#i wrote most of this in a haze so whatever’s in here is between you and god
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type-t.kageyama
summary: kageyama's unsure of exactly what his type is, until his roommate asks if a friend can stay with them. just for a bit.
tags: kageyama tobio x f! reader, roommates to lovers, opposites attract trope, fluff-ish ig?
words: 2.1k
warnings: language, slutty thoughts, smoking, slightly slutty content but not quiet smut, probably not the best i wrote this in a haze, minors dni
an: i have brain rot and a crush on kageyama. i don't know if im going to write something like this again.
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If you asked Kageyama what his type was before, he’s not sure what he would say. Probably something generic, something that meant nothing. Someone nice. Someone pretty. A good personality. A pretty smile. He would probably just spit out a mouthful of nothing with a red face and a stutter and think nothing else of it.
And it’s not like it’s something that he’s ever put a lot of thought into. He’s never really had the time. There have been girls, sure. Pretty ones that slipped into his room between games and practices and scheduled appearances. With pretty, soft faces and an intrigue at his profession. And they were fine. But when they gather their belongings and tip toe out of his room without a word, he did nothing to stop them. Kageyama would just pretend to sleep and feel relieved once his bed was empty again.
He liked them for the night. But there was nothing in any of the girls he brought home that made his skin hot. The thought of their thighs didn’t make him squirm, didn’t dry out his tongue or pick up his heart rate. He couldn’t remember the patterns of freckles splattered on their backs or the shape of their mouth or the cadence of their voice. Nothing about any girl he had ever met took hold of him.
And then, his roommate asked him for a favor.
“C’mon, she’s one of my best friends, and she has nowhere else to go,” Hinata had begged him. It was a strategic time to bring it up; when Kageyama was both tired and envigored from a practice, too worn to argue and too pleased from his performance to be in a bad mood. Hinata must’ve been waiting for that opportunity. “We have that spare room and she said she could help pay rent!”
Her living situation was awful, Hinata told him. Her roommates treated her horribly and she paid most of the expenses and it’s just temporary, anyways. Don’t even worry, because it’s just until she’s able to find a place of her own and you won’t even notice she’s here!
So Kageyama agreed. Too tired to argue and in too good of a mood to be annoyed. And ever since then, he’s regretted it.
Because he does notice she’s there. She leaves her dishes in the sink for hours before she cleans them. She listens to music loudly and she stays up late laughing loudly over nothing with Hinata in the living room. She takes too long in the shower and uses up the hot water and, more than anything, Kageyama is driven insane by how much he finds himself wanting her.
It only took a second for him to figure out his type once she stepped past their doorway, two duffle bags in her hand and this crooked, devilish grin on her face. It’s just her, whatever she is.
He likes girls who are bold. Like ones who introduce themselves by dropping everything in their hands to pull him into a tight, long-lasting hug. One where she presses herself firmly against him, letting him feel every soft curve and sharp edge there is to her.
He likes girls who are messy. Like a girl that goes out at night and comes home the next morning and kicks off her shoes and outer layer of clothes, leaving them strewn across the whole apartment for him to find later. Like a girl that wakes up with smudged makeup and brews coffee with unbrushed hair.
Girls that tease him. Girls that play loud music from their room. Girls that laugh loudly and unapologetically. Girls that smell like cheap perfume and expensive cigarettes. Girls that steal food from the pan while he cooks and girls who leave the bathroom steamy and laced with their scent.
Kageyama likes girls who are like that, girls like her.
Hinata must’ve known this would be the result. When she brushes against him or stands on the tips of her toes to ruffle the top of his hair or does something else that makes Kageyama red and desperate, more often than not, Hinata will be there, smirking like this not just what he was expecting, but what he wanted.
The worst part is that he can’t really complain. She pays rent on time.
It’s six in the morning when he steps out onto the balcony with his breakfast (diced fruits, scrambled egg whites, and a protein shake), and he is surprised to see her out there with hers (a half-smoked cigarette, a cup of hot black coffee, and a cold slice of pizza). Kageyama tries to avoid looking at her, and definitely does not notice that her outfit consists of a pair of crumbled boxers and a white tank top that rides up her midriff. He doesn’t notice anything like the imprints of the inseam of her jeans on her thighs or the bit of dried toothpaste that stains the direct center of her wrinkled top.
“Hey Kags,” she greets, smile rough but voice rougher. She leans towards him as he settles his breakfast down on their small standing table. The lit cigarette is perched precariously between two fingers that she shoves towards his face. “Want a smoke?”
His response is a gentle whack of her wrist, knocking it away from him. “Get that shit out of my face,” he grumbles, and is rewarded with the sound of her laugh. “Did you even sleep last night? I’ve never seen you up this early.”
Her eyes roll as she leans up against the edge of the balcony, looking over the landscape of the city. “I was at work until like three-thirty this morning. Then my coworker invited me back to her place. I was there until about forty minutes ago, been here ever since.”
The schedule of a bartender makes him sick. He can’t ever imagine it. Kageyama’s always treated his whole body like a machine, something that required through and proper maintenance and he is sure that if he treated his like she did hers for a whole twenty-four hours, he’d never recover.
But here she stands before him, downing hot coffee and squishing out the tip of her cigarette on the ashtray they didn’t own until she moved in. Kageyama figures he likes girls like that, too. Ones that are strong in ways that he’s not. “Damn,” is all he can manage to say. He can’t think of anything that’s not stupid.
“Yeah,” she sighs, and rests her chin against the palm of her hand and leans out further against the railing. Kageyama has to fight the urge to grab her by the collar and pull her back. She’s not cautious, not afraid of anything. “Maybe it’s time to settle down and find a man to take care of me,” she muses, almost like she's talking to herself. Kageyama watches, and hesitantly chews at his breakfast.
She leans back, hand still gripping the railing and using it to prop herself up. “What about you, Kags? You wanna take care of me?”
He chokes on his pineapple.
His eyes are watering as his coughs slow, and he looks up at her with an agape expression, stunned to see that she’s not laughing at him. She’s not poking at his side or making fun of his blush. She’s looking at him like she’s waiting for an answer. “Are you serious?” he questions, voice tight.
She rolls her neck, and then shrugs, like she’s trying to shake an answer out of herself. “I dunno. I think me and you would be a good match, don’t you think? We could take care of each other. You could reign me in and make me take things more seriously. I could get you to lighten up and relax sometimes so your hair doesn’t turn grey by the time you’re thirty.”
Kageyama’s stunned. He can’t do anything but stare at her as his brain tries to catch up with his words. His face burns and he feels so dumb and is this a confession? Is she trying to tell him that maybe he’s not so stupid for wanting her? But before he can process exactly what it is she just said to him, she’s shaking her head. “You know what? Don’t worry about it,” she smiles at him, and slides past him, leaving the balcony door open behind her.
And it’s only once she’s gone that Kageyama is able to get it. He whips around, eyes wide and mouth half-opened with unspoken words. But she’s disappeared, locking herself in the bathroom. And Kageyama has a practice to get to.
He doesn’t get home until later that evening. And when he goes get there, there’s a light pouring from the cracks of her closed door, and soft music emitting from behind it. Kageyama needs to eat and he needs to shower and he needs to stick to his schedule but tonight, he has more important things to take care of.
Without thinking about it, Kageyama grabs the handle of her door and pushes it open with perhaps a little more strength then needed. He steps into her room and closes the door behind him and maybe he should’ve thought about it a little bit harder because she’s wearing nothing but a big t-shirt that reaches the middle of her thighs. “Dude?’ she questions at his intrusion, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I do want to take care of you!” Kageyama blurts out at her, and her eyes go wide. “I really like you a lot and also I am very, very attracted to you, and I would really like to be with you. I basically have since you moved in. I just-“
She stands from the edge of her bed and takes a few long steps before she’s standing directly in front of him, head titled and looking up at him through her eyelashes. He swallows. “I just didn’t want to make things weird,” he finishes, struggling through the constricting in his chest.
“You want me?” she questions, blinking. And the only response he can manage is a small nod of his head. He doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him and his thoughts are running to quickly for him to hold onto any single one of them. The only thing he can understand completely is his growing, desperate need and the heat that radiates from her body. “Show me,” she tells him.
The words echo is brain for a second before he can fully comprehend them. But once he does, and he sees that her expression just might be as desperate as his, he’s compelled to oblige her. He raises a hand to the back of her head and rakes it through the roots of her hair, fingers tangling in them before he pulls slightly. This elicits a slight noise from her throat, and there’s no going back for Kageyama. Any bit of self-control he might have had snaps at once.
He presses his mouth against her and is enamored by the taste of her. Minty and smoky; peppermint lip balm and hundreds of cigarettes. His tongue slips into her mouth and everything intensifies. Kageyama’s overwhelmed by the way she feels and tastes and how her tongue slides against his and the little noises that keep spilling into his mouth.
Her hands work their way under the edge of his shirt, her palms pressing into his bare skin and suddenly it’s not enough. He needs more of her and he needs it now.
It’s foreign to him. This need that grows with the second. This desire that overtakes him and makes him forget everything that’s not her. He’s never felt like this before, not with anyone else that he’s ever been with. And it excites him, to feel so intensely. It keeps him up all night, exploring every bit of her he can, with his mouth, with his hands. He memorizes every detail about her he can. He remembers which noises come from her and what actions cause them. He remembers every inch of her skin. He remembers what his name sounded like spilling from her lips in a haze of pleasure and want, strewn together with pleading and cursing.
When morning comes, he still hasn’t showered, and he needs one more than ever. She’s asleep, forehead resting on his bare chest and snoring lightly. He likes this too, how soft she looks, how gentle. Kageyama likes the look of her in his hold, peaceful and content to be caged in by his arms. He hopes the next morning can be like this, too. Perfect. Quiet.
The only thing that ruins the moment is the loud slamming on the other side of the door, followed by Hinata’s unbearably cheerful voice. “Kageyama, I knew she’d be your type!”
#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq x you#hq#haikyuu tobio#haikyuu kageyama#kageyama tobio x you#kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#kageyama tobio#kageyama tobio fanfiction#kageyama tobio fic
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Jewel Encrusted
pairing: Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader
w/c: 1.4k
a/n: here’s some word vomit.
warnings: smut. it’s uhh- there’s some angst i guess? i also wrote like way too many similes and metaphors but whatever, yknow.
His knuckles turn white, his hands fisted at his sides. You don’t think his eyes could get any wider with the way he drinks you in like he’ll never see this again, like you’ll never let him this close again. He has to commit it to his Swiss cheese memory so he doesn’t lose the image of your face lit up in pleasure like neon signage.
You’re above him; the bounce in your tits matching the rhythmic slap of your ass against his thighs. This must be what it’s like to be ridden within an inch of your life, he thinks. Heaven lies between your legs and if he lets go he’s sure he’ll see salvation.
***
You might as well have invented antigravity when you waltzed into his life. The sway in your hips spun his world on its axis and Steve told Bucky that for the first time in a century he’d seen a glimmer of his best friend in the boyish smile he gave you.
***
You can’t imagine he could get any deeper if he tried, pressed to the limits of you while the springs in the couch are tested of their limits too. You look so soft, so supple, he wants to plant his hands on your hips and fuck himself a home in your chest where the heavy thud of your heart would make his echo a response.
But he won’t, his traitorous hands will not ruin this for him.
***
You asked him out the third or fourth time he’d choked on his own tongue trying to talk to you. A handful of near completely crushed daisies in his fist as he talked about making sure you had a good umbrella in case wind accompanied the rain later.
“Wanna buy me a coffee?”
The question had slicked off your tongue like oil and the gentle chime of your voice bound him tight. He answered yeah with too much breath but the way your face lit up made him remember that he brought flowers.
You’d tried not to laugh when he held them up and they all fell over his fingers like some stupid cartoon, your hand over your mouth and your tongue firmly held between your teeth. His head hung in defeat, but he appreciated the way you put those depressed daisies in a vase all the same.
Green tendrils of smoke curled from your fingers and he watched as each and every blossom stood to attention again.
***
“Are you going to touch me, Barnes?”
He feels like he has to unroll his eyes from the back of his head- physically peel his tongue from the roof of his mouth, dumbstruck as he feels every ridge and quiver in the wet and hot of you.
You slow down, cradle his face in both of your hands and suck his bottom lip into your mouth. You can feel the tension roiling in his thighs beneath you, the fraying thread of his self control as you still your hips, grinding against him slow and dirty.
He chokes on his tongue again, the head of him nudging against your deepest parts while your wet slips a small river down the seam of his nuts. He can’t think through the haze, can’t think past the way your skin feels against his. The only thing anchoring him in this reality is the vice tight grip he has on the couch cushions.
***
You’d struck up a conversation about books, noticed the worn copy of The Hobbit that he carried around like a stuffed animal when Steve was on a mission and made conversation about it. Bucky says that he’s been making slow progress through it, his eyes averting to the cup of coffee sat in front of him when you ask him why.
He doesn’t lie to you. Steve told him once that people who mind didn’t matter, and those that mattered didn’t mind. Bucky says that it’s hard to follow the story through all the clutter in his mind and without missing a beat you offer to read to him. The most beautiful woman he’s ever managed to stumble over himself in front of offers to read him his favorite story.
It doesn’t hurt anything but his ego when the coffee spills over the saucer and into his lap, but the red creeps up his neck and into his face all the same. You move your own coffee to the side and lean across the table, those same green tendrils looping around broken ceramic and affixing them back into place.
You apologize because you can’t put the coffee back in the cup, or at least you haven’t figured out how yet. He shakes his head and tells you that spilled coffee isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. You give him a sad kind of smile, one that he feels in the marrow of his bones.
“Why don’t we make sure it’s the worst thing that happens today?”
***
“Bucky, please, put your hands on me, baby, please.”
You plead with him, but he still doesn’t move, his hands refusing to budge from their spot on either side of him.
Finally, you stop, chest heaving, pulling his gaze up to yours. “Hey, are you okay? Do you want to stop?”
He shakes his head, his eyes falling shut and his forehead coming to rest in the valley between your breasts. “No,” he gruffs out, hot air puffing against your skin. “No, I don’t want to stop, I just—“
Even from this angle you can see his jaw flex, wincing as he beats himself internally for ruining this incredible moment. “Things break when I’m not in control and—“ his voice cracks, those sea blue eyes tinged with a hurt you wish you could pluck out, “I don’t want to break you.”
Bucky says it with all the reverence in the world, with so much sincerity that your heart breaks for him. You lean down and kiss him, lace your fingers into his hair and steal the breath from his lungs and he still keeps his hands firmly locked on either side of him because you’re still rested snugly in his lap and on his cock.
***
“She’s not pretending, Buck.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“I can. She’s not like that with anyone else. Just you.”
“Like what?”
“You don’t see the way she looks at you?”
“How does she look at me?”
Steve ponders it for a moment, tries to come up with any other time he’s seen that same look on your face. “She looks at you like she could understand where religion comes from.”
***
Bucky understands why some people are willing to die in the name of God. He understands why people are willing to live their whole life in devotion to something that may not exist. The difference is that there is real, tangible evidence that you exist in the purples and blues that blossom across his neck in the wake of your mouth.
“I’m not breakable, Barnes,” you pant, the heft of him still nestled deep.
“Everything has the capacity to break,” he groans back, swallowing hard when you clamp down around him.
“If you’re still coming up with Oxford words I’m not doing good enough.” You try to joke with him, but he’s so consumed with trying to keep himself under control that he can’t find it within to laugh at your joke.
You pull yourself out of his neck, kiss him back into this universe and rest your hands over his. “I can’t,” he pleads, like your hand rests on the dagger driven into his heart. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself—“
Your thumb presses his lips closed, fingers splaying against his cheek while you hold him steady. “I never asked you to be anything but who you are. I know what I signed up for and I want all of it.”
“I-“
You lean in close to his ear, press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, let your green unfurl from your fingers, trail down his shoulders, and wedge his grip from the couch. Your hands slip from his face, down the slope of his neck, and rest on the plane of his chest.
“It would be an honor to be broken by you, Sergeant Barnes.”
The single note that sounded from the snapped harp string of his self control wrote a symphony in understanding.
He painted you in your favorite shades of sapphire and amethyst because nothing is ever perfect; and he kissed every single bruise when the sun came up because you know he is.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky
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Calling the Shots - 2
Pairing: College basketball co-captain! Yoongi x college fem reader
Genre: tooth rotting fluff/college au
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: this is pure fluff, more Thotjin, long hair!yoongi bc that’s a necessary warning tbh, playful banter between Yoongi Seokjin and the reader, legal drinking (they’re not drunk just a lil tipsy), discussed daddy kink (I’m sorry i am the way i am), absolutely consensual smooching (although they are a lil drunk), Yoongles gives the reader a hickey. If I forgot anything pls let me know 🖤
A/n: I wrote this in an entirely coffee fuelled haze over the last ~8 hours. It has not beta read so she might be clean but if not pls don’t hold it against me lol I was very determined to finish this today. Also everyone can thank @haliiimede for choosing to have the kiss happen
Previous
——
She couldn’t quell the butterflies in her stomach as she sat next to Yoongi on the dim restaurant patio, Seokjin across from them, fully engrossed in whatever was happening on his phone, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to look away from Yoongi if she tried.
It had only been a few hours since they’d met, but the way he looked at her made her feel electric. He was unbearably pretty with his wavy black hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders that she desperately wanted to run her fingers through. And the soft smile he kept giving her made her hands shake.
She’d found out he was not only the basketball co-captain, but something of a music prodigy who could play multiple instruments, who also wrote, composed, and produced all of his own music. It also turned out he was an absolutely abysmal student — he didn’t like to try very hard in most of his classes, despite being intelligent and incredibly thoughtful.
“Yoongs, you have to at least try,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as he smirked.
“How about this, you tutor me and I’ll try harder just for you, sunshine,” he smirked, his voice dropping slightly as he draped his arm across the back of the booth.
“Sure, I’ll tutor you,” she whispered back, feeling almost dazed by him. “The only thing I can’t help you with is math.”
“Perfect, I’m great at math,” he said, his cheeks pulling up to reveal a gummy smile that made her heart nearly stop in her chest. He was really too pretty — dangerously pretty. And if she wasn’t careful, she was sure she could fall for him without a moment of hesitation.
