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Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

"We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #fic:thoseeyeschico #kookslastbutton

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dungeonpuppykai · 2 months

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|| The Farmer's Way ||

Description: With the gang gone for good, Arthur had retired and you were his reward. Or so he believed.

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Arthur Morgan or the RDR universe. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, gross stuff because that's all I think about while playing the game, age gap, groping, dirty talk, degradation, doggy style, penetration, spanking, biting/marking, sexism, wife kink but it doesn't matter what you identify as because he's gross like that so tw for sure.

Note: Fair warning, he's a bit of a sicko and I am a mental slut. Also this is kinda my first time with gender neutral smut so I am very sorry if I got something wrong. I am willing to rectify if I did make any such mistake.

The hot June air blew past you and pricked at your rather pampered skin. You felt a droplet of sweat trickle down your temple as you winced and shielded your face from the sun, the rays now attacking the skin of your arm instead. A grunt escaped you when you willed your feet, which were clad in some glittery pumps, to push on towards the huge barn of your family farm. A string of disgusted curses foxed their way out of your mouth when the smell of dung and hay wafted into your nostrils from the giant red wooden box that was literally radiating stinky heat.

Your feet halted right outside the heavy double doors and you had to take a long breath to brace yourself before you entered. Your features scrunched in disdain as you tried to hold your breath, clutching the cool jug and glass that you were holding tighter as you slipped inside before the weight of the door caused it to close by itself. Clenching your jaw to focus on the task at hand, you slowly walked forwards and concentrated on your breathing to ensure you didn't inhale any of the barn filth.

It was a fairly easy piece of work.

Give the lemonade to your husband and leave.

Simple, right?

No.

Not when said husband is Arthur Morgan.

As his fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep you from leaving after you had placed the jug and glass down, your breath hitched as you felt a bile rise in your throat from pure disgust. The dust and sweat on his fingers was gut wrenching.

"Fixin' to leave already?" His other hand came up to tangle in one of the two silky ribbons you wore on both sides of your head in half ponytails after he had pulled you against his hard chest, the coarse hairs on his chest scratching the skin of your back. "I was missin' you so much, baby" you uneasily shifted in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin when you felt his fingers trail up from your wrist to your forearm. "It's almost like you showed up 'cause you read my mind" you could barely suppress your gasp as your body jumped in reaction to his stubbly lips suddenly finding your ear.

"I…" Your voice was a mere squeak and you had to concentrate to make yourself sound a bit less pathetic. "I left the food on the stove" your eyes fluttered shut before clenching as you suppressed the urge to retch at both the feeling and smell, arm folding to let your elbow press into the side of his torso. The man only hummed as his browned and dirty hands felt you up, basically frisking your barely clad body as his lips pressed rushed kisses against your neck. "A- Arthur!" You flinched when he bit down on a hickey on the junction of your neck, fingers finding your nipples through the sheer fabric of one of the many silk dresses he made you wear.

The older man did not budge, only grunting when you probed his chest harder, hips trying to wriggle free. "The grub can wait, hush now" your limbs screamed at you to fight. Try and push him away. Hit him with something. Make a run for it. Never look back. "Mmm, baby" your eyes teared up when his other hand slipped from the ribbon to trail down your abdomen and to your nether regions. "If it was up to me, I'd keep ya bare as a jaybird 'round the clock" your jaw clenched at his words but you knew better than to hurl the heavy jug that was in front of you against his head.

Because you had done stuff like that countless times in the beginning of your forced marriage seven months ago.

Except, you had no idea how but your husband had somehow trained and kept a number of wolves to guard the property only God knew how.

No one could come in and you could never leave.

The punishments that you had been subjected to upon trying to do so were more than enough to keep you on your best behavior.

"Oh, darlin', you taste mighty fine" you were flipped and easily backed into one of the many stables. "Now, let me try out that pretty little mouth" your eyebrows scrunched as you craned your neck backwards to get away from him. The reverberations of Arthur's chuckle buzzed through your chest as he pressed into you and left you trapped and helpless. "Ain't ya just a foolish little thing? Thinkin' you can get away from your old man?" His rough palms cupped your face as he dipped his head in, chasing your lips with his own and snickering when you tried to move.

When you had seen this mysterious cowboy turn up to buy your family farm off of your useless brother seven months ago, you had not thought much of it. Sure, you were angry that his gambling had ended him up in so much debt that he had no choice but to sell off your family legacy, but you had bright plans with your scholarship program at a prestigious college, and you had been so ready to leave this life that you had never liked much in the first place behind for one of revolution and modernity.

Only, when all of your documentation as well as your brother and his family disappeared the night before your final departure, the then stranger and now your husband revealed that you had been part of the deal.

As Arthur fucked into you on your wedding night -as he had promised your brother that he would not take you before that-, the man had confessed how lovely you had looked resting on a tree branch as you chewed on your lip, completely engrossed in your book.

You knew alcohol and the colorful powders that your brother loved to use had done his mind in, but handing you off like merchandise to a man with no regard for your orientation or taste was something you had never expected from him. Not after he had been your legal guardian for so long.

But then again, he never understood your ways and thought revolution was a blasphemy.

In your brother's world, you either did the hard work on the field or became a field worker's home runner.

And your open disdain for the farm work had earned you the latter.

The irony was laughable, because he probably thought he was protecting you by choosing a secure future for his baby sibling. The right thing.

Your spark had always scared him, and so he suppressed it once and for all under the mundaneness of the farm by locking you up in his own kind of a gilded cage and handing the keys to the man who was all over you at the moment.

'Excitement is a double edged sword. It is thrilling and promising but it can also be dangerous.' That you couldn't deny.

The thrumming in your nether regions was proof.

Frightening, shameful, repulsive proof.

"Arthur…" You whimpered as your vision zeroed in on his rough lips that brushed against yours soon before pressing into them.

The man moaned, rubbing his crotch against yours as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and forcing his tongue in your mouth, the taste of cigarettes and coffee making you cringe and try to move away but a tight squeeze to your ass with his coarse hand made you gasp and hence open your mouth. Then his tongue was down your throat.

Everything was rough and dirty about him.

You hated it.

Sometimes he purposely rubbed his filth against your clean clothes and body to add insult to injury. He would laugh as you would hold your breath and try to get away only to be trapped between his strong body and some surface. Arthur would then watch you squirm and struggle until you ran out of breath and had no choice but to inhale his scent.

"Dang it, I can't hold back no more" Arthur was panting when he finally broke off to let you both breathe, one of his hands bolting down to his belt while the other one held you steady. "I need ya right now…" The kiss had flushed your lips and you could feel the change in size as you ran your tongue over them to accumulate some moisture. "You gonna be good and take it for me, darlin', won't ya?" And while your brain screamed at you to know better, you squeezed your legs and whined, taking deep breaths as one of your fists bunched some of his sweaty shirt in it.

"Arthur…" A small smirk made its way on his face while he hurriedly relieved himself of all decency. He recognized that tone.

"Now ya know better than to call me that, baby" heat spread across your cheeks as you whimpered, biting your lip before you lowered your head and reached for his hand that was pinching one of your nipples through your sheer dress. "Go on now, you know my preference" your eyes fluttered shut as you took a shaky breath, massaging the hand that was toying with your chest and arching your back.

"... H- Hubby…" Arthur cursed under his breath like he always did whenever he got you to call him that. Then he reached out for your other hand and brought it to his erect cock, the feeling of its thick veins against your soft fingertips causing your hole to clench around air.

"Aw, shit, darlin'" he guided your hand up and down his twitching cock. "Can ya feel it?" His body pressed against yours. "This here is what ya do to me" the tip of his organ released some hot precum and you couldn't help but shudder at the memories it triggered.

Memories of how it felt inside you.

Before you knew it, as always, reason was out the window before you could grab onto it and your mind had decided shame could come later. Who knew when or if you would ever make it out of here and Arthur was way too good at making you feel strange things that kept you giving into him for more.

"Please, hubby" you whispered, unable to hold back anymore as you worked your wrist to please him. "Please…"

"Please, what, baby?" He pecked your lips over and over before moving down to the corner of your mouth and then further along your jaw. "Use your words for me" his lips locked around a patch of your delicate skin as he sucked, causing you to bend your back outwards. "Get, now."

"P- Please take me…" You shuddered as the sound of his lips forming yet another bruise along the expanse of your neck grew louder and louder in the air. "Please… please…" You couldn't get yourself to utter any more obscenity than that.

"You mean you want me to fuck you?" Your heart dropped at the bluntness of his words, the feeling of his stubbly lips curling against your skin almost making you want to retreat, but only almost.

Besides, you couldn't leave on your accord even if you wanted to.

Though you really didn't want to leave this barn anymore.

Not before the ache between your legs was relieved.

When you didn't respond verbally, Arthur clicked his tongue as he came back up to face you and reached for his hat before placing it on your head. He loved to take you like that. "Come on, darlin'. You know I ain't gon' do nothin' 'til you say it for me" but then one of his hands creeped between your legs to caress your intimate part and your legs trembled in reaction; body submitting at once.

Taking in a deep and shaky breath, you braced yourself before mumbling out your words, hoping and praying they were enough for him because you knew as well as you knew it was day that you didn't have any more indecency in you to talk the kind of filth he could with a straight face.

"P- Please fuck me, hubby…" One of his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer.

"I'm sorry, what was that there?" You almost choked his cock between your fingers but you knew better than hostility.

"I- I said…"

"You said?"

Your jaw clenched in annoyance because you were so needy all thanks to his dirty hands and now he was not helping.

"I said p- please fuck me, hubby" you said as clearly as you possibly could, tone almost blunt.

He finally seemed intent. "Your wish is my command, darlin'" the man had you flipped and bent over the stable before you could even register it.

Your gaze settled on the little pony in front of you as you felt his stiff tip prod your entrance, the foreplay having lubed his cock more than enough. Since you weren't allowed to wear underwear, the lack of it granted him easier access to you and Arthur was sliding in with a grunt a moment later, squeezing both your ass cheeks at the same time as he cursed.

"Fuck, baby. You're the tightest little thing I've ever laid down with" your fingers gripped the stable as you jumped when he landed a spank to one of your cheeks, slowly moving through you to get you to adjust. "Shit, look at you. Such a pretty little farm wife, baby" your face scrunched up in both discomfort and sensory overload due to how sensitive you felt down there.

"Please…" Your mouth always betrayed you in moments like these despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible.

