted.
“He’s in pain,” John explained.
A clash of thunder sounded just as John rose from his chair, and he left his plate behind as he began to rummage for something around the stove. Its embers ebbed and waved with brilliant scarlet light, and it almost danced to life in flames when John knelt before it. He retrieved two medium sized, semi-flat stones tucked into the stonework and placed them on the small hearth next to the dying embers. Nodding to himself, he then turned to you, worry etched deep in his face.
“Wait a few minutes, then grab these stones and bring them up to our chamber,” he asked while his feet began to wander out of the room. “They’ll be hot, so grab them with cloth. Take care not to burn yourself.”
Without another word, he vanished out of the room where you then heard his feet stomping up the stairs moments later. Rain refused to quiet nor waver even as you carefully cleaned up yours and John’s plate.
Pain? Simon was in pain? Well, John could certainly read your husband better than you could, because you thought he had just been his regular self. Still, you supposed it wasn’t entirely impossible. With as many scars that afflicted his body, you were certain the damage ran deeper than just superficial marks on his skin.
As instructed, you waited until the rocks had soaked plenty of warmth before using the edge of your himation to grab them. With careful hands, you trekked up the stairs to the second floor where you found John and Simon in bed together. A drenched chiton sat on the floor next to the bed, but Simon’s naked body still glistened with the memory of its moisture. His chest heaved and he grunted like an animal as he slung an arm over his face, hiding his eyes from the light of the oil lamp that flickered on the nightstand.
John’s thumbs dug into the muscle around Simon’s knees, massaging them with what appeared to be less than gentle touch. Simon hissed, jaw flexing as his teeth grinded together, yet he kept still as the man worked at him. You approached the side of the bed with hands outstretched, hot rocks tucked together underneath thick wool sitting in your palms.
“Is he alright?” you questioned.
John paused long enough to turn and grab the stones from your hands. His fingers didn’t flinch when he grabbed them, as if he was so used to the heat of them that it no longer phased him.
“It’s the weather,” he explained. “The old wounds in his knees are aggravated by the change.”
You watched with apprehension as John pressed the rocks against Simon’s skin, yet your husband didn’t flinch. The tense muscles that flexed in his thighs slowly began to soften as John moved the rocks carefully around his knee, tracing the long scar that dissected his skin. It was one of the first things you noticed about him the day you got married. Deep and ugly, it ailed him so bad he couldn’t walk straight because of it; forever bound to limp in weakness despite the strong stature his body would otherwise have you believe.
Another smaller scar mirrored in perfect continuity on his other knee. It was not as deep nor as angry, but you could clearly make out the line in which both scars connected. A blade. It must have been. There was no other weapon that you knew of that could’ve created a scar such as that. His entire body, even his face, was littered with the unsightly marks.
Why would a blacksmith have such scars?
John moved from one knee to the next, warm rocks soothing away the ache so deep in Simon’s body that hands alone could not heal. You quietly stole a seat on the mattress next to Simon, and you carefully watched the mesmerizing motions of John’s circling hands. He was so… soft for a soldier. Considerate. It’s a side of man you weren’t used to seeing after witnessing such violence in your home. For a while, you thought love was just violence; blood waiting to be spilled. Perhaps love was just warm rocks against tired skin.
“What happened?” you asked with eyes still trained on the old wound.
John’s eyes glanced up at Simon, who wasn’t able to see his gaze through the arm slung over his face. As if he felt the burn of his eyes, the man shifted on the bed before letting out a heavy sigh.
“Tell ��er, Johnny. Know you like tellin’ the story,” he urged.
A grin bloomed on John’s face as he turned his attention back to Simon’s knee. “He got this from saving my life.”
Stunned, you shifted on the mattress to get closer, and your thigh brushed against Simon’s leg. How your husband could handle the cold of your chambers completely naked and half wet was beyond you. Your body yearned for any warmth it could steal.
“I don’t believe it,” you countered.
Really, you didn’t. How could John MacTavish, hailed hero of your city, need any sort of saving? You didn’t at all doubt Simon’s capability of saving someone; it was just the thought that John could ever find himself in such a precarious situation that you doubted.
“I’d never lie to you, little dove,” John chuckled. “No, Simon and I served together, once upon a time ago. Trained together. Fought together.”
He paused his story in order to switch knees again, returning to the one closest to him. Simon’s breathing had already calmed, and he no longer panted like a mad dog. Any tension that had been harbored in his body when you first entered the chambers had almost been completely washed away.
“Years ago both of us had been deployed in a large-scale battle. It was a bloody skirmish with swords flailing every which way, I swear the glint of metal was brighter than the sun that day,” John recalled. “But there was this big brute who fought with a club. Rivaled the size of Simon, even, which isn’t easy. Bastard snatched the shield right out of my hands and knocked his club against my chin. Split me right open and knocked me out cold.”
A hand instinctively covered your mouth as John shared the story, and he paused for a moment to look at you. He seemed to take some sort of boyish pride in your worry, and he tilted his chin up to put his own scar on display. You had hardly noticed it before due to his stubble and your active effort to not look too many people in the eyes, but it marked his skin as clear as day. It was deep, spanning from the front of his chin and curling underneath the right side of his jaw in an angry, red line.
“I wasn’t out long, of course, but I wasn’t all there when I woke up,” he continued. “Felt like I was underwater, could hardly breathe. Bastard stood over me ready to bash my head in like a damn melon when Simon swooped in like an eagle. Sliced him to bits before he could do anything else to me. But war is messy and unforgiving. Several others piled on him, got him pretty good. Still killed the bastards.”
“All but one,” Simon corrected. He had been so quiet you swore he had fallen asleep. “One of ‘em ran off.”
“He killed the bastards that weren’t cowards,” John amended with a chuckle. “But they got his knees. Surprised infection didn’t take him. But Simon, my love, stubborn man that he is, carried me off the field even with his wounds.”
“Would you rather I dragged you?” Simon asked.
“You should’ve left me there.”
“I love you too much for that.”
The sound of rain smothered the conversation as both men fell silent. Rotten shame boiled deep in your stomach as your eyes carefully scanned Simon’s body. Over the weeks, you had gotten so used to his unabashed nakedness to the point it didn’t phase you, but that wasn’t what made you feel shameful; it was the realization of how bitter you had been.
On the day of your wedding when Simon lifted your veil from your face, the only thing you could think was how ugly he was. The scars that littered his body were just eyesores, and his limp didn’t make him a paragon of strength. Hardly the man that was supposed to protect you from the wicked ways of the world. How cruel you were for thinking such a thing. For looking at the scars he earned saving the life of his lover as if they were an eyesore rather than proof of his devotion. How dare you look at him as anything less than he was; a man who loved?
In an attempt to swallow down your shame, you found your own hands reaching out for Simon’s knee. The heat of his skin felt nice against your frigid hands, but he flinched at the sensation. You paused as you looked up at his half obscured face, and you didn’t look away until you felt his muscles melt and relax underneath your touch.
In silence, you mimicked John’s movements with your thumbs. Tendons and muscle danced underneath your fingertips as you did your best to massage the pain from your husband. With hands as weak as yours, you were certain it hardly did anything to help him at all. Still, you continued, and you prayed to the gods that he could feel your silent apology through your touch alone.
#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghoap x reader#ghost x soap x reader#soap x reader#john mactavish x reader#f!reader
218 notes
·
View notes
Note
would you be interested in a more Platonic type fic? Like being good friends with Robin?
alternatively if it has to be romantic: Law being forced on a disaster of a date only to meet a super helpful (comic) bookshop employee and she starts seeming cute when he finds out she has similar interests? (Boy probably went into cardiac arrest at first when someone caught him not being broody)
hope this isn’t too much!
and you’re doing awesome!
thank you so much for your request, anon!!!! im actually going to use both of your ideas, but i started with the Law one because that hit seriously close to home. ive been on some absolute TRAVESTIES of dates in the past, and i needed to write law suffering through a similar fate or i'd die!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and pretty soon I'll post your platonic Robin request as well! I love writing platonic stories just as much as romantic ones <3
An Out.
Law x Fem Reader
Law made the mistake of letting his friends talk him into a first date… and now he desperately needs an out. Fast.
Warnings: an absolute disaster of a first date for our wonderful nerdy man. modern au, implied college setting, some mild slight suggestive language but nothing more than that
Trafalgar Law tried in vain to recount the series of events that led up to this very moment.
There was the dusty apartment floor discussion about how the med-student hadn’t gotten laid yet, which was followed by a raunchy comment about a girl in someone’s class, it was revealed that this girl was single (‘and ready to mingle’), and her number was forcibly input into Law’s phone.
For the week that followed, he was inundated with flirty texts from this girl he had never met in person. He was forced to send her a picture of himself, mostly to get her to stop blowing up his texts every hour, and that was the next mistake in the line-up of unfortunate events.
Turned out she had a thing for facial hair.