“Well, I’m glad to know you’re not good at everything,” she smiled, “How would I ever stand a chance against your charms if you had no flaws?”
“You’re trying to resist me? Damn, I need to try harder,” he smirked, heat blooming under her skin. She couldn’t tell if he was flirting; the three glasses of wine and tequila shot Jin had forced them into clouding her judgement, but she couldn’t help but let herself indulge in the idea.
Yoongi made it so much easier to let herself believe it was real when his fingers trailed across her bare shoulders, making her shiver.
“Are you cold?” He asked, concern painting across his face before he was taking action. “Here, take my flannel,” he said, shrugging it off his shoulders before wrapping it around her with a smile.
It smelled warm, like coffee and something distinctly masculine. It was different than Jin, or her brother. It swirled around her in an amber haze, making her mind even more foggy with the alcohol she’d consumed.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping on their drinks as the night bustled around them. “You think he’d notice if we left?” Yoongi whispered in her ear with a laugh, pointing at Jin. His cheeks were flushed from the scotch, scooting closer to her, their thighs nearly touching.
She giggled softly, shaking her head, “Not a chance; he’s probably setting up a booty call,” she whispered back.
“You realize I can hear you both, right?” Jin asked, looking up from his phone with a raised eyebrow, making both her and Yoongi dissolve into giggles. “You’re both so lucky I love you and decided not to drink. Now daddy’s gonna have to take both of you drunken messes home,” he sighed, shaking his head.
“Gross, Jinnie,” she whined, “Stop calling yourself daddy. I already told you I’d have to kill you if you kept doing it.”
Yoongi snorted, chiming in with a smirk, “Its like the fourth time you’ve done that tonight, man. I’m not one of your conquests.”
He gasped, setting his phone down and pointing a finger at both of them, “That’s funny, if I remember correctly, both of you have a daddy kink,” he said, making her choke. “That’s right. Now leave me and my booty call alone while we get some more food. Both of you gremlins need to sober up.”
“Ignore him, he’s just mad he can’t abandon us like he usually would to go fuck someone,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, scooting closer to her again — his whole body pressed against her before she felt his breath on her neck. “And he’s not wrong, I do like being called daddy.”
Her cheeks burned as she squirmed in her seat, arousal pooling in her core. It wasn’t fair how much of an affect he had on her, and the alcohol induced part of her brain told her she needed to even the playing field.
“Alright then, daddy,” she whispered back, turning to face him with a smirk. His cheeks turned a bright pink, it spread down his neck and to his ears quickly, averting his eyes with a cough.
Her phone lit up on the table in front of her with a text from Jin.
good job sunspot (; he likes u, i can tell
Her heart fluttered as her eyes snapped up to find Jin smirking at her knowingly. “Alright kids, time to put some bread into you so you can both regret this interaction tomorrow,” Jin said, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. “But first, cheers to my main man, Yoongo Boongo for bringing the team to yet another victory,” he said raising his glass with a smirk.
“You’re lucky I’m still your friend,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, raising his glass. She laughed, clicking her glass with them before downing the rest of her wine in one go.
“Alright, sunspot, where are your demon children tonight? I didn’t see them at the—“ Jin began but she cut him off.
“Those are my babies, Kim Thotjin! I will accept no criticism of them; they’re perfect, wholesome babies,” she frowned animatedly, brandishing a finger at him in warning.
“Your wholesome, perfect babies lit a science lab on fire, three weeks ago and are lucky they didn’t get kicked out of school,” Jin deadpanned, calling a waitress over with a flick of his wrist.
“Just because they lack impulse control doesn’t mean they’re not perfect, Thotjin! I mean, still love you, even though you’ll fuck anything with a set of tits and a firm ass,” she rolled her eyes.
“Excuse you! I have standards! I haven’t fucked you, have I?” He smirked, making Yoongi choke on his scotch as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Aw, Jinnie,” she cooed, reaching across the table to take his face into her hands, “You know I’d rather fuck Yoongi than you. You remember the rule, I only fuck 10s,” she winked with a pat of his cheek before settling back into her seat, taking a peek at Yoongi, who was bright pink and hiding behind his hair.
“You’re lucky your brother isn’t here, he’d have a heart attack listening to you objectify poor Yoongo Boongo like that,” Jin scoffed, “Apologize to the poor boy, he doesn’t know you well enough to take your teasing even if you’re drunk.”
A flare of shame shot through her before Yoongi was speaking, “Don’t deflect, Seokjin, it’s a bad look. I’m having a great time over here listening to someone choose me over you,” he grinned, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace.
Out of nowhere, a waitress appeared holding a tray full of food, giving Jin a wink as she set the various plates down before walking away. “Alright gremlins, eat up. I have a pre-booty call hookup waiting for me around the corner, and I told my actual booty call I’d meet her at her place in an hour so be quick about it. Daddy’s got money, but no time,” he said, standing up from his seat before turning to look directly at Yoongi, “Trust me, she knows I’m a 10, but fucking her would be like fucking her brother. And while I love him, I definitely don’t want him like that.”
Without another word, he was disappearing around the corner of the patio, pulled into the shadows by a hand that looked suspiciously like one of the waitress that had just walked away.
“God he’s such a whore,” she laughed, picking up a piece of bread, “I’m sorry for dragging you into our roast-fest, you didn’t deserve—“
“Don’t apologize, sunshine,” Yoongi smiled, “I’m just happy to be here. We are friends now, right?”
“Of course we are, Yoongs,” she smiled, “I already told you that.”
“Good, then you don’t have to worry about offending me,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I know how Jin is, and I hope it’s not too forward to say that I like being around you, and I’d like to do it more.”
“Not too forward,” she shook her head, “I like being around you too Yoongi.”
“Great, because I’m gonna want to be around you so much more after tonight, you’re fucking beautiful,” he said seriously, “And smart. And funny? And you might be the first girl who’s ever looked at me when Jin is in the room and—“ She cut him off by surging forward, pressing her lips to his firmly.
She’d always heard people use the expression ‘time seemed to slow’ but she had never experienced it until right then. Yoongi’s plush, pouty lips on hers caused the world to tilt and spin on a new axis. Time ceased to exist entirely when his hand slid into her hair, cradling her head in his massive palm while keeping her exactly where he wanted. And she was pretty sure the world could end around them and she wouldn’t notice as his tongue pressed against the seam of her lips.
Her fingers tangled into the long hair at the nape of his neck as she let him invade her mouth, tasting the sharpness of the scotch on his tongue. It was unlike any kiss she’d ever had — instead of filling her with anxiety and the uncertainty, all she felt was a thrum of excitement with an underlying current of steadying comfort.
“God you fucking taste like sunlight,” Yoongi mumbled into her skin, pulling away only to drop his head into the juncture of her neck, pushing the collar of his flannel away with his nose before taking the thin skin between his teeth.
“Yoongs, we-we’re in-Jin is—“ she stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as he sucked on the skin, “Fuck,” she sighed, tightening her arms around him, tightening her grip on his hair.
He mumbled something incoherent, releasing the skin with a pop before pressing a soft kiss on the irritated skin, “‘M sorry, should’ve asked first,” he mumbled, pulling back from her embrace.
“It’s okay, Yoongi,” she smiled dreamily, “Just wanna take it slow.”
“I can do slow,” he agreed, taking her face into his hands as he stared into her eyes. She could have spent the rest of the night staring into his cat-like eyes, the warm brown reminding her of the rich amber liquid that had been swirling in his glass all night, “Just lemme kiss you one more time. Gotta make sure of something.”
She nodded softly, her eyes falling closed as he pressed forward, and for a second she was nervous that the second kiss would feel different, somehow lacking compared to the first. But when he slotted his lips over hers again in a slow, languid kiss, her fears fell away like the leaves of a cherry blossom in early spring.
“Just as I thought,” he sighed, pulling away with a dazed smile, “It gets better every time.”
——
Previous
Taglist: @eureka-its-zico @bibbykins @here2bbtstrash @bri-mal @paradiseyoonie @jalexad @tarahardcore @4evahevah @seokjinkismet @pasteljoonie @ninamitoo
#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#min yoongi fluff#yoongi fluff#bts fluff#bts college au#suga fic#yoongi fic#suga fluff#suga x reader#yoongi college au#min yoongi college au
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜
💖 thanks for sending!!
nothing is burning here, my father would laugh: post Man City Jamie-centric, vaguely pre-ot3 episode tag. Never have I felt more compelled to write fanfic than after watching that damn hug!! Also this was my first Ted Lasso fanfiction so it is dear to me :)
Waterfalls: Jamie/Roy focused canon-divergent ot3 between s1 & s2. I'm just really proud of myself for finishing that one because it sat in my drafts half complete for over a year. And then I successfully came back to it and figured out where to take it and got it finished!! Which is big for me.
all your cracked perfection: gen Jamie-centric childhood->canon timeline coming-of-age fic. I like this a little less now that we've met Georgie, because a lot of the fic features Jamie's relationship with his mum but I wrote it before we knew her!! so it isn't totally canon-compliant, but I think most of it still works with canon nonetheless. Mostly this was just really fun to write even though the topic was heavy and I also liked playing around with different POVs in it. I wrote it mid-season in a ravenous Jamie Tartt-induced haze after the Amsterdam episode emotionally wrecked me.
Still, Sometimes,: My latest! Ot3 established relationship, post s3 future fic! This was a behemoth to write and is kind of my manifesto on future royjamiekeeley and how I imagine them maneuvering through life's hurdles together, so I feel very passionate about it!! i also challenged myself by writing the whole thing from Keeley's POV because I find her the hardest to write of the 3 :)
Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of: This is a Stranger Things Jonathan/Nancy soulmates AU! Nobody seems to read fanfic for this pairing so it has like 2 views (/s) but I adore them and had so much fun writing this!! I pretty much never write the classic, trope-y fanfiction AUs, but the opportunity with their canonical matching scars was simply too good to pass up. It was a big challenge but a fun journey.
#I think my ted lasso fics are by and large my best works#but I have a jancy st series that’s still ongoing in the drafts that I’m sure I’ll come back to eventually#I am nothing if not queen of writing for pairings ten people care about#ironically Ted lasso is a much smaller fandom but rjk is probably the most popular pairing I’ve ever written for lol#stranger things fanfiction#ted lasso fanfiction#my writing#royjamiekeeley#jamie tartt#jancy#stranger things#ted lasso#fic recs#in this case self recs!#asks
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If you're still taking requests, would you write your version of the season 3 party scene? I can't wait until Wilmon can do more than just stare at each other. Love your writing btw! Please write more!
Me 🤝 Wille, being ramble-y drunks. They still do their fair share of staring, sorry anon, it's a Wilmon classic. Also thank you so much for the kind words! I hope you like this, I wrote it all in one sitting while a little wine drunk haha.
The music at the palace is so loud that the floor vibrates with every hit of the base.
Simon's sitting beside two girls that are making out tenderly, caught between their bodies and the arm of the couch. He’s restless and alone, wants to stop mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, put his phone away, and plaster himself to Wilhelm's side where he would feel at most ease.
Wilhelm had been the one to insist that Simon accompany him tonight. He’d led him here with clasped hands, animated and bright under the dark sky as he chattered on and on, drunk and joyous. Simon had been happy to stumble along, grinning up at him in that besotted way that never failed to make Wilhelm smug.
Now, though, he's a little regretful.
The lemonade in his cup is lukewarm and flat. He's sore from the rowing machines in PE, cold from the biting chill in the room that no-one else seems to mind in their alcohol induced haze. He's half debating on making a break for it, but the wondrous sight of Wilhelm doubled over in laughter keeps him in place.
Wilhelm is in the middle of a semi-intense game of beer pong with some of the Forest Ridge boys, rowdy cheers going up every time one of them ended up having to chug a glass of whatever concoction they’d created. Wille is stumbling over his feet, face pink with alcohol, starry-eyed and oh-so lovely.
Simon is still mulling this particular discovery over in his mind. That alcohol makes Wilhelm sleepy and affectionate, makes him bounce around to electronic music with friends while he begs a bashful Simon to join him in all his left-footed glory.
The girls at his side laugh, whispering some secret between them as they make their way out of the palace. Simon watches them leave, a tad envious. There’s a loneliness to Hillerska that he will likely never shake, not even with Wille at his side.
He stretches out across the now vacant couch and downs his lemonade in an effort to be free of holding the damn thing. With faint amusement, Simon watches as Wille mirrors his motion, chugging the last standing cup on his side of the table while the boy beside him groaned in defeat.
He likes this side of Wille. The teenage boy of it all. Messy and uncoordinated and free.
When Wilhelm catches his gaze, Simon drops it, flushed and oddly embarrassed. But even inebriated, Wille clocks his staring, and it makes him grin instantly, face splitting wide in smug joy.
At once, Simon scrambles to sit up, but Wille is at his side in a heartbeat. “Hi,” he beams, casually tossing his empty cup to land behind the couch. Briefly Simon wonders who actually cleans this place. “How’s it going over here?”
Simon snorts, “Good. How’re you?”
Wille slides to his knees on the cold, concrete floor, easing Simon back into the couch with a hand pressed to the center of his chest. “I lost at pong,” he tells him seriously. “The cups were really small. It’s hard to get the ball in.”
Simon can’t quite hold back a burst of laughter. “Yeah?”
Wilhelm frowns. “Did you see me lose?”
Simon turns on his side to face him, carding a hand through Wilhelm’s sweaty hair. “I did, sorry.”
“It’s okay, everyone loses sometimes,” Wille leans into his touch, humming happily. “What’d you wanna do now? My knees hurt.”
Simon stifles a laugh. He sits up, patting the space beside him on the couch. “Wille, come sit.”
He winces at the way Wille’s knees crack when he stands, makes a mental note to berate him about stretching more after his runs. Wilhelm only sighs in relief, folding himself into the small space between Simon and the arm of the couch. His hands find Simon’s waist, face ending up buried into the crook of his neck.
Simon resumes petting his hair. “You’re not going to be sick are you?”
He feels Wille shake his head. “No,” comes the muffled response, “I’m okay.” Wille leans back slightly, kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheek. “Thank you for asking. Love you.”
Something warm pools in Simon’s stomach. Wilhelm is so gentle. It is a balm to his restless soul. “You need any water?”
Wille leans back against the armrest, tucks his feet up under him. His head lolls softly when he smiles at Simon, “No, baby, I’m good.”
Simon swallows. His voice is almost non-existent when he speaks, “Okay, let me know.”
“I will.”
Wille rolls out his shoulders. He looks content, even if Simon is hyper-ware of the way everyone around them is imperceptibly trying to listen in on their mundane interaction. The Forest Ridge boys alone have sent them a half-dozen poorly concealed looks in just the last few minutes.
“Hey.”
Simon forces himself to re-focus on Wilhelm. “Yeah?”
A large hand settles on his jaw, Wille’s fingers curling around his ear and cheek. He steeps forward, pressing a fumbling kiss to Simon’s mouth. “You look nice.”
Simon jerks back instinctively, but Wille’s grip on his face is firm. He tries to shrug it off, laughing, “Stop it, Wille.”
Wille smiles, kisses him again, and Simon allows it, albeit with a roll of his eyes. He has never kissed anyone that smiles so much during and it makes something swoop in his belly. The proof that he brings Wilhelm joy.
“Wille,” Simon tries to lean away, but the way he’s fighting back laughter makes his nay-saying extremely ineffective, “I mean it.”
Wilhelm cackles, drawing more attention than Simon knows what to do with, and kisses his nose instead.
Simon bats him away half-heartedly, can feel his face and neck prickling with embarrassment even if all he really wants is to drown in Wille’s heady presence. “Everyone’s watching.”
Wille presses his nose into Simon’s cheek. “I don’t give a fuck about what everyone else is doing.” His hand grazes the button of Simon’s jeans and Simon squeaks, pushing up to his feet.
He looks down at Wille, trying and failing to maintain an air of sternness.
Wille must see straight through him, though, because he only tips his head back into the couch, eyes filled with mirth as he regards Simon before him.
“Watch the hands.”
Wille raises the hands in question up in surrender. “They’re being watched. They’re also really sorry.”
Simon rolls his eyes.
“Okay maybe not really sorry,” Wille grins, reeling Simon in by the hem of his shirt with said offending hands. “Do you want me tonight?”
Simon regards his absolute fool of a boy. “You’re being ridiculous tonight you know that?”
“You were the one laid out on the couch like it’s my bed or something.”
“Well you were the one – ”
Wille gets to his feet, kisses him again, this time decidedly deeper. When Simon pulls away, he catches a glimpse of Felice and Maddie giggling at their expense. “C’mon,” he mutters, “let’s get out of here.”
“Are we going to my room, Simon?” Wille follows him out, “Not that I have a preference, of course. I just think my bed’s more comfortable than that couch, you know. And like, it’s big enough for two people. But we don’t have to. I don’t really care. But, like, hypothetically – only hypothetically, if we went back there, we could – ”
Simon has to fight to keep the grin off his face. “If you can stay quiet all the way back to your room,” he murmurs to Wilhelm, “I’ll suck you off against the door.”
Wille’s eyebrows climb towards his hairline as they stumble out into the cold, spring night. “That sounds like a good time.”
“Yeah?” Simon asks, amused, “But – ”
“You always have the best ideas, Simon. You know that? Like, in Biology today – ”
“I said quiet, Wille. Remember?”
“Oh,” Wille smiles, huge and healing in a way that Simon will never be able to thank him enough for. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”
Helpless, he turns to mash a kiss against the chilled skin of Wille’s cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
"Wille."
"What?"
#this is a little shitty I'm sorry anon but I offer it to you with both hands#I think I messed up Wille but it was FUN to write and what else is fanfic for than for enjoyment#pls don't read if you're involved with making YR jfc that fact that some of y'all are on here scares the shit out of me#young royals#wilmon#young royals fanfic#wilmon fanfic#my writing#ask#hillerskalibrary
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How bout a classic sharing a bed set up for a komahina drabble?
This was so much fun to do! It's been a while since I wrote something like this, and was a nice, relaxing thing for a rainy day. Thank you for the request, I hope you like it!!
-
Before Kamakura, Hajime had never been a light sleeper. Now, though, between his minimal need for sleep and the trauma left over from the failed Neo World Program, the slightest hint of something off during the night has his eyes snapping open and the haze of sleep melting away instantly.