But it felt even better when you let it get the best of you and drown you completely, the vile words coming out of your own mouth adding to the pressure between your hips before stars exploded in your vision.

"Please what, sweet little thing?" You felt his chest drape over your back as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against yours, hips starting to find a rhythm as the speed of his thrusts increased.

"Please… more" you couldn't help but lean your face against his to withstand the sensitivity, eyes fluttering as you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration, your velvety walls sheathing his veiny cock with every push.

Arthur's chest reverberated against your back. "Ya act like you're too good for all this, but deep down you're just a horny little hussy, ain't ya darlin'?" You whined loudly as you clenched around him, starting to move your own hips against his now. "Jus' look at you, whinin' and squeezin' 'round me in front of li'l Sally like a silly 'lil jezebel" that was what you had named the pony that stared at you with her curious eyes. "But ya love that deep down, don't ya?" Your eyebrows furrowed when his words started to crack the haze that had formed in your mind, making you lower your head to cancel him out and focus on your relief.

But you could never win with Arthur.

"You can go on ahead and deny it all you want. But this trashy li'l hole of yours tells me all I need to know everytime, honey" his lips bluntly moved against the shell of your ear as he gathered one of your knees in his hands and pushed it up against the frame of the stable before finding its way to your nipples again, other hand gliding down to the quivering organ between your legs.

As Arthur's hips sped up and your body started to rock back and forth against the wooden frame with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin clapping against its like filled up the smelly barn. His hat fell over your eyes and you knew you were in for a long day.

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bethanythebogwitch · 4 months

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Wet Beast Wednesday: oarfish

It's the first Wet Beast Wednesday of the year. A year is a long time, and do you know what else is long? Oarfish! (A+ segue right there). Oarfish are long, skinny, and large fish of the family Regalecidae known for their odd appearances. There are three known species of oarfish in two genera: Agrostichthys parkeri, Regalecus russelii, and the most famous: Regalecus glesne.

(image id: a giant oarfish swimming. It is a long, serpentine fish with silvery skin ands multiple black patches. A short, red dorsal fin runs down its back and a crest of fin rays is on the head. end id)

All oarfish are poorly understood due to their deep-sea habitats leaving it hard to study them in the wild. As such, most information about them is known from rare wild sightings and carcasses. Adults live between 250 and 1000 meters (660 to 3300 ft) down, but larvae are occasional juveniles are found near the surface. Living oarfish that end up near the surface are likely to quickly die of depressurization. All species are long, slender, and scaleless, with elongated fin rays at the leading edge of the dorsal and pectoral fins that result in training crests. Their mouths are small and usually toothless (though some have been found with vestigial teeth) and can protrude outward. This protrusion creates suction, which the oarfish uses to draw food into its mouth. Its diet consists of zooplankton, primarily krill and shrimp, but also jellyfish, squid, small fish, and other crustaceans. They lack swim bladders and likely have to actively swim to maintain their position in the water column. Oarfish are believed to use two kinds of locomotion. They can undulate their whole body or by holding the body straight and moving only the long dorsal fin. Regardless of method, oarfish are not strong swimmers. Many of the vertebrae in the tail are hyper-ossified, meaning they have excess bone growth. This is believed to provide support for the tail as it moves and prevent fractures. It also likely helps control buoyancy. In some specimens, the tail appears to be blunted. This is speculated to be the result of self-amputation. The hypothesis is that the oarfish can drop part of its tail to escape predators. The predator would then go after the tail rather than expend more energy attacking the fleeing fish. The ability to lose a body part like this is called autotomy. While some animals who practice autotomy can regrow the lost body part, there is no evidence that oarfish can regrow their tails. Little is known about oarfish reproduction, but they are presumed to reproduce externally and provide little or no parental care. Larval oarfish float below the ocean's surface and feed on plankton. Juvenile oarfish have occasionally been found swimming at shallow depths. It is not clear how long oarfish development takes or at what point they descend into the deep sea. The lifespan is also unknown. Footage of oarfish in their natural habitat shows that they spend a lot of their time positioned vertically in the water, with their heads facing the surface. This would help them spot prey silhouetted against the sunlit surface of the water.

(image id: a closeup of the head of a giant oarfish lying on sand. The head is indistinct from the body. It has a large, silver eye with black pupil. The mouth is oriented vertically, making it look very odd compared to most fish mouths. The rest on its head and elongated pectoral fin rays are visible. End id)

(image id: four pictures of larval Regalecus russelii. It is of a similar body shape to an adult, but shorter and without pigment. The first fin rays for the head and fin crests are visible. End id. source)

The smallest of the oarfish is Agrostichthys parkeri, sometimes called the streamer fish. Small is a relative term as it can grow up to 3 meters (9.8 ft) long. Unlike the other known oarfish, it has hard nodules on its skin that may help with defense. A. parkeri is the least-well known of the oarfish. Only seven specimens have ever been examined. They have only ever been found in the southern Pacific ocean. The next largest is Regalecus russelii, Russell's oarfish. It can reach 5.4 meters (18 ft) long and is found worldwide along the equator. The largest and most famous species is Regalecus glesne, the giant oarfish. At recorded sizes up to 8 meters (26 ft) and 270 kg (600 lbs) and unconfirmed reported sizes up to 11 meters (36 ft), the giant oarfish is the longest bony fish alive today. Truley the longest of bois. They are found worldwide between the equatorial and polar regions.

(image id: the head of a deceased Agrostichthys parkeri lying on sand. Its head is longer than that of the giant oarfish and the open mouth appears as an extension of the head. end id)

(image id: a juvenile Regalecus russelii found in the great barrier reef. It looks similar to the giant oarfish, but is considerably smaller and its body is a pale blue. end id)

Due to their long, slender bodies, relative rarity, and extreme size, sightings of oarfish are speculated to have been responsible for many sightings of sea serpents. While most sea serpents were described as terrifying monsters that would attack ships, oarfish are completely harmless to humans. The reverse is not the case, as oarfish are occasionally caught as bycatch. There is no commercial fishery for oarfish as their meat is too poor quality to be used as food. One common name for oarfish is "king of herrings". This came from early reports of them apparently swimming amongst schools of herring, with sailors assuming the oarfish were leading the herring. In Japanese mythology, oarfish are known as "Ryūgū-no-tsukai" which translates to "messengers from the palace of the sea god". A bit of Japanese folklore considers oarfish to be harbingers of earthquakes. There is no scientific evidence for any relationship between oarfish and earthquakes, but the belief got boosted after mass strandings of Russel's Oarfish happened in early 2010 and a massive earthquake occurred in 2011. Little is known about the conservation needs of all species of oarfish and no species currently has legal protection.

(image id: 17 people (with more in the background) holding up a deceased giant oarfish to show its scale. end id)

#wet beast wednesday #oarfish #long boi #giant oarfish #Agrostichthys parkeri #Regalecus russelii #Regalecus glesne #fish #fishblr #fishposting #marine biology #biology #zoology #ichthyology #animal facts #long post #image described #cw dead animal

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tantei-chan01 · 5 months

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Animals Continued

Xxxxx

Once the World Tour is taken care of, with the rock trolls agreeing to help with the damages, the rest of the tribes return to their respective territories. There's just one issue, the wild life have gotten bolder.

Since the attack, many of their defenses have been destroyed, causing the local wildlife to get closer to the residents. There haven't been any attacks, but it does make the citizens nervous.

Techno trolls have sharks, eels, and large squid that are their natural predators. It's also the time of year for the giant mana ray migration, so they need to figure out a way to redirect them without their tech.

The Classical trolls have large preditory birds to worry about, and they're having trouble getting their eighth goats under control.

The Country trolls have many poisoness animals in the desert. Their cattle have been scared off so many times that they won't get close to the town.

The Funk trolls have to stay grounded until repairs are done on the ship, since they haven't been on the ground for so long, they're not quite sure how to deal with many of the creatures.

The Rock trolls also have a problem, with so many of the citizens in different territories to help with repairs. They've neglected their own issues with the lava crocs and boulder buzzards.

When Poppy learns of this, she sends in the one troll who can help them.

Enter Branch.

At first, Branch was a little apprehensive to leave the village, they still have some repairs to do, and it's mating season for the puffalo. The Snack Pack tell him that they can handle the reconstruction and Milton can help with the puffalo. So he packs up his bags and starts heading toward the other tribes.

Xxx

Branch spends a month in each tribe to do his job. He tackles the predators first, spending two weeks studying their habits and memorizing their sounds. Once he finds a pattern in the communication or an exploitable weakness, he makes a strategy and collaborates with the other trolls on how to best go through it. Some animals he was able to convince to move areas, others he had no choice but use force.

Once the predators are taken care of, he gets to the domestic animals. Like before, he memorizes the habits and sounds. Once he has a form of communication going, he'll ask them what they need. He then relays the message to the trolls, and they start making accommodations.

The other tribes notice how their pets and livestock seem much calmer around the once gray troll. Even the more temperamental of their creature become putty in his hands. Many have called him the 'Animal Whisperer', and the more romantic types call him an Angel.

To say thanks for helping them, each tribe gives him an animal.

Techno gave him a Low beat Turtle, similar to Suki's bugs, the have a turntable on their back. They can move on land and can create a low vibration sound that has a calming effect.

Classical gave him three eighth goats as they do better in a herd than by themselves. Their wool is fluffy and warm, making incredible blankets, pillows, and sweaters. They also have a melodious bleat.

Country gave him a dairy Bluegrass Buffalo, they're a sandy blue color cow. They make a delicious and nutritious milk and are very gentle.

Funk gave him a snug-a-lug since Branch can talk to them. He can figure out how to hug it without multiplying. And yes, Branch can make that cute little warble it does.

Rock gave him a Lava Snake, they vary in color from dark red to an ashy gray. Their hide is very tough while their underbelly is quite soft. They can withstand extremely high temperatures, and their skin can be melted to create many things once they shed. The young one likes to sleep in the fireplace.

The animals in Pop village take them under their tutelage to become Branch's bodyguards, unbeknownst to him.

#trolls #trolls branch #au #mute!branch #trolls band together #branch #dreamworks trolls #trolls the beat goes on #trolls world tour #trolls trollstopia #techno trolls #country trolls #funk trolls #classical trolls #rock trolls #trolls barb

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itsonlydana · 2 months

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"passenger princess" | chapter six

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,9k

❱ summary: a horror movie, 'your dad jokes' and overcoming the fear of being vulnerable by opening up

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: we're back on schedule! Anyone got the reference with the documentary?🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SIX: MOVIE

It was movie night and once again you found yourself sitting on the giant sofa, a glass of wine cradled between your hands as you watched Legolas and Aragorn argue over what to watch.

