#swollen-thighed beetle

[dansnaturepictures]

09/06/2023-Lakeside and home 

Pictures taken today in this set are of: 1. Some of the many dog roses and other roses enjoyed again today, a wealth of colour. 2, 4, 6, 8 and 9. Views on a sunny and scorching day, the weather really showed in the landscape I thought with brown grass and bright green vegetation. 3. Dazzling grass vetchling. 5. Some of a fair bit of bramble flower I enjoyed today. 7. Meadow crane’s-bill shining in the sunlight. 10. A Large Skipper I was thrilled to see again this evening. 

Two of my favourite birds the Buzzard at lunch time and Jay this evening were Lakeside bird highlights today, alongside seeing and hearing Song Thrush, Blackbird, Swift, Moorhen, Great Tit including hearing the pleasing trills and possibly seeing young and hearing Ring-necked Parakeet. It was a delight to follow a great number of Meadow Browns on the walks today, summer gems of the grass and harbingers of the season. Common Blue butterfly seen well, Emperor dragonfly, I believe a Black-tailed Skimmer dragonfly nearly flying into the adult Great Crested Grebes I saw with chicks as a post I did about this specifically today just now mentions and of course in a strong few weeks I’ve had for seeing them Swollen-thighed beetle were other insect highlights. Deliciously coloured alsike clover, a strong summer flower beautiful purple knapweed, yellow rattle, bird’s-foot trefoil, bird vetch, oxeye daisies, viper’s-bugloss, ragwort growing in a dry area by the steam railway station another heatwave image of the day, red valerian, hogweed, nightshade, dock, plantain and bird vetch were plant highlights. A gang of Woodpigeons on the roof out the back at one point, Collared Dove and Magpie together at one point with Magpie seen on the green out the front tonight too and Goldfinches were highlights at home today. 

My post about the Great Crested Grebes today: https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/719674601461956608/09062023-great-crested-grebe-chicks-at-lakeside 

#great crested grebe #common blue #meadow brown #emperor #england #world #nature #uk #happy #swollen-thighed beetle #buzzard #jay #large skipper #meadow crane's-bill #bird vetch #oxeye daisy #oxeye daisies #birdwatching #birds #sunny #hot #walk #walking #nightshade #lakeside #lakeside country park #red valerian #insects #grebe #dragonflies

[postmanpetecoluk]

Swollen-thighed Beetle - Oedemera nobilis by pete beard Via Flickr: Male

#HWCP #OLYMPUS #squirrels field #Swollen-thighed Beetle - Oedemera nobilis #flickr

[liaromancewriter]

Sweet Cravings

Premise: Sienna’s late-night cravings won’t leave her alone.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 785

A/N: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge March, dialogue prompt "Is it too late to start over?"

She wanted a cookie, and it was just her luck they were all out.

Sienna Valentine placed her hands on her hips and scowled at the empty shelf in the kitchen pantry. Her brown eyes narrowed in concentration as if she could magically make the box of her favorite brand of cookies appear.

When that didn’t work, she growled in frustration. Literally. The sound resembled a lioness unhappy with her pride. Sienna wouldn’t have made the connection, but she’d just finished watching a documentary about lions on the Animal Channel.

Her pregnancy was far enough along that every little thing annoyed her, from feeling fat and ugly to swollen feet and a lingering ache at the small of her back she could never quite reach. Lately, their little bean had taken to somersaulting in the middle of the night, so sleep was a distant and fond memory.

If she didn’t love Max so much, she’d surely leave him for putting her in this position.

Deciding that nothing would do but make herself the damn cookies, Sienna reached inside the pantry for the baking supplies she always kept at hand. And then stopped when she saw the flour on the lower shelf.

Beetling her brows in frustration, she stared at the canister and then her protruding belly. Lately, bending down was an exercise in patience and rationalizing if the thing she dropped was really worth keeping. She meant to ask Max to move everything to the middle shelf, but it had slipped her mind.

Sienna started to ease herself down, just enough to grab the flour, but her stomach kept getting in the way. Maybe if she…nope, that wouldn’t do. Or she could…. No, that was clearly a bad idea, she thought as she felt a cramp in her thighs.

She huffed in annoyance and threw her hands up in the air, grumbling under her breath about the indignities of being pregnant. As if waddling and peeing every five minutes wasn’t bad enough, now she couldn’t even fill a late-night craving without becoming a contortionist.