Like tonight. His eyes open at exactly three in the morning, whatever dream he may have been having already forgotten. He stares up at his dark ceiling for a few seconds, already on alert, trying to figure out what woke him.
A soft wooden squeak outside makes him sit up in bed, looking towards the door. He knows there’s no danger—the island has been safe for as long as they’ve been on it, the killing game is over, they’re all okay—but it’s still enough to make him slip out of bed and walk to the door, enough to make him crack it open and peer outside.
He’s not sure what he was expecting; a bird, perhaps, or a very lost squirrel. He wasn’t expecting to see Komaeda, looking almost like a ghost in the moonlight with his pale skin and hair, and the way he’s slowly, almost dreamily walking up and down the boardwalk. His steps are light as always; it was the slightly loose board right in front of Hajime’s cottage that squeaked when he walked on it that gave him any sort of corporeal visage at all.
He’s facing away when Hajime steps onto the boardwalk, wandering with slow, measured steps towards the girls’ side. He gets about two cottages down before turning around and walking back again, staring straight ahead of him with heavy-lidded eyes.
It’s creepy, Hajime won’t deny that. Still, he steps into Komaeda’s line of sight just before he reaches his cottage, and Komaeda drifts to a halt. His eyes are out of focus, and for a moment Hajime wonders if he’s sleepwalking. But then he blinks, and his eyebrows draw together slightly.
“Hinata-kun?”
“Hey,” Hajime says softly, taking a cautious step towards him, then another when he doesn’t shy away. “What are you doing out here?”
Komaeda frowns a little, bringing a hand up to sleepily rub his fist against his eye.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles. Hajime raises an eyebrow.
“Really? Seems like you’re practically there already.”
Komaeda doesn’t answer, but Hajime sees him cast his gaze downwards. The night is cool, enough to rouse Hajime further, and as he watches, he sees Komaeda subtly dig his nails into his hand, like he’s trying to wake himself up.
And suddenly, he realizes what’s going on. He holds back a sigh—not out of exasperation, but sympathy.
“Let’s get you back to bed.”
However, Komaeda is more awake than he looks, because as Hajime reaches out to take his thin wrist in his hand, he quickly pulls back and folds his arms over himself. Hajime pauses, taking in his body language, the flash of fear in his eyes.
“I’m fine, Hinata-kun,” he says, and his voice is tighter but he still looks exhausted. “Please, don’t worry about someone like me.”
It seems to be the most self-deprecation he can muster, which should be a good thing, but it gives Hajime a better idea of how tired he is, and that just makes him more concerned.
He glances behind him towards Komaeda’s cabin near the end of the row, then back to Komaeda, hugging himself and staring at the ground. After a moment’s thought, he reaches for him again, slower this time, and touches his upper arm.
“Come with me, okay?”
It’s another sign of Komaeda’s exhaustion, how easily he follows Hajime back into his own cottage. The blankets are rumpled from when he woke up, but he turns them down and steps aside, gesturing for Komaeda to lay down.
He’s met with an almost horrified look.
“Hinata-kun—”
“It’s non-negotiable,” Hajime says firmly. “Go on.”
Komaeda is normally capable of a level of stubbornness fit for a vengeful god, but after a few moments of a silent standoff, he seems to deflate a little. Hajime watches with equal satisfaction and worry as he climbs into bed, looking a little uncomfortable as he slowly lays down and lets Hajime drape his blankets up to his chin.
“Where will you sleep?”
Hajime pauses, hands still brushing the blankets. He…hadn’t actually thought of that. The sight of Komaeda wandering, wraith-like, up and down the boardwalk left no room for thoughts of what he would do, past getting him back to bed, warm and safe.
“I could sleep in your cottage—if that’s okay with you, of course,” he says, then immediately kicking himself mentally for suggesting something like that. Komaeda doesn’t react, though, past staring at him with a look Hajime can’t quite read with those big, grey eyes.
“I wouldn’t—I don’t have to use your bed,” he hurries on, “I could grab a futon from storage or something. Actually I could sleep there, if you don’t want me in your cottage—sorry, I don’t know why I—”
“Stay.”
Hajime’s words die on his tongue. Komaeda isn’t looking at him anymore, staring down at the blankets, but he looks up through pale lashes in a way that makes Hajime’s breath catch in his throat.
“Please.”
He stares at Komaeda for a long few seconds, the silence in the cabin thick and heavy. Then, he nods, slow and hesitant, because Komaeda never asks for anything, but Hajime knows in this moment, with the moonlight reflecting off his eyes and softening the sharp edges of his face, he would give him everything.
“Okay.”
He’s about to say that he’ll be right back, it won’t take him long to get a futon, but Komaeda shuffles over to the side of the mattress, leaving a clear space beside him. Hajime’s eyes widen, but when Komaeda looks up again with a nervous, almost pleading expression, he finds himself shuffling towards the bed almost unconsciously, climbing in beside him.
The mattress isn’t meant for two fully grown men, and Hajime’s shoulder is almost entirely sticking off the side as he attempts to keep as big a distance between them as possible. The last thing he wants to do is make Komaeda uncomfortable, especially in this state, and he already knows he’s going to wake up with cricks in his back and neck with how stiffly he’s laying, on high alert and aware of every single one of Komaeda’s movements.
Which is why, when his breathing gets tight and he starts to tremble, Hajime immediately forgets all of his discomfort and turns towards him. Komaeda is laying on his back, eyes wide as he stares at the ceiling, but his hands are clamped over his mouth and tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Hey, hey,” Hajime murmurs, sitting up and hesitantly laying a hand on Komaeda’s shoulder. He’s shaking like a leaf, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even close his eyes as more tears spill over and coat his fingers.
“Komaeda,” Hajime tries again, and this time he squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head vigorously. Hajime carefully takes his wrist and gently pulls one hand away from his face, then the other. He holds them in his own, and Komaeda immediately starts to squeeze, hard enough that Hajime has to hold back a wince.
“Okay,” he says softly, trying to keep his voice calm and level, “okay, take some deep breaths for me. Come on, in and out.”
Komaeda is still shaking, still crying, but Hajime sees his chest rise and fall as he mimics his deep breaths. Eventually, his death grip on Hajime’s hands loosens, and he exhales slowly through salt-coated lips.
Hajime carefully places Komaeda’s hands down on his chest, sitting back a little to give him some space. It’s only then that he notices, in the thin slice of moonlight that shines through the slight part in the curtains, the angry red ring around Komaeda’s neck—as if he’d had his hands wrapped around his own throat in his sleep.
It sends a jolt through him, a sharp knife through his chest leaks a sickening feeling into his veins. Without thinking, he grabs Komaeda’s hands again, squeezing them tightly as if to ground himself this time.
Komaeda looks up at him through watery eyes, and Hajime feels his fingers twitch in his grasp. He swallows, and without breaking Komaeda’s gaze, lifts his hands to his lips.
The kiss he places against his knuckles is brief and chaste, but Komaeda’s breath hitches all the same. It trembles on the exhale, and he slowly unfolds one of his hands, the whirring of his prosthetic fingers almost deafening in the silence of the cottage. He cups Hajime’s face, touch light and tremulous, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s really there.
Hajime lies down beside him then, not breaking his gaze. Their hands end up folded between their faces, and Hajime can feel Komaeda’s soft breaths puffing against his fingers. Unable to resist, he presses his lips to Komaeda’s hand once more, and he notices that they’re not shaking quite as much as they were before.
He’s never shared a bed with someone before, but the weight of Komaeda beside him is strangely comforting. He can hear his breathing, can feel the warmth of his skin under the blankets, and as Komaeda hesitantly reaches out, it’s easy for Hajime to pull him close, holding him with protective arms against his chest. Komaeda tucks his head under Hajime’s chin, and his hair tickles his face but Hajime presses his lips to the top of his head nonetheless.
It’s a cool night outside. There are crickets and cicadas, and somewhere in the distance, waves lap against the soft white sand. But Hajime hears none of it, in this little bubble under the blankets, with Komaeda tucked against his body and his breathing falling into a slow, even rhythm.
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writing meme
i was tagged by @postoperation AND @bropunzeling AND @vivathewilddog wow ily friends but calm down (❤❤)
Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.
first fic: the oldest timestamped fic on my ao3 is Golden Boys, a quick little pk subban/john tavares fic from 2012. i want to say it's short and sweet but i honestly haven't read it in ten years, so who knows 😂 there are some bandom fics and a tsn rpf fic on there that are older than that one but i imported them from livejournal in like 2015 and didn't backdate them properly, and i don't feel like figuring out which one is actually the oldest, and also don't want to draw attention to them because woof, that is some old old writing of mine.
last fic: this is for keeps, the one-year anniversary timestamp for head above water ❤ i had actually wanted this to be longer/a richer story but i've been struggling a lot with writing this year and so i just ran out of time and decided short and sweet was better than nothing. i am happy with it, though; i think it hit the most important beats i wanted to hit!
any fic written for a fandom/ship only once: homeland, the mighty ducks adam/charlie fic i wrote for yuletide a couple years ago. i feel like i answered an ask about this one recently so sorry to reiterate but if this hadn't been on a deadline it would have been five times as long and five times as angsty, lol. but also if it hadn't been for yuletide i probably wouldn't have written it at all, so it's all a wash i suppose. despite the deadline of it all though i enjoyed writing this one and think there are some really lovely bits of writing in it.
favorite fic in the fandom with the most works: this is one direction, which i wrote exactly one fic for, so i guess it's my favorite by default: the very best of, which i wrote in the complete haze of peak pandemic quarantine and now feels like a total fever dream. but it was fun! i love the bits of fake journalism and fake songwriting i did for it.
a fic you wish more people had read: come and make the hymns of you, which i can't really complain about fewer people reading because it is a fic for a relatively small fandom written twenty years after the thing came out and about a decade after that fandom's fic-writing peak. i'm really proud of it, though! i think it's one of the best things i've written! it was really fun getting to write in a style that i don't usually get to use for present-day rpf stories, and i love the character voice i developed for webster.
the fic you agonized over the most: i agonized a LOT over HAW, but i think that the land between our bodies still wins here. writing that fic was truly like pulling teeth. like i am very glad i finished it for the exchange and also i'm very glad people enjoyed it — tbh people enjoying it is the only reason i have any fondness for it 😅 — but from a personal standpoint i don't know if i'll ever get over how shitty i felt while writing it to properly enjoy it for myself. but maybe i will! i certainly hope so!
fic that sprang fully formed from my mind: The Next Next One, for sure. what a fun and fulfilling writing process that was. i mean, it's a long fic, so there were definitely parts that were a little tougher to get through than others, but overall it was such a smooth creative process. all of the plot pieces just fell into place. huge shoutout to @postoperation and @moregraceful for being my very encouraging captive audience as i word-vomited it into emails until i got the whole story out ❤
a work you are proud of: okay okay yes fine it's head above water ❤❤ i was actually super unsure about it when i posted it, but after taking some time to let it breathe (and to talk with so many of you all about it) i did end up really proud of it, and i've had such a good time continuing to play in that universe 💞
i am tagging (and attempting to tag folks i haven't seen tagged 😂): @irrelevanttous @grittyreadsfic @loveisworry @the-ships-to-rule-them-all @lilcrickee if you want to! no pressure!
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chayscribbles’ monthly writing update ☆ january 2023
☆ STATISTICS.
words written: 10 029
projects worked on: Andromeda Rogue; The Gemini Heist; and a Third, Secret Thing :)
proudest accomplishment: uhhh i can't really thing of anything... i made it to 10k words for the month at the very last minute does that count
books read: Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty; Station Eternity by Mur Lafferty
☆ GENERAL COMMENTS.
as you may or may not have noticed i haven't really been active on writeblr lately. between work, the fact that it's january, and having to shovel through, like, 4 snow storms, i haven't really had the time or energy.
started the writing year super strong. hit a wall about halfway and have since been in a terrible slump for most of the month.
however it turns out that you can trick your brain into thinking it's experiencing New WIP Euphoria by digging up and revamping an old wip (i.e. the Third, Secret Thing).
book comments: both books i read were about murder in space. both were pretty good. both get a solid 4/5 stars.
(between that, watching Glass Onion, rewatching Murder She Wrote, and starting to watch Columbo, i think i'm on a bit of a murder kick lately.)
more specific wip-related comments + featured excerpt below.
☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA ROGUE (draft 2)
not much to say about this one tbh. while most of my words from this month came from this wip, i've,, mostly just been patching up little things like smoothing over inconsistent details and adding a little meat to description and exposition... but i've been procrastinating on fixing the Big Stuff 😭
i really like how the new version is turning out compared to the first version tho. it's so much cleaner & that's very satisfying.
if only i could just *clenches fist* get myself to actually fuckin work on it
☆ COMMENTS: THE GEMINI HEIST (outlining / draft 0.5 or something)
i finished part 1 of 7!... and now i have no idea what i'm doing.
i don't think i like fast drafting lol. i hate how shitty my quality of writing has been. and yeah whatever that's the point of a fast draft blablabla but like, when my draft is already a little bit readable i can go back and reread parts and be like "oh hey this isn't half bad". and i know people are always like "don't reread right away!!! just keep writing!!!!!!!" but for me rereading as i go is part of the process lmao. not only does it remind me of important things i would otherwise forget, it also encourages me to keep going when i see that what i've done isn't terrible.
and... with this fast draft everything just feels terrible.
not to mention i can't seem to untangle plot... heists are fuckin hard to plan. especially since there's multiple opposing parties with different plans that are all going to inevitably go to shit, and so i have to make more plans for when that happens. it feels so complicated uuuggghghhhgh
☆ COMMENTS: a Third, Secret Thing (???)
i'm not gonna talk about it too much publicly yet so i don't jinx whatever is going on here (and i want to make sure i'm a bit more committed to this thing before introducing anything) but all i'll say is it's an older wip that i've talked about on my old blog that i've dug out and changed the genre into a dark modern fantasy mystery with messy sapphics.
☆ FEATURED EXCERPT.
alright i know i said i didn't want to talk too much about the Third Secret Thing yet but i couldn't find any passages to share in either AR or GH... so have this, with very little context :') uhhh tw for mentions of death and murder.
That’s how she ended up peeking groggily out the door at the frigid winter morning, having hastily thrown a sweatshirt over her pyjamas and a towel over her hair, only to have two police officers inform her that Vanessa Villa-Cortez had been found dead in her apartment early that morning.
“D… dead?” Amina repeated, her mind in a haze. She had to still be asleep, right? Maybe the guilt over ignoring that text had seeped into her subconscious and was feeding her dreams. There was no way someone was at her door telling her that Vanessa, a girl she hadn’t heard from in nearly seven years, was… was—
“Killed in an apparent burglary gone wrong last night,” said one of the officers gravely. “A neighbour noticed the door had been clearly forced in, went inside to check, and found Miss Villa-Cortez’s body on the floor of her apartment.”
Amina’s head began to swim. She clutched the doorposts to keep her buckling knees from giving way completely beneath her. No. No. Vanessa couldn’t be dead. Amina still had to answer her text.
if you know you know ;)
☆ TAGLISTS. let me know if you want to be added/removed to any of them.
genera taglist:
@nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @retrogayyde @quilloftheclouds @ashen-crest @writeblrfantasy @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @extra-magichours @avi-why @lefttigerobservation @chazzawrites @bardolatrycore @innocentlymacabre
andromeda trilogy taglist:
@bebewrites @nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @retrogayyde @akindofmagictoo @quilloftheclouds @nora-theteawriter @ashen-crest @corpsepng @writeblrfantasy @chaylattes @toboldlywrite @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @cheerfulmelancholies @extra-magichours @writeouswriter @cilly-the-writer @lefttigerobservation @rose-bookblood @drowsy-quill @chazzawrites @cynic-and-chief @enchanted-lightning-aes @aesa
gemini heist taglist:
@florraisons @akindofmagictoo @cream-and-tea @nicola-writes @memento-morri-writes @antique-symbolism @rose-bookblood @afoolandathief @pepperdee @avi-why @zonnemaagd @chazzawrites @analogued @enchanted-lightning-aes @innocentlymacabre @kahvilahuhut @celestepens @cilly-the-writer @extra-magichours @retrogayyde
#chayscribbles writing update#wip andromeda trilogy#wip andromeda rogue#wip gemini heist#and a third secret thing#if you recognize what it is you get a chayscribbles veterans discount
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WIP Wednesday
thanks for all the tags the past few weeks @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @facewithoutheart @forabeatofadrum @martsonmars @confused-bi-queer @ivelovedhimthroughworse and @takitalks!
it would seem nanowrimo really wiped me out, because i’ve barely had the motivation to write almost anything since. but then our of nowhere i was struck with an idea for ANOTHER original story.
more info below the cut because as usual i ended up rambling
so, the new story is also about greek mythology, and my favourite Trojan twins Cassandra and Helenus, but it’s a short story told through letters from Helenus to Cassandra, going on past her death as he continues to write to her whenever something significant happens in his life. the Trojans technically didn’t have written language, but i am clearly taking liberties.
the story will span their childhood, the rift that develops between them when Cassandra spurns Apollo and is cursed while Helenus accepts his advances and is blessed, their lives during the war, Helenus’s capture and torture at the hands of the Greeks, and then his life after the war as he rises from a slave to a king and father of dynasties. seriously, Helenus is so overlooked, most people who aren’t that into the myths have never even heard of him, yet he’s over here outlasting everyone and marrying both Hector and Achilles’s widows! his grandson goes off and founds FRANCE.
so anyway, in a haze of inspiration when i was supposed to be trying to sleep, i grabbed my phone in the dark and wrote my idea for an epilogue, a single letter from Cassandra in reply, written from the Underworld. here’s it in full, it’s not too long:
Helenus,
You once told me you could see not only through time, but through space also. While we could both see the outcomes of the future, you could see the present across the sea, to far distant lands. A rare gift I am glad I did not possess. It would only tire me out.
Perhaps you can see the present in other realms as well. Perhaps you can see me now, through whatever veil or crust of earth separates the living from the dead. Don’t look at my face. Watch my hands. You wouldn’t believe the deals I had to make to get my hands on paper and ink down here.
For all I exaggerate, Asphodel is not so bad. There are no more visions to plague me, and the wound barely stings. Stop staring at it. I know you are. Pay attention.