It was amusing, really, to simply sit back and observe how both completely missed the fact they could be on the same page if they weren't blinded by the urge to please the other.

While Legolas was trying his hardest to convince Aragorn you didn't have to watch another romcom and he would much rather try to understand that one French art film Aragorn studied in his poetry class, the brunette was keen on rewatching Mean Girls for Legolas.

They seemed to have forgotten you were there to be included in the discussion.

Feet burrowed into the cushions under you you sipped on the wine that Thranduil brought out to the pool two days ago.

Every sip brought the scent of sunscreen and the warm rays of sunshine back to you on this rainy evening.

Your gaze trailed to the floor-to-ceiling windows next to the sofa, right outside to where the pool was illuminated by lanterns and laid undisturbed except for the raindrops splattering onto the surface.

Thinking back to that day, you felt a heat creeping into your cheeks that not only came from the wine.

You had no idea what had been the push into the decision but when Thranduil had joined you in the pool, he had joined you. Not just sitting at the edge or watching you from the shadow of the terrace.

He'd come outside and immediately shed himself from his shirt and trousers, leaving you to a close death with every layer of fabric removed and every bit of light skin revealed.

You nearly had a heart attack at the sight of his upper body and the lean muscles you had known were there, but never had the pleasure –and oh, it truly was a fucking pleasure– to see in all their glory.

Thranduils shoulders were broad, yet fit his form and the adonis belt that accentuated his –must be said– slender waist.

The sentiment that no man his age should be allowed to be this good-looking extended to include all men or women no matter the age. It made little sense to you that this man looked like that at his age when you knew full well that he didn't exercise.

He had a body to fantasize about, and you gladly did.

"What do you say?" Aragorn called to you from the other end of the couch, where he was rubbing his temple, "Tell Legolas I really don't mind watching whatever he chooses."

"Oh, you remembered I'm still here?" you asked while Legolas gasped and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Yes, but you shouldn't not mind, you should enjoy the movie as well!"

"Legolas, I mean it. It's alright if we watch Mean Girls!"

"Woah, pause!" you took another sip and swiped the air with the other hand. "You two have been so insufferable ever since you did it. Can we go back to pining but without all the.. you know, back bending for just a movie?"

It shut them up, maybe they thought you hadn't noticed them sneaking off together or whatever the reason was, you were glad for the momentary silence.

"Let's just do the 'surprise me' thingy and no one will be truly happy, alright?"

No idea when you'd become the voice of reason but both nodded in agreement, sparing shy smiles to each other that said more apologies than Legolas had ever given to you in words, for the evenings you had to watch his choice of movie.

Love could really change a person.

"Fine," Legolas threw his long legs into movement, walked to the cabinets next to the flatscreen, and grabbed the remote. "Next time we–"

"We'll have the same discussion over and over again," Aragorn added.

"You're disgusting," you pretended to gag, heaving your chest for dramatic effect, "Finishing each other's sentences is so cringe."

"Using cringe in a sentence is cringe."

"Shut up and dim the lights, Las. Please down to the level that's in your head, alright?" You smiled angelicly, cheeks hurting from the effort though it was all worth it at Legolas scowl when he tried to fish for a response but ended up silently muttering under his breath and turning the lights off.

Engulfed in near darkness you only saw his lanky figure reach for something on the incliner next to the sofa before a cushion flew toward you with a scarily accuracy.

Wouldn't you have leaned to the side because you wanted to place the glass onto the coffee table, there would've been an accident for sure.

"Legolas you fucking idiot," you swore, already grabbing the cushion that hit your back. "Do you want another wine-stain incident?"

The wine-stain-incident of last year went down in history as the biggest argument this house had ever seen.

Legolas and Thranduil had been arguing like never before, snapping at each other back and forth for days over red wine spilled over the newly bought designer sofa cushions.

It went so far that Legolas camped at your dorm for a whole weekend, clearing out your fridge and complaining that his Ada was up his ass for an accident he didn't even remember.

After three days of coming home from work and seeing Legolas sulk on your bed, the thing that pushed your patience over the edge had been one night when the blonde couldn't sleep and decided that your bed was big enough for him to cuddle you; big surprise: it wasn't.

Nothing was big enough in the tin can of a dorm.

"So what?" Legolas fell onto the sofa next to Aragorn, giving you plenty of space to spread out on your half, "I'm just gonna tell him it was you again. Nothing's gonna happen then."

"You're a wicked man, Las," Aragorn said. Legolas grinned.

You snorted. "Sure, if you want your ass handed to you. Don't think it's going to work twice."

"Oh no, it will." Legolas raised an eyebrow much similar to his father, "Just like last time his anger will go up in the smoke the second he sees you and then–" he cooed in a very over-the-top imitation of Thranduil, "–no no no, it's alright! I hated the sofa anyways.. what? It's new? Doesn't matter, I'll buy a new one, babe."

"He doesn't sound like that and it wasn't like that!" you complained.

It had been exactly like that.

"It kinda was," Aragorn chimed in and received a smile (Legolas) and an angry huff (you).

Legolas tapped away on the remote, lightning up the living room as the flatscreen showed the last thing that had been watched.

Some nature documentary that, in the small second Legolas gave you before opening up the streaming app, seemed to be about whales and crocodiles.

Thranduils taste in movies was everything Legolas didn't enjoy: docus with long biology conversations, silent black and white classics or, his guilty pleasure, fake jury shows where he would point out where they went wrong or how inaccurate the case was.

You adored how he would sit on the sofa wearing his slim glasses and pretend he wasn't interested in the drama at all.

"Alright," Legolas said and pressed a button for the random movie.

"By the way," you said hushed, "He doesn't call me babe. Your father calls me sweetheart or darling, which is completely different and so much more endearing in my opinion."

Aragorn let out a loud breath and leaned over to rub Legolas' shoulder. "Wow, that was basically a 'your mom' joke, although much more eloquent. Hope you're alright."

"He will survive," you waved off, "It's not like I told him how he–"

"No, I actually don't want to hear that!" Legolas interrupted you loudly and turned up the sound of the TV, shutting down every remark that could've followed by the loud boom that cracked through the surround system like thunder.

You didn't need to read the title of the movie, that the first scene was a first-person shot of someone running through the woods at night and the only sound was their breathing and the snapping of twigs was telling you exactly what you were in for.

"Sorry," Legolas said before you even opened your mouth, grinning over at you in the moonshine light of the movie, "No take backsies for any insults just because you don't wanna watch horror!"

"But–"

"No no, no buts."

"You're so mean," Aragorn said to Legolas, but nevertheless grabbed one of the blankets beside him and threw it toward you, "Here, to protect you from any murderers."

You stuck out your tongue at him and yanked the blanket over.

Horror, was by far, the worst outcome of the random selection.

Everything else would've been fine, hell, even a compilation of every time you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Thranduil could be an easier watch than an hour.. oh well two hours of jumpscares.

"You'll be fine," Legolas was already munching on the popcorn he'd prepared earlier, throwing the golden snack into his open mouth and –naturally– not missing a single piece.

It was infuriating how talented he was in some aspects.

"Just don't look to your left and imagine the killer's waiting for you behind the trees."

"I hate you so much."

As expected, the blanket provided little comfort as the movie progressed and whenever you glanced over to Aragorn and Legolas, you could see them whispering together, quietly laughing over the dumb decisions the main character made.

So unfair they had fun while you suffered.

The scenes got even worse the longer you watched, tension sharpening like the knives you saw on screen, flashing in and out as the killer sneaked through the woods. The wind outside as well as inside screamed like a boiling kettle, rattling as the storm picked up and hammered the wind against the window.

There were creaks and echoes everywhere.

Every hair on your body stood up, an electrifying rush of adrenalin cursing through your body and having you cling to the blanket in an attempt to shield yourself.

It came out of nowhere.

The sound of a door opening and immediately shutting close with a bang loud enough that you let out a scream like your life depended on it.

It led to Legolas joining in, yelling in surprise and as he turned around to stare into the dark kitchen, the popcorn flew everywhere.

There, looming in the doorframe was a tall figure, dripping water and looking extremely haunted by the white flashes of the screen illuminating long wet hair and hauntingly sharp cheekbones.

"Oh my fucking god.. fuck! Fuck this shit," you gasped for air, inhaling one breath after the other until you were nearly dizzy.

"Ada, you scared the shit out of us!" Legolas quickly let go of Aragorn, whom he'd jumped the second he'd heard your scream pierce the quiet room.

"My apologies," Thranduils deep rumble sounded.. off. Strained, like the lopsided smile on his lips. "That was not my intention." He looked around, pausing at you and for a second the look on his face seemed haunted. "Please, continue. I'll be upstairs and make sure not to bother you anymore."

"Thran–" you started and rose to bend over the back of the sofa.

He stopped in his movement, haltering to nod at you, "Hi, sweetheart, excuse me for scaring you like that. You look lovely, though." And then he was already stalking back to the hallway, his wet hair clinging to his equally drenched coat.

You turned to Legolas and Aragorn, your expression communicating the confusion you felt clearly by the look of their equally unsure faces.

"Ada?" Legolas called, not looking away from you, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes?"

"I may have spilled wine onto the new white carpet. It was some hours ago but maybe we can fix it?" Questioningly you inclined your head, close to asking him what the fuck he was talking about, when Thranduil answered:

"Oh, no worries," –your eyes widened– "It's fine. Let's talk later."

"Well," Legolas stated as soon as you heard Thranduil walk up the stairs. "Either someone kidnapped Ada and that's someone else, or he's calculating how to murder you two for practically living here at this point."

Aragorn, sensing that this wasn't the time to continue, paused the movie. Even he was frowning.

You fell back onto your bottom, eyes flickering back to the doorway in uncertainty. "So I didn't just hallucinate that? You noticed how weird he was?"

"So weird. Maybe something happened?" Aragorn mused and started picking up the popcorn Legolas had strewn all over the place.

"Maybe he finally realized I live here rent-free as well."

You and Aragorn looked at each other. You spoke up first: "Las, the way you inhale his snacks and wine he's just ignorant of the fact. Do you have any idea what's up with him?"

Legolas shrugged, throwing one of the popcorn pieces into his mouth again. "Not the slightest. Haven't seen him like that since.. oh–", he paused, grimacing like he tasted something sour.