“What are you doing?”

She held back a yelp, barely, as she turned around to see Max leaning against the kitchen entrance. Dressed in a tee shirt and sleep pants, messy hair stuck up in spikes, he yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Iwantcookiesbutwe’realloutandIcan’tgrabtheflourtobakesomebecausesomeidiotputitonthebottomshelfandmybackhurts,” she whined, the words rushing out in a long, breathless sentence.

She must have surprised him, for his eyes went wide, and he tripped over his feet as he straightened from the wall.

“Why do you need cookies at,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “two-thirty in the morning?”

“I’m pregnant,” she said in a steely tone, implying he’d better be smart enough not to argue.

Max clearly wasn’t that smart.

“And?”

“And your son won’t let me sleep, and I’m hungry! Any other questions you want to ask the pissed-off pregnant lady?” Sienna challenged, folding her arms under her breasts and raising her chin, eyes fired up.

"Is it too late to start over?" Max said in a conciliatory tone, holding up his hands for emphasis. “I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

He padded cautiously toward her, much like the lion in the documentary. When he was close enough, he reached for her hands and tugged her into his arms.

Sienna wanted to pull away, ride high on indignation, to resist his charms. She really did. But then he started massaging her lower back. And she melted into him, letting him take her weight, a sigh of relief escaping as his clever fingers eased the ache that had settled in the groove above her hips.

“Yes, just like that,” she moaned as his thumb pressed against a particularly stubborn spot.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you said when I got us into his mess,” Max joked, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

He was probably right, but she had long suspected that her impulsive seduction of him after a heated argument was the conception point.

“If you’re really craving cookies,” his breath brushed against her ear, “there’s a twenty-four-hour CVS on Dupont.”

Sienna lifted her head off his chest and gazed at him with puppy-dog eyes, smiling cajolingly.

He sighed. “Looks like I’m making a CVS run.”

“My hero!” Sienna gushed, stretching on her toes to kiss the underside of his jaw.

Later, Sienna bit into the gooey chocolate cookie and hummed in pleasure as the flavor exploded on her tongue. She glanced sideways at Max, who had dropped onto the couch and promptly closed his eyes.

She silently chortled. Being pregnant wasn’t so bad as long as she had a hot husband to massage her back and fetch her cookies on demand.

---------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Max & Sienna only: @aallotarenunelma @storyofmychoices @kyra75

#open heart #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #sienna trinh #sienna trinh x oc #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #sienna trinh x max valentine #playchoices #open heart choices

[kettlequills]

fic: breaking skin

hi tiffany enjoyers, have a tiny little tiff-centric piece. tw self harm/cutting, canon typical violence, canon typical fatphobia, implied/referenced sex, nica!chucky, c.3.5k. on a03 here.

'“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.'

--

Tiffany takes Jennifer’s body and undresses in the mirror. She wanders hands over an arching neck, soft hips, curving calves, cellulite, stretch-marks and moisturiser-smooth skin. Her sensitive nerves ache in different places when she digs her new-sharp nails in for a pinch. She stares at it until she convinces herself she recognises the birthmark on her arm and her face creasing with pleasure, a frown, a smile, doesn’t look wrong anymore. 

They looked the same in that movie; Jennifer stepped into Tiffany like she is just a dress, makeup, and a fake tattoo, and made it look natural. Familiar, easy as breathing.

Tiffany pokes the face – her face – in the mirror and wonders how she did it.

---

The early days, she keeps Jennifer’s loose black waves. Wears her like a dress, practises the way she moves, watches her movies until she dreams the lines her voice echoes always half-a-beat out of time. Goes through the whole closet and pitches the fine clothes everywhere, gets the bank to change her pin to something she can remember, forgets it anyway. Avoids watching the Chucky movie. Keeps her electronics on the other side of the house as her bath. Locks the door when she goes to sleep. Screens every gift and card the twins get.

Throws herself into the kids. Glen, Glenda, the shadow of the father they don’t know.

It’s supposed to be better. Even when she wakes with good dreams, nightmares and past lives lurk on her tongue like poison. The press wants to know everything, crawl up inside her life like beetles. Jennifer’s agent gets angry when Tiffany says the wrong thing and brings them flocking like vultures. She fucks up interviews and tanks readings.

She says, offer only. They scoff. She leaves with burning cheeks and kills a man on the way out, quick, lethal, efficient.