Then, instead of getting pestered with general flirty messages, it was general flirty messages that were ramped up to a nine. ‘I’d rip your clothes off if you give me the opportunity,’ kind of nine.
Law knew he was a virgin, but at least he wasn’t this desperate, nor did he have any inclination to be. If anything, the texts he received from this stranger were making him want sex even less.
And yet… he was still pushed into this.
A date around downtown with this girl. She clung to his arm, tried to loop her fingers into his, and yet had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say. At all.
First red flag: she mentioned her ex. Three times. In four minutes. Everything was about what he did wrong to upset her, no self-awareness to be found. Second red flag: the clinginess. Law hated public affection, but any attempts to urge her to give him space resulted in a childish pout and her arms caged around his, almost pulling him to the ground. Third red flag: she couldn’t give two shits about Law, in any sense of the word. She wouldn’t stop talking about herself. Her looks, her clothes, her favorite music, her favorite shows to binge watch, her distaste for the area of the city they were in, her distaste for the lunch Law had [regretfully] paid for, her distaste for the speckled jeans he decided to wear…
He could feel the premature wrinkles forming in between his eyebrows the longer the date went on. He was starting to wonder if he’d have to throw out the shirt he was wearing later. It already reeked of the too-strong, powdery-scented perfume she bathed herself in.
“Where do you wanna go?” she suddenly asked, still tugging on his arm.
“I kinda want to stop by the bookstore before we leave,” he suggested, his feet already carrying him, and by extension, her, along the sidewalk to a small bookshop that had just recently opened.
“The bookstore? What kinda guy brings a girl to a bookstore on a first date?!” she demanded, showing off yet another childish pout. It wasn’t a good look on her.
‘A guy who knows this girl’s not getting a second date,’ he wished he could say. Instead, all the snarky remarks stayed locked inside his weary brain, bouncing around like a caged lion desperate to escape.
The girl didn’t make any motions to ditch him to his nerdy reprieve, and instead followed on his heels as he pulled open the bookshop’s door, the familiar, calming scent of new books, fresh paper, and ink filling his nose.
“It smells gross in here,” the girl huffed.
Aaaand there went Law’s fleeting moment of peace. Out the window. Down fifteen stories and splattered on the pavement. He needed to violently restrain the eyeroll that begged to appear. His ocular nerves ached to be a dick in the pettiest way possible. He inwardly hoped that by dragging this girl to the most unassuming bookshop would encourage her to leave, call a friend or get a cab to take her back to her home, but alas, she stayed glued to Law’s side like a lost dog.
She followed behind him as he blindly perused shelves of new and pre-owned books, Law’s feet subconsciously guiding him to the back of the store where he knew the comic books would be located.
If anything would turn this girl off for good, it had to be his love for all things superhero. His comic book collection would dry her up like a dessert in a drought. Or at least, it fucking better.
His eyes lit up as he approached the expansive comic shelf, immediately spotting the latest print of Sora: Warrior of the Sea- Volume 10. It had finally been officially localized, and he had been saving some of his spending money for this very moment. He eagerly grabbed the book from the shelf, thumbing through the pages.
“How old even are you?” jeered the girl by his side. “Comic books are, like, little kid shit.”
“I’m five years old,” barked Law, refusing to look toward her as he continued to analyze the pages of his favorite series.
To the average onlooker, they both probably looked like complete jackasses towards one another. And while Law was at least brave enough to admit that his behavior was certainly petty, he felt like he was warranted a Get Out Of Jerk Free card for all the painful hours of suffering through this atomic catastrophe of a date had put him through.
“Whatever, I’m going to find a bathroom,” the girl finally groaned, releasing his arm and trudging through the aisles of books toward the checkout counter to ask an employee where the bathrooms were located.
Law watched her go out of his peripheral vision, refusing to exhale a sigh of profound relief until she was completely out of his line of sight. With shoulders that finally relaxed, free from the overbearing tension, he turned his focus back to the comic in his hands, continuing to thumb through the colorful pages of artwork. He flipped the book around to examine the price, smiling at how reasonable it was. He filled his arms with a few other comics from a series he had been meaning to pick up, and retreated toward the cash registers to buy his books. The sooner he got his treat for this ordeal, the sooner he could get out of here, call this girl a taxi home, and spend the rest of his life as a willingly single comic book mega-nerd.
But reality wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.
Not when the girl sitting behind the register thumbing through another copy of Sora Volume 10 was an absolute bombshell.
When she looked up at Law, her eyes quickly went wide. She placed the book under the register counter and eagerly leaned forward, her hands supporting her over the counter. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.
Law cocked an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah, why?”
“That girl you’re with is making you miserable. You walked through the door looking like you wanted someone to grant you a mercy killing,” she huffed. Her eyes were clearly concerned. “Are you dating her?”
Law felt his guard dropping without even realizing it the longer he was in the presence of this cashier. “My friends set me up on a date with her, but I’m having the absolute worst time of my life.”
The new girl’s own eyebrows angled downward in concern. “Do you want an out?”
“A what?”
“An out,” she repeated. “An excuse to get her to leave you alone.” Time was running out. At any moment, she could leave the bathroom.
Law frantically looked back and forth between the cashier and the small, short hallway that led to the single restroom. With pleading, golden eyes, he silently mumbled, “Yes, please.”
The cashier kept her eyes on the bathroom door as she began unloading Law’s hands, spreading his books out on the counter to make it look like she was busy ringing out his purchase. Law watched with an analytical gaze as she fumbled with his items, clearly buying time until the bathroom door opened.
He didn’t have time to ask what she was plotting.
The second the door cracked open, the man’s shirt collar was violently clenched in the cashier’s hands as she pulled him over the counter, smushing her lips into his. Law’s fingers flexed in thin air as he froze, brain completely fried as he was frozen in this sudden kiss.
His first kiss.
“What the fuck?!” the girl screeched, exiting the bathroom in a frenzy as she booked it toward the heated exchange happening over the cash register.
The new girl pulled herself away from Law’s face, but only enough where she could display her best rendition of a weary, tired war-torn wife waiting on a cliffside for her husband to return. “Baby, please just take me back! My life isn’t complete without you!” Her voice was cracking as she fake-wailed, her grip on Law’s shirt never faltering, not even once. The few customers who also occupied the store turned to stare at the commotion, frazzled and befuddled. “Nothing in life is as good as it was with you! I’m in shambles! You were the best sex I’ve ever had!”
It took a few moments for Law to catch on to the ruse. As soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind, however, he was grabbing the wrists of the cashier and bringing his lips back to hers, closing his eyes and trailing his arms up to grasp her face. Completely disregarding the fact that they were still separated by the heavy check-out counter between their torsos.
“You were dating someone?!” snapped the original girl. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
Law pulled away from the cashier’s lips, his own skin immediately feeling fifteen degrees colder from the loss of her contact. “I wasn’t. Until now.”
The new girl put her arm around Law’s shoulders from across the check-out counter, her deft fingers caressing his skin through his shirt. “I’m sorry, but I’m taking him back, I can’t stand to be without him any longer! The sight of him with another woman…” she made a show of clenching her chest, “makes me sick!” She was damn good at this, in a way that almost made Law concerned. The fact that she was pulling all of this out of nowhere, and the fact that her first course of action was this drastic, made Law’s heart flutter in his chest.
“Ugh, whatever. This place sucks ass anyway. I’m going home.” She finally shouldered her bag and marched out of the shop, her feet stomping across the hardwood floor until the sound of the front door slamming closed finally made the cashier release her arm from Law’s shoulders.
And once again, the man was feeling oddly cold without the contact. He glanced at her as she started ringing up his items for real. “You’re… a good actor,” he blurted.
The girl hid her face in her arm with shame, an awkward laugh bubbling from her throat. “I’m so sorry, I was trying to think of what to do to help you but when the door opened I panicked.” Her eyes were focused on her work. “I’ve been on some absolutely awful dates myself, so I understand. Sometimes I’ve wished I could have Prince Charming swoop me out of the movie theater where a guy made fun of me for my interests the entire run-time.”
His jaw went slack. “Are you serious?”
“Deadass,” she replied, quick as a whip. “Insisted on holding my hand the entire time. I think he was convinced that I had taken him to see a horror movie because I wanted to act scared in front of him, but his hand was so clammy and sticky the whole time. And not in the endearing ‘Aww he’s shy!’ kind of way.”
Law wished at that moment that he had more charisma. He was sure one of his friends would be able to pull a witty, flirty quip from their asses like it was nothing, but Law’s personal dictionary of flattery was nonexistent as it was. He balked while he listened to the cashier who just took his breath away lamenting about her own poor experiences with dating, and he was sure that her example in this moment was only one of many. Instead of continuing the conversation, his mind blanked. He stated, more like whispered, “That was my first kiss.”
The girl’s hands stopped scanning his books halfway through. Her wide eyes darted up to Law’s, her jaw slack. “It… It was?”
“Yeah.”