"What?" Next to him, Aragorn took away another lint-covered popcorn before he could eat that as well.

Suddenly, Legolas seemed sheepish, his gaze scattering everywhere except you which you immediately noticed.

"Legolas, since when?"

"'S probably doesn't matter," he mumbled, his face turning a traitorous reddish shade that reached the top of his pointy ears.

"You're lying," you detected, not trying to hide the sharp edge in your voice. This was quickly escalating, moving far beyond a simple discussion over what movie to watch. "What's going on? He's never like that… at all. He looked like he'd run over someone!"

"Love," Aragorn tried softly, but you were already too busy staring at Legolas to notice.

"You really want to know?" Legolas asked, the blanket he and Aragorn were under clutched into his fists. "I'll tell you but don't, and I mean it, don't zero in on that. This could be different, like completely." After your nod and a look over his shoulder to check that Thranduil wasn't creeping through the hallway with an axe, he continued:

"Y'know my mother left him, right?"

As soon as he mentioned her, you grew wearily. "Yes–"

"So she left when I was still a baby, like no worries he's fine with it and I'm fine with it and we were alright. He kinda knew it would happen, she was around but never there. He was the one giving up half of his firm so that he could work less and mostly from home. She just.. didn't change at all and when she was gone, Ada wasn't surprised."

You knew the story, it was one of those things Legolas had shared with you under the confined comfort of the blanket of the night and his bed.

"Uhm.. yeah, I don't know how to tell you this but she came back once."

The world swayed, ripping open right in front of you and you felt yourself tumbling, one foot over the edge of that darkness this statement had dunked your head into.

"Oh," you said, immediately trying to shut down the feelings of unease and insecurity gnawing at your mind. "I mean, she's your mom?"

Legolas huffed, "Barely. Biologically yes, but even then one could argue I'm Ada's clone." He grew serious again, his long fingers tapping the arm he'd thrown over his middle, "T'was like what.. nine years.. ten years ago? I was in the kitchen doing my homework when the keys turned and some woman suddenly stood in front of me that I didn't recognize but knew who she was. I kinda screamed. Ada came and when he saw her, he looked just like he looked then."

You blinked, your breathing coming in a bit faster than what you would define as 'totally fine'.

"What happened then?" Aragorn asked for you. Thankfully, because you weren't sure what to say.

"He threw her out and called someone to change the locks," Legolas said and lifted his head to stare at you, "Ada told her to go to hell or he'll sue the living shit out of her for child abandonment and whatever dirt he would find. Yes, he had the same look on his face, yes he was so fucking weird and kind of apathetic but, and listen to me; this could be a whole other thing."

"Wha– what.." you started, stumbling even over that one word, "what if it's not? Maybe he changed his opinion over time."

"Sure," he rolled his eyes but dropped the sarcasm when it did not comfort you at all, "No seriously, believe me, he doesn't want her in his, my, or our life. Not then, not now, not when you two finally figured yourselves out."

While that helped just as much as throwing a single glass of water onto a giant campfire, you nodded and put on a mask of uninterest.

Simply because it was much easier than getting into a whole discussion over feelings that may or may not be out of place.

He could've simply had a bad day at work.

"Let's just continue?" you asked, nearly begged, and were glad when Legolas and Aragorn didn't say another word but started the movie again to fill the awkward silence.

Under the blankets, you were wired.

You'd known you should've let it rest, to leave Legolas alone and maybe if that story had stayed untold, the straw just waiting to be dropped, hadn't dropped to throw your mind into a frenzy that was based on a "what if" situation you had on your hands because of a single, small interaction.

Well, it stood out and didn't fit Thranduil at all, but should you really care that much?

As Legolas said, you and he hadn't even figured out what was going on, just that there was something you both wanted to pursue.

The movie didn't fade you the slightest after the conversation, the next minutes flew past you like they didn't happen at all and when you heard Thranduil come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, you flew from the couch.

"Be right back," you muttered as you ducked past Legolas and Aragorn; the latter brushing his hand over yours to give it a gentle squeeze.

The momentum that led to you standing up in the first place left you at the sight of Thranduil's turned back, hunched over a plate of chocolate cake Legolas had bought while shopping for snacks.

He looked so weary and tired, deep worry lines indicating his age, still attractive and even more now that he had his hair up in a bun and wore sweatpants you'd never seen him in, but yes, exhaustion was written all over his face when he turned around.

"Hi," you shuffled around, making a lame hand movement that was neither a wave nor anything else, "Should I go? No forget that, of course I'll leave you alone. Never asked, alright? Bye—"

"Stay?"

The question was soft and almost overshadowed by the squeaks of fear coming from the TV.

"I…," you started, stammering but when Thranduil held out the plate and the cake he was still shoveling into his mouth in big bites, you agreed. "Of course."

You jumped onto the counter next to him, ignoring how the sight of sweatpants, gray slightly baggy but not baggy enough sweatpants!, up close messed up every single thought swarming around your head like busy bees.

He leaned back against the counter beside you, ankles crossed and his head thunked against one of the hanging cabinets on the wall.

For a while, all you did was let Thranduil feed you bites of the cake, taking every fork he held up to your mouth carefully and swallowing the questions you wanted to ask with it.

He ate as well, lifting one bite after the other to his lips in between feeding you and every time your eyes hung onto his plush mouth.

Not because his rosy lips looked especially enticing with chocolate cream smeared into their corners, but because of the indications of his teeth in them, in the raw bitten look of them that told you there was definitely something going on.

"Hey," you nudged your leg against his side, "do you want to talk about it?"

The sigh that left his throat sounded more like the groan of a pained animal, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed another bite before placing the plate on the kitchen island.

"You don't have to," you followed up in a rush, not wanting to corner him or force him.

"I should." Thranduil kicked one foot against the counter and turned his head so he looked at you.

Sitting up there, you were close enough to reach over and, in a moment of spontaneity, wipe away the chocolate on his lips.

He caught your hand, pressing a quick kiss onto your palm and keeping it in his when he dropped them.

"Yes, I should absolutely tell you," he swallowed again, "you have a right to now as someone.. as someone important in my life." The way he talked and furrowed his eyebrows showed how much energy and willpower it took him to admit that.

It meant a lot that he tried and cared about the conversation about opening up and being there, being in.

"I got a call at work today that I didn't expect and I'm still unsure what to make of it." Thranduil's hand tightened ever so slightly. His teeth once again found their place in his lower lip, dragging it back and releasing it.

"A lawyer informed me Legolas' mother wants to talk to me."

The air left your body instantly, the sentence punching you into the gut with an iron fist that had 'shouldn't have asked' imprinted on it and marking you all over.

Thranduil noticed, of course, he did, and lifted your intertwined hands for another kiss onto your knuckles.

"I told them not to bother me again," he clarified fast, "Told them ten years ago, told them now."

"Legolas told me that happened," you admitted quietly and let your head fall on top of his shoulders.

"I hope he told you that I had never any interest in keeping contact or searching that woman. I respected her choice to step away from our lives; she expressed a reluctance to embrace motherhood, and I had no authority to impose that role on her if it brought genuine discontent."

"Yes, he said that as well to comfort me."

"And I presume it did not?" Thranduil spoke forward into the otherwise empty kitchen and you followed his words with your eyes, searching the tiled floor for the courage to jump over that damn river of worries that hindered you from opening up.

He did it as well, you thought, he said you had a right to know, that you were someone important in his life.

"No," you finally acquiesced, feet firmly planted onto the metaphorical ground.

"Not the slightest. There is this woman I don't know, the mother of my best friend and the ex-partner of this man I really like and she's a total mystery and suddenly I hear she tried contacting you a few years back and now again and my mind can't help but project that she would be a much better fit to you than me."

There was a pause as the words sunk in.

Then Thranduil turned, opening up your legs with his large hands and stepping in between them.

The dimmed kitchen lights made this intimate, tension there was none for the look in his eyes spoke more of worry and his hands placing themselves under your thighs to pull you closer with effortless strength acted more out of the need to hold you than anything sexual.

"Darling," Thranduil's face filled your entire vision, the impact of the worry etched into the darker circles under his eyes hitting you square into the heart. "I can follow that train of worry and this is not me dismissing it but rather me questioning myself and my actions. Have I given you a reason to believe you're not the only one I want to spend my time with? You alone roam through my house and my head and dreams as if you own them, no one else."

You shook your head and rested your free hand on his chest, splaying your entire palm on the crimson sweater he wore, "Never. But she's probably your age and I'm... well I'm not."

"That is true. She is my age and you are not. She's also– what did Legolas say ten years ago?" He thought back, "Ah yes," he tipped his head closer, leaning his forehead against yours, "No one important. No one worth a second thought. No one, and now those are my words, that would come between you and me."

Your hands wandered, trailing up his collarbone standing out, and up his cold throat.

The hairs you brushed on his neck were still slightly wet, curling at the bottom as they slowly dried. "Then why were you this worried?"

He paused, mirroring you and cupping your face in his warmed hands, "This plagued me for different reasons. A part of me feared you would get scared and I might lose you, and the other was circling the dumb idea that Legolas could be angry that I blocked her off."

"So it was stupid of me to be jealous," you exhaled a deep breath, feeling the heavy weight being lifted of your heart as Thranduil's thumb followed the curve of your jaw and chin.

"Feelings are never stupid, they are valid in every form as long as you don't single them out or ignore your mind. And for you, that's really important because you have a really clever mind." He tapped your temple with his pointer.

A laugh escaped you, easing up the tension. "We're getting good at this," you said and nuzzled your head into his palm, "y'know, talking."

"I do feel very wise right now," Thranduils voice was airy and light, falling into that usual banter you guys were so much better at.

"Mhm, must be the age."

Where his voice had been light, his chuckle was deep and throaty, the tone rasping over every word he spoke: "My age allows for exceptional knowledge in many areas."

If you had been a maid in earlier times, that statement would've caused you to faint and even now it brought a heavy blush to your face at the directness in it.

Because you neither knew what to answer nor to do, you lightheartedly shoved him away, and while you regretted not going in for a kiss, the euphoric feeling that spread through you as he chased behind you through the kitchen made up for it.

"Come on, Grandpa," you giggled, swatting away his arm as he reached for your middle, "Use your knowledge to protect this fair maiden from the movie we're watching."

Legolas's head turned just as you entered the living room, the skeptic look on his face morphing into an understanding smile when Thranduil followed close behind you.