It’s mostly just very grey down here. Mist hangs in the air, white flowers bloom underfoot, and shades chatter about you, but it’s easy enough to find a quiet spot and be left to your memories if you wish.
My memories... Brother, I saw your future whenever I looked at you. So much suffering, but so much joy, too. I got your letters. I watched you write them through your eyes, that last time we saw each other, before fate took me to my death and you to a new life.
It took some time to figure out the order they were written in, but time is what the dead have an abundance of. It passes differently here, thick as molasses yet fast as a sparrow, but don’t worry about that. Just take each day as it comes. You’ll look very regal as an old man, and your children will make you proud.
Speaking of your children, I’m flattered you chose to name your daughter after me. I don’t know why I was surprised, you always were sentimental.
I won’t keep you any longer. Give Andromache my love. I look forward to seeing you again.
Cassandra.
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(@my-writblr here!) Mighty Morphin for the Power Rangers Writing Ask!
Mighty Morphin': at what point do you usually write the beginning of a story? at the beginning or later on? do you try and actually write an opening scene or do you just sketch it out?
either I start with the beginning, like, I get an opening line and go from there, or I start from vaguely the middle and the beginning attacks me out of nowhere months later after many ask games, snippet tags and discussions with writer friends about whatever.
I started dirt in the doing with "Jet wanders empty streets in a tipsy haze, wishing he was more drunk and yet unwilling to allow himself to be so vulnerable out in the open."
but the new first line is "He’s not a naturally curious person." and I wrote this only about five days after I started writing.
death story started with the beginning "On May 2nd, 1964, Lawrence Whitely broke the first tier between earth and aether, and spent the next 50 years descending the waterfall."
guild story that I just started I've plopped down into the middle "Idrian was bleeding, again, the brightness of his blood a horrible contrast to the rigid collar of his formal event coat."
technically the first line of summon story was “You know, you’re allowed to talk to me first.” and we start in the middle.
but then I radically changed the story and the place I started from doesn't exist anymore because I edited it a little. but maybe a year after percolating on the story I wrote an actual first line "Sinderport was like most cities: packed with buildings and packed fuller with bodies."
youth story dropped us into the middle, then I changed a lot and we were still in the middle, and then I wrote like 300 words of the beginning of draft 1 and I'M STILL THERE-
opening scenes are for when my brain wants to think about them and until then, I just play around with different ideas in my head. guild story might start out with the immortal sorceress gaining her first favor. or it might start out with one of the harried apprentices collecting a favor. who knows? not me. because I almost never start at the beginning.
thanks for asking, Other Me! (I worked with the other Other Me today so this is perfect)
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thoughts on the outfits in this ep?
i’m prefacing this review with the fact that i’ve seen maybe two thirds of the animated batb when i was like seven, 37 mins of the live action and have zero knowledge of the broadway version. that being said all my thoughts are 100% correct and i am inviting no discussion so buckle up baby!
if u think i’m going to go through every costume individually then u assume i have much more patience than a normal human being. instead i will be picking and choosing with no rhyme or reason and you’ll just have to like it.
first thought: the wrist brace works, don’t ask me why. second thought: don’t be fooled by your brain going haywire at the sight of ricky in a crown, this costume is only ok. for some reason they decided to make it two sizes too big for him instead of going for a dreamy narrow cut which is maybe the greatest tragedy of our time. the cloak’s fucking sick though.
the fact that east high has the budget for three belle costume changes is insane. however, ashlyn deserves it for having no actual screentime this season as the literal lead. the lace on this is terrible. like i get it. but it’s still terrible. the sleeves are also bad but that could just be the lace. the rest of it is gorgeous obviously, the pleating on the skirt, the different tones of soft muted greens, etc. if they’d thrown away all historical accuracy i would’ve lost my shit at a bardot neckline.
gina porter flounced on stage in this number and singlehandedly caused the gay awakening of at least twenty seven students. on the one hand this is perhaps the messiest costume i’ve ever seen: the polka dots, the lace, the varying shades of white, the mismatched (also polka doted) apron, the weirdly risqué corset. on the other hand, you could put a trash bag on sofia wylie and she’d elevate it to couture. kids watching this show today will be daydreaming about wearing this costume when they’re teenagers. i’m daydreaming about it right now.
that is a $250 jacket and it shows. would i wear this jacket? no. do i like seeing jordan fisher wearing it? yes. this jacket says he’d pass you the first hit of a joint at that shitty party you didn’t want to go to anyway and he disappears into the crowd before u get his number even though you would’ve never worked up the courage to ask for it. what was i saying? cool jacket basically. the jeans are ugly and we won’t be talking about them.
i’ve only had nini in an all black outfit with a leather jacket for a day and a half but if anything happens to her i’ll kill everyone in this show’s wardrobe department and then myself. this marks history as the first outfit they let nini wear that wasn’t from the juniors section at h&m. this is the nini that stole a garbage bag’s worth of stuff from gina and apologized with a version of ‘that’s just how it be sometimes.’ this is the nini that passive aggressively outsang ej with eight hundred different riffs in the span of ten seconds. this is the nini we deserve.
here i’ve highlighted the best part of the costume without subjecting you to the rest of it. i don’t think i need to elaborate on this.
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hellooo! this is the first time i request something from a blog :D could i request headcanons of diluc, scara, kazuha and xiao when their s/o tells them they're pregnant and possibly how they'd get used to having a kid? tyy! dont forget to take breaks and relax!
Literally baby-sized trouble.
summary: you're pregnant! how does he react to the news and how do the get used to your child?
includes: diluc (26 bullet points), scaramouche (24 bullet points), kazuha (17 bullet points) and xiao (35 bullet points)
warnings: fem!reader, pregnancy, children, non-explicit/non described giving birth, mostly fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort and angst.
format: headcanons
thank you for your request!! this was so fun to write! >< imagining the characters being soft with children is just so cute :") i specially like these four a lot >< when i wrote this i was in a xiao mood if it wasn't obvious that his turned out longer than everyone else's lol, and it's also the first time i write for kazuha so it was shorter than the others, but i think his is the sweetest ><! i hope you enjoy it!
ps. the names and meanings- i got them from google, feel free to correct me if there's anything wrong with them ><
Diluc
He's going to stop functioning the moment he hears the news from you.
Literally, he's still as a rock and completely taken by surprise.
He... can't say he'd never wanted children. He's pretty traditional and, since he has this beautiful relationship with you, he assumed it might happen sometime in the future.
But oops guess it will have to happen in the close future, since you're already pregnant.
After staring at you with widened eyes for a while, he speaks up:
"...is... is it true?"
You hold his hands on yours with a smile on your face, nodding.
"Yes, Diluc. We're going to be parents."
Hearing your words, he starts to tear up as he hugs you, his touch almost hesitant, as if you were so fragile he could break you if he wasn't careful.
"...thank you." He'd whisper between silent tears, hiding his face from your sight.
Very supportive and very protective!
You will have the most comfortable of pregnancies. He will make sure you don't need to move a single muscle to get anything you want.
If the two of you aren't married or engaged yet, he's going to propose to you very soon, keep that in mind ><
He starts reading every book he can find on pregnancies and babies so that he knows what to do to help you when you give birth and how to take care of his child once they're born ><
You have to convince him that yes, you can go and eat in the dining room and you don't need to eat everything in your room or stay in bed all day and yes, you can still do most things and no, he doesn't have to worry so much.
But yeah, in later stages of your pregnancy he gets more overprotective because he doesn't want anything to hurt you or your baby :(
He couldn't be calm enough while you gave birth and had to wait outside of the room, which only made him more nervous </3
But when he finally held your little baby on his arms for the first time, he broke down crying.
You two had a boy! He looked a lot like him, too... with the red hair and eyes... so cute...
He's not sure of what to name him, he'd thought of some names before, but they all disappeared when he saw the little bundle of joy in his arms;;
So you two will have to think about a name again!
In the end, you settle for Felix; name meaning "happy" or "lucky"!
Diluc is a very busy man, but he still does his best to be there for you and his son as much as possible!
He's also not very sure as to how he should interact with him...
But he does know he LOVES playing with him as soon as he starts to understand how to play with his toys.
But... there are not so cute parts about having a kid, after all.
At times, he worries whether or not he'll be able to be there enough for him.
He wonders if he can be a good father, given how awkward he is with his emotions.
What if when Felix grows up he starts hating him for being absent? He wouldn't be able to stand it.
You always reassure him as you both put the baby to sleep on his crib.
All Diluc wants is for his son to have a happy childhood and a loving family, but worries he won't be good enough of a father.
However, when Felix's first word is "'iluc!" as he stretches out his tiny arms towards him, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can do this right.
Scaramouche
He thought you were joking, so he laughed.
When you didn't laugh along with him and was met with your blank face, he understood you were serious.
He never even thought he'd be with anyone in a relationship before you came along, let alone have a child with anyone... So he's obviously very shocked and confused as to how to proceed.
After an awkward moment of staring at each other, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms, looking at you with an equally blank face.
"So? What do you want me to do about it?"
"H-huh?"
"In the sense of- what do you want to do? Keep it or not."
You huffed, and when he heard your determinated answer, he sighed and gave your head some soft pats.
"Alright, alright, whatever you want, I guess."
Okay listen here- it's not like doesn't care but it isn't like he cares so much either...
This man would do anything for you, really, and that's what happens.
He does anything and everything for you, because he's worried about you and not necessarily about the baby you're carrying.
It's not like he hates children- because you can't hate anything you don't perceive as equal or superior to you and a baby ceirtainly isn't either for him-
It's more like he doesn't know what to do with them because he's never been around children enough to understand them.
He's overall very indifferent towards the child ngl.
Then he sees you cradling your baby -a girl- in your arms and his mind just... goes blank. Huh, so that's what a human looks like right after being born.
Your little daughter looks more like him than she looks like you, sorry. But he can clearly see on her face some factions that will look like yours as she grows up.
But...
"Now what?"
He'll help you look after her however he can, since he doesn't want you to be too tired because he never knows when he'll have to leave for weeks or even months without notice.
He's not entirely cold or indifferent towards her, even if sometimes he might resent her a bit for taking away some of your attention.
But like when you were choosing a name for her, he gave a few suggestions and in the end you choose one of the names he thought of!
Her name is Hikari, name meaning "light"!
Due to the nature of his job, he doesn't want to be seen around either of you at the moment in public. It would only put a target on your backs.
And it takes a long, long while for him to warm up to her.
It disheartens you a little, but when you see him looking down at Hikari's sleeping form on the crib, softly poking her cheek with a strangely child-like curiosity on his eyes, you feel at ease.
And he thinks that he can probably handle this parenting thing better than he ever expected. Maybe it's not that bad, after all.
Ceirtainly, he thinks, as he holds her in his arms one day after she spoke her first word to him, this parenting thing is not really that bad.
(Her first word was "papa!")
Be ready, because once he gets attached to your daughter he won't stop spoiling her!
Kazuha
"Are you sure, love?"
"Yes, I'm sure. We're having a child!"
A smile painted itself on his face as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.
"I hope I can be a good father for them."
So the Kaedehara family is getting a new member, huh!
Not that there's much left to his name, especially now that he's a fugitive... but he's excited nonetheless!
Although he's not one to settle down for long, he will make an effort for both you and the child, since it's not good for someone who's pregnant to wander around.
He's very protective, but not in an overbearing way! He simply wants you to take it easy and relax, he can take care of everything else on his own!
That being said, he's not rich like Diluc or Scaramouche, so he's also going to work harder than ever to get everything you or the baby need in advance so that neither of you have to stress out!
He's the one who takes it better out of everyone here, he's not extremely worried or outright indifferent, he's simply worried enough, excited and happy!
He already knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so the idea of having a child with you didn't scare him or intimidate him in the slightest!
He's still a bit worried, though.
He is a wanted fugitive in his homeland, after all...
He can only do so much and wish for the situation in Inazuma to change soon, so that he can take both you and his child to see the places he loved to spend his time at when he was a child.
But for now, he's happy enough simply holding his child on his arms, sitting next to you in your small shared home.
You have a girl too! She has Kazuha's hair color and your eye color, she's super adorable ><
He wants you to name her, and you both agree on naming her Izumi, meaning fountain or spring!
"Kaedehara Izumi... it has a nice ring to it." He'd say, smiling down at her.
While Kazuha enjoys travelling more than anything in this world, he's reticent to leave you and your daughter alone or even bring you along with him. So he stays around for as long as you need it.
He will talk a lot to her all the time, so don't be surprised when she picks up very complicated, flowery words from a young age!
He wants her to grow up to be free as the wind and be able to do whatever she wants without fear, so he wants to do his best to be a good father for her!
Xiao
You can practically see the panic on his face when you tell him the news.
It's the most scared you've ever seen him be, and you've been there to help him through his karmic debt.
So yeah, he takes it the worst out of everyone.
"I'm not mad." He manages to tell you before disappearing to somewhere else in a panicked haze, he needs to sort out his emotions quickly before he can properly talk to you about it.
The last thing he saw before he disappeared was your eyes, glinting with sadness. And that only made him feel worse if that was even possible.
It takes him the whole day to come to terms with his feelings on your pregnancy and finally face you again.
He's really, really afraid of hurting you and your child. Not to mention he fears he might've passed some kind of curse from his karma to either of you through the pregnancy :(
Like he said, he isn't mad. He's just scared.
He... he literally never, never thought he would get to be a father.
Family was a foreign concept to him, as were a lot of other things you've slowly helped him understand throughout your time together, so knowing he can have one of his own now... makes him happy, and scared, at the same ime.
He's worse than Diluc when it comes to protecting you and worrying about you.
He won't let you do anything alone, even if he doesn't want to be near you because he doesn't want the karma to harm you or your child in such a vulnerable moment of your lives.
Okay so that aside-
How do people care for babies?
What is he exactly supposed to do?
And- do half-adepti babies need any sort of special treatment in comparison to human babies?
He has no idea on what to do if it doesn't involve a physical fight with a tangible foe, so he goes asking for advice to everyone he knows that could have knowledge on that field.
Verr Goldet and Ganyu are a great help for him. Xiao listens with attention to everything they have to say and asks everything he doesn't understand.
Ganyu tells him about her own experience growing up as half-human so that he can understand what raising a half-human, half-illuminated beast baby might entail.
He also goes to Zhongli for advice and he gets more of the same advice he's already heard, along with many, many reassurances that sound like everything you already tell him every day.
He's very worried, but as the months go by and your child's birth comes closer, he can't help but feel a little excited about it.
Everyone who knows him is happy to see him openly happy for a change on those small moments when he gets excited about his new family with you.
When your child is born, Xiao doesn't want to hold him. It took too much willpower to stay as close as he was right now, standing next to your bed as you held your baby in your arms.
He was so adorable, so small, so fragile, so pure- Xiao was afraid of touching him and breaking or tainting him--
He was already crying, he'd started crying the moment he saw you holding your son for the first time.
He feels so... strange. He's crying, but this isn't a painful, or sad feeling. He feels... happy, but scared, but...
The feeling starts to make some sense to him when he finally convinces himself that it's okay for him to hold the little boy in his arms, when he stares with awe at his face.
The baby looks a lot like the both of you. Arguably, more like him, since he has the same hair and the same bright eyes, but in his face all he can see is you.
And he cries more.
You both named him Liàng, name meaning brilliant!
Xiao does his best to try and get used to parenting, and it gets hard at times.
But he tries, and that's all that matters. He tries to be a good father, and is always there to protect both you and your son from anything trying to harm you.
Even though he was so scared at first, you know he loves the new family you've formed together.
Especially when you catch him trying to hold a conversation with your son, sitting down on the bed next to him as he toys with a soft teddy bear, the two of them surrounded by pillows.
The soft look and smile he wears while he does so tells you that everything is going to be alright.
The three of you are going to be alright, and Xiao wants to make sure of it.
His son will never have to live what he lived or see what he saw. He will make sure of that, no matter what.
#diluc x reader#scaramouche x reader#kazuha x reader#kaedehara kazuha x reader#xiao x reader#melodywritings#melwritesgenshin#tw: children#tw: pregnancy
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chapter: seven ( 12.3k )
rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut)
genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort
tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly
summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is.
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The sound of your phone ringing rips you from sleep. You sit bolt upright, confusion and panic dousing you like twin buckets of ice water. You’d been having a nightmare about something, but you can’t remember what. The tattered ends of it are already slipping away, just out of reach. You don’t chase after them.
You fumble for your phone in the dark, fingers groping uselessly at your blankets until they close around it. The bright white light from your screen blinds you as you flip it over and you blink blearily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and trying to answer with the other.
“Hello?” you rasp, mashing the speaker button. “Who is this?”
“Apologies for disturbing your sleep, ma’am.” A woman’s voice crackles over the other end of the line. You can hear exhaustion dripping off every word. “This is Officer Kwon from the Namhyeon-dong precinct of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Force.”
You squint into the dark expanse of your bedroom, a little frown on your face as you struggle to process what she’s saying. “....okay?”
“I’m calling because we’ve got two of your hybrids in custody.”
You blink slowly. “Hmmmm, I don’t think so...” you mumble through a yawn. “They’re all in bed.”
“We ran their numbers through the registry and you were pinged as the owner of both.” You hear papers shuffling and her voice get distant as she transfers the receiver to her shoulder to free up a hand. “We’ve got a rabbit calling himself Jeongguk and a Seokjin who the rabbit says is a deer-” She sighs. “Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here. They won’t tell me where they came from and the phone number of the business they were registered to before you is out of service. They’re hurt pretty bad, worse than what we can take care of here at the station. We can’t get them any sort of medical care without their guardian’s permission, so-”
Your eyes glaze over as you groggily connect the dots.
A deer and a rabbit.
Not canine, not feline.
Other.
Other.
You shove the covers down your legs and kick them over the side of the bed. “I’m on the way,” you tell her, already adding up the distance between your building and Namhyeon-dong. It’d take an hour to get all the bus transfers you needed- your eyes narrow as you squint at the time on your phone. 3:27 AM. You’d have to get a cab. Your stomach twists at the thought of the fare, but you shove the feeling down. This was no time to be thrifty. “Do whatever you need to.”
The officer exhales in relief. You can practically hear the tension leave her shoulders. “There’s a little hybrid clinic in the neighborhood. I’ll see if I can get the vet up and convince them to go.”