Her hands flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh my god… oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She dropped her head onto the counter, covering her despair with both of her arms now. “First kisses are supposed to be special and I just took your’s away from you…”
Law shocked himself by smiling at the weary display in front of him. “If it makes you feel any better, that was far better than the date I was on. But I’m sure you already knew that.”
She picked her head up, a trembling hand grabbing one of his last books to scan. Her eyes nervously darted back and forth as she silently worked, once in a while sucking her bottom lip in with her teeth before releasing the flesh. She was clearly lost in an intense inner turmoil.
“It’s really alright,” Law muttered, now growing shy himself. He was just now realizing the gravity of what had happened… and how truly adorable this girl was.
She tapped a few buttons on her cash register before finally making eye contact with him again. “You are a pretty good kisser… you’re really sure you’ve never done that before?”
He affirmatively shook his head. “Never. I’ve never been… popular with the dating scene,” he muttered. “Hence this awful set-up date.”
The cashier’s eyes went wide again momentarily. “That’s kind of surprising to me… I would think someone like you would get any girl you wanted.”
Law backpedaled. “What does that mean?”
She pulled his total up on the small screen that faced him. She was turning away from him as if to hide her face, her entire expression teeming with a child-like embarrassment. “Well, you’re crazy hot, for starters. And you like Sora, clearly.”
Law felt a smirk emerge on his lips. “Is Sora one of your only qualifiers for a decent partner?” He began to rekindle some of the confidence he had lost throughout the day. The longer he spent in this girl’s presence, the more he felt the tension in his body leaving.
She grinned, the stress in her shoulders from her own actions finally releasing. “Only guys with fluffy black hair and golden eyes that read Sora, if you want my honest answer.”
Now this was flirting. Law had to admit, he was pretty pleased with this sudden turn of events. The atmosphere this girl radiated was immensely calming, allowing him to chip through his reinforced walls just enough to feel like a somewhat normal person. He started to wonder if she could break through his barriers even more.
“What’s your name?” he finally asked, taking out his credit card and swiping it through the machine to finally cash out his order.
The girl excitedly revealed her name. “And your’s?”
“Trafalgar Law,” he replied. “I go to North Blue University for med school in the next town over.”
“No shit, so do I! I’m getting a worker's license there,” she added, her expression shifting from one of moderate happiness to one of excitement. “I doubt we’ve had any of the same classes, but we should hang out sometime! Get coffee, maybe talk about Sora…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes growing soft. “Unless you’ve been completely turned off to dating after what you’ve clearly just been through.”
Law took a few moments to ponder over her words, watching as the receipts for his purchase slowly emerged from the thermal printer. “I think I can make an exception this time.”
The smile that broke out on the girl’s face may as well have blinded him. She was truly dazzling, even in her ratty-looking employee apron and an oversized T-shirt accounting for her work attire.
Law placed his new assortment of books into his own bag, the girl snatching his receipts from the printer and stashing one of the copies in the drawer below the counter. When he looked back up, she was holding out his second receipt, folded in half. She gave him a fond smile when he took it.
“I hope you’re able to relax later today, and enjoy your books!” she called, waving to Law as he exited the store.
Once outside again, the air felt clearer now that he was alone. The day was still young, hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze coasting through the city. He looped his bag over his shoulder and opened the receipt, peering at what was written on the backside.
Call me for Sora… and for just me ;) <3
1125-354-9854
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#one piece x reader#law x reader#op x reader#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar d water law x reader#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law#law oneshot#request fics
206 notes
·
View notes
Note
cc. your tags on the boudoir post. MAMMON recieving an album of those photos. i'd love to hear your thoughts on his reaction (and everyone else's, if you're feeling particularly inspired?)
Ah, Daisy, my dear, thank you for asking!
I apologize for this late response, but I knew I was gonna be getting wordy with this one. Because I looove the boudoir photos idea in general and OH MAN just thinking about all their reactions is making me crazy lol. I was going to just do my regular sort of response, but this turned into full on headcanons oops.
So just in case anyone missed it, here is the original post!
My thoughts change a little bit depending on whether MC is present when the characters receive the pictures, so I included both! I only did the bros but I might be willing to do the rest upon request!
the brothers react to MC giving them an album of boudoir photos
NSFW MDNI
Warnings: suggestive but that's about it, nothing explicit
Lucifer
When you're with him, Lucifer is calm and courteous, but with a flare of arrogance. Of course you would give him such a special gift. It's only natural that you would trust such intimacies to him.
He asks you if you're trying to tell him something. Has he perhaps been neglecting you, MC? Did you give him this so that he wouldn't be able to help himself? He's onto you.
No matter your reason, he can't look through too many of the pictures before wanting the real thing that's sitting right next to him. Tell him you still have some of that lingerie in your possession. Especially if you happen to have some in his colors.
If you aren't with him, he's going to be a lot less arrogant in general. He will find you later, make no mistake. But he's honestly so touched by your gift that he spends a lot of time looking through the album, simply admiring you.
Mammon
Mammon is freaking out no matter where you are the time. If you're with him, it's definitely a lot worse. Blushing profusely. Opens the album then slams it shut because he can't handle looking at it for very long.
You can't help but giggle at his reaction and then it's all stop laughin' at him MC!! You'll need to take his hands or maybe kiss his cheek, let him know that you genuinely just wanted to give him a nice gift, you aren't trying to tease him or anything.
Ask him if he likes it. You'll get a serious response. Calms down enough to say 'course he likes it. Likes it so much, he suddenly can't keep his hands off you.
If you aren't with him at the time, he buries it under his pillow or otherwise hides it because this is now one of his treasures and nobody gets to see it but him!
Leviathan
Levi is another one who'd be a blushing mess no matter what, but if you're there at the time, he might retreat to his room and not let you in. He needs that barrier between you because if he sees you right now, his heart will explode.
He'll let you back in eventually, but it might be a minute. He needs to calm down. Are you trying to kill him, MC?! Even when he does let you in, he can't look at you directly. He's probably covering his face with his hands.
Reassure him that you gave these photos to him because you trust him with them. They're personal, intimate, and you want him to be close to you. He's going to calm down the more you talk to him. Pull his hands away from his face and when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, it flips a switch. Might even slip into demon form just to wrap his tail around you possessively.
If you're not with him at the time, he's going to need to take care of that raging boner of his right away. He won't be able to focus on anything else until he does. He's so embarrassed, he has to watch several episodes of Ruri Hana to recalibrate.
Satan
He will try to keep his expression unreadable. He's not having any over the top reactions, but as he flips through the photos, he keeps getting redder and redder. You're sitting right next to him, how can he not react? At some point, he has to close the album because he feels like he's looking at something he shouldn't.
Satan is quiet about how flustered he is, but he's having a hard time looking at you. He tries to say something and incomprehensible lines about how beautiful you are fall from his lips. He sounds like a broken record of spoken word poetry or perhaps a very drunk beat poet.
Recovers himself after a minute. As soon as he's composed, you're in his arms. You knew what this would do to him, didn't you, MC? You'll find yourself pressed up against the nearest wall in moments.
If you're not with him, Satan will tuck your album into a stack of his other books. He thinks it's well hidden there - in plain sight. But he's hyper aware of it. Keeps coming back to look at it. Ends up having to put it on the bottom of a stack behind a different stack to make it more difficult to get to.
Asmodeus
Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled in every way. Oh, wow, MC, you look amazing. He's breathless. He's entranced. He's even blushing because he knows what it means that you've given these to him. He's so in love with you, he can't stand it.
Asks you about everything you may be wearing. Comments on the skill of the photographer. Tells you that next time, you should do one together. He has so many ideas. He wants to do one where all you're wearing is jewelry - bright and sparkling, just like your soul.
Covers you in kisses. He's not shy about how this is making him feel, how much he wants you. He just wants to see your beautiful figure here and now in real life, MC! Won't you let him worship you?
If you're not with him, he will find you immediately so he can say all of the things he needs to say in that moment. You can't leave him alone with all these feelings, both physical and emotional. He brings them all to you without hesitating.
Beelzebub
It might take him a minute to understand exactly what he's looking at, mostly because he's never even heard of this. He doesn't know what a boudoir photo shoot is, so you might have to explain it to him. Once he understands, he starts lightly blushing as he looks through them. His expression is serious because he's beginning to see just how special this is.
Honestly surprised that you would give him something so intimate. He's touched. He's going to hug it to himself and look at you with tears in his eyes because he can't believe how lucky he is.
Give him another couple minutes to look through them and then he's having different feelings. He's not sure if he can hold back, MC. Tell him it's okay, that you don't want him to, and you'll find yourself on your back on his bed in zero seconds flat. You're quickly reminded why he's the Avatar of Gluttony.
If you're not with him at the time, he will figure things out on his own, though he'll have a plethora of questions for you later. He keeps it close to him at all times until you answer them because he knows one thing for sure - he doesn't want anyone else seeing these.
Belphegor
Oh, he sees what you're playing at. Trying to fluster him, are you, MC? Trying to rile him up? Are you sure you can handle him when you do that? He's so wound up by the gift he can't act normal about it. He's actually very touched by it, but he's not sure how to deal with the feelings, so he comes on too strong.