"Fair maiden?" he snorted, "Please, as if."

"Shut up Las," you hit his head as you passed him, nearly hitting Aragorns chest as well and wow, when did they decide that showing their affection in front of Thranduil wouldn't lead to instant death?

You settled into the cushions again, pulling Thranduil next to you.

There was a passing look between Thranduil and Legolas, where Legolas raised an eyebrow daring his father to say anything, and then between Thranduil and Aragorn, where they both nodded at each other before turning away; Thranduil to you, Aragorn to Legolas.

It was so weird, your lips curled.

Then you realized the movie was paused, the screen showing the beginning rather than the middle where you'd left.

"Noo," you whined as realization hit you, "You didn't continue!"

"Why would we? It's so much funnier if you're crying and screaming," Legolas teased and you fired a look of pure hatred at him that he reflected with an angelic smile.

Next to you, Thranduil had made himself comfortable, long legs stretched out and one arm lifted onto the cushions, giving you an encouraging nod to come closer.

You followed the invitation, huddling closer until you were nearly glued to his side and, after drawing the blanket over the both of you, his arm found its place on your hip, fingertips lifting your shirt just enough for him to feel the warmth of your stomach under his spread palm.

"Don't worry," he whispered and his nose nudged the crown of your head, "I scream much louder watching these movies. Now, Legolas, know that after this movie you're in for spilling wine again and ruining the carpet!"

"Wasn't me." Legolas tipped his chin to the wine glass next to where you'd sat when Thranduil had come home instead of telling him that there was in fact no stain or no ruined carpet.

"Oh," Thranduil's hand started circling your stomach, causing the army of butterflies in there to fly high, "then don't worry, sweetheart. I hated it anyway, ugly color, so much white. I'll buy a new one in red if you like that color that much."

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faeriekit · 1 month

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Health and Hybrids (XXI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Wonder Woman! Robin! Impulse! Danny! Dick drawings! Who says that occupational therapy and learning a second language can't be fun?

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

EXTRA TW for: vomiting, panic attacks (this chapter only)

Danny can hold a spoon now. He is unstoppable.

So, when the lady isn’t there to feed him dinner (more mush), one of the not-the-lady nurses gives Danny a tray, and lays a mat over his lap so that he can eat without completely messing up his bedsheets.

Eat he does. Slowly. Maybe a little messily, and it’s kind of embarrassing to have to admit to himself that food definitely spills out of his mouth and onto his lap. The doctor/nurse/medical person, whoever they are, turns on the television, and Danny doesn’t try to ask for the remote. The television only gets something like ten channels, and none of them are cartoons at lunch hour.

So. News it is.

Most of the news follows the same cycle; the weather, sports teams Danny can now recognize the colors of, traffic cameras, and events with long, scrolling text to detail the happenings onscreen. There’s something about dogs? That’s fun. The scientist/nurse/tech, whoever they are, says something in the tone of Aaw, aren’t they cute? as puppies run about and wrestle on screen.

Danny kind of misses Cujo. He picks at his bedsheet, and doesn’t say anything.

The dog program transitions away— there’s a bright banner in its place. Danny’s seen it before: it’s something to the equivalent of Breaking News. It’s usually weather, or crime, or something.

Um. But it’s not that. Danny’s spoon drops, because a ROBOT LADY lights up the screen with a glistening silver suit, not unlike the Ecto-Skeleton his parents used to keep in the basement. Or, well…this one might be more streamlined?

Danny shifts. He can’t help. He’s here, in the hospital. Or. Uh. The space…hospital. His body is very broken.

But there’s a robot lady wrecking a town on Earth.

And Danny can fly.

…Could fly. Could have flown. If he was. Well.

Danny’s not well, and his body aches and his hands don’t work and his legs work even less, but there’s people out there who need help. People who are getting shot at with rays and Danny can fight them, and humans can’t. Danny can help. He—

His core throbs. Danny chokes. He pulls at his chest, trying to find some kind of purchase on his medical gown to tug himself—up?? Out?? He can’t fly right now, but maybe—?

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, abide, abide.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Look!” he snaps, and jams a finger at the television. “There’s—look! There’s a giant robot out there punching buildings!”

“Wacie,” the human protests, but at least turns up the volume so that Danny can see better. “Wacie, þær eart firas þær nou.”

What does that mean?!

Danny hasn’t lifted himself in forever. His legs don’t work, but his arms…might.

He presses his palms down to the mattress. He pushes.

There is a liberated fraction of a second where Danny’s whole weight is on his arms.

—And then he comes crashing back to reality, his elbows snapping back into place. His butt slams back onto the bed and the whole frame jitters.

Danny pants. His arms quake.

The medic completely barrels through Danny’s usually meticulously-kept personal bubble, trying to make sure Danny didn’t dislodge his IV or rip his ligaments and tendons or tear his muscles or. Something. Danny barely notices, barely cares, because someone else blasts onto the television screen in a red bathing suit and gold boots.

And suddenly, both the people on screen are fighting. It’s brilliant. It’s bloody—it’s physical, in the way that flesh and bone and metal must be. Danny’s never seen serious fighting like that before.

And the new woman flies.

Danny stares.

She flies. She fights. She wins—narrowly dodging or displacing lasers with something shiny on her arms, and getting long hair singed in the process. In the end, the robot is tethered down with some kind of shiny metal rope, screaming and kicking all the way.

…Danny barely remembers to choke in air. That's so cool.

The medical person says something reassuring, but Danny’s too tired to listen. He watches this new woman take her applause, floating down on nothing but air to meet the reporter and answer questions. She looks poised. Confident. People clap. People shout things out. People smile. People cheer.

…No one is screaming. No one is running.

There are no ghost hunters in the crowd.

Danny’s exhale is manual. So is his inhale. His heart monitors are making all sorts of funky pictures most likely, but that’s not his business—he watches a woman in armor who flies take off into the sky, free to come and go as she pleases.

It…it hurts. It’s so beautiful and so peaceful and gentle and it hurts so much.

His eyes well up with tears. Why did she get this? This…niceness? Everyone had hated him when he'd tried to help—the teachers, Vlad, the town, his parents. They’d hated him! All he ever wanted to do was help like she did!

What made him so different?! Why was it Danny who got hunted down and shot at? Why was it Danny who got kidnapped and taken hostage?!

Tears burn his eyes like fire. It’s got to be the salt. Danny’s strangled whine turns into a choked off sob before he can catch it. His hand goes to his mouth, but he can’t stifle the noise.

He doesn’t want to. He wants to cry. He thinks he deserves it.

The tears come until he is sobbing, crying, wailing—because WHY WHY WHY was it so easy to hurt him?! WHY DID THEY HURT HIM, WHY DID MOM HURT HIM, HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!

A towel appears in his hand. They’re so nice to him here. So much nicer than when Mom and Dad had—

Danny’s cries are as much screams as they are anything else.

There are hands on his shoulder. On his back. Rubbing. Danny wants to shove them off but the lady isn’t here, which means that it’s one of the staff-members who isn’t supposed to touch him. They’re not supposed to touch him in case Danny hurts them but one of them gave Danny a clean towel to scream into and is rubbing his back because he’s crying.

They’re trying to be so nice and gentle but EVERYONE JUST WANTS TO HURT HIM.

They’re smart, though. They notice before Danny does, and have a bucket ready by the time heaving sobs turn into outright vomiting.

At least the mush mostly makes it into the bucket.

…So.

Having a breakdown…sucks.

Danny has to carefully brush his teeth with an extra-soft bristle brush and rinse out his mouth before he gets more water.

Someone is being very nice. There’s artificial fruit punch flavoring in his drink. He wants to feel grateful but he mostly feels dead.

…His eyes slide listlessly across the room. Ha. Dead.

Danny is horizontal and wrung dry and too tired to do anything but pant by the time the lady comes back to his room. She’s in quicker than usual—her gown is sort of sloppy, hair sticking out of her hair net, and she’s still looping her mask around her ear.

She gets down on her knees beside his bed. She asks him if he’s alright.

Danny’s not alright. He isn’t sure he’s been alright in…ages. Ages and ages. Before he was trapped and tied down. Before he was hated. Reviled.

…Before he was Phantom, maybe; before Danny Fenton had died a shocking, senseless death.

Tears try to wring themselves out of his aching eyeballs, but he’s too dry-eyed to cry; the lady make sad, wet eyes for him, and that’s probably enough between the two of them. Danny’s misery is a vast, gaping void, and all he has to show for it is the shovel he’s been digging through all this shit with for the last few years.

The lady brings her hands closer to his hairline, curled fingers hovering in the air. Her word’s don’t mean anything to him, but the gesture is clear: May I?

“…Mm,” Danny agrees. His eyes fall closed when she gently scratches at his scalp with her fingers.

No one’s touched him gently, on purpose, in…ages. When he was little, Dad used to pop him between him and Mom in bed. Mom would brush out Danny’s bangs with her fingers and Dad would hum. It was always something ill-fitting and silly. Guns N’ Roses. Led Zepplin. Santana. Sometimes Jazz would sit with them, crushing him until Dad had to pull him up and out of harm’s way.

In the quarantine lab, hurting him had just been part of the scientific process. What if there was some new discovery under his fat layer? On the other side of his ribs? Nestled between his alveoli?

Danny sniffles. He’s too dry to cry. He blinks invisible dust off of his eyelashes, and focuses on the weird lady who’s with him now.

Up close, when his eyes work, she looks nice. She has blue eyes, like him. Like Dad. They’re kinda…glowy, maybe? Sparkly? They remind him of ice in the Far Frozen—inhumanly brisk, and impossibly clean. She has eye crinkles where she smiles, tan skin making them more defined than their actual depth. Between her hair net and her medical mask, little wisps of black baby hairs shine through.

She pets him. She smiles. Danny isn’t sure why, but. Whatever. Jazz used to insist that human skin-to-skin contact was an essential need, so this is probably, like, also medical care.

Yeah. Danny squints. …Sure.

Whatever. It’s nice.

So Danny gets petted and it’s fine. He almost doesn’t notice the giant gauntlet under the paper sleeve of her gown, but then it’s right in his field of vision, and. Hey. Didn’t he see that on TV, like, an hour ago?

Danny stares.

He can’t actually tell if they’re gold under the pale blue color of the gown, but. The color is certainly some sort of unusually colored metal, cold to the touch even through the paper-like material of the gown.