“Thank you,” you breathe. She gives you the address and you type it into your notes app, reading it back to her twice to make sure you got it right. She hangs up with a promise to see you soon and your phone locks, leaving you alone in the blue-black gloom of an early morning.
This wasn’t great. This wasn’t great any way you sliced it. You’d thought you’d have an extra two weeks to get the canines settled and all five hybrids to at least not want to kill each other. That’d been the plan, at least, when you’d sequestered yourself in your bedroom without telling Jimin and Taehyung goodnight or doing any introductions. Now the others were coming and you were on borrowed time. You drag your hands down over your face. “What are we gonna do?” Nothing but silence answers you.
When you were a kid and you’d had anything big before you- a massive school project you’d waited til the last moment to start, having to walk yourself to the market because your mom was too sick to go, a hard conversation with a friend- your mom had always told you to break it down into smaller pieces. Make the big thing small; do what you can for now. So, that’s what you do.
You shove your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, tug your backpack out from under your bed and grab a pair of socks. You slide them on as quickly as you can and head for the door. You tug it open and try to rush through, already on the way to your next small thing- but you stumble over a shoulder and go down.
You let out a yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into one of pain as your forehead knocks against the other person’s. Your hands slam down on either side of their head and their own fly up to your waist to steady you. You blink down at them, willing your eyes to adjust to the dark.
Hoseok is beneath you. He’s squinting up at you, his hair in disarray and his cheeks puffy with sleep. “Ow,” he croaks.
You wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing the spot on his forehead your own knocked against on autopilot. He seems to wake up a little at that, eyebrows inching up his forehead. You snatch your hand back. “Ah, sorry. I was worried I hurt you-”
“I’m okay,” he rasps, his voice still thick with sleep. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“Okay.” You disentangle yourself from him and rise back to your feet. He struggles to get up too, mirroring you. The blankets pooled around his hips fall to his feet. You frown at the picture he makes, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and indents on his cheek from the hardwood. “Did you...did you sleep out here?”
His ears fall and he lowers his head a bit between his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did…”
You wrote off a lot of the behavior the boys exhibited that you didn’t understand as just a part of them being hybrids. When Taehyung affectionately headbutted you, or Jimin always hopped up on counters or Yoongi lapped from glasses instead of sipping, you just accepted it and stashed it away to google later- but this was a little more concerning. Did he not feel safe in his room? You’d tried to put him and Namjoon as far away from the felines as you could, but you also knew the cats weren’t thrilled about sharing their space. You hoped they hadn’t made him feel too unwelcome after you’d collapsed into bed.
“Is everything okay?” His ears twitch as the smell of your worry fills his nose. He leans forward and for a moment you think he’s gonna close the distance between you- but he pulls back.
“No,” he answers. You feel your heart sink. “I just...your room is closest to the front door.” You blink at him slowly, not following. You don’t know how his sight is in the dark, but he must see the confusion furrowing your brow,because he continues. “Your room is the only one on the first floor and it’s close to the living room and front door. We all sleep upstairs. If someone broke in, they’d get you first.” He tosses a finger down at the blankets. “I was sleeping here so that wouldn’t happen.”
“Nobody’s gonna get me, Hoseok,” You soothe, trying to assuage his fears. “I’m nobody-”
“You don’t know that,” he argues back. “And you’re not ‘nobody’ to me. I waited my whole life for you. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”
You don’t know what to make of that. You’d known Hoseok had been trained specifically to protect the person he’d eventually be sent to, but you hadn’t expected him to be so adamant about it. After all Namjoon grew up in the same place- No. Your expression sours as the thought stops you. No he didn’t. The wolfdog hybrid had been locked away for most of his life and interaction with others had come only in the form of meal delivery. He wouldn’t have had the director’s lessons drilled into his head everyday in the same way Hope had.
Still, no one has expressed this level of care for you since your mom died. You’re not entirely sure you deserve it.
“I was gonna wake up before you did and go back to my room,” he mumbles, kicking gently at the blanket and not meeting your eyes. “I promise, I was. I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his ears drooping more and more the longer you look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hoseok,” You tell him and his ears perk up a little. It was true, he hadn’t. His actions were sweet, if a bit misguided but you were more worried about him than anything. “I don’t know what the director told you or what you’ve heard, but I promise there’s no one after me.” He frowns at that, lips twisting into a little pout. He goes to interject, but you speak again before he can. “If you’re worried about anything, just tell me okay? If there’s anything you need to do to make yourself feel more at ease here, just tell me.” You implore him softly.
Hoseok nods slowly and you see his tail give one small wag. You nod back, and turn to go, but his voice stops you. “I think it would help a lot if I could sleep down here.” Your brow furrows at that.
“This is the only bedroom on this floor, though?”
He whines and looks like he’s about to explain- but a soft voice purring in your ear cuts him off. “He could sleep on the couch,” Jimin supplies, his arms entwining around your middle as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s quite comfortable...Y/N-ah, do you mind dogs on the furniture?” His tone is light, free of the haze of sleep and a little teasing. From the way Hoseok’s ears droop and the way his shoulders curve in, you could tell Jimin hadn’t crept down here for a bit of good-natured ribbing. Your scent sours as your expression does, irritation with the leopard hybrid pricking at you. He lets out a little disgruntled murr in protest as he noses at your neck, trying to get you to soften for him. You tilt your head away from him and disentangle yourself from his arms. It’s three in the morning, you have to cross the city to deal with the fallout from God only knows what, and your neck still aches from the bruise Yoongi had left on it. You have too much on your plate to deal with Jimin needling his new housemate.
“Leave him alone, Jimin,” You exhale, side-stepping the leopard hybrid and heading down the corridor for the door. “Hoseok, you can sleep where you want. I’ve gotta go.”
The doberman takes a step forward. “I’ll come with you-” the icy look Jimin shoots him has him slowing but it’s not until the leopard hybrid bares his teeth at him that he stalls entirely. The sound of his whimper has you whirling around, but when you do, you find Jimin looking at you, blasé and Hoseok eyeing him with uncertainty
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” you toss back over your shoulder as you slide your feet into a pair of shoes. “Please, just...if you can’t be friendly, just do your own thing ‘til I get back.” You lace up your sneakers as quickly as you can and duck out the door. “Text me if you need anything; I’ll call on the way back.” And you’re gone, leaving the leopard and the doberman in the dark.
You are not at all confident in their ability to maintain a truce while you’re gone. You’re almost certain that if you hadn’t shoved your way between Namjoon and Yoongi last night, they’d have come to blows right there in the lobby last night. You punch the button for the ground floor and slump back against the railing of the elevator, exhaustion settling heavy on you now that you were alone again. You’d known Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung weren’t thrilled about sharing their space, but you hadn’t expected this kind of fallout from bringing new hybrids home. You don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make things a little easier, but you want to. Sighing, you resign yourself to more research. You pull out your phone and start typing.
why are my hybrids freaking the fuck out
You backspace. Venting at google wasn’t going to help you figure out what the sharp looks Jimin kept throwing Hoseok while he thought your back was turned meant or why Yoongi had been so furious the other hybrids’ scent was on you.
why don’t my hybrids like each other
Just like all your other searches, this one turns up millions of results. You thumb over the links but none of them are helpful. They’re dealing with puppy hybrids bickering and cat hybrids hissing at each other. None of them cover cross-species beef. None of them deal with exotics. You sigh, lock your phone and tilt your head back to stare at the soft yellow lights in the elevator’s ceiling. You were out of your depth. You’d known that from the moment Mr. Seo turned you into an heiress with a wave of his fountain pen. You get the urge to run, that old niggling feeling that settled like a stone in your mind and made your palms itch.
It’s been years since you last felt the need to pull a disappearing act. You don’t think you’ve done it since the one year anniversary of your mom’s death. The foster home you’d been sent to was a shit show. You found out the woman in charge had been pocketing the money you gave her every month for your mother’s columbarium fees and her urn was in danger of being thrown out. You’d shoved everything you owned into your school bag and walked across the city to get her. When the police found you, you were striding down the side of the highway, her urn clutched to your chest, determined to go anywhere but there.
You hadn’t known where you were going then; you still didn’t now. All you’d had was the urge to flee and fire under your feet. All you’d had was a singular focus on the road ahead.
The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft ding, the automated voice letting you know you’ve reached the lobby. You step out and shuffle across it with your head down, careful to avoid eye contact with the receptionist watching you warily from behind her desk.
It’s a cold night. A blast of frigid air hits your face the second you’re out the door. You curse under your and fold your arms around yourself in a futile effort to keep warm. You should go back upstairs and get the coat Yoongi made you buy. You shift from one foot to the other, weighing your options- and decide against it. If the conversation you’d had with Hoseok was enough to wake Jimin and send him slinking toward you, you running in and out of the penthouse would almost certainly wake Yoongi up. Memories flash in your mind: his hands gripping your hips tight, his rough tongue laving over your neck, that self-satisfied smirk he’d let spread over his mouth. You pinch yourself, trying to stem the heat you can feel crawling out the neck of your sweatshirt. It had upset you, there was no denying that. The warm feeling that’d bubbled up in your stomach at being touched didn’t wash away the fact that him marking you had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with warding off the canine hybrids.
Yeah, you decide, quickening your pace down the ice-slicked sidewalk. You’d much rather face the cold than him.
You make quick work of the walk from Haneul Tower to the streets of the club district. It’s only two blocks up and one over, but by the time you get there, you feel like a giant icicle. You’re out of place in a sweatshirt and scuffed up sneakers among the glitz and glamor of the club-goers, but you don’t have time to deal with your imposter syndrome. You duck into the first taxi you find, pass the old man the address Officer Kwon had given you and settle back.
He complains nearly the entire time about how far out of the way you’re making him go. You apologize as much as you’re able and promise him return fair back to Gangnam if he waits for you. He huffs and puffs, but he still takes you. Forty minutes later, you’re standing on the sidewalk outside of Happy Tails Hybrid Clinic, rapping urgently at the glass. After two minutes that feel like twenty, someone finally answers you.
You think she’s in her late twenties but the dark circles under her eyes she keeps rubbing at make her look older. She’s dressed in the typical winter police uniform, minus her jacket. The pale blue sleeves of her dress shirt are rolled up above her elbows and are blotchy with pale red marks she’d tried to scrub out. Blood. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.
She unlocks the door and pokes her headout. “Y/N L/N?” She asks, eyes narrowed against the glare of the street lamps.
“Yeah,” you answer, giving one short nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Officer Kwon; we spoke on the phone.” She opens the door for you fully, stepping back and ushering you in urgently. “I’ll be honest,” she says once you’re safely inside and the door is locked back tight again. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”
You frown at that. “Why wouldn’t I have shown?”
“Most of the time when hybrids run, it’s an abuse case.” She drops into one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room. Her head falls back with a thunk against the yellow plaster. If it hurts, she shows no signs of it, just stares up at the fluorescent lights. You settle on the lip of the chair next to her, feeling awkward and anxious. “The rabbit broke into an Olive Young to steal antiseptic and bandages,” she supplies without you having to ask. “He said he did it for the deer. When he showed me he was…” Officer Kwon exhales sharply and tips forward to rest her head in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.”
“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you insist softly. “It wasn’t me.”
“I know,” she answers, voice muffled against her palms. “I pulled your name and ID picture from the national database and the rabbit didn’t recognize you. Even if you didn’t do it, I didn’t think you’d wanna deal with it.”
Your anxiety spikes at her words. What had happened to the hybrids before she found them? Who’d want to hurt them that badly? Your mouth feels dry, but you force it to move. “Do you know who they were running from?”
Officer Kwon shakes her head and drags her hands down her face. She lets her arms fall to her knees as she hunches over in her chair, back bowed with exhaustion. “Whatever the rabbit knows, he’s not sharing,” she exhales. “-And the deer’s in no position to speak up. He’s been unconscious since I found him.” As if sensing you tense, she adds, “He’s on the table now. I think Dr. Cheon put him under sedation.”
You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure if there’s anything you even can. You have a million questions buzzing around in your mind, but so heavy is the weight of them on your tongue that you can’t find the strength to ask a single one. You’re saved by the doctor coming out from the back.
The door right next to the counter that reads STAFF + PATIENTS ONLY swings open and a middle aged woman in cat print scrubs comes out, shoulders hunched in like she’s got the weight of the world on her back. You can’t blame her; she looks every bit as tired as you feel. She stops just short of you and Officer Kwon, peels off a pair of blue medical gloves, dyed sticky red, and tosses them into the garbage can behind the reception desk. “Well,” she huffs, dragging her fingers through the greying wisps of hair that’d escaped from her braid. “It’s done.”
“How is he?” The police officer asks before you can. Dr. Cheon grimaces and leans against the counter.
“If you hadn’t found him in time, it could’ve been much worse.” You think she’s trying to put you at ease, but you don’t want compromising optimism. You want the truth. “An hour or two later and we’d be dealing with a very different situation, medically.”
You swallow and force yourself to speak. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”
Dr. Cheon turns her attention to you and blinks slowly, like she’d just noticed you were there. “...this is the guardian?” The police officer nods. The doctor takes you in, eyes roving from the mess of your hair twisted into a bun atop your head, to the scuffed rubber toes of your sneakers. She’s judging you, you know, trying to find something that’d mark you as the reason for the pain and suffering of the hybrids she’d helped. She finds none. “It didn’t happen to them,” she sighs. “Someone did this to them on purpose, likely over the course of several hours.” She tugs the office chair out from behind the desk and sinks into it, her limbs going to jelly the second she’s seated.
“Jeongguk won’t tell me what happened, but I know the signs. Puncture wounds around the entirety of Seokjin’s ankle, remnants of both sedatives and epinephrine in both of their blood, what looks like a bullet graze wound on Jeongguk’s side and he’s got a broken arm,” she rattles off symptom after symptom, each of them making the knot in your belly wind tighter and tighter. “The worst of it is Seokjin’s head. Hairline fractures all along the top of his skull and lacerations on his pedicles. They took his antlers from him.”
You feel sick to your stomach. You knew there were people who hurt hybrids, just like there were people that hurt animals and other people. You just hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with the fallout of one such incident. “Will he be okay?”
“He’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Cheon allows. “But he’ll need to be monitored closely during these next few weeks. They were hunted. If they decide to come with you instead of going to the shelter with Officer Kwon, you’ll need to be cognisant of the fact that the trauma from that could manifest in unexpected ways.”
Hunted. They’d been hunted.
You knew hunting was illegal in South Korea, you had that little tidbit tucked away in the recesses of your grade school memory along with the list of provinces and their capitals and the names of all the sailor scouts. It’d been outlawed in the fifties with the rash of hybrid centered legislation after a hunter up in Chungcheongbuk-do had shot a black bear hybrid he’d mistaken for a real bear. It was determined that since humans couldn’t distinguish between regular animals and hybrids shifted down into animal form, hunting had to be outlawed to prevent any accidental killings.
“Were they shifted down?” You ask. “Did someone not realize-”
“No.” Dr. Cheon’s answer is swift and final. “They knew. This was a choice.” The disgust in her voice is palpable.
“There are places that...Some centers cater to people that want to hunt.” Officer Kwon cuts in. “They have hybrids as employees and they let people rent airsoft or paintball guns to come hunt them. It’s supposed to be more ethical than actual hunting. No matter how distasteful I might personally find it, if they have a permit, there’s not really much the police can do unless a law has been broken. ”
“And without any information on where they came from, we can’t prove that one has,” Dr. Cheon finishes. “The most I can do as a vet is submit a report to the police about a possible abuse case and hope it makes its way to the hybrid crimes unit.” You hear the words she doesn’t speak, the meaning behind them. There’s nothing more we can do. They’ll get away with it. This is the end of the line.
Dr. Cheon drops her palms against her knees and forces herself to stand “Jeongguk’s injuries should heal just fine outside of the clinic,” She sighs. “But Seokjin-” she clicks her tongue against her teeth and gives a single shake of her head. “Cervine hybrids don’t shed their antlers like real deer do. There’s no telling if his will grow back or what they’ll look like when they do. All we can do is keep the wounds clean and pray.”
You nod numbly. She gestures for you to follow her and you do, making your way around the reception desk and through the staff door with her.
It’s dim in the back. The overhead lights are off and your path ahead is illuminated only by what light spills over from the reception room and an exam room up ahead. There’s only four of them, but the door to this one is slightly ajar. “Wait here for a second,” Dr. Cheon instructs, slipping through the door and leaving you alone in the corridor. You can hear her speaking softly to someone inside and them answering in even quieter tones. You have to strain to pick up the edge of their voice and even then, you can’t understand what they’re saying. “Would you like her to come in here, or would you like her to stay outside?” You hear her ask. The response is too soft for you to catch but a second later the door swings open.
Dr. Cheon steps out and gestures for the shadowy figure behind her to follow. “It’s alright,” she assures them. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Slowly, they shuffle out from the back.
It’s Jeongguk. There’s no denying what he is, not with the black velvet ears you see poking up out of his mop of wavy, dark hair. They’re alert; they prick toward you when your breath hitches. His eyes are dark and wide and the tip of his nose twitches when he looks at you. You muster up a smile you hope is reassuring and this right foot taps once against the linoleum. Yes, he’s a rabbit- but he’s also fucking huge.
What little research you’d managed to do in between apologizing to your taxi driver and keeping an eye on the fare had been straightforward: rabbit hybrids were naturally timid, needed a lot of attention and were small. Most sources you’d checked seemed to concur that they very rarely cleared 5’5. Jeongguk is pushing 6 feet and he’s built like a professional athlete. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life running for it.
He’s wearing a teeshirt that’s too tight on his chest, the logo of the Seoul police force stretched thin, and a pair of grey sweatpants that are too short for him, both obviously on loan from Officer Kwon. His feet are bare, but there are bandages wrapped around both of them. True to what Dr. Cheon told you, his arms in a cast and wrapped in a sling. There’s scrapes on his knuckles and bruises blooming on the right side of his face. He looks like he’s been through the wringer. Still, he doesn’t slouch or shrink before you.
“Jeongguk, this is the woman we talked about,” Dr. Cheon tells him. He nods, but doesn’t move his gaze from your face once. “You’ll be going home with her-”
“Only if he wants,” You interject and she nods in agreement, quickly adding that caveat in.