You laugh because to you, this is expected. You understand that this is Belphie's way of dealing with his own shyness. You respond by meeting him with just as much intensity. It's all kisses and touching and fumbling in the dark.
It's only later, when both of you are calm, when you're nestled in his arms, that he admits to you how much it means to him. That he tells you how he'll cherish the album you gave him. That he says he's stunned by how gorgeous you are, even more brilliant that the stars in the sky.
If you aren't with him at the time, you'll be dealing with a petulant but horny demon later on. He's going to be annoyed at you for leaving it for him and then not being there when it inevitably turns him on. Just as possessive as his brothers, he hides it in the attic where no one is likely to find it.
masterlist | Thank you for reading!
#I'm so mad they removed yellow from the Tumblr font color options#now I gotta go into the HTML and do Mammon's manually myself#anyway I love this prompt#and I was inspired to do the brothers#I haven't done headcanons in a while so this was fun#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me headcanons#obey me x reader#obey me x mc#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmodeus x reader#obey me beelzebub x reader#obey me belphegor x reader#misc naughty times#oopsiedaisymae#cc mutuals#misc writes
171 notes
·
View notes
Text
🎙️🌸┊ ༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄, 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 ‘𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑!
↳ hoo boys x popstar princess headcanons <3
characters in this thread : percy jackson, leo valdez, jason grace, frank zhang. ೃ࿔₊•
☀️ sunni’s notes : THIS IDEA HAS BEEN ENGRAVED IN MY MIND FOR FOREVA! and i finally get to write about it because my writer’s block is slowly goin’ away 🫶 (barely) i haven’t checked my notifs because i’m tryna do a semi-break right now!! but i wanted to post something for y’all >0< ANYWAYYY obvi it’s sabrina inspired because i love her i’m a true carpenter amen amen. GO STREAM ESPRESSO. happy reading bebis!! sunkisses, — sunni!
𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ your biggest supporter!!!
୨୧ has all your merch. the cap? yeah, he’s got it. the shirt. got it. the stickers? jacket? don’t even need to ask him, he’s got it.
୨୧ obviously adores your singing voice, he makes you sing every chance he gets.
୨୧ percy knows how to play the guitar, both electric and acoustic so he usually makes appearances during your shows.
୨୧ YOUR FANBASE LOVES HIM?? like sometimes it seems like they love him more than you do.
୨୧ so many edits, like CRAZY amount of ship edits.
୨୧ he likes to take a peek on what your outfits look like, but you tell him it has to be a surprise!!
୨୧ if you succeed in hiding your fits, his jaw is dropped at the first sight of you on stage.
୨୧ knows all of your songs, plays them in the car, even when you tell him not to.
୨୧ “WHAT’S THIS?? ESPRESSO?? BY WHAT?? WHO’S THIS SINGER?”
୨୧ “oh shut it.”
୨୧ his favorite color’s blue, so sometimes you wear blue accessories on stage.
୨୧ almost signifying that you’re bringing a part of him on stage.
୨୧ you wear blue bows, bracelets, maybe a few rings.
୨୧ percy absolutely melts when you do, because he knows exactly that you’re thinking of him.
୨୧ you even have a seperate blue mic just for him.
୨୧ during tours, he gets busy with college so he can’t really come to every show, but he tries to watch it live even during lessons.
୨୧ “mr. jackson, if you don’t tuck your phone away i’ll make it a point to fail you.”
୨୧ “just mad you don’t have a popstar as a girlfriend.”
୨୧ “what was that?” — “nothing!”
୨୧ and he picks you up from the airport whenever you come back, every. single. time.
୨୧ co-wrote some songs with you, but likes to have you take the credit since you’re the singer anyway.
୨୧ songs include : “miss america & the heartbreak prince.” — “snooze.” — “somebody to you.” — “the only exception.” — “style.”
𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ calls you ‘princesa’ and ‘mi párajo cantor’ A LOTTT.
୨୧ and it still makes you flush everytime.
୨୧ leo valdez is the type to how do you say this??
୨୧ totally forget that you’re the ‘princess popstar’ sometimes.
୨୧ there was one time you two were on a date,
୨୧ leo watching you eat then he just goes,
୨୧ “.. YOU’RE A POPSTAR!!”
୨୧ and he shakes your shoulders like the world’s gonna end.
୨୧ “leo! leo! amor! quiet down!”
୨୧ always making sure he goes to ALL YOUR SHOWS.
୨୧ if your guitar / or any instrument ever breaks, he’s already there fixing it for you before you could tell him.
୨୧ likes to plan out your outfits, and almost all the time, THEY EAAAT!!
୨୧ “miss popstar princess!! who styled you today??”
୨୧ “oh! my boyfriend!”
୨୧ too, loves your singing voice. or your voice in general, he’s so whipped when he hears you say his name.
୨୧ WHEN HIS NAME IS IN YOUR SONGS??
୨୧ he’s gonna marry you.
୨୧ he has a t-shirt and in black bold letters it just says, “I LOVE MY POPSTAR GF.”
୨୧ the crowd loves seeing leo in the crowd hanging with your fans.
୨୧ he’s not much of a singer, but he’ll dance his heart out amongst your fans.
୨୧ flying kisses, so many flying kisses.
୨୧ he also likes doing your hair, and again, THEY EAAAT!!
୨୧ makes you think of how much of an amazing girl dad he would be.
୨୧ “guys do you see how cute my hair is?! leo did it!!”
୨୧ you give them a lil twirl, and the crowd goes wild.
୨୧ immedietly peppers you with kisses after a show backstage.
୨୧ he makes all your jewelry for you, since he’s good with metal anyhoo.
୨୧ you have a polaroid of you and him stuck to the back of your guitar.
୨୧ he has a polaroid of you on stage on his drum set.
୨୧ oh yeah, did i mention he’s drummer?
୨୧ some songs of yours don’t usually have drums in them, but when they do, you know who to call!!
୨୧ this man is defo sleep deprived.
୨୧ “mami? can you sing me to sleep?”
୨୧ he falls asleep to your voice in a snap, his arms wrapped around your waist like a glove.
୨୧ songs include : “that boy is mine.” — “this love.” — “espresso.” — “ready or not.” — “lover.” — “our song.”
𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ jason loves the idea of you being a popstar!! but makes sure to let you know that even if you weren’t, he’d love you regardless.
୨୧ the man doesn’t dance, but he can sing pretty well.
୨୧ you’ll catch a glimpse of him humming and swaying to your songs in the crowd.
୨୧ OMG OMG. jason loves matching with you!!
୨୧ it’s sort of his way of saying ‘i love you and i’m here to support you all the way.’
୨୧ JSVAHGSBA
୨୧ sorry brain buffered there.
୨୧ his favorite outfits of you two were these blue and light purple coordinated oufits.
୨୧ the fans loved it. it was all over.
୨୧ you guys went trending a ton.
୨୧ #(name)andjason or your guys’ ship name on twitter went viral almost more than twenty times in the span of like— three months.
୨୧ jason doesn’t really care about the fame though.
୨୧ he still likes to go on those corny and normal fun dates with his girl.
୨୧ if the paparazzi comes to harass you, he genuinely but gently threatens them to leave you alone.
୨୧ can i just say,
୨୧ A GOD AT PHOTOGRAPHY.
୨୧ he knows all the good angles and poses.
୨୧ he’s your literal pocket camera.
୨୧ why hire a professional photographer when you had a boyfriend who can do it for you???
୨୧ “on your right baby— yeah, then turn there, that looks good.”
୨୧ “here jace? is my hair flat in the back?”
୨୧ “it’s never flat, you look great honey.”
୨୧ i just brain buffered again.
୨୧ OH OH!! jason plays the bass!! i think it would fit!
୨୧ he doesn’t like going on stage though, he’s super shy. and he has a hint of stage-fright on him.
୨୧ he’ll play some songs for you in private though! and you could hear some bass from him in a few of your songs.
୨୧ songs include : “daylight.” — “soulmate.” — “invisible string.” — “slut!” — “beautiful boy.” — “tattoed heart.”
𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐳𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEARTTT.
୨୧ he’s your breath of fresh air when the fame gets too overwhelming.
୨୧ “hard day sweetie?”
୨୧ he gives you the best hugs when you come back from a shooting, a show, whichever.
୨୧ makes sure to stocks up all your snacks backstage for you.
୨୧ he got you a locket for your anniversary, and you wear it on stage.
୨୧ he smiles to himself everytime he catches a glimpse of it around your neck.
୨୧ what’s inside the locket you may ask??
୨୧ literally just him.
୨୧ and amen to that!
୨୧ just like jason, he likes to reassure you that even without the popstar thing��� he loves you. body and soul.
୨୧ spoils you!! 100%!!
୨୧ he knows exactly what you want, your eye is caught by something while shopping, he’s hopping his ass inside that store to get it for you.