…He doesn’t want to touch her, or let her know that he’s touching her. But. He brushes the back of his wrist against the bracelet, and it hums against the paper gown between it and his bare skin.

The lady blinks. She looks down at where they made contact, and asks him if he’s alright.

Danny looks away.

She knows she saw him reach out to her, though, so she takes her hand off of his hair (…hey…) and pulls back the sleeve on her gown. “Sest,” she offers. See?

It is the same kind of bracer he saw on TV. Up close he can see the designed etched into it—geometric lines stretching down from her fingers to her elbow, terminating in something structural. Not quite diamonds. Just…strong.

There’s a couple of very, very tiny letters down towards the bottom. His eyes strain when they try to make any sense out of them; they’re too small for him to actually focus on, which sucks.

She steps back, and pushes her sleeves down to show off her gold bracers. She lifts up the hem of her gown, revealing red boots that go waaaay up her thigh. They have the same gold metalwork as she does on the bracers.

Danny just saw those on the television. His eyes widen.

“You—“ he starts, and then remembers their difference in language. He points his hand at the television. “You fought? You were on TV?”

“Hwæt?”

“The TV?” Danny repeats. She doesn’t understand. Danny doesn’t know how to tell her what he means. “The…you were there?”

She looks at him to expand. Danny looks back at her.

…So they just stare at each other silently.

The door cracks open; the person who’d mediated Danny’s breakdown pokes their head in and says something. “Eower feoht wæs an þe box todæge.”

The lady blinks. Danny blinks. Wait. Did they just call the television the box?

“…Box?” Danny clarifies, and lifts a hand to shakily point at the television again.

The lady blinks, and grins. “Yea!” she returns, pumped up. She stands, to the powerful height she’d had on the television—excuse him, the box—and flexes her now-exposed arms to show off massive biceps.

Holy moly. Danny hasn’t seen any bigger biceps on his Dad.

She flexes one arm, the other, both—in front, and behind. If Danny had that much definition, he’d be showing off too! She leaps back impossibly far—and holy crap she can fly— to show off some mock punches at invisible enemies at speeds that Danny would be hard pressed to follow even with supernatural abilities.

He goggles.

She laughs at him, but she doesn’t sound mean—she sounds show-boating and silly, and teasing and playful, but not mean.

She’s like him. She’s not a ghost but she flies and she’s not human. She’s not human just like Danny. Just like that one green guy. Like the fast kid who visits him.

It’s such a relief. It’s so scary. Who are these people? Why are they healing him? Why are they keeping him?? Why do they have access to so many non-human people? What do they want him for? Is Danny supposed to fight like that?

He would fight. If he had to. He’s done it before.

If they make him fight, Danny’s pretty sure he’s going to fall apart like cheap glass.

The lady comes back when Danny goes quiet, her gloved fingers brushing up against his knuckles. The sensation is enough to bring Danny out of his…fog. Sometimes everything is so cloudy and vague. The pain medicine makes it go away, and the pain medicine brings it back.

Danny curls his hand into a shaking fist. He bumps her knuckles against his.

She makes a surprised noise. Danny feels her gently move his fingers, rearranging, moving where his thumb goes—

He huffs out a laugh. His fist wasn’t good enough to her standards. Her fist bump meets his in the middle with a smirk and a laugh, victory written all over her face.

#Whoever told you healing was linear was LYING TO YOU #my boy has PROBLEMS #'he's healing' Physically? Yes!#ngl I got through the whole chapter and wrapped up and started updating this post and THEN went. Wait. Is this a panic attack?#turns out! It is!#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw medical #tw gore #tw body horror

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spacexseven · 11 months

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tuna I am. thinking about eelzai. for it is mermay and thus His Time.

imagine. you go out on the water. very cold night, very shitty boat. your engine stalls (definitely didn't get viciously tail-thwacked by a certain eel until it broke that's definitely not what happened) and you get stuck out there, and there's no one else out who will hear you call for a tow, so you're in for the night.

because hes just OH so nice amd has ZERO ulterior motives, dazai hauls his huge ass into your boat (with just how fucking long he is you're surprised he didn't sink it) and offers to let you huddle up with him for warmth! well less offers and more like immediately starts coiling around you before you can respond but you get it. while he's a naturally cold blooded creature, his human half runs pretty hot- perhaps in order to regulate his species' body temp in various underwater environments. it's hard to deny that the heat he radiates its very nice... even if he's soaking wet and his grip is too tight and he keeps licking you with he thinks you won't notice.

I have been Thinking about this for like 3 hours. need him so bad.

- 🩹

omg i really wanted to get to this before may ends and!! i made it cheers

if you're new to mer au check out some of the other stuff so you know what to expect from eelzai! yandere character.

the reason why you're out in the cold, guided only by your tiny lamp and the moonlight is because of dazai, since he won't leave you alone in the morning. trying to traverse the waters in daytime is terribly inefficient because a giant sea creature grabs onto the side of your boat and threatens to topple you over if you don't play (and with a perfectly unassuming smile on his face too, the devil).

you beloved boat has served you for a long time now, a simple but trusty thing that has travelled many hours with you and survived many attempts at dazai's...playtime. but there's only so much tail smacking and claw digging it can take before it gives in on itself, and it just so happens that tonight's when it finally surrenders to dazai's attacks. it only takes a little shove from dazai for the engine to splutter and come to a complete stop, refusing to budge no matter how many times you kick it or plead it to start up again.

and who else shows up but dazai himself? he doesn't even have the shame to pretend to feel guilty about stranding you in the middle of nowhere with your lamp flickering out thanks to his shove, and your phone unable to call for help, and instead he looks up at you like he just so happened to come across you, like he had absolutely nothing to do with your current predicament. he straightens himself out until he's face to face with you, and then looks at your boat with a surprised expression.

"that looks bad," he says, and the surprise morphs into something more wicked, "poor you. can a little human really survive out here on their own?"

"i have a lighter," you lie, "and i will singe your eyebrows off."

he pouts and drags himself down under the dark waters before popping up again on the other side, splashing more cold water onto you, "you must be cold," he croons, clearly relishing in your troubles, "a little flame won't help."

you can't even deny it because you're shivering, even under all your layers. but you won't let him win, can't let him hold yet another victory over your head and grin at you with his too-sharp teeth and his piercing eyes, calling you a weak human once again.

but you've come prepared, and you pull out a thick blanket to wrap over yourself while you consider your options to make it out of the water, either by rowing or finding a way to start up the engine again. except, as you unfurl the wonderful piece of cloth, dazai glares at it and dives head-first, frighteningly fast, making sure to flick his tail in your direction to drench your newfound ray of hope with freezing water. you stare at it, your mind numb and your heart shattered.

"oops," he giggles from behind you, "i didn't mean to do that."

sighing, you resign yourself to your fate. if you rowed hard enough, you could forget about the cold chilling your limbs, right? and you'd have to reach shore eventually, even if it takes...a few hours. you didn't go out that far anyway. but as you rummage in your boat for your oar—the one you went out of your way to get just in case you had to smack dazai in the face whenever he got a little too handsy and eager—you feel the boat tilt backwards, and you turn to face dazai grinning at you with his hands grabbing onto the rear of the boat.

"don't worry about the cold," he, in a motion so fluid you barely see it happening, hauls himself onto the boat, causing you to stumble over and creating a perfect opportunity for dazai to lean over and grab you, ignoring your screeching as he brings you over to him, "i can keep you warm!"

and, oh—you hate it. you hate the unfamiliar sensation of a tail wrapping itself around your legs, you hate his long arms holding your upper body still and his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with faux innocence. you hate the fact that though he's dripping wet and he should be freezing cold, he's surprisingly warm, and somewhat comfortable to be contained within. you hate the way he's careful, too, because you'd have never expected him to be so delicate with the way his claws press over your skin. of course, his caution doesn't extend to stopping himself from placing a few wet kisses here and there, or playfully nipping at the skin of your neck, but it's more than you'd hoped from the same dazai that regularly threatened to eat you.

you're practically immobilized, too, gently rocking with the waves as dazai hums delightedly, but the sight of the stars against the dark sky is gorgeous and the slow movement of the water is reassuring, even with an unfamiliar weight around your body and a predator over you. your oar is long abandoned, and your engine peacefully resting, but you can't find it in yourself to be panicked when dazai's warmth is so comforting against the chill in the air and his stroking slowly lulls you to a much needed rest.

just a few moments, you tell yourself. but when you wake up, the sun has risen and dazai is long gone, but your boat is close to shore, and you know exactly who pushed you all the way here.

maybe night trips weren't that bad.

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vergak · 7 months

Text

My giant sons Tray and Tyson love to roughhouse, they love egg dinner, they sleep on bunkbeds with no mattresses or blankets but its okay because in their dreams they are gazelle prancing through warm rays of sun. If you try to make either wear shorts that cover their sculpted lower quadriceps it will induce panic attacks. They are hypoallergenic.

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writersblockiskillingme · 4 months

Text

Blood Rain | Katniss Everdeen

Pairing: Katniss Everdeen x fem!reader (District4!reader)

Summary: Your mission in the games was to get the victors who the love of your life wanted to be allies with. You did it, but it is never easy.

Warning/s: angst and fluff, this is really just a little blurb, blood, blood rain, death, madness, weapons, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Send requests for Katniss, Johanna and Cressida, I BEG YOU ALLL!!!

Where the hell is Finnick?!

Your angry thoughts continued to swarm you as you forced your legs to move along towards the beach. The beach. Water. You would quite literally kill for a few drops. All of you would.

Your feet were sticking to the leaves on the ground of the giant jungle due to the blood that covered you completely head to toe. The knifes pressed onto your suit were slightly digging into the skin of your legs as you took bigger steps, trying to get to the water at the Cornucopia as fast as you possibly could.

The biggest mistake you could have ever made was separating at the beginning of the games and now you had to suffer the consequences. Not that you had any choice, really.

When your platform raised up, putting you in the place from your nightmares you were standing quite far away from Finnick. The flash of the bright rays of sunshine were blinding you for a while and before you knew it you had to jump off of the pedastil. However you faced a major problem once you got in the middle of the water. You were rounding up Beetee, Wiress, Blight and Johanna who weren't able to swim. But once you did round them up you were attacked by Enobaria and Brutus. You couldn't fight them on your own as you tried to help your allies. You had no choice, you had to leave the idea of joining Katniss, Peeta and Finnick like you planned to. You had to run for the shore and loose yourselves in the vines and thick threes.