“-only if you want.” He nods again and swallows, his bare foot giving another little tap against the floor.
“What about Seokjin?” He asks you.
“If he wants to come too, he’s welcome to, but neither of you have to if you don’t want to.” There’s a little frown on his face as you answer and he finally looks away. You can’t help but think that’s a bad sign, that he thinks he and his friend would be safer in a shelter that they ever could be with you- but then he asks another question.
“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?” You frown at that. Why was it that every hybrid in the city was suddenly so concerned with your marital status? Hoseok had asked you in the car last night and now Jeongguk seemed worried about it as well. Sensing your confusion, he clarifies. “Do you live with any men?”
You wince. “Oh! Yeah, I live with five.” You see his expression darken as his ears sag. “They’re mostly predator-”
“If they’re hybrids, it’s fine.” He interjects, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “I can live with them.”
You relax too. From what you’d seen, most shelters weren’t nice places. They were overcrowded and underfunded. If the news was any indication, some of the worse ones got treated like grab bags by fighting rings, who’d shell out a couple thousand won for a canine hybrid and turn him into a prize fighter. You didn’t want that for them, not if you could provide an alternative.
But was it one though? He said he could live with them, but could they live with him? You think back to Yoongi and Namjoon snarling at each other last night, about Jimin’s little jabs at Hoseok. Yeah, you’d need to have another house meeting when you got home if this was ever going to work. Jeongguk had just been through hell and back; the last thing he needed was a territorial bobcat trying him.
“You can change your mind any time,” You tell him softly. “If you get there and feel like it’s not a good fit for you and Seokjin, you can go, okay?”
He dips his head. “Okay.”
“I think Seokjin can decide for himself.”
Your eyes rocket just over Jeongguk’s shoulder. There’s a man leaning heavily against the doorframe of the room the rabbit hybrid had come out of. He’s in a blue exam gown, his feet bare except for a plain white cast on his left leg. Every part of his head from his eyebrows up is bandaged, but you see soft tufts of red-brown hair poking out from between the layers. He looks human. You’d almost think he was if it weren’t for the oblong pupils in his hazel eyes and supple ears you see twitching as he observes you.
“What are you doing up?!” The alarm in Dr. Cheon’s voice is palpable. “Those sedatives should’ve kept you out ‘til morning.” She takes a step like she’s going to rush to his side- but stops short when he tenses and tilts his chin to his chest. Just for a second, it looked like he was preparing himself to square off against her- like he was brandishing something that wasn’t really there. His antlers, you think. He was trying to protect himself with his antlers.
Seokjin forces himself upright, his knees wobbling as he tries to stand on his own. He looks off-balance, and it’s not just because of the cast. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to stand now that a piece of him is missing. His legs are trembling. “What can I say?” He huffs, sounding like he just ran a marathon. “I like to surprise people.” And then his legs buckle underneath him.
He hits the floor with a heavy thud. Jeongguk and Dr. Cheon rush to his side but he waves them off, eyes closed and brow knit in frustration. “I’m fine,” he insists, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to struggle back to his feet. “I’m fine, I just…I just need a moment-”
“You need bed rest.” Dr. Cheon goes to latch on to his arm to help him stand but Jeongguk catches her wrist, gives a single shake of his head and she drops it back to her side.
Seokjin manages to get himself back standing, but he sways precariously. “If this were a hunt, I’d already be dead.” He swallows and inhales shakily through his nose, doing his best not to gulp down air. “You should have left me, Jeongguk. You know the rules. One falls, but the herd rises-”
“The herd is gone, Seokjin.” The bitterness in the younger hybrid’s voice takes you aback. It’s a black wave, threatening to drown all four of you right there in the corridor. Seokjin stares at him, his jaw slack and pretty brown eyes wide.
“What do you-”
“They’re gone.” The rabbit hybrid’s bruised fingers clench into a fist and he fixes his glare on the tile. “All of them.”
Silence rings in the corridor. Dr. Cheon’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t press for details and neither do you. She’d been right. They’d been hunted. The thought of it turns your stomach. Seokjin closes his eyes, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks as a muscle tenses in his jaw. He’s thinking. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is settled on you. Your heart jumps as your nerves get the better of you, and one of his ears flicks back.
“You’re taking us?” He asks. You swallow.
“Only if you want me to.” An unreadable look passes between him and Jeongguk, the younger’s nose twitching.
“Speaking strictly as your doctor,” Dr. Cheon speaks up, interrupting the hybrids’ telepathy. “You need time to rest and recuperate-”
“Is there any special reason I have to rest and recuperate here?” He asks. You can’t help but notice the slight challenge in his voice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches.
“No, I suppose not,” she acquiesces. She doesn’t look particularly pleased about the prospect of letting her patient go when he was still in the danger zone, but if the look of determination in Seokjin’s eyes is any indication, she doesn’t have much choice.
“Then, we’ll go.” The tone of his voice is final, letting everyone present know that he’s done talking about it.
That's the last that’s said to you or anyone else about it. Jeongguk falls in line with his orders easily and so doesDr. Cheon after she manages to get him to accept a pair of crutches she’d foisted upon him and passes off a prescription for pain meds and both of their check up schedules to you.
“It’s important that they don’t miss these dates,” she tells you at the reception counter, tapping the sheath of papers with one clean, blunted nail. “A single one of them. And make sure they don’t shift ‘til I’ve given them the all clear. Hybrid injuries are tricky, but they’re aggravated by the shift.” You nod, hanging onto every word she says, forcing your tired brain to take mental notes. “And-” she cuts her eyes at Jeongguk and Jin, both of whom are lingering in various extremes in the room, the deer hybrid sitting ramrod straight in a chair in the far right corner and the rabbit pretending to browse informational pamphlets. Once Dr. Cheon’s deemed it safe, she leans closer to you across the counter and gestures for you to come closer as well. You blink in confusion but acquiesce. “It’s important that your current hybrids be made to feel secure with the new additions coming.” She tells you, voice gravely serious. “Do you know about scenting order?”
After a beat, you nod. “Yeah. I mean, I read about it online but-”
Dr. Cheon tuts her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Online sources are shaky at best, wildly inaccurate at worst- particularly forums.” Your stomach flips. Had all your research been for nothing? “What did they tell you?”
“Um…” your brain boots up slowly as you try to recall the hours of research you’d done. “Uh, dominant hybrid first, then in age order?”
The corner of Dr. Cheon’s mouth quirks in an odd way. “That’s certainly a simplified way of looking at it.”
You wince.
“Hybrid group dynamics can be…” She searches for the right word. “Messy to start out with, especially with hybrids who don’t know each other who find themselves with an inexperienced handler. They’re all going to be trying to figure out where they fit in the pecking order as well as how their relationship with you works. There’s likely to be a lot of posturing, not just in order to impress you, but to solidify their place as well.” Dr. Cheon drags a hand down over her face. “Seven male hybrids under one roof...It’d be a miracle if no one’s missing fingers by the time the week’s out.”
“Is there any way I can stop them from being mean to each other?”
“I’m not a behaviorist,” The doctor sighs. “But I’d suggest you start with a conversation.”
You slide into the back of the taxi a little after 5:30 AM and pull out your phone. You’d promised to call on the way back and you don’t want a repeat of what’d happened the last time you’d forgotten. You scroll down your contacts, thumb hovering over Yoongi’s name and you hesitate. You remember warm lips, a rough tongue. You remember hands gripping your hips tight and a possessive growl in your ear. You press Taehyung’s name instead.
The tiger hybrid picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” His voice is slow and scratchy, still thick with sleep.
“Hey, it’s Y/N-” Almost immediately a happy rumbling starts from his end of the line. You can hear the sleepy joy in it and it makes your face warm.”A-and I just wanted to let you guys know I’m on the way home.”
Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, a low, musical sound. “Where’d you go?”
You bite your lip as nerves spark up in you. Well, all things considered, it was probably better for him to find out now rather than later. “The last two hybrids my uncle got…they were hurt and I had to come get them.”
The line is quiet for a moment and you gnaw at the bottom of your lip. Finally, Taehyung speaks. “Ah.” That’s all he says. Somehow, that’s worse than whatever Yoongi growling at the new hybrids or Jimin icing them out.
“I’ll be home in about another forty-five minutes, okay? Could you have everyone get together in the living room for me? We need to have a conversation.”
“Yeah, I can.”
You wince. There’s an almost imperceptible change in his voice. You swallow. “Taehyung, are you upset?”
He hums again like he’s considering it. “No,” he answers after a moment. “I don’t think i am. At least, not with you.”
That does little to allay your fears, but you force yourself to sound upbeat when you tell him, “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”
The line clicks off and you drop your head against the headrest. A conversation. It should be a simple thing, but you spend the entirety of your taxi ride back to Gangnam with your stomach in knots. If the thought of introducing your two (very injured, very vulnerable) new hybrids to a house full of predators wasn’t enough, you have to try to allay Jeongguk’s inexplicable fear of the taxi driver. The middle aged man isn’t thrilled about ferrying hybrids across the city anyway, but between Seokjin swooning and Jeongguk thumping his foot so hard the whole car rattles whenever the man so much as looks in his rearview mirror, he’s almost ready to put all three of you out on the side of the highway. You have to promise him a 50,000 won tip just to get him to relent. He rolls up the partition, but even that doesn’t put Jeongguk at ease.
The rabbit hybrid is curled up in the corner of the backseat, his back against the door, his injured arm cradled close and his knees pulled up to his chin. His ears are on high alert, twitching at every passing car or stray siren. His whole body is tensed up like there’s a current running through it, like if he lets himself relax for a second, he’ll disperse into nothing. He’s glaring daggers at the partition, but you know he can’t see the driver. The car rolls over a speed bump a bit too fast and he flinches, hand shooting out for the door handle.
You watch him, concern coloring your scent. It’s not your place to ask, you know, and you feel almost stupid doing it, but the words slip out of their own accord. “Are you okay?” It’s a ridiculous question. You can still see the bruises blooming on his cheekbone, see the angry red of his split lip in the stray light of street lamps. His dark eyes flick toward you, round nose twitching.
“How do you know he’s taking us somewhere safe?” His gaze shifts from you, to the partition, to Seokjin, dozing fitfully on your otherside. The deer hybrid had finally surrendered to his pain meds not a second after you’d helped buckle him in. He’d been out cold before the driver had pulled away from the curb.
“Because that’s what I paid him to do,” you tell him, truthfully. You’d never given much thought to how much trust you placed in taxi and bus drivers to not kidnap you before. You certainly had to now, especially when Jeongguk seemed hyperaware of the fact that you’d entrusted all of your lives to a stranger. The rabbit hybrid swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. He gives a little shake of his head.
“He could take your money and still take us somewhere bad. He could take us up into the mountains and Seokjin and I wouldn’t be able to do anything because we’re hurt and-”
“That’s not going to happen, Jeongguk,” you say in as soothing a voice as you can manage to muster up. “It’s really unlikely that that’ll happen, but even if it did, I’d do my best to protect you.”
He snorts, ears tilting back. They brush the roof of the car as they do and he shrinks himself, shoulders hunching forward. “What can you do?” His tone is derisive. “You’re only human. You’re not as fast as us or as strong-”
“I’d try,” you insist, some strong, unnameable emotion tightening your chest at the thought of them in danger. “If if came down to it, I’d still try to protect the pair of you-”
“You don’t even know me.” Jeongguk’s voice is edging somewhere between disgust and disbelief. You look away from him then and at your hands, gripping your knees.
“I don’t,” you agree easily. “But I’d like to. Even if I don’t- even if I didn’t, people should still help each other when they can. We owe each other that much.” The taxi is quiet for a moment, only the sound of tires rushing over the slick pavement and other cars zooming by filling the empty air between the two of you. Finally, the rabbit hybrid exhales shakily.
“I’m not a person.” He sounds resigned to that fact, like he’s accepted a burden far too heavy for him. “I’m not even an animal. I’m a-”
“Just because you aren’t human…” you start off hesitantly, very much aware that you might be crossing several invisible lines. “...doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You have your own thoughts and feelings and emotions. You deserve to have them heard. I know I’m not as fast as you or as strong, but the least I can do is listen to you, right?” The car is silent again. You’re too nervous to look at Jeongguk, worried that you’d gone too far- but then there’s a warm weight against your side. It starts slow at first, just your shoulders brushing against each other, but before you know it, Jeongguk’s leaning his whole body against yours. He’s slumped over with his head tucked beneath your chin like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Jeongguk-”
“I’m afraid.” He admits in a whisper, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “Everything in me tells me to run all the time, but I can’t anymore.” His ears droop and his pretty dark eyes slip shut. This close, you can hear his heart beating at breakneck speed in his chest, feel how he shudders with every shaky inhale. “I’m so tired of running.” He’s terrified. You wouldn’t have guessed from his posture. Maybe the reason he held himself so tight was to stop himself from shaking apart.
You watch in surprise as the rabbit hybrid links his fingers with yours and drops your hand on top of his head, right between his velvety ears. “Help me like this.” You’re frozen, unsure what to do with a six foot tall man practically crawling into your sweatshirt with you. Was this really okay? He’d just been through something traumatic, the details of which you know nothing about. You hadn’t thought he’d want anyone to touch him, much less you, a virtual stranger. You don’t know what to do. The car jerks to a quick stop and the taxi driver leans on his horn, curses jaywalkers. Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens and he flinches so hard you’re surprised he didn’t knock his head into your teeth. He exhales shakily, tilts his head up and brushes his nose along the underside of your jaw. “Please,” he asks in a voice so small you know it’s killing him. “Just ‘til we get there, please just let me be weak.”
That breaks something inside you. Despite how awkward you might feel, he’s sure to be feeling worse. You wrap your arms fully around him, hesitant until you feel him go lax in your arms. You slowly stroke the back of his head and he buries his face in your clavicle, his eyes squeezed shut. “We’re almost there,” you assure him gently as he fists his good hand in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “You’re almost home.”
By the time the three of you arrive back at Haneul tower, the sky is lightening in the east and the first wave of office workers are making their way from your building into the streets of Gangnam. It’s not even 6 AM yet, but the city is stirring.
It takes you a good ten minutes to rouse both the boys and get them out of the taxi. After you’d let Jeongguk cling to you, the rabbit hybrid had fallen asleep quickly, the exhaustion from his turbulent day finally catching up to him. Even in sleep he was latched on to you, a small crease between his brows and his nose wrinkled up. Seokjin hadn’t fared much better. The cocktail of meds Dr. Cheon had given him had rendered him dead to the world for the entirety of the drive back. Even now you were having trouble rousing him.
“Seokjin…” You shake the sleeping stag’s shoulders but the only response you get is a slight hitch in his snoring. “Seokjin, please wake up, we have to go…” You can practically feel the glare the taxi driver is giving you in his rearview mirror. Yeah, the meter is still running, but you’ve taken up enough of his time as it is. “Seokjin, come on…” Jeongguk is standing behind you, staring bleary-eyed up at the apartment building, his free hand fisted in the fabric of your sweatshirt. If he’s cold in his thin tee-shirt and bare feet, he makes no mention of it.
Without warning, the taxi driver leans on the horn. Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, fear making his body tight. Jeongguk jerks so violently you think he’s going to rip a hole in your sweatshirt. You stumble back a few paces, trying to steady the rabbit and stop the pair of you from tumbling into the street. When you manage to right yourself, you slam a palm against the roof of the car and glare in the window at the driver. “Yo, what the fuck?”
The man glares back at you and waves you off. “I don’t have all day!” He shouts. “Get your animal and get out!”
You want to argue with him, you want to make him apologize- but the sight of Seokjin disoriented and afraid stops you. He’s looking at you with hazy eyes, his whole body stiff and his chest heaving. It’s for his sake alone that you hold your tongue. You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, buddy.” You say. “I got you.” He looks from your face to your hand and finally, slowly, places his own in it. His fingers are long and elegant and his hand dwarfs your’s. You tug him from the backseat and he leans heavily on you, hopping awkwardly to avoid walking on his broken foot. You pass him his crutches and he takes them, wobbling awkwardly as he tries to set himself to rights. “Can you stand?” You ask him. He nods and starts limping for the glass doors of Haneul Tower. He’s doing his best to look strong. His back is straight and his head is high, but you don’t miss the tremble in his fingers or the way he winces whenever the wind blows over the top of his head. You shove some bills at the taxi driver with a final, disapproving look, usher Jeongguk up onto the sidewalk and head inside after Seokjin.
The moment the three of you breach the double doors, Jeongguk drops his hand from your sweatshirt. His eyes rove over the glass and granite, round nose twitching at all the scents and his ears standing at attention on top of his head. He pauses, a little furrow between his brows. You’re halfway to the elevators, hovering a foot behind Seokjin in case he falls, before you notice the rabbit hybrid isn’t following you.
You cast a look back over his shoulder and find him gawking up at the hanging lights, mouth slightly ajar and starry-eyed. The corner of your mouth twitches. He’s cute, you decide. The thought leaves you almost instantly when you see Mr. Park powerwalking over to him, a sunny smile on his face. Jeongguk takes notice of him only a split second after you do and his eyes wide. You see him tense up, watch the fingers on his uninjured hand curl into a ball.
“You need to get him,” Seokjin says, sounding like he’s out of breath. You turn your attention back to the deer hybrid. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches and his face is pale. “You need to get him,” he repeats, nodding at Jeongguk. “That man gets any closer and Jeongguk will kick him.”
You whip back around. Mr. Park is closing the distance between them, seemingly unconcerned by the look of distress on the rabbit hybrids face or how his foot seems to be tapping a mile a minute.
“Excuse me!” The older man says, reaching out to put a hand on the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder. “Where’s your-”
“Mr. Park!” You practically sprint over as fast as you can, sliding between the receptionist and the hybrid just as he’d started winding his leg back. Mr. Park blinks, surprised to find you so suddenly in front of him. You offer him a tight smile. “He’s with me.”
“Oh! Ms. L/N, I apologize. He didn’t have a collar, so I assumed he was a stray.” The statement pricks at you, but you know he means nothing by it, so you try to stamp down your irritation. “It’s rare but we do occasionally have them come in in the hope someone will take them in.” He clucks his tongue against his teeth. “Such a shame really.”