୨୧ makes the calls for you when you really can’t take it to go do popstar duties.
୨୧ and he makes sure your day off is the best ever, with snuggles and cocoa kisses.
୨୧ but during shows, he’s actually super chill!!
୨୧ except the part where he sings his heart out to every song, because he defo knows ALL YOUR SONGS.
୨୧ the fans are shocked sometimes, but they love him.
୨୧ he’s so friendly to your fans too!! during meet and greets he makes appearances, and he gives them the biggest hug ever.
୨୧ he also thanks them for supporting you, and it makes your heart melt.
୨୧ when you’re on stage, he makes the half of those finger hearts for you to complete— and of course you complete it!!
୨୧ songs include : “pov.” — “you are in love.” — “urs.” — “bewitched.” — “every summertime.” — “like the movies.”
#— sunni hyperfixates on demi-gods ( ੭ ･ᴗ･ )੭#heroes of olympus x reader#heroes of olympus#pjoverse#percy jackson x reader#leo valdez x reader#jason grace x reader#frank zhang x reader#percy jackson headcanons#leo valdez headcanons#jason grace headcanons#frank zhang headcanons
299 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do you think Argenti, Gepard, Dan Heng, Blade, and Dr. Ratio would react to finding their lover crying about how beautiful they are?
Argenti would be honoured that you found him of beauty equal to that of your own.
Truly he was because he was the type to believe that it took true beauty to recognise beauty in all its other forms.
He would hold your face in his hands and try to calm you down with some sweet nothings and kisses as his thumbs wipe away your tears.
‘My beloved rose,’ he’d begin, ‘to be viewed as beautiful by your eyes is an incomparable experience and I am blessed that you think so highly of me because to me, you might as well have been the originator of beauty itself as you make even the most mundane chore beautiful.’ He pushes his forehead against yours, brushing his nose against yours. ‘I am so honoured to be viewed as such in your eyes. I shall Cherish this eternally.’ He finishes as he then proceeds to kiss under your eyes, your eyelids and finally down your tear streaked cheeks gingerly as though you were going to break.
Argenti just spends the rest of the day proving just how beautiful you are in his eyes as repayment afterwards.
You’d probably had to hold onto him and tell him that he doesn’t have to repay you for speaking your truth, but Argenti was adamant in repaying you for doing so and if that meant spending eternity wait in on you hand and foot then Argenti would gladly do so.
Gepard originally thinks that something was wrong when he caught you tearing up and was about to use whatever he needed to resolve the issue, only for you to tell him how beautiful you thought he was.
Now he’s sporting a cherry red face and was at a loss for words.
He was use to people singing his achievements despite thinking that he could do so much more but getting a compliment in general that wasn’t tied to anything he’s done was enough to have the second oldest Landau a little speechless.
‘Really?’ He would ask sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. ‘I mean I wouldn’t think so but that doesn’t mean I’m within my right to tell you whatever you think of me is right or wrong, it’s just something I’ve got to get used to to in due time.’ He adds as he then grasps your hands in his and squeeze them.
‘But I thank you for thinking so highly of me that isn’t in regard to the things I’ve accomplished and more so on me just being…well me, even if I do fail at keeping our plants alive…but still I’m glad that you’ve stayed by my side for as long as you have. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Gepard finishes his statement off by kissing your forehead, down the slope of your nose and finally a sweet and gentle peck to the lips.
Dan Heng
He was quick to come to your aid upon seeing you crying, but the moment you tell him that the reason why was because you thought he was beautiful.
He didn’t hole much of an option about himself but he certainly didn’t think he was beautiful, average maybe, but not once did he ever look himself in the mirror and saw beauty staring back at him. He just saw Dan Heng of the Astral Express, nothing more, nothing less.
So for you to see beauty in him wasn’t something he was prepared for as his eyes widened a tad and his breath caught in his throat before looking away to scratch the tip of his nose out of habit.
‘You truly have a unique way with words don’t you?’ He’d say to himself as he smiles softly to himself, glad that nothing horrible had happened when his back was turned, you genuinely had him going for a bit there and he was more then glad to be wrong on this occasion.
He’ll hold your compliment close to his chest in hopes of absorbing it and committing it to memory, guarding it as though it were a priceless treasure he could not be separated from. He often didn’t think himself as someone special, but the way you spoke about how beautiful he was while crying made him want to appreciate everything you have ever said about him in the past in a remotely positive light. He didn’t know he needed it until you came along to shower him in love for just existing.
Blade is more of an ‘actions speak louder then words’ type of guy.
So he wouldn’t exactly be moved to bits when you tell him how beautiful he is because he knew what his body looked like, he also knew that you knew what his body looked like, so he often wondered where or not you were seeing the same thing as he was.
So unless you were holding his arms, admiring his scars and or tracing/kissing them with adoration like you were doing now, then he wasn’t going to be less to easily believing in words alone.
‘I’m far from it.’ He’d reply but felt the walls he’s built inside weaken the moment you pressed a soft kiss to one of the more larger scars across his inner forearm. A simple act made from genuine affection that shouldn’t have made as much of an effect on Blade it did.
The feeling of vulnerability wasn’t one he welcomed that often but when he does it was more or less only within your presence. In those moments you could tell him anything and he would be lead by the smallest spark to believe in it, including telling him he’s beautiful as you combed your fingers through his hair with tears still blurring your vision.
He’d brush your tears away with calloused finger pads and wordlessly bring you in close to his body, leaching off of your warmth and allowed you to borrow your head into the crook of his neck, and just keep you there as his own special way of saying thank you for seeing beauty within a monster.
Ratio
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or however that saying goes.
Veritas didn’t pride himself on his how conventionally attractive he was but more so on his intellect and extensive wealth of knowledge.
So when he caught you crying over how apparently beautiful he was, Veritas would want to naturally disagree with this statement but due to the fact that you were in a highly emotional state, he just bites his tongue and calmly walks over to you, kneels next to you and pulls out a handkerchief and start gingerly wiping away your tears.
‘I appreciate the heartfelt compliment but I do not think that it is worth your tears.’ He would then say afterwards as he coddles you into his side, making sure you could feel his appreciation for your ability to care for such things in life, seeing as how he was too transfixed on the much bigger, more complex paradoxes of life. ‘And don’t rub your eyes so hard when wiping away your tears, you’re only hurting yourself when you do that.’ He adds fussily but it never fails to make you smile and laugh at how much he cared about you in his own way.
He doesn’t stop mid work to smell the flowers but you did and he knew how even the smallest, minuet things could mean so much to someone, even if he didn’t understand the reason as to why, but he can learn to accept that what you found worth praising and what he found worth praising were two completely separate things and that was okay.
#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#honaki star rail imagines#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail imagines#blade x reader#blade imagines#blade imagine#argenti x reader#Argenti imagine#Argenti imagines#dan heng x you#dan heng x reader#dan heng imagines#Dan heng imagine#gepard x reader#gepard imagines#gepard imagine#veritas ratio x reader#Veritas ratio imagine#Veritas ratio imagines
297 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.
I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE
Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.
Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues
Word count: 1.2k
Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)
There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.
He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.
”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.
”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”
He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it’s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”
And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.
”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.
”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.
”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.
”Never been more sure of anything.”
He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.
He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.
The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.
”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.
”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.
”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.
”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”
Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.
”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.
”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”
Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.
”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.
”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.
”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.
He really would have done anything for you.
159 notes
·
View notes
Note
kook!reader and jj, in which reader gets jj a job and country club but the other kooks are pretty mean to him :( .
warnings: light flirting, fighting, rafe is jealous you like jj and not him, name calling
“so how are they treating you here?” you took a seat at the bar where jj was making a round of drinks. “how do you think?” he looked up from under the wisps of his hair. “okay, cool it with the sass. i was just asking.” he shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “look, i appreciate you getting me this job and all, but this shit blows,” jj glanced in the corner where rafe and his friends were dowing their beers, “and those assholes are the worst part of it all.” you turned around, rolling your eyes when rafe blew you a kiss.
“they’re so annoying, just ignore them jayj.” you sighed, eyeing the veins on his arms. “at least you look hot in your uniform.” jj pushed one of those fruity drinks you liked in front of you, leaning in as he did so. “you think so?” you hummed, a smile forming on your lips as he trailed his fingers down the side of your wrist. “yeah, i like-” before you could finish your sentence, a familiar, aggravating voice cut you off. “i see you’re still doing charity work for this piece of trash.” rafe took a seat next to you, fully aware of the way jj was glaring at him.
“how about you run back there to the kitchen and get us something to eat like you’re supposed to, pogue.” rafe spat the last word, his lip curling in disgust before landing his focus back on you. “do you always have to be an ass?” you shrugged him off, silently begging jj not to do what you knew he was fully capable of. “getting food isn’t in my job description, moron. i think you’d know that if you actually filled out an application.” jj winked, making rafe scoff. “why would i when we have people like you who need it more than i ever will?”