---

She ruins Jennifer’s body. Takes out her knife in the bathroom and kisses the dimpled thighs and warm, breathing stomach, traces patterns and dagger-lines until her spirit feels rinsed clean and her soul has settled into the animal meat and bone. Licks it up after and tucks her file back between her breasts.

She dyes her hair religiously. Jennifer’s pitch-black is stubborn, cropping up like weeds in her perfect gold curls. She used to go ginger-brown when the dye was fading out, knew it was time to bend her head over the sink and wrap her hair in sweet-smelling dye when crimson fades in the sun-shimmers like bruises on peach skins. Now darkness spills from the crown of her head like nightfall, and Tiffany pushes it back with blistering bleach that burns her scalp.

She leaves herself a lipstick-kiss on the mirror.

---

“Jen,” says Joey, eyes melting with a look she can’t bear. He strokes down her shoulders, all the new scars like silver slashes of moonlight. She asks him to bite her until she bleeds. He is too gentle, like he doesn’t really want to hurt her, like he doesn’t dream of killing her, not like Chucky used to.

She scrapes her nails down his chest and tips him down into her expensive bed, fucks him until he can’t keep his eyes open. They don’t complain about this for long; she’s come back hungry, violent, texts random numbers plugged in the phone she inherited and sees what comes of it. Holds knives to the throats of stars and lets them think her teasing with their mortality is just a new kink. A new fantasy she has to breathe, a new mask she has to play, something that only those who have a part-time affair with the truth seem to grasp. She thinks maybe she loves them all, herself least.

In the morning, he texts her the fancy number of a discreet therapist, exclusively for the glossy clientele of Hollywood, and she screens his calls.

She’s not crazy. Her soul’s just itching against the skin.

--

She eats and eats, curled up on the tile floor of a kitchen that feels too big for a trailer-girl, like it’s gonna swallow up and not taste her on the way down. She puts on weight, remembers effortless, sexy Jennifer swaying with herself and her unknowing audience with a chocolate bar in the prop room, prods the extra layer of fat. Remembers Chucky saying, “Y’know, I always figured you’d let yourself go.”

“It’s normal for women my age,” says Tiffany aloud, and then forgets her birthday when the kids ask.

---

In the days she drinks and eats to pass the time, and at night Jennifer teaches her how to gamble. Tries to, anyway, Jennifer bluffs like lies fall out easy as air, sees the cracks in Tiffany’s face like she’s reading her mind. It’s the only time the little doll seems alive, when she’s raking in the chips, dealing the cards with an easy snap despite small hands that don’t bend right. Tiffany gets drunk, Jennifer eats her now-tiny bodyweight in chocolate winnings, and they both smoke until the gritty clouds billow out the cracked window like hands reaching for salvation. Bloated and sleepy, mind-spinning into a little oblivion and thoroughly beaten at poker, Tiffany slumps into the birdcage until the bars jab her ribs.

“You’re not good at this,” Jennifer observes, and Tiffany rolls her eyes.

“Shut up,” she says, “It’s easier for you. You’re plastic now.”

She googles engines and shows Jennifer how to replace carburettors, how to check the water at the pump hasn’t been contaminated, recites the bylaws of trespass and how to bend them for a night’s berth, how to make a four-course meal in a shitty microwave and a gas-stove off melamine plates.

Jennifer’s wrong-coloured eyes glaze over, numb. Tiffany thinks there’s maybe more specks of brown in the artificial green than there used to be, and wonders if Jennifer or her is responsible. If it’s some infection of them both, if there’s some trace of Jennifer’s soul not quite scrubbed out of her body. Maybe that fragment is what howls emptiness when she fights the screaming doll into her lap and curls her own arms around her into a cage of flesh. Maybe that’s just Tiffany, drowned, folded up and shoved inside a body that has stretched but not quite healed around her soul. She never feels more like a dead thing than when she holds Jennifer close and the sundered edges inside of the body she wears start to bleed like it can feel what it’s missing.

Jennifer’s too good an actress to have to tell Tiffany she thinks she’s trash. She does it in the way she explains the words she uses that she knows Tiffany doesn’t understand, clever, sophisticated language, educated – erudite.

So Tiffany whispers sharply into the trembling doll’s ear how to dispose of bodies, how to axe them into small parts and melt the bones in acid, to scramble a trail so no one can find a trace. Muses aloud how none of Jennifer’s friends know her as well as Jennifer thought.

“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.