And that's how you ended up alone with Wiress, Beetee, Blight and Jo for a few days. You were severely dehydrated already so you were very happy once you heard something light hitting the leaves of the trees all around you. Only one thing could make those sounds. Raindrops. Now you could only imagine the shock planted onto your face once you realized that the things that were coming down onto you and your allies was not rain. Well, not rain made out of water. It was blood. It was burning you and was covering you too quickly.

This torture lasted for what felt like ages, but once it finally came to the stop you still didn't get out of the forest immediately.

As you ran ahead of the rest of the group, trying to escape the nightmares held within the forest, the living nightmares that tried to get you, the only thing on your mind was the safety of your lover. Katniss. God, you hoped that she was alive.

You didn't see her since the night before the games. You were lying with her in her bed, bringing her comport after yet another life inducing nightmare with which you were a little too familiar with. You met during your Victor's Tour the year that you won, but you became inseparable the moment she volunteered for the games to save poor Prim.

She was your everything. If you lost her you were sure that you wouldn't be able to pull through. So the moment Finnick and you heard about the rebellion you didn't waste a second, you joined immediately. You immediately accepted to join the plan of keeping the mockingjay safe. To get her out.

The moment you stepped out of the forest, yelling for your allies you heard the voice that belonged to an angel shout your name. It was the voice of your angel.

You tuned around as Katniss practically jumped on you, hugging you so tightly that you felt like you couldn't breathe. But it didn't bother you at all. The thought of her was one of the only thing that kept you going for a very long time now. You wrapped your arms around her quickly, afraid that she would disappear.

"What happened, Y/N?" Finnick's concerned voice brought you to reality, you had to separate from Katniss so you moved yourself away so you could look at Finnick but you never moved your hand that felt right into Katniss' away.

"It was horrible," You admitted, sighing a bit. "Jo, Blight, Beetee, Wiress and I rounded up at the beginning, but then Enobaria attacked us by the Cornucopia."

The rest of your allies that came from the forest weren't far away from you. Johanna was right on the other side of you, sticking her axe into the sand on the beach as she desperately tried to catch her breath. Beetee was leaned over, still in pain from the knife that he received in the back. Wiress was walking in the circle around you constantly repeating "Tick-Tock" over and over again. All of them were covered in blood just like you were.

The sight alone brought an uneasy feeling in Katniss. She looked at you once again, clear signs of dehydration were there along with the heavy breathing as you still tried to get the air into your lungs and the fact that you looked like you bathed in blood was enough for her to gripp your hand tighter in hers.

"We had no choice but to run for the forest," You continued your story, Finnick's pair of sea green eyes mirroring your own, a reminder of where you come from, watched you intensely as you spoke. "We stayed there up until now."

"What then?"

"Tick-Tock."

"We heard the rain coming down, but it wasn't rain." You ran your free hand through your hair as you let out a sigh.

"It turned out it was blood. So much blood. It was falling on us, choking us. We were stumbling around trying to get here gagging on it blind. But then Blight hit the force field..." You looked down, grief swallowing you at the reminder of Johanna's face at that moment. "And now he's gone..."

"Tick-Tock."

"What's going on with her?" Peeta asked, looking at Wiress.

"She's in shock," Beetee said as he removed his glasses, wiping his face while he tried to get rid of the blood that covered him. "The dehydration isn't helping. Do you have fresh water?"

"We can get some." Katniss' soft voice next to you spoke and you turned to her again, your eyes full of love.

"How about you go wash up?" Finnick smirked at you, obviously catching the look that you send Katniss. You just glared at your district partner, but you listened and started to walk towards the water, pulling Katniss along with you.

You're not letting her out of your sight again.

As you washed the blood off of yourself, your hair, suit, knives and everything you talked to Katniss. You felt like you could listen to her forever. And at the moment when you dove into the water completely to get the rest of the blood to go away Katniss followed the suit. You never took your eyes off of her as you watched her place her hands on your face, giving you warm smile, the smile that was only reserved for the ones she loved the most, before she pulled you in, locking your lips with hers. Away from the cameras for a few short moments.

From that moment on you swore to yourself that you would follow her anywhere.

TAGLIST:

@caroline-books @thecrowdedstreetin1944

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kanene-yaaay · 2 months

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He started it!

Kanene's notes: I think my brain is no longer able to grasp what a 'quick, small fic' is kjhgfdfghjjhgvjhgf somebody this was supposed to be just a small drabble but the cuteness broke me. Somebody save me from the Dogday brain rot please somebody save me...

But anyway! Can't say when I will be able to post again, college just started and so my days are going to be very full :') Still! Hope you all like this!

Warnings: Plenty of raspberries, nibbles and teasy nicknames. Around 3,500 words. Ticklish!Dogday and Ler!Reader. Other than that, nothing, this is pure tooth-rooting fluff. Rip da boi. Also! Once again, I'm obsessed w Felix's writing style where the dialogues and narration are mingled together so all the hugs and thank you's to her :D

[~*~]

Dogday had started it.

Of course it was him. Just like a ray of sunshine, your own personal star, shining and chasing the dark shadows away, he did and now there was no other way this could’ve played out.

“A-angel, please!” His voice glitched, getting lower at the end of his plea, however immediately growing higher again as giggles began filling the space, crackling and buzzing in both despair and delight. “Think about what you’re about to do!”

You hummed and smiled at his squeal, fond and sweet and absolutely devilishly as you remembered how this entire game began.

Every single corner of this factory was dangerous. Even so, there were hostile places where any kind of sound, whisper or even a poorly suppressed gasp could attract the worst kind of attention and immediately break in pieces the fragile peace that warily followed you and Dogday in your path. At the time, you both had been walking through one of these areas for far too long, bathed by complete silence, careful to keep your steps silent and with an alerted kind of tension clinging to your form with each passing second.

That was when, for some reason, Dogday decided that enough was enough. It was his moment to shine.

Where even did the idea come from? Has he been bored?

“You just seemed so stressed!” His tail was wagging so much you could feel the wind it created hitting your legs. An involuntary coo left your mouth at the playful, a tad proud glint in his eyes, which only made his smile bigger and loopier. He tried to tug his hands away to hide his face. Needless to say, it was an unsuccessful attempt. “No, no, no! Don’t!”

Anyway, it had been confusing at first. When the giant sentient toy turned in your direction, making fingerguns with his paws and pretending to be firing at something, you immediately spun around in a quick and swift movement, grabpack and firing hand ready to attack pointing in the same direction as him, eyes searching for the danger he was gesturing.

… Stopping to think, he did almost laugh at you that moment, didn’t he? You bet that if you both didn’t have to conceal any and every sound his crackles would’ve rang free and joyfully across the whole factory.

You took an exaggerated deep breath and blew slowly in a faux disappointment, feeling his muscles under you tense and shake with barely concealed titters, a tiny protesting half whine and half plea flying around, his torso squirming.

(Away or closer to the sensations? Both of you knew the answer very well.)

Tsk. You hummed again, only to hear that adorable squeal once more. It took everything to not let him go and dig, to listen those high pitched squeals over and over again and see how many of them you could collect, letting them dance in harmony with his glitching laughter and rumbling chuckles until happiness and joy were the only thing filling his mind and actions, until his smile were wide enough to light up the dark pathway ahead and each tiny, almost imperceptive wiggle, scribble or twitch of your fingers was followed by the lovely, lovely melody of his tickly delight, prompting more and more expectant titters and pleas without you even having to lay a single finger on him.

But the game couldn’t be over so soon. And it was quite fun to see how much giggles you could get even though you weren’t actually doing anything.

(Yet.)

So you pushed down the adoring smile that tried (again) to take over your features and let it morph into a sad expression, slowly shaking your head in a fake disappointment.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a good friend and he almost laughed at you like that… After everything you both have been through, after all the fights and the talks, the hugs and the vents… You see how that is.

“P-please! Angel, just, please!”

No. Nuh-uh. You went back to your previous position, shoving your face in that soft fur. Don’t start with the sugarily sweet nicknames. You were brooding. Moping. Sad. Devastated. Betrayed. In absolute and total pain. There was no angel available right now, please return later.

His only answer was a series of even more glitched squeaks and titters growing stronger and giddier at any second with your silliness, especially when his body involuntarily jumped, already in alert for any attack and still not doing anything to scramble away.

That could be your fault, but in your humble opinion, it wasn’t very clear. Okay, maybe he couldn’t just bring himself to stop and stand still when you kept using every opportunity to nuzzle and mumble on his belly non stop, easily following his torso and quivering stomach around as he wiggled and squirmed in the same place, trying with all his might to not lose himself already with all the ticklish shocks that bolted across his entire midriff with such a simple action. Words (and teases) continue to fall like waves from your lips.

Maybe he just had been bitten by an awful ticklybug! Who would know?

“There is no tick-” Dogday gasped and snickered when you blew air against his fur again, freezing for a second in preparation for a raspberry that didn’t come. Realizing that, he let his head fall on the floor and trashed even more. He tugged his arms again, playfully growling when you kept your hold firm on them and wiggling even more as he turned to stare back at you, a funny kind of energy and antecipation racing each other in his nerves. “There is no ticklebug! It’s you!!”

Oh well.

A pity.

Anyway. Back to the story. That had been how everything began. He later explained his idea for the game, when you were able to exchange words again. From that moment, in total random occasions, one of you would make a gesture in the other’s direction and they would have to quickly react to it. In the most silly and unexpected way, preferentially, as long as you didn’t make any sound while at that.

See, Dogday? No sound.

He yapped in protest, letting out a single surprised, an offended yelp at the accusation. “We don’t need to be quiet here. You’re just teasing me!” Dogday’s hands fell to his sides, no longer trying to pry you away, shoulders shaking with every giggle and eyes watching your every action with joy and expectation.

You keep going.

The playful exchange became a habit between you two at this point, even filling the moments you didn’t exactly need to be quiet. It was a nice way to interact when there were no more words, memories or promises to be exchanged. That is why Dogday didn’t even bat an eye at you when you called his attention by innocently offering both of your hands in his direction, tail lightly wagging as he immediately placed his own paws on yours, a fun, tiny grin appearing on his previously serious and protective expression when you intertwined your fingers.

Which quickly morphed to a wide stare when you locked your grip and jumped on him, bringing both of you to the ground.

So, yeah, Dogday was the one who started it. And now he was trying to shoot his shot again, pulling out the saddest, sweetest puppy eyes in your direction.

“Angeel, please. Mercy!”