“rafe get out of here, seriously.” you shooed him, only for jj to intervene. “people like me? people who don’t have to depend on their daddy still?” you sighed when you saw rafe get up, his friends all somehow making their way over in unison. “let’s not do this, please, let’s just go jay.” you adjusted your little purse on your shoulder, motioning for jj to follow you out. “jay? you have a nickname for this loser?” rafe narrowed his eyes, “you know your parents would never approve of this scumbag.” jj reached over the bar, grabbing rafe by the collar of his shirt.
you stepped in front of rafe’s friends before they could team against jj. “and if her parents knew who you really were, they wouldn’t approve of you either. how does it feel knowing y/n will never choose you?” jj smiled. rafe was seeing red at this point. pulling his fist back, rafe swung and landed a punch square on jj’s cheek. the club then broke out into complete chaos. while rafe and jj were full on fighting with nothing but the bar between them, you were pushing rafe’s friends, telling them to let rafe and jj handle their business alone.
“what the hell is going on here?!” the director of the whole place came rushing in, his face beet red as he glared at jj. “just a little falling out, sir. they’re already done.” you flashed him a sweet smile, hoping he could just drop it. “you let go of that cameron boy right now, young man! his father is a very generous patron here,” rafe smirked as jj shoved him away, “and give me that apron, you’re done.” you sighed, shoulders falling in defeat as jj rounded the corner of the bar. this is officially the third job jj has gotten fired from on figure eight.
you followed jj as he balled up the material, chucking it in the director’s chest. “good, this job fuckin’ sucked.” you gasped, apologizing for him as you two walked out of the country club. “what the fuck?!” you stopped him, pulling his shoulder so he could face you. “look, i’m gonna do my own thing on the cut, and get money how i want to, alright? this shit isn’t for me. if you want to be mad at me for how i reacted towards rafe, fine, but i’m done with figure eight.” you watched him get on his dirt bike, pinching the bridge of your nose as he rode through the flowers.
#‧₊˚✩彡 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒#my first jj maybank post on here!!#leave jj requests <3#outer banks#jj maybank#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x reader#jj obx#jj outer banks#obx#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction
145 notes
·
View notes
Text
my jewish friend is doing her final math project on the structure of the israeli governmental system
one of the people in our group is very staunchly and vocally pro-palestine anti-israel
we're presenting our projects next friday
i am scared.
#to be clear she's not doing the project on anything related to the war she's just modeling the parliamentary system but#the pro palestine guy ALWAYS asks questions about peoples presentations#and hes definitely a nice guy (nothing on the level of ''from the river to the sea'' at least from what he been saying in the group chat)#not a violent man in general but i am.#still not convinced he wont ask 'as an extension how does this apply to the genocide' type questions#we've talked to him about saying that stuff in the group chat but#i have no idea how to shut it down if he says anything to her ANY suggestions are welcome PLEASE#last thing i want to happen is a big ole fight during finals time ykyk bc she will feel guilty and unsafe forever#cards on the table obviously im backing my jewish friend if that happens but i think she would rather it not happen at all..#genuinely asking for advice on shutting him down politely and nonconfrontationally if he speaks btw#ih#pers#my school is not as bad as colombia by a long stretch#but i still have had to peel 'down with israel' 'free palestine' stickers off the jewish part of the interfaith center multiple times
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader
characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law
word count: 1.3k
One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)
To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well.
No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.
Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care.
You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family.
Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?
Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional.
Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start.
Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you.
He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time.
What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.
#i hope you can see where i'm going with law's part? he's such a little creeper... but also deeply traumatized... ugh#idk i hope this was coherrent it has been rotting away in my brain for 3 weeks now#yandere one piece#trafalgar law x reader#sanji x reader#crocodile x reader#doflamingo x reader#tw.yandere#/crocodile#/sanji#/doflamingo#/law#/one piece
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Flower Girl - Part 1
Grace is getting married and she’s determined not to let Jessica, her husband-to-be’s ex, ruin the wedding. But if this is her big day, why is she being dressed as the flower girl?
***
Grace was walking around the reception, greeting her guests, when she spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Jessica. Grace had invited her out of politeness, but she’d really hoped the woman wouldn’t come. What was she thinking, turning up here? Surely she’d known Grace hadn’t really wanted her to be at her wedding!
She was talking with Sophie, one of Grace’s old schoolfriends, and Sophie seemed to be listening raptly to whatever it was she was saying.
Grace continued to wander around, accepting congratulations and beaming at everyone, tossing her beautiful blonde hair behind her and feeling like the prettiest woman in the room. Eventually she reached Sophie herself.
“Hi, Sophie!” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it!”
“Hi sweetie!” Sophie said, turning to look at her. She spoke in an oddly high-pitched, overly-enthusiastic voice, like she was talking to a nursery-schooler. “Are you looking forward to the ceremony?”
Grace didn’t know what to say. She’d been expecting Sophie to say ‘congratulations’. Why the hell was she talking in such a stupid way? “Uh, yes!” she managed, deciding it was best to just ignore her friend’s odd behaviour. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long! I hope it’s everything I imagined!”
“Awww!” Sophie cooed. Grace felt herself going red. Was Sophie mocking her? “That’s so cute! Are you going to wear a pretty dress, honey?”
“Uh, yes of course. I… In fact, I’d better go and get dressed now. It takes a while and I need my bridesmaids to help.”
“Of course you do,” Sophie said patronisingly.
“Well… See you later, Sophie!”
“Bye-bye, cutie!” Sophie waved.
Grace turned and walked away. What was that about?! She frowned, thinking. Jessica had been talking to Sophie not long ago. Could she have convinced Sophie to talk to her like that for some reason? Grace hoped the most special day of her life wasn’t going to be tainted by some stupid practical joke. But she couldn’t imagine Sophie taking part of something like that. Sophie had never even liked Jessica!
It was probably just nerves, Grace told herself, trying to push the matter from her mind. She needed to get her bridesmaids and go into the back to change into her wedding dress. She felt excitement bubbling up inside her. She’d never really stopped fantasising about the perfect wedding, ever since she was a little girl, and now she was finally getting it! And Rob was the most wonderful man she’d ever met. She flushed at the thought of her gorgeous husband-to-be. She wouldn’t see him until she walked down the aisle though. She wanted everything to be perfect.
“Good luck, Gracie!” someone said to her as she made her way through the crowd, and she smiled awkwardly back in the general direction of the voice. She hated being called Gracie - she wasn’t a two-year-old for goodness sake! But nothing was going to ruin her good mood today. She was determined of that.
She slipped past a group of guests and found the people she was looking for; Olivia, Caroline, and Annie. Her three bridesmaids. At least the three of them were acting normally. They hurried up to her the moment they saw her, looking almost as excited as she felt.
They put their heads together, giggling.
“Ready?” asked Olivia, grinning.
Grace grinned back and nodded.
The four of them moved through the guests and into a room in the back of the venue where Grace could get changed. Her wedding dress was hanging on a clothes rack waiting for her. She beamed at it. It was beautiful – pure white, of course, with a floral-patterned bodice and a flowing, floor-length skirt. Elegant and sophisticated, sexy but still classy. The perfect dress.
Grace would barely contain her excitement as Olivia, Caroline, and Annie helped her change into it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror in front of her as she was steadily transformed into the bride she’d dreamed about being ever since she was a little girl.
She was almost done when Caroline suddenly said “Oh!”
“What?” Grace asked, worried something had gone wrong.
“Your veil! I think your mother has it. Or maybe it’s still in the car…”
“Don’t panic,” Olivia soothed, seeing Grace’s face. “The three of us will go and look for it. I’m sure it’s around. We’ll be right back.”
Her bridesmaids left the room, leaving Grace alone. But a few moments later, the door opened, and Jessica stepped inside.
“Hi sweetie!” she said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Hello Jessica,” said Grace, looking at her warily.
“Don’t you look pretty!” Jessica cooed, but her eyes were sparkling malevolently. “Looking forward to walking down the aisle?”
“Listen Jessica,” said Grace firmly, “whatever it is you’re here for, whatever you’ve got planned…”
“Planned?” asked Jessica, cocking her head.
“I just don’t want you ruining things by trying to make this all about you,” Grace said coldly. “This is a very special day for me.”
“Of course it is, Gracie,” Jessica said. Her smile widened. “The wedding couldn’t happen without you!” She let out a light, tinkling laugh, and then she turned and left the room.
Grace scowled. Gracie again. And she didn’t like the way Jessica had been smiling. Did she really not have anything planned? They’d been friends once, but Grace had got together with Rob shortly after he’d broken up with Jessica, and Jessica hadn’t liked that one bit. Grace remembered Jessica screaming at her, calling her a big-titted whore who’d stolen her boyfriend.
Grace adjusted her large breasts in her wedding dress. It was true she had a better figure than Jessica, but she hardly thought that mattered. She and Rob had been meant for each other, and that was all there was to it.