–--

The kids are gone to start the glittering lives Jennifer's wealth gives them and she's all alone. Not for long - Chucky is there to snap her up with the inevitability of creeping death itself. She goes back, of course she does. He wants her, admires her. She cleans up his little messes, brews trouble at Harrogate for a quick girl who seems to see through her immediately but is helpless to stop her. She makes his plans fall into place. He needs her and she loves him.

Yet she’s in the bathroom of the hotel room where they met, and the cracked green tiles have sucked her into memory. She’s retraced her steps like the past thirty years have meant nothing, another woman’s body slaughtered in their lovenest. 

Her file is sharp as a needle, surgical, she sits in the bathtub, so it’ll be easier to wash away. Before, when she’d get done, Chucky’d lick up the blood from her thighs and spread her open, groan at the taste of her, iron and salt on his tongue. Tiffany would feel alive, heart bounding in her ribs, body pulsing and singing, the pleasure and the pain and his devotion slinging her into bliss.

But the cuts aren’t anchoring her like they should; the tears still bubble like toxic waste but won’t come out, air hurts like bleach on her raw cheeks. Blood dribbles up and pulses down her legs like licking tongues but there’s no delight, no release. 

Chucky’s back and she’s home, in his arms inside Nica, touching Tiffany and seeing her for exactly what she’s always been, the living-dead lover-killer. Skin on skin, bodies inside bodies, fucking her until she can’t breathe with a young woman’s vigour, like when they were new and in love for the very first time. That first kiss felt so good, but the emptiness is back like the roots of her hair. She doesn’t know why she wants to cry, tells herself, she wants relief , to let the pain wash into her and wring her out. 

“Tiff,” Chucky bellows from the sofa, “Tiff, where’s my fucking beers? I’m thirsty out here!”

“Shaddup, Chucky!” she shrieks, “ Choke!”

“Fuck off, Tiff!” His boots drum on the carpet, coming towards the bathroom; pure adrenaline shorts down Tiffany’s spine like a livewire and she grabs the file, holding it in front of herself. The cuts on her legs sting against the fabric of her pretty designer dress. The bathtub is slippery with drops of her blood.

He shoulders into the bathroom, Nica’s pretty face twisted up in a scowl, lips drawn right up to the gums in a fervid, fiery anger that makes the vein on her forehead throb.

“Fuck’s got into you, huh?” he demands, “Haven’t fed you enough or somethin’?”

His eyes track down her body; he notices the blood. His face shifts funnily, some cross between indigestion and horror. “Aw, shit,” he says, and sits down heavily on the toilet.

Tiffany’s heart thuds hard in her ears. She stares at him, eyes wild and face hot, dizziness wet and red between her toes.  

“Goddamn it, Tiff,” says Chucky, quieter now. The anger in his voice is soft venom rather than cackling fire, all the easier to swallow. His blue eyes glitter like cracked windows, distorted mirrors for maimed souls. “Where’d you put the first aid kit?”

She points, under the sink, only a few steps away. Watches him like a tiger, striped red, waiting for him to turn his back.

“Fetch it here, huh?” he asks, heart-shaped face grimacing sickly inside his golden lion’s mane, “Let’s clean you up.”

She brings him the first aid kit and perches on the side of the bath, hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs. She thinks about the fact he can see her silky underwear and fantasises suddenly about him touching her, smearing his hands through the blood to ease her panties to one side. Heat follows the path of the cooling, sticky blood back up her thighs. She thinks of him sitting down in front of her by the bathtub and using his teeth while she fists her hands in his wavy, knotty hair. She pulses, she wants, she hopes.

“Do you like it, sweetface?” she asks him through lowered lashes. Coquettish, she kicks her heels against the bathtub.

“You’re always pretty, Tiff,” he mumbles back, preoccupied with popping the kit and tearing open the alcohol wipes. He spits each word like they’re sickness itself, an undercurrent in the tremble of his knuckles that makes her ache.

“Awh,” says Tiffany, cradling her chin on her hands, heart warm and full and wanting, “Baby.”

He’s gentle when he starts wiping the blood up and cleaning the cuts, but his smile is a sharp slash when she laughs breathily at the sting and squirms in pleasure. He smooths each plaster on carefully, making sure the sticky edge won’t adhere to broken skin. Circles his jagged, bitten-broken nails into the tender skin under her knee like he’s thinking of digging them in, a rough little pinch just to make her yelp. She bites her lip, hoods her eyes, lifts her feet into his lap. 