Awww.

(That was a bit adorable, you couldn’t lie. It kind of melted your heart. Just a tiny, little bit.)

(Ok. A lot.)

But that was the thing, Dogday, you were being merciful already. Because if your hands were free, you would give him the entire special attack. You would just claw and knead on that cute, truly adorable tummy, taking some precious time to give your attention to his sides and all the scribbles and scratches to his ribs, being sure to go and tickle aaaall of his favorite, ticklish spots over and over and over again, for as long as he wanted.

Wouldn’t that be nice? And, of course, during this your hands would be very, very busy, so he would have to keep his arms nice and snug out of the way. But he could do this for you, right? Even if he was laughing and squirming and crackling his heart out, not even pretending to not love every single moment of this game, or that he wanted it to be over any moment soon.

“Eek! Wait, wait!”

You grinned. See? That was what not being merciful would be. But, stopping to think, those are not bad ideas at all. He really couldn’t stop getting any more adorable, could he?

“Sweetheart!” He squeaked and shook his head, partially in a way to disperse all the restless energy taking over his body and partially in a hopeless attempt to make his big ears cover his flaming face.

Oh.

(It was quite endearing, actually, how he didn’t exactly blush. His smile would get wobblier and the light in his eyes fuzzy and lightly trembling all while he couldn’t decided if he tried to hide his face or kept staring at you with a gaze so full of complete trust, an excited desperation conquering all his features… Honestly it was just as crystal clear as if his face got completely taken over by a strong shade of red, truly.)

Your entire demeanor softened. That nickname was a new one.

(You wouldn’t mind listening to it being giggled out like this again in the future.)

You decided to return the favor.

Yes, gigglebug?

For a piece of time, Dogday froze with wide eyes and a slight ‘bzzz’ sound escaped from his voicebox. Then his squirming grew anew, no longer being able to look at your soft gaze and trying to press his dazzling, gigantic smile on his shoulders, now with his entire body bouncing with barely suppressed snickers.

His tail hit the floor with an endless and quick pace of ‘thump thumpthumpthump’. The confusion in your expression immediately gave place to a wicked smirk.

Hm.

Gigglebug?

He jolted with a yelp.

Silly giggly gigglebug?

Dogday snorts and tries to pry his hands away from yours with a bit more energy than before. Still, his efforts were still half heartedly at best. In turn you just hold them a bit tighter, thumbs lightly rubbing the back of his paws as your tipped your head to the side, - not unlike he himself watched you from time to time - chasing his gaze and maybe or maybe not giving his belly a tiny - so quick and small that it was over in less a blink - nibble until he turned back to watch you with wide fuzzy eyes.

Nope. No hiding that beautiful smile, huh?

His ears perked a little bit and his wide eyes captured yours for a moment, then jumped to your kind hands, your amused, playful glare, his defenseless belly, his captured paws, your suspecting eyes and, eventually, your eyes again.

Then, without breaking contant, he shut his mouth, firmly pressing his lips in a tight line as he lowered his head to his shoulder, successfully hiding, indeed, that beautiful smile.

Ah.

You see how that is.

Dogdayy ~

He let out a muffled giggle, only pressing his face even more on his shoulder, turning away from you.

Well, since he was insisting so much…

You discreetly adjusted your position, took a deep breath and immediately attacked his lower belly.

His entire torso spasmed, almost throwing you out of him with the sudden move, a loud peal of laughter instantly filling the air as the horrible, awfully ticklish vibrations fuelled his trashing, the raspberry spreading across every single of his nerves, leaving each and every one of them tingling and buzzing.

Another deep breath. Another long, long raspberry and a crackling squeal was ripped from his voicebox, more and more following suit as you chased every sensitive path of fur non stop, not losing a single opportunity to shake your head to increase the sensations, giggling a bit at how that never failed to glitch his words and bring more squeaks to the lovely melody of his laughter.

You spared a couple of tiny raspberries for his sides, literally feeling how they made him arch his back. That only gave you even more access to plenty of sensitive, ticklish spots that you were more than happy to latch on and tickle as if the future safety of the entire world depended on sending him to a total madness and increasing your collection of “cute-sounds-that-Dogday-does”.

You experimentally began nibbling that spot that connected his back and side, right below his belt, if you were not mistaken this would…

Snorts took over the giant toy and in a blink his back immediately clued back on the floor, torso trying and failing in curling into a defensive ball. The new round of raspberries vibrated across his side and teased his entire ribcage, tickling each bone and nerve.

Dogday tried to muffle his reactions on his shoulder, but with each nibble, each raspberry, tease and nuzzle he felt his mind getting more and more overpowered by the realization that it tickled. It tickled so, so, so much and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when his face seemed to be set aflame and his entire body kept getting closer and closer from giving up completely from his squirms and wiggles to let himself succumb to the joyful, insane, funny and fun sensation. Not when his angel kept looking at him with so much amusement and fondness that only succeeded to make him feel even more ticklish and the fact that his giggles weren’t the only ones filling the room made him feel extra silly and made his heart melt with delight. When he was able to just laugh and squeal his heart out, carefree and loud and happy.

How could anyone blame him, then, when he saw with the corner of his eyes you lift your head and so he decided to push his luck more, continuing to hide his big, gigantic, loopy smile.

Ohoho.

So, your dear gigglebug was trying to keep all those sweet reactions away from you, even after you worked so hard for every single one of them? Now, that really wasn’t fair, was it?

You gave him a break, no longer tickling him. Still, having your voice so close made his torso instinctively try to wiggle away, which in itself seemed to only re-alight all the reminiscent tingling on his skin, making the tickly sensation it go back to buzz and dance on his nerves, increasing the phantom tickles, each passing second and taunting word making them feel worse than before. All of this only kept Dogday stuck into an infinite sea of unstoppable, hysterical titters and snickers.

Do you think this is fair at all, gigglebug?

He shook his head and stopped, then nodded and then shook it again, giving you a glimpse of shiny eyes for a second before it disappeared once more on his fur.

Well, you think this isn’t fair at all. But that is fine. You both can stay here all day long if needed, as long it takes until you get to see that beautiful blushy face and dazzling smile. Yep. That sounds like a good, no, perfect idea! He would love this, right? To keep giggling and laughing and squealing here while being tickled silly forever and ever?

“Sweheheart!”

Oh! You wonder who said that! It sounded like your dear friend Dogday, but it couldn’t be him, right? No, not really. He was too busy hiding away from his best friend, as it seems.

Aw, that was a pity, truly. He was such a kind, awesome presence in your life. With a personality able to brighten everyone’s life and a trustful companion that was incredibly kind and strong. Always ready to help without a second thought or a blink of an eye, to give a hand, a comforting hug or a remark that would bring you straight to reality.

Besides, he was kind of cute, too. Like a sweet, excited puppy. He had this loud, booming laughter that, when you got him laughing for long enough, started to descend into a series of crackles that never failed to make him snort and bounce around in joy until his voice box began to glitch in the most endearing and funny way.

“No more teasing! No more!” Dogday’s titters grew to hysterical high pitched giggles and he scrunched up his neck, trying to best to curl up and disappear as more and more heat spread across his face. His tail would make a hole into the factory’s ground at this rate.

See? It was the most adorably adorable thing, honestly.

Actually…

You adjusted yourself again and his bubbly giggles developed to chuckles, paws tugging from your grip once again. He knew very well what that tune of yours meant.

You kind of missed listening to his laughter…

And so, with a swift move you freed your hands, fastly shoving them on Dogday’s armpits before he could even react.

Without wasting a single second, you digged.

A shriek took over every other sound in the place. And then other as you pushed your face right in the middle of his tummy, nibbling and pressing raspberries on it without mercy all while your fingers scratched, scribbled and drummed on his pits with no abandon, nimble fingers dancing on the spot for a few minutes before jumping to other one, to prevent him to get used to the sensation.

Dogday just fell limply on the floor, his shoulders, torso and belly shook with the force of his laughter, and his arms kept jumping from hiding his face to cluing on his sides in a futile attempt to stop the wiggling from worming their way, once more, to his ribs or neck. Each snort, squeal, yelp, snicker, crackle and every other sound swirled freely in the air, especially when a raspberry found a new sensitive spot that even he didn’t know about - since when his collarbone was so ticklish? - and focused all their attention there until all his cute and fun reactions slowed to a string of bubbly, hysterical giggles and his friend went on the look for another sweet tickle spot.

His neck, ribs, armpits, stomach, even his own ears had not been safe from the playful attack. A few pieces of time passed until it slowed to an incredible, horrible kind of soft tickling that led to a series of tittering sniggers to spill from his lips and to a beginning of tears to gather in the corner of his eyes.

At this point, his paws came and gently rested on your hands, engulfing them completely, glimmering eyes finding yours as the light scribbling instinctively squirm lazily from one side to other.

You stopped, entire form melting, the playful smirk plastered on your features losing the sharpness of its corners as a proud fondness took over. You freed one hand to caress the fur of his head, chuckling with drops of amusement and care when he closed his eyes and all his muscles relaxed completely at that, his tail now going back and forth in a tired but content wag. He nuzzled your hand.

There is it. My beautiful smile.

He groaned, pulling his ears until they covered his face. “Angel… You’re ruthless.”

Hey, it’s not teasing if it’s true!

Another groan. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t shy away from your touch.

The silence fell like a soft blanket on you, bringing to that dark, horrible place a feeling of safety and care that used to be just a pointless, futile dream, before.

(This was nice. Safe.)

Suddenly, two paws flew like a blur of movement in your direction and you felt your entire world tumble and turn upside down.

You blinked and as your eyes focused, only to find a giant sentient toy who resembled a dog and slowly became your trustful companionship on the last days (hours?) in this factory. Someone you knew that would be right by your side and fight for your safety almost as much as you fought for his.

Although, by the way his mischievous gaze found yours and big arms embraced you in a firm, but still gentle, hug, you must admit you weren’t feeling that safe anymore.

…Dogday?

“No. You’re in friend hug jail. Paying for your friend crimes. You can’t get out.”

You snorted. Glad that you had the sense to start that playful game in the safe area you and Dogday had been clearing and taking care for some time since the ‘You Got To Be a Human and Rest’ episode.

Getting comfortable, you let out a relaxed sigh, snuggling closer, letting your hand softly run on his back in a soft, nice rhythm, not taking too long to feel him melting under the caring touch.

Well, you may be in jail, but your consciousness was clear.

Dogday had started it.