What else was it that Jessica had said to her? Stupid little girls shouldn’t steal other people’s things, that was it. Grace smirked. Rob was hers now anyway. They were getting married and there was nothing Jessica could do about it. She’d only been invited in the first place because it would have seemed rude not to invite her after Grace had invited all her other old friends – it would make it seem like she was the one still carrying a grudge.
Grace shook her head. What was she doing? She shouldn’t even be thinking about Jessica right now. Not on her big day! She admired herself in the mirror, picturing how she’d look walking smoothly down the aisle on the best day of her life.
Minutes past, and her bridesmaids still hadn’t returned. But just when Grace was starting to get worried, the door opened again. She look around eagerly as Olivia and Caroline stepped into the room, but her smile faltered when they were closely followed not by Annie, but by Jessica. She was holding something white and semi-transparent in her arms. Was that stupid bitch carrying her veil?! Hadn’t she got the message that she wasn’t wanted?
But as Jessica stepped forward, Grace realised the thing she was holding wasn’t a veil at all. It was a dress. A very different dress from the beautiful, elegant, sophisticated wedding dress she was currently wearing.
“What’s going on?” asked Grace. She’d just noticed that her two bridesmaids were looking at her rather strangely. They were both smiling, but Olivia was shaking her head from side to side, like a kindergarten teacher amused by the antics of a misbehaving toddler, and Caroline was looking at her with the same sort of sickeningly sweet eagerness that Grace had seen earlier on Sophie’s face. “What are you…?”
“Come on, sweetie,” Jessica interrupted, and her eyes were glinting darkly. “It’s time to get you into your proper clothes. That’s enough playing pretend. I need my wedding dress for my big day.” She smiled broadly. “But don’t worry. I’ve found something much more appropriate for you to wear!"
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
Queen of Tears really just took a sharp nosedive off a very steep cliff these past 3 episodes. I didn't post anything about the last two episodes since there was nothing to say. I've had issues with some aspects of the drama that I could overlook because Hae In and Hyun Woo were top tier stuff. The break down of a marriage of two people who loved one another finding their way back to each other through medical crisis was so good. It didn't even need the Eun Sung or the family business stuff (it would have made a tighter, more coherent drama but I digress). But the last 3 or so episodes I've lost all patience. We've had:
Hae In's miraculous brain surgery which required no shaving of the hair, which I can overlook because it is a drama. Her memory loss too, as again, it's a drama and it's been hinted at since the beginning. I'm not necessarily thrilled with it but it's fine.
There is no way that Eun Sung would have suddenly become her legal guardian just because Hyun Woo left. It makes NO SENSE. Hae In was clearly there with Hyun Woo. They met with her doctors. There would have been forms and documents signed, with appropriate translators for any language barriers. Eun Sung would not have been able to waltz in and say I am her guardian now. I'm fairly confident of this even without knowing German law.
Hae In's family had people in Germany following her for...reasons??? They did nothing to protect her from Eun Sung? They didn't go to her when Hyun Woo was carted off? To be fair I was kinda fast forwarding part so maybe I missed something.
Hyun Woo's arrest, extradition back to South Korea, finding the evidence to break his case, trail, release and then arrest of the real perpetrator all took place within a month. Which seems absurdly fast. Also they found and arrested the hired hit man but not who hired him??
Hae In is following Hyun Woo, taking notes to figure stuff out for herself yet does not think to look herself up on the internet? Pretty sure there would have been articles about her saying Eun Sung threatened her?
I generally forgive the burned notebook finding its way back to her.
Also, Hyun Woo's sister is married? With a kid? Living overseas?? and we find this out in ep 13 or 14? No pictures of her kid anywhere?? No phone call?
Hyun Woon has been hit by car, by Eun Sung because of course that happened. At least he won't get amnesia, right? RIGHT?
What a mess.
I still stand by the core story of Hyun Woo and Hae In being the strongest parts, even within the past 3 episodes.
How much do you want to bet they are not even going to address the miscarriage, which was catalyst for their whole marriage falling apart in the final episode. Despite the 1031 being used for pass codes. I've been wanting that from when we found out and it looks like it won't happen. Who knows if Hae In will even get her memory back.
The preview for the final episode doesn't give me much hope, even if we get a nearly 2 hr final episode like Crash Landing on You.
So much wasted potential in the drama. If only they had focused on Hae In and Hyun Woo, and not 20+ other plots.
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
no promises- a.hotchner
a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)
summary: aaron had to save you.
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader
warnings: general cm minds topics, guns, trauma, a kid is hurt, talk of abductions, talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, talk of surgery, talk of choking, etc.
You hadn't even realised he was behind you until you felt the familiar but unwelcome sting of a bullet in your arm. You screamed out, falling to the ground in pain as he ran off.
Get up. Something inside you said. What if he gets to the team? To Aaron?
You got up.
Running after him, you ignored the sounds of the rest of the team on comms and continued, following his footsteps. You can’t shoot him, you reminded yourself. He’s the only one who knows where the kid is.
You caught a glimpse of his hand, turning left. “Put your hands up, put the gun down,” you pointed your own at him, the young girl in his hands as he pointed a gun at her. “Put the gun down now.”
He didn’t respond, a sick smile on his face. He’d been abducting children, ones that eerily reminded you of your little sister. Your eyes were closing and you could practically feel the blood flowing out of you, he’d definitely hit you somewhere bad. Yet, you had to save this girl, even if it was the last thing you ever did.
“And why, pray tell, should I?” He asked, a disgusting smirk on his dirty face. “Do you not wish her the same fate as yourself?”
“No,” You grunted out, still ignoring the screams from the other side of the comms. No one had followed you into the hidden door in the back of the warehouse, leading to a maze of endless rooms and confusing signs. “She’s a little girl, take me instead.”
His interest was piqued.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aaron felt sick to his stomach. “Take me instead.” was ringing in his ears as he scoured the warehouse, desperately trying to find him. He felt everything was happening in slow motion, he could taste the copper of his own blood, he’d been biting his lips. His anxiety was taking over. You hadn’t spoken on the comms for a whole 20 minutes, you could’ve already been gone. He’d heard gunshots, you could be dead and he’d be able to do nothing.
Nothing.
“Sir,” He heard a sobbing child, he whipped his head around and saw her, the little girl the unsub had last taken, hsi heart stopped. Immediately he wrapped her up in his arms, allowing her to cry into his chest. When his ears finally focused in, he could hear her soft apologies, he pulled his head away, adrenaline and genuine dread running through his body.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he promised her, cutting her off. “Look at me- you have nothing to apologise for, at all.”
“But the woman-” she cried and his face hardened. Damnnit.
“We’ll find her, don’t worry.”
“She was bleeding!” she cried into his chest, sobbing harder.
“She’ll be ok, she’s strong,” He whispered, quelling her tears and after a few minutes she slowly allowed the exhaustion to overtake her and fell asleep against him. In that time, he’d let his own tears fall, you were hit. You were missing.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aaron walked through the confusing maze with a SWAT team hot on his heels. Finding there was one exit and entrance, you and the unsub still had to be in there. Spencer was busy mapping out the warehouse and maze through small drone cameras they’d sent out around 40 minutes after your comms were shut off but Aaron couldn’t wait any longer. You were missing.
They’d found your earpiece on the floor beside your gun and a trail of blood. The trail of blood followed on the wall, and they silently moved along it. Everyone held their breath as they kicked open a door, just praying to find the unsub and you, alive.
They found what they were looking for, just not in the conditions they wanted. You were on a surgery table, a heart monitor showed that you were barely alive. Aaron wanted to scream. He set his sights on the unsub, an unfamiliar rage settling in him. His hands were around the asshole's neck before he even knew what he was doing, and it took three officers to pull him off.
He blacked out after that. Spencer said he went with you in the ambulance, and waited for 14 hours while you had emergency surgery.
You were alive. You had 12 broken ribs, a broken arm, shattered hip-bone, some facial wounds from when the unsub had beaten you up, and you’d lost a kidney and almost a lung. But you were alive.
Aaron walked into your hospital room the second the nurse said he could. He saw you sitting there, being fed jello by a nurse and he smiled. You were still alive.
You looked at him and smiled to the best of your abilities. “Hi,” you croaked out.
“I love you,” he said, taking your right hand. Surprise spread across your features and a warmth set in your stomach.
“I love you too.”
“Never do that again,” he said with bated breath. “I think you’ve taken years off my life with the stress.”
“No promises,” you joked and he smiled. “Now feed me my jello.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
criminal minds masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :)
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#bau team#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unhappy Reunions
Celestial!Yuu finds what was lost
Angst
Humans are cruel and so are gods.
I was once the silver god who embodied love, marriage, and fertility. I was supposed to be the mother of gods the bringer of a generation of godlings.
I believed in my role fully and understood that it was for the good of the world. So I created. I made gods from stardust and clouds. So many wonderful creations. Fully formed and whole on their creation they took to the heavens and created more life. And I was happy.
I was creator, not mother to them. I was respected and revered.