His nails chase over her skin like the blunt edges of razors. He remembers himself, twists, grabs a wipe. Starts cleaning her, dropping the blotchy red-flowered wipes into the bloody bath. There’s blood between her toes from when she stood, when she thought he might be coming to hurt her. Nica has such soft skin, softer than Chucky’s had ever been when he was alive. His delicate hands feel warm and renewing against her body, and it has never felt more hers than when he touches her, when he’s just like this. 

“Any more?” he murmurs, glancing over her body to check like he can see under her dress, and her heart melts at the look on that pretty, stolen face. She thinks maybe she can tell herself it’s obsession, teetering halfway between love and rage, maybe even concern.

She shakes her head, now trying not to cry. If she starts blubbering all the week’s saved up tears, she won’t stop for hours, and she doesn’t want to ruin this moment. She wants to freeze it in ice, tear off its wings and press it into her heart, swallow it whole so it can never run away.

“Feel better, Tiff?” he asks her when he’s finished, and she nods. 

Recklessly, she hugs him, ignores how he goes stiff like he doesn’t expect her love. Her arms around his shoulders curl around him, a cage, a tether, a bond, trying to force them even closer, killer soul to soul, her body to Nica’s chest. When she presses her face into his neck, whispering waxy-lipstick kisses against the underside of his jaw, he smells like cheap cigarettes and hotel alcohol, the impermanence of their young graveyard days. Immortal and grinning, Chucky stains the messy slip-knots of Nica’s hair with ash and old, matted blood, then drowns the reek of it under cologne Tiffany buys in high-class scents like malted-wood and honeybee-slaughter.

“Are you still thirsty?” she asks, contritely, “I can get you some beer, or some water? Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you some dinner?”

“Aw, nah,” he says, his storming eyes shifting away, “I’m alright. … You should probably get some iron, though, huh?”

“Later,” she pouts, snuggling into him.

Tentatively, he slides his hands round her waist. She wiggles her hips, hopefully, but he doesn’t get the message and squeeze her ass, lift her onto his lap and play with her like she wants. Chucky’s been a little slow with her since he came back, sometimes, but he’s getting better at figuring it out, acting natural. He doesn’t always know when to pull her close, but at least he doesn’t remember when to push her away, lets her lead their bodies and souls making one on the heart-shaped bed inside Tiffany’s chest. She licks a stripe up his neck. Wants to eat his shiver whole.

“Shall we go to bed, sweetface?” she asks him, a little nervously, eager to impress, and Chucky hesitates. His beautiful, fractured eyes flicker to the door, like he’s measuring how long it would take him to get there. When he breathes, the muscles in his arms tense up.

Tiffany slides her hands down under his thighs, lifts. She is smart enough to heft with her legs, not her back, and Chucky’s feet swing thoughtlessly as she picks him up. He yelps and clutches onto her, his tight grip on her shoulder setting her skin aflame.

“Hey, Tiff, what the fuck?” he complains. “Whaddaya think I am, a sack of carrots?”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his bitching as she carries him to the bed. Sometimes, she wonders why she puts up with all this, maybe Nica would be more polite. (Of course she would be, she thinks, sorry at once, Nica is an angel. Their angel, her angel, deserves anything Tiffany can give her, except freedom.) 

“What the hell do you eat to make you so strong?” he huffs, scrambling up onto his arms. When she flutters around him pointedly, he shuffles back on the bed to give her space to sit down next to him.

Pleased, Tiffany blushes a little at his question. She likes that he thinks of her as strong, likes to be called that much more than fat, even if she knows Chucky only says it like a bad thing when he’s being a dick. She likes even more that when they’re sat next to each other, they’re close enough to touch. 

“ Sweetface.”

“What?” Daringly, he slaps her bicep, light enough not to hurt, but enough that her body jiggles in response. 

Tiffany giggles. He gives her a smile, rakish and darling like a dying man’s last slice of sunset, and she wants to kiss it so badly she hurts. 

“What is this, huh? Where’re you hiding the sixpack?” 

He pokes her belly’s ticklish spots, and Tiffany squeals, slapping at Nica’s scarred-up hands.

“ Stop,” she whines, still laughing, and is a little surprised when he holds his hands up and obeys, snorting.

Something about it, the control, maybe, or the way he doesn’t push it, just ignites her, and she has