You feel Jeongguk’s hand fist in the fabric of your sweatshirt. He wants to go. You nod emphatically at what Mr. Park says, already heading back to the elevators. “Yeah, totally,” you agree, shuffling the rabbit hybrid in front of you and putting some distance between him and the elderly man. “Well, have a good morning! I’ll see you later!”
“Ms. L/N, I actually need to speak with you-”
You wave him off and duck into the elevator Seokjin had called in your brief absence. “We’ll talk later!” You tell him, pressing the close door buttons as quickly as you can and willing them to shut before he can catch up.
“But it’s about your-!”
The doors click shut and you’re blessed with silence. You exhale in a short puff, press the button for the penthouse and slump against the cool metal wall, finally letting yourself relax for a moment. The elevator starts rolling and Jeongguk flinches beside you. He duck his head like he’s going to crouch down- but he stops himself, grips the railing instead.
“It’s okay,” You soothe. “It’s just-”
“I’m fine,” he insists, forcing himself to stand up straight and release the death grip he has on your sweatshirt. “I’m fine; my time’s up.”
It’s just like he’d said in the car. Just ‘til we get there, let me be weak.
The rest of the elevator ride passes in silence outside of the automated bell dinging as you pass each new floor and Seokjin panting quietly. He’s in a bad way. He’ll need another dose of pain meds soon. You arrive on the top floor, punching in the key code and pull the door open. “Let me get Seokjin settled, Jeongguk and I-” You run directly into someone.
Their arms wrap around you, covered in a brown cable knit sweater. It’s soft and they smell of vanilla. They press their cheek against the top of your head and exhale, a little rumble kicking up in their chest. “You’re back.” Taehyung.
“Hey, buddy.” You pat him on the back gently and peer around him. Yoongi and Jimin are both sprawled on the couch, legs kicked out so there isn’t room for anyone else to join them. Namjoon is sitting on the stairs shooting daggers at the back of Yoongi’s head and his arms crossed over his chest.Hoseok is lingering in the no man’s land between the living room and kitchen looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. The atmosphere is tense to say the least.
Taehyung dips his head down. “I got them, like you said,” he whispers, lips brushing against the tip of your ear and his breath warm. You have fight off a little shiver, but if he notices it, he doesn’t react. “I don’t think Hyung and Jiminie like the others very much.”
You give a little nod of acknowledgement. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all just need to get to know each other a little better.”
Seokjin hobbles through the door, past the tiger hybrid and drops himself onto a stool on the kitchen with a heavy exhale. “Well, I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes at most before these meds catch a second wind, so let’s get this over with.” He’s doing his best to sound cavalier but he’s pallid. You don’t miss the thin sheen of cold sweat on his face and neck. “Seokjin. Twenty-eight. Red stag.”
All the other hybrids are staring at him in a mix of confusion, irritation and, in some cases, open dislike. It seems like they don’t know what to make of him. It’s Yoongi who speaks first. “If you’re a stag,” he drawls and you already feel dread welling up in you at what you know is going to follow. “Where are your antlers?”
Seokjin fixes him with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only put them on for special occasions.”
“Okay!” You clap your hands together trying to diffuse the tension you can feel building. “New house rule: let’s not ask each other about injuries past or present unless we’re asking how to help.” Yoongi looks miffed, but he settles. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have expected him to say something snarky back to you. He’s trying not to push his luck after last night, you think. “Yoongi, why don’t you go next?”
His ears flick in annoyance, but he does as you ask. “I’m Yoongi, I’m twenty-seven and I’m a bobcat-”
“I’m Jimin,” his junior pipes up before he’s hardly had time to finish. “I’m an amur leopard and I came here with Yoongi-hyung and Tae. We’ve been with Y/N the longest.” He says it like it’s an important piece of information for everyone to know.
Beside you, Taehyung lifts one hand, palm up. “Hi,” he says calmly. “I’m Taehyung. I like the color purple.” Everyone watches him to see what else he’s going to say, but the tiger hybrid is finished. You give him a little nudge with your shoulder.
“Tell them how old you are and what your hybrid is,” you suggest.
“Oh,” he lifts his eyebrows like the thought genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m twenty-four and I’m a tiger.” Suddenly remembering something, he tilts his head forward in a little bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” A sour look takes over Yoongi’s face and Jimin rolls his eyes, gestures for the youngest of their group to come sit beside him.
Hoseok is the next one to pipe up. “I’m Hoseok!” He seems to perk up a little when you turn your eyes to him, his docked tail giving as much of a wag as it’s able. “I’m a Doberman, I’m twenty-six and Joonie and I came from the same pla-”
“My name is Namjoon.” The wolfdog cuts off the other canine with a growl. All the wind goes out of Hoseok’s sails and you don’t miss the way Seokjin freezes up at the dark sound, suddenly alert. You weren’t sure if prey hybrids still avoided predator hybrids like their animal counterparts did, but you’d need to learn and fast. Namjoon leans back on the stairs, his jaw clenched. “I’m the same age as him-” he jerks his head at the Doberman hybrid. “-so I guess I’m twenty-six too.” He makes no mention of his hybrid and you don’t press. You don’t know how sensitive a subject it is for him yet, but you don’t want to find out the hard way.
Hoseok looks back at you and cocks his head to the side, his gaze fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”
Five pairs of eyes follow his. You turn around. Outside the apartment, still in the corridor, is Jeongguk, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide as he surveys the mixed bag of hybrids spread out in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.
“Do you wanna come in?”
His gaze flicks from you, to the cats, then to Hoseok and finally to Namjoon. It’s only when he sees the wolfdog hybrid that he moves from the wall. He takes halting, jittery steps one after the other until he’s planted by your side, his eyes on his bare feet. Every move he makes makes it look like he’s fighting against his own body, forcing himself to tamp down his instinct and move.
“Can you introduce yourself?” You ask him softly. “Or do you want me to?”
His good hand clenches into a fist and forces himself to look up. He meets each of the other hybrid’s eyes evenly. “My name is Jeongguk.” When he speaks, there’s no shake in his voice. “I’m twenty-three years old. I came from the same place as Seokjin but we don’t know each other that well. I’m a Flemish Giant Rabbit.” So that was why he was so big. You’d never seen a Flemish Giant in real life, but you’d happened across the odd youtube video of them once or twice in your suggestions. They were huge.
With introductions out of the way, you feel a little tension melt out of your shoulders. That was the biggest hurdle. Maybe now that they all at least knew each other, they’d be a little more open to being around each other. You let out a little exhale. “And I’m Y/N. I’m also twenty-three and this is my uncle’s apartment. He’s the only that bought all of you but I only found out you were coming a little over a week ago, so please forgive me for being unprepared.” You rub your palms against your eyes, trying to combat the exhaustion you can feel crawling over you. “I don’t know that much about hybrids, but I’m trying to learn. A lot of things you’re gonna have to help me with. I’m not expecting you guys to be pets or best friends or anything, but if we could all try to get along I’d appreciate it.” You offer all seven them a weary smile. “Thanks for getting up early to do this, guys, I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, literally anything, please don’t be scared to ask-”
“Um, Y/N?” Hoseok is looking at you like he’s been dying to say something for the past five minutes. You turn your attention to him and squint as you try to focus on what he’s saying. “I did a sweep of the apartment earlier-” That was concerning. You make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to do security sweeps anymore. “-and there’s only four bedrooms.”
You blink at him in confusion.
“There’s eight of us.”
Oh. Oh. You drag your hands down over your face. You hadn’t accounted for lack of space being an issue. When you first moved in, Oliver’s penthouse seemed like it went on forever. “Okay,” you start, crunching some quick numbers. “Some of us are gonna have to double up.” There’s a disgruntled mrow from the couch and without looking, you know it’s Jimin. “Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung are already sharing so they’re exempt, but Seokjin needs his own room- at least until he recovers.”
“That’s fine by me,” the stag chimes in. “But that leaves Jeongguk without a-”
“Hyung, can I stay with you?” The room goes quiet.
“Seokjin really needs his own room-” You pull your face out of your hands to address the rabbit hybrid, but he isn’t looking at the stag. His eyes are fixed on Namjoon who’s looking at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. The wolfdog looks from the rabbit to you.
“I saw a camp bed out in the greenhouse while you were showing us around last night.” He says, standing to go. “I’ll sleep out there.”
“Namjoon, you don’t have to sleep outside-”
“I like it out there.” He calls back over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “I can see the sky.” Then he’s gone and the six of you are left.
“Well,” Jimin purrs, rising and crossing the living room to you. “Best of luck.” He rubs his cheek against yours, folding you into a loose hug. You think he’s about to pull away, but he whispers in your ear, “If you want to share with us, you know where we sleep.” And then he’s gone, sauntering up the stairs with Taehyung and Yoongi in tow. The bobcat tosses a look at you, but you look away quickly, missing the way his ears sage when you do.
Now, the only ones left are you, Jeongguk, Hoseok and Seokjin who’s rapidly fading. “I’ll take the couch,” you volunteer. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but right now, the stark white cushions look like heaven to your sleep-deprived mind. “Seokjin can have my room-”
“He can have mine,” Hoseok interjects. “And, if it’s okay, could I stay with you?” There’s a light whine on the end of his words and you don’t miss the way his ears prick up in anticipation of your answer. “It’s what I wanted to ask you earlier.”
Oh. When Jimin interrupted him, that’s what he’d been trying to say: he wanted to sleep in your room to be closer to you. To protect you.
“Yeah,” you agree easily. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Sharing beds wasn’t a big deal for you. You’d grown up in a flat with your mom and had shared a bed with her til she’d been taken from you. Then in foster homes with too many kids and not enough resources, you���d had to double- and sometimes even triple- up. It was a matter of convenience and space.
Hoseok’s tail gives a little wag and he nods, happy with your decision.
“Great!” Seokjin cheers weakly. “Now can someone please help me lie down.”
It’s Hoseok that helps the stag hybrid up the stairs and into bed. He’s stronger than you and taller, so it only makes sense. You show Jeongguk to his new room and stay with him for a few minutes while he feels it out, making sure it’s safe. It’s only once he’s sequestered himself under the covers and dismissed you that you leave, closing the door quietly behind you as the rabbit hybrid settles down for some much needed sleep. You turn to head back for the stairs- but you find Yoongi at the other end of the corridor, staring you down. You stare back. He swallows.
“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice quieter than you ever remember hearing it.
You give a little nod. “Yeah,” you assent. “We need to.”
He meets you halfway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers and his gaze anywhere but on your face. The seconds stretch out and you exhale, closing your eyes. “Yoongi, about last night-”
“I’m sorry,” he interjects. “About what happened in the elevator. It was disrespectful and immature. I won’t do it again.”
You balk at him. You’d honestly expected him to tell you you were being childish for reacting so strongly to it when you’d told him he could mark you whenever he was ready. But he hadn’t. He shuffles back a few steps, his head still low.
“Well, that was all I wanted to say to you, so-”
“Do you understand?” You ask him. He stops short. “Do you understand why I was upset?”
His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you see a little furrow between his gray eyebrows. “Because I marked you.”
“No,” you insist, emphatically. “I was upset because it didn’t feel like you were doing it for me.” He does look up at you then, yellow eyes unreadable. “It didn’t feel like you were marking me because we’re friends or you wanted me to be a part of your group. It felt like you were doing it to show off in front of Namjoon and Hoseok.” You swallow. “And that hurt my feelings.” It feels good to say. It feels good to talk about.
He lets out a little chirp of distress. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. “I just-” He rakes a hand back through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck, I just felt like if I didn’t do something right then you’d get bored of me and send me away. I thought you’d replace me with them.”
Your heart twists. You know the feeling more intimately than you’d like to admit. You reach out, hesitantly and squeeze Yoongi’s arm. “Yoongi, I’m not gonna send you away. Ever. It’s important to me that you know that. Unless you wanna go, you can stay. There’s room enough for all of you.”
“No there’s not, that’s why we’re sharing rooms,” he drawls.
You roll your eyes and let out a little chuckle. “Okay, smart-ass.”
The corner of his mouth curls up at the playful insult. After a moment, he speaks. “I don’t, for the record,” he says. “Wanna go, I mean.” He stares down into your face, yellow eyes intense. The seconds drag on and something between the two of you grows tight. He leans down, face nuzzling the soft spot between your ear and your jaw. He huffs. “Bunny scented you,” he mutters, tail flicking in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re relieved.
“He was afraid in the car,” you answer softly. “I think it helped.” Your hands slip from his arms around his back and he purrs. It’s the first time you’ve heard him make that sound. It sends warm vibrations through your whole body and you giggle. Yoongi smiles against your skin and your heart leaps. He’s never smiled around you before. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. You know it’s there. “Do you want to try again?”
Yoongi exhales, his breath warm on your neck. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head to the side for him. “You can.”
This time is different, you can feel that from the onset. His fingers wrap gently around your hips and he nuzzles into your skin. He nips lightly at the skin below your ear, the corner of your jaw, all down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where it joins your shoulder. He hums, wraps his arms around you fully and pulls you flush against the hard line of his body. Your breath hatches and you can practically hear your heart thudding traitorously in your chest.
It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself as he laves his rough tongue against your feverish skin. It’s not a big deal; marking isn’t sexual. This isn’t a big deal, there’s no need to be nervous or get- the points of his teeth scrape over the mark before he laps at again and you have to bite back a whimper. Your knees feel a little weak- that is, until Yoongi slots his thigh between them, keeping you up while he finishes his work. Your hands ball up into fists in the fabric of his t shirt and you grit your teeth together with the effort of keeping quiet. He pulls off your neck with a wet pop and you swear you’re imagining it when he presses a final kiss to his mark. He noses your ear, still purring and you think he’s gonna mark you more- but then his warmth is gone and his standing before you, eyes a little hazier but no worse for wear.
He reaches up and flicks you in the forehead. You grumble at him, covering the spot up with your hands before he can do it again. A lazy smirk spreads out on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he drawls. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading back to his shared bedroom. “Don’t wipe this one off this time, okay?”
You nod mutely after him as he disappears, your hand cupping your mark. “What was that?” You wonder. You descend the stairs in a daze, your mind whirling. None of your research had told you creating a mark would be like that. You’d thought it was a quick thing and Yoongi had just been showboating for the canines. Even in the videos you watched, the hybrid had leaned in close to the human, given then a few quick swipes with their tongue and moved on. Then again, those hybrids had all been domesticated dog or cat breeds. “Are exotics different?” You muse, turning the handle to your bedroom- and promptly tripping over someone.
This time, you don’t go all the way down. You make it halfway before Hoseok catches you. “Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N!” The dog hybrid whines, fussing over you as he sets you back to rights. “I’ll do better about staying out of your way, I promise-”
“It’s okay,” you soothe, trying to stop him from fretting. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” You survey the floor of your bedroom. It seemed like in his security sweep earlier, Hoseok had found the linen cabinet and made use of the spare blankets. His pillow and a comforter are set up in a little pallet on the floor in front of your door. It seems he’d been putting the final touches on it when you’d stumbled over him. “Hoseok…” you start slowly. The Doberman looks at you, ears pricked up. “Hoseok, I wasn’t expecting you to sleep on the floor.”
He cocks his head to the side, doglike even in his confusion. “Then where…?”
“The bed is big enough,” you say, gesturing to the queen sized bed dominating the center of the room. “I don’t mind sharing if you’re comfortable with it.”
His adam’s apple bob’s in his throat as he swallows, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it.”
You nod and pat him on the shoulder, passing him as you head to bed. “Come on, then.” You collapse onto your bed face-first and slip back under the covers with a groan. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap before I’ve gotta get up and deal with stuff…”
The room is quiet, but somewhere in it, you can hear Hoseok shuffling around. “Maybe I should check to make sure everything is safe one more time?”
You exhale, your eyes slipping shut. “Hoseok…”
“Did you lock the front door after you came in? I think the rabbit...Jeongguk was the last one in? I don’t remember him locking-”
“Hope, bed. Now.” He doesn’t say anything else, but a few seconds later, you feel the far side of the bed dip with his weight. You sigh as he shifts to get under the blankets and you snuggle down further into your pillow. “Sleep well, Hobi.”
He mumbles something under his breath about security being a serious issue, but you don’t catch it. You’re already halfway to dreamland.
#thebtswritersclub#hybridbtsnetwork#bts fic#bts x reader#bts x y/n#hybrid!bts#ot7 x reader#seokjin x reader#namjoon x reader#jhope x reader#yoongi x reader#jungkook x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader
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ready. bucky barnes
word count: 2426
warnings: not really, brief mention of anxiety? i guess but really just fluffy and flirty with a bit of angst
requested: nope i wrote this literally years ago
plot: bucky is constantly flirting with you, until he think you don’t like him back
a/n: can’t decide if i like this but it’s late and i’ve edited this so many times and i can’t look at it anymore so here lol
masterlist
"hey, pretty girl,” bucky's voice was instantly recognisable, so turning in your seat you weren't surprised to see him entering the kitchen.
"hey," you tightened your lips into a sweet smile. bucky was always nice to you, sometimes kind of flirty but you liked it. besides, it was more than you could say for his relationships with most of the avengers.
the day was red hot, you had all the windows open and still you were sweating like a pig. that’s why bucky had to walk in to see you sat at the island in the kitchen area, frozen peas sitting atop your head and a lolly ice hanging out your mouth.
"lolly ice?" you offered, removing yours from your mouth to make the offer. he shook his head, pursing his lips to stop himself from laughing at you. you knew you looked stupid but you were sweaty, and this was helping.
"you look pretty hot," he commented. he wandered over to the fridge but his eyes travelled to where you sat only in shorts and a spaghetti strap top. he gulped, quickly shifting his eyes away before you could catch him staring, sticking his head in the fridge to cool down. "literally,” he mumbled.
you nodded, absentmindedly as you spun in your chair again, your eyes following his every move. you wondered how he looked so put together when it was so hot. "tony's got someone working on the ac.”
"i don't know why he doesn't do it himself," you hummed in agreement.
“yeah— he calls himself a tech genius but can’t even fix the air con— make it make sense,” he chuckled a little along with you. it was one of your many shared interests, making fun of tony.
finishing your lolly ice you slid off your chair, removing the peas from your head and walked to the bin to recycle the stick. bucky was crouched down in front of the fridge still, his backside standing between you and the bin. "uh— 'scuse me.”
bucky glanced over his shoulder, seeing you hovering above him waiting for him to budge. straightening himself up again, he leaned against the fridge, blocking your path still and his arms folded across his chest. "password?"
you rolled your eyes, cracking a small laugh at his behaviour. "stop, just let me through."