Another god as ancient and powerful as I set his eyes on me. If I became his bound in vow I would be promised more power than I imagined. That might have worked on a lesser goddess but I was too powerful for that to work. But gods have tricks.
Lured in by my reflection on the ocean he trapped me in a black silk blanket. The moon disappeared from the sky until I agreed to be his.
I made the most of it but he demanded a child of me. But I was a god, I couldn't make a child without it. I had no love for him. Especially when he had children with mortals and goddess alike. I was resentful. Born to be the goddess of motherhood but not allowed to be mother to none. Dispite it all I converted my title to God of heroes. I looked after his demigod children, the blameless.
There were jealous goddess who wanted my place and they turned their children's blade against me. But I still wept when those children died to serve the purposes of more selfish gods, hen my husband didn't even shed a tear for his fallen children.
My anger and loneliness bore fruit. Perhaps in spite my womb fashioned new life. From it, my first and only true child was born from me. A child of smoke and ink with a face shrouded in hair. This thing I had birthed from my negative emotions was still beautiful but the nurse maid reached in horror at my child. I demanded that she say the child was dead and hid it away in my most isolated corner of my heavens.
But he found them. He scorned me for birthing such a hideous creature. He took them from me.
He said I would have to pay for my actions and if I had done as he said this would never have happened.
There are many stories of gods doing horrible things to children, even their own. There are just as many with mortals.
But I can not explain the fracturing of my soul the moment he tossed my child to the wild beasts of the land after cutting them to pieces.
I still have not recovered from that day.
My nameless child was blameless.
I abandoned the heavens and have never returned. I left him and abandoned my titles of marriage goddess and mother goddess. I had neither now. I abandoned my very nature. It was no different than carving up my very being but I had already felt that pain.
How pathetic is it for a God to wander the earth calling for a child that no longer lives? Searching endlessly for what can't be found.
I'm not proud of what I did after. I wanted a child to fill the void in my heart. Silver became that for me. I wanted to be a mother again at any cost. I fought Lilia for him. He was mine by right.
I didn't intend to fall in love with Lilia. Perhaps I had always loved him at least a little. A strange thing for mortals to grasp that a God can love someone they have never really met. But it's true all the same. Still, there was a time I contemplated making a demigod of my own.
But I started to heal with him. I recovered that parts of me could be salvaged. The pain can never disappear with a memory that was infinite. Still I moved on.
Still, life found another way to curse me.
My child had returned. I found them. No. They found me.
My beautiful child of smoke and shadows. Neither God or mortal. Not demigod or monster. They stood shrouded in darkness before me but they did not know me. They were drawn to my side but knew nothing of their birth.
Perhaps it was for the best. I had failed them already, I should not be remembered.
Child was quiet, just how I remembered them. They spoke like the rain in the night and walked like fog.
I hope they know I love them. I hope they would forgive me. I wished I had been by their side. The pain they must have suffered must have been unimaginable.
My poor baby.
#celestial!yuu#(???)!yuu#yuuniverse#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia x reader#twisted wonderland lilia#twst lilia
67 notes
·
View notes
Note
92 or 14 maybe? 🤔
Going with 14!
--
Prince Anthony was picking his feathers out again.
Steve wordlessly set his shield aside and walked over to grab his hands, yanking them down, away from his wings. "Your highness--"
"I know!" Prince Anthony exclaimed defensively. His wrists jerked in Steve's grip, though, back toward his wings, and he wilted under Steve's stern glare. "I know," he repeated miserably.
It broke Steve's heart, but he turned to grab the picking glove, and while Prince Anthony obediently stuck his hands in so the mouth could be cinched tight around his wrists, he couldn't help but think it wasn't fair. Maybe Prince Anthony wouldn't be picking himself bald if he didn't have to choose a suitor in the next three days.
Prince Anthony had always been put off by the cock parties, as he'd called them--"cockerel balls" had always seemed to lend a layer of refinement to them that they didn't deserve, he'd said. Mostly, it was young cocks approaching and trying to impress prospective hens, and as Prince Anthony had a sizeable fortune behind him, he'd been the one most flocked to. It had made him suspicious, nervous even, of anyone's attention. Steve had watched, heart sinking with every ball, as grabby kids who barely knew what to do with a cloaca fawned all over Prince Anthony for the chance at his wing in matrimony.
It had given him nothing but a dim view on mating parties and cocks in general, which was probably why he'd gotten away with his secret for so long. He was so visibly disgusted after each cockerel ball that everyone assumed even if he was pregnant, he'd get rid of it as quickly as possible. Only when the rumors about his sudden cravings for sardines and almonds got loud enough to reach the royal court did it become necessary for Prince Anthony to undergo medical examination. And, well, when it was found to be true, that a royal hatchling was on the way, an unwed, pregnant royal was deemed a hazard to... what was it they had said? Public decency and the dignity of the crown?
Either way, it meant that another cockerel ball had been set up as quickly as possible, and Prince Anthony no longer had the choice of saying no to all comers if he wanted to keep his financial backing, even if he plucked himself bare in the meantime.
Steve watched Prince Anthony begin to pace, feeling helpless. His prince was in trouble, and he could do nothing of import to stop it. Prince Anthony looked like a caged animal as he walked up and down the carpet. He wasn't even showing yet. Was the palace hoping to get him wed immediately and lie about the hatchling being early? Someone would be bound to talk. That's what had started this mess, after all.
"I suppose," Prince Anthony began, voice halting and pained as he turned to pace in front of the window, obviously hoping the sun's rays would help him feel better. "That Lady Pepper is. Nice enough. Could pass the egg off as hers if we married."
"I suppose," Steve agreed, hoping he sounded noncommittal instead of just bitter.
"Or. Or that kind--Bruce? I think?"
"The alchemist Bruce was very kind," Steve answered with a nod.
"Or I could... I could just..." Prince Anthony stopped in front of the window, staring outside. Then, as quickly as he stopped, he turned around, eyes wide and beseeching. "Run away with me."
Steve's mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked at Prince Anthony slowly, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Prince Anthony was a well-loved public figure, and while Steve was famous for his work in the war, he'd never been... someone people wanted to see running the country. In fact, if anyone ever found out that he was the one who had henned the heir apparent, he likely wouldn't be able to see him again. Prince Anthony was royalty. Steve had clawed his way up from the streets. He was only Prince Anthony's personal guard because there had been several attempts on his life, and Steve was the best at what he did.
"Run... away...?" Steve finally repeated, still not quite believing it.
"I'm just a figurehead for this stupid country," Tony spat, hope giving way to anger. "They only kept royalty on as a tradition they didn't know how to quit, as a show. I don't have any real power. And that's how they can bully me into getting married, picking a cock I don't even like all that much to be the legitimate father of my egg--So. So let's run away."
There were many reasons why Steve should say no. The country loved Prince Anthony, for one--he was only behind his late mother in terms of charity, and was quickly gaining on her record; despite the fact that he had no real power, he always did his best to influence parliament to vote in favor of the people; and the whole country had collectively swooned when a tabloid had leaked a picture of him holding a baby at the hospital with the quote 'babies need to be held' splashed under it. Steve was a nobody, come up from nothing, and most people did not have good things to say about him coming up from nothing because of the war.
Prince Anthony's gaze was steady, though, when Steve met his eyes. He was certain of his decision. That was one of the things Steve liked about him--he knew what he wanted, and if he could get it, he eagerly went through with it. And if he couldn't get it, he was a gracious loser.
"Your highness," Steve began with a sigh.
"I don't care if we're poor," Prince Anthony continued before he could voice his dissent, the determination in his voice making Steve's mouth snap shut in surprise. "You'll take care of us. And I--I have an education. I can get a job to help. You helped make this egg," he added sharply. "Are you refusing to take responsibility? And could you really just let someone else raise your chick?"
If he told himself it was for the better, to make sure the chick got everything it needed or wanted, he probably could. Prince Anthony would love it enough for the both of them, even if his new spouse only tolerated the chick. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was getting Tony laden with egg before marriage. A marriage that couldn't happen because of who he was and who Prince Anthony had turned out to be. Steve opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be taking the spot from a more deserving rooster.
But he didn't want to. And Tony was clearly showing he didn't want to either. So he looked up at Tony and nodded sharply. "Alright, Tony."
"Tony," he repeated in a whisper, shocked. Steve only ever called him that in bed; he needed the separation of work and intimacy, and it helped to remind Tony, too, that he couldn't reach out and touch whenever he wanted. Steve watched as Tony's mouth spread into a wide smile as he lunged toward him, hooking his bound hands behind Steve's neck and pulling him down for an overjoyed kiss just bordering on desperation. Apparently, eschewing his proper name was all the real confirmation he needed of Steve's feelings.
Steve threw his wings up in a mating display just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.
48 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
calliemacks
I'm trying to keep my Australian Accent
capnsport
instagram.com/sergioloranca
chanswho
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐞
screwyoufutureme
Looks great in a miko outfit... But he's a guy.
yasmijn
Hidup yang Terkurasi