"i'm serious," the forming smirk on his lips said otherwise. "what's the password, sweetheart?"
the pet name rolled casually off his tongue, like it was just as common for him to call you this as your own name. you didn’t let it shake you. you were an expert when it came to bucky and his flirting at this point, you just had to not play into what he wanted.
"fine, be that way,” you flung the lolly ice stick over him, landing it in the recycling bin.
you smiled knowingly and he shoved you lightly. "cheater," he mumbled with an amused smile, grabbing a beer from the fridge and catching your shoulder as he walked passed you.
you liked to tease bucky when he would flirt with you, by not playing into it, he tended to just give up quicker.
sometimes you thought he might be serious, which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but you also knew you weren't ready for that conversation. you also didn't want to embarrass yourself by assuming he actually liked you in the first place. it was complicated, at least, it was for you.
"you know, you should wear this more often," his voice rang through your ears, goosebumps running down your neck. you could feel him standing behind you, hardly much distance between the two of you now.
you turned to face him, finding yourself practically nose to nose. you gulped with the newfound closeness and lost your words for a second, your lips parting slightly and nothing coming out. his eyes moved down to your lips, noticing your blunder as a small smile came onto his face. he was always looking for little hints that you felt something back, that his efforts weren't being completely lost.
you squealed, flinching when the cold beer bottle come into contact with your hot skin, pulling you out of your haze. you stepped back from him, creating some much needed space but evidently confused why he defused the heated situation so quickly.
"jeez’, bucky," you weren't angry, your defence was more to do with the fact that he'd caught you flustered by him.
"sorry, you looked a little dazed," he wore a knowing smile. you tried to play off the embarrassed flush in your cheeks as due to the heat. but you both knew you'd gotten caught up in his flirting.
you told yourself most of the time that bucky’s flirting was playful— that it wasn’t flirting at all, he was just trying to be friendly. you had to tell yourself something to stop yourself from falling for him every time he’d look at you like that.
you forced a smile, pulling yourself away from his stare for a second to shake your head. "whatever,” calmly you brushed his shoulder to walk away from him, choosing to ignore whatever was going on here.
you were halted by him grabbing your forearm, the cool metal from his hand was surprisingly pleasant against your flushed skin.
"wait," his eyebrows knitted together softly when you looked at him this time, the smile and amusement practically wiped from his face. he spoke, cutting the tension that was growing more and more with every second. "do you really not like me back?"
your lips parted slightly, stunned by his forwardness. you’d never had this conversation before, you weren’t ready for this conversation. though you’d always suspected he had a bit of a crush, you tried not to encourage it. not because you didn't feel the same way, but because you just weren’t ready for any of what came after a crush.
"you— like me?"
bucky's eyebrows unknitted, glancing away from you for a second and choking out a short, fake laugh. "was it not obvious?"
you shook your head, quickly correcting yourself when his smile began to fade. "well— no— yeah. kinda. i don't know— i guess i—“ you didn’t know how to finish your sentence. you wanted to tell him you felt the same, but you were not ready for this. so you stopped yourself from saying anything. “i don’t know what i thought,” you said, defeatedly.
"right,” he nodded, slightly hurt that he’d let himself get caught up in something that wasn’t real. “i get it,” he stepped back and loosened his grip on your arm letting it fall back to your side. "sorry. that was awkward. i didn't mean to make this weird for you."
"you didn't make it weird, buck," you tried to assure him because you really didn't want him to take back what he'd said.
"it's alright, y/n,” he forced a smile, despite the knock back. "see you at training."
"buck—" you spoke softly, as he walked passed you, missing your shoulder and leaving you alone again. your hand slipping from his wrist as you tried to hold him back. your heart felt heavy, that felt wrong.
—
you didn't see bucky again until you got to training later on that evening. you had been scheduled to train with bucky and sam, but steve informed you when you arrived that he'd switched it around so you were paired with wanda and himself.
you’d spent the rest of the day reliving your conversation with bucky, full of guilt. you couldn’t think about anything else, it was consuming you. bucky liked you, and you crushed him by not telling him how you felt. all because you were scared.
the whole session was a nightmare, your mind was elsewhere the entire time with bucky training on the other side of the room. you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing in his direction every few minutes. he looked a little off his game too.
you'd taken a few hits, you were far too distracted to be memorising steve’s fighting patterns. you found yourself muttering apologies throughout the entire session. even wanda managed to knock you on your ass, and she was possibly the weakest when it came to no-magic hand-to-hand combat.
you caught bucky’s eye as you fell, slamming into the mat, your breathing heavy as you lay exhausted on your back. both steve and wanda towered over you. eventually steve held out his hand after giving you a breather, wincing as he pulled you back onto your feet. "sorry," you mumbled for the hundredth time, tucking a few loose, sweaty hairs out of your face.
“alright, that’s enough for today,” steve ordered, his eyebrows knitted softly as he watched you pant. you weakly tried to protest but he was firm.
“we all have off days, don’t worry about it,” wanda tried to reassure you with a soft smile, handing you a bottle of water which you accepted thankfully and gulped down.
you could feel bucky watching you, your eyes trailing over to him but he looked away just as quickly, only just dodging sam’s fist.
"hey— where was your head tonight?" steve nudged your shoulder, bringing you out of your daze again, as he'd been doing all night. your eyes moved away from bucky who was now packing up his stuff. you looked at steve, who was wearing his concerned-dad expression that you’d seen one too many times, and shrugged your shoulders.
"i dunno’, probably just the heat,” you lugged your bag over your shoulder as you began to leave the gym, walking backwards to continue your conversation with cap.
"i thought tony fixed the ac—"
"i gotta go. see you tomorrow, cap."
you rushed out of the gym, chasing bucky who had left minutes before you, only being held back by your conversation with steve. you groaned as you realised bucky was nowhere to be seen. you had decided halfway through training that you needed to talk to him. a couple of hits to your head seemed to knock a bit of sense into you.
after navigating the maze-like corridors you reached the avengers private quarters. passing your own room, speed walking down the corridor, reaching bucky's room and knocking quickly before you could chicken out.
"hey," he smiled, opening up his door, still in his training gear and trying to act as if nothing was wrong. but you could feel the wrong kind of tension between you two now. you didn't want things to be like this from now on. "whats up?"
"can i come in?" you asked. your breathing was heavier than usual, your nerves were getting the better of you. "i need to talk about earlier," he sighed, you caught wind of his exhaustion but he opened his door to you anyway letting you in.
you clutched onto your hands tight. you had to just tell him otherwise things would be bad between you two whether either of you decided to acknowledge it or not. so after you heard the door shut, you spun around to face him again, fiddling with your hands as you parted your lips to speak.
"bucky, i didn't mean to make you feel bad before,” you started.
"i already told you its alright, y/n,” he shrugged. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” but you shook your head, pacing closer to him.
"you didn't let me explain," you pleaded. you pulled at your fingers, a bad habit you had when you were nervous. "i don't not like you, i'm just... i’m scared,” your voice grew softer the nearer you got to finishing your sentence.
you forced eye contact with him, trying to convey your sincerity. "i've never had this before. i don't know how to respond to your flirting and its not that i'm not interested— because i am. i really am. i just don't— i don't know how to do this."
your nervous habit worsened when he didn't speak afterwards, you were worried that you were too honest with him. this is is why you didn't want to tell him, you didn't want him to judge you.
so you were surprised when he reached out his hands, clasping his own arounds yours. he let a warm, hesitant smile work onto his lips, sending you silent reassurance and calming your nerves slightly.
"i didn't mean to make things worse,” you apologised.
“no—“ he shook his head. "no— it's ok."
"it is?" you questioned. you weren't one hundred percent convinced that everything was ok with the two of you. you didn't know where you stood now. he nodded. "but—"
"it's fine. we can take it slow, if you’re not ready,” he squeezed your hand gently. "i'm still refreshing my memory anyway. all i have to go off are expired moves."
your lips parted into an unsure smile. "y’sure?"
"yeah, why wouldn't i be?"
you shrugged. "i don't know."
you were still scared in all honesty. this would be your first relationship, your first anything. and you knew this wasn’t bucky’s first anything. you felt like your definition of slow could mean something completely different to his.
"what's going on in that head?" he mumbled, noticing your glossy expression, using your entangled hands to pull you closer to him. you gulped now that he was inches away from you again.
bucky gave your hands a gentle squeeze, sensing your unease. he shook his head. “you don’t have to worry.”
you nodded, biting down on the inside of your cheek. he eyes scanned your face, noticing your slight furrowed brow and wide eyes. “i heard you when you said you weren’t ready,” he practically whispered, your eyes meeting his again when he did. he moved one hand to your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin. your eyes drooped shut, relaxing against his warm skin, a complete contrast to the cold of his metal hand you’d felt earlier. there was something reassuring about the way he was holding you, it made you feel safe. “we can go at your pace.”
he seemed to sense your anxiety before it could consume you, you didn’t know how he did it.
you released a soft, shy smile. "thank you," you spoke quietly, unsure how to react and respond to him still. you just knew you were grateful for him. “i like you, a lot, buck,” a smile started to emerge on his lips, your stomach twisting. "jus' don’t forget that.”
he shook his head. “i won’t.”
#bucky barnes#bucky fic#bucky x y/n#bucky fanfic#bucky imagine#bucky x female reader#james buchanan bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes masterlist#buck#avengers#avengers masterlist#avengers imagines#avengers imagine#marvel#marvel masterlist#marvel imagine#marveledit#marvel imagines#the winter soldier#the winter soldier imagine#the winter soldier x reader
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originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol
(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)
but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3
i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)
tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault
Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.
Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.
“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.
“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”
“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages and then we get here and nobody’s here-”
“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.
“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”
Sam pauses.
“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”
“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”
The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.
“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”
“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”
Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.
“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”
Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.
“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”
“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”
Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.
Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”
Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.
“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”
Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.
“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”
“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”
“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”
Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.
“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”
“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”
Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”
“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”
“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”
“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”
The world goes white.
[Dream was blown up by Dream.]
[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]
[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]
#-> my writing#my writing :D#my asks !!#-> my asks#tw torture#tw abuse#tw injuries#tw suicide#tw murder#tw explosion#tw death#tw violence#tw emotional distress#prison arc#pandora's vault
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Omg smut pls 😭, i’ve been starved from yue zuko smut i keep reading pls chapters!
Here it is- I have to get back into the groove of smut writing, so here's my baby step 👀
Also, this was an ask I got a while back, in relation to Yue's heat smut I wrote. I was trying to find the original ask but I can't find it, but anon, this is for you 🥵
Love you babes, and take care~
AU: Limerence (A/B/O AU)
Pairing: Zuko x Fem. OC (Ying Yue Jiang)
LINKS: 01
Masterlist
Ruts weren't a foreign concept to Zuko.
More often than not, proving a nuisance.
A quick jerk, drowning himself in paperwork, often did the trick for the week. But this time? Zuko swore, his head dropping and hair cascading downwards like a curtain as his fist slammed against the wooden bed frame.
He was sweating despite wearing nothing more but loose-hanging slacks, the windows open and allowing a breeze to enter. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.
It was like his skin was prickling, senses in over-drive as goosebumps rose along his skin. Heavy pants, Zuko's chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon - fighting the urge to trail his hand down his torso, imagining how cool her fingertips would feel against his burning skin. Her nails tracing every divot of his skin as her touch sank lower, the shiver that ran up his spine.
Always so shy, so submissive; on her knees like the good girl she was, playing with the band of his pants with glossy lips, swollen from her eager nibbles. Her doe-like eyes were staring up at him with a lust that could challenge his before moaning his name with a hunger.
"Fuck." Zuko growled, his toes pressing onto the wooden floor.
A ticking time bomb, groaning as the mere sensation of his pants rubbing against his hard cock had him cracking. His eyes rolled, a temporary relief as his heavy palm fell over himself. A shaky jerk over the fabric, grabbing his length, and he could feel the thick drop of cum leaking from his tip.
He was throbbing, pulse rushing, and skin dewy as his testing jerks grew in intensity. The uncontrollable groans that tumbled from his lips, bucking into his touch to seek more pleasure. So fucking desperate to tip over that edge for the first time since his bloody rut started.
But it wasn't enough; it was never fucking enough.
No matter how fast his hand moved, his thumb brushing the crown of his dick as he teased himself. It was like a fucking wall, blocking him right before he could fall over the sweet edge. The coil that twisted deep in his gut, his cock growing as he so desperately wanted to cum as Zuko's groans grew in volume.
So close, so fucking close every time but-
The shout of frustration as Zuko's fists slammed against the bed frame for the nth time this day because he was losing it. His rut was testing his patience beyond belief because Zuko knew; that even if he jerked himself off, he wouldn't be able to get off.
His nails were intending the wood as defeat, rage coursed through his veins. He was in so much distress, sexual frustration at its fucking finest as his balls felt heavy, and his cock begged him to get off just once.
But he can't unless-
"I need, Yue," Zuko wheezed, a haze falling over his mind because the whole room smelt of her.
A drug, and Zuko was sure he was currently overdosing.
How beautiful she'll look.
Yue's body sprawled on the bed, littered with bites marks from the inside of her thighs to breasts. Zuko able to look down over her body, watching as his cock would so easily slip into her needy cunt. His thumb strumming her sensitive clit with heat, the uncontrollable twitches from Yue's body as he would draw orgasm after orgasm from her.
A beautiful breeding toy for his sick entertainment. Yue's cries of bliss music to his ears; fuel for his insatiable lust.
Yue's tight walls milking and driving him to ruin her, break her and claim her as his. She'll look so pretty, cum trickling from between her legs. A sticky mess as Zuko would push back whatever cum would slowly drip from her sweet pussy with his long fingers before bottoming, her belly swollen with nothing but him.
And as if the spirits were testing him, he could hear her.
It was like the call of a siren, Zuko's head snapping to their bedroom doors as a bead of sweat plopped down his temple, his lips parted as he growled.
This was dangerous; he wouldn't be able to control himself, to hold back but- the twitch from his cock, another sweet bead of pre-cum dribbling down his length and further dirtying his trousers. Envisioning Yue back on her knees and dragging her tongue along the underside of his dick before swallowing him down her throat.
"Zuko is in a rut, Princess-" Zuko heard someone whisper-shout, and he couldn't stop the twitching of his fingers listening to someone so close to his precious. A protectiveness, Zuko's body, inching itself closer to the door as his sanity slowly started slipping through his fingertips.
"But he needs me, Sokka! Let me in!" Yue cried.
Oh, those sweet cries of her squirting around his fingers as he fingerfucked her on his lap. Maybe he could have her sitting right up against the mirror so she can watch herself cum as his fingers curled inside of her.
No. Yue leave, Zuko begged mentally as he hissed under his breath, taking in that he was currently forcing himself not to rip open their bedroom door and draw her inside.
"Zuko said to keep you, out" Sokka reasoned, but Zuko could hear the determined pout on Yue's lips. Lips that would look so good around Zuko's length. Gagging as he seized her long locks and fucked her mouth, his hips snapping-
Zuko didn't even realize what he was doing until he saw Sokka and Yue before him. The both of them staring up at him like prey that had just been caught, each holding their breath.
"Zuko-" Sokka would blow, but it was fruitless.
Zuko's eyes locked with Yue; pupils blown as he stared at Yue with a wanting that even had Yue quivering in her spot. But despite the pregnant pause that fell over them, Zuko licked his lips because he could see.
The gulp Yue took as she nibbled on her lip, her fingers toying with the front of her dress as a flush painted over her skin. And Zuko swears he could taste Yue in the air. So luscious and delicate.
"Zuko?" Yue would rustle, her hands reaching out to caress his bare chest, but with a wince, Zuko rose his hands, stopping her. His mind was racing, but he knew the moment Yue's skin touched his, he would be far too gone to control. The hungry looks Yue sent him alone were close enough to make him lose it completely, her eyes studying his physique as Zuko combed his hair back.
"Yue, we need to go now," Sokka warned, fast to grab her, but the snarl Zuko unleashed at Sokka had everyone stilling.
It was a warning, the only indication Zuko would give to Sokka because the thought of Yue having another scent on her besides his had him boiling with fury. If only Zuko could have his way, mate her, maybe have her walk around the kingdom every day with his cum dripping from her core to make a damn point.
"I'll make this quick, love." Zuko finally spoke, voice rasped.
His throat felt dry as he fought with the last of his willpower not to pin Yue against the door and fuck her senseless in the hallway. The fact that he was sporting the most prominent hard-on, in view of everyone, didn't even bother him.
Zuko's mind was hyper-focused on Yue. Every time she breathed or blinked, it didn't go ignored by Zuko. And he took a dangerous step forward, his frame towering over her. In seconds, Yue found herself cornered against the door and him, Zuko placing his hands on either side of her face.
"Zuko." Yue questioned, and Zuko spoke, "This is your only warning, love. You run off and stay far, far, away from me. Or-"
"Or?" Yue perked with a curious simper.
"I claim you, no holding back cause I intend to break you." Zuko hushed, and Yue merely giggled.
Such a light-hearted giggle that despite the overwhelming hormones of his heat, Zuko found himself taken aback. It was so out of place, but the way Yue's eyes shined as she looked up at him, continuing to nibble on her lip and batting her eyelashes.
"Break me, Zuko," Yue whispered, and Zuko's eyes shut with a shaky breath as he felt her fingers run down his chest.
Every fantasy, dirty thought that ran through his mind was now coming to life as her soft lips pressed against his, "Claim me like how I claimed you."
Copyright © 2021 Mystic-Kitten-Writer, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.
Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters besides any original characters I have created.
Cross-posted on Ao3/Tumblr/Quotev/Wattpad to discourage plagiarism.
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#smut#tw smut#zuko smut#zuko#atla#avatar the last airbender#tw heat#atla smut#masterlist#yuko#ying yue jiang#drabble#request#smut talk#ask#ask me anything#anon answered#zuko x oc#zuko x reader#abo au#fire lord zuko#heat#fire lord#prince zuko#limerence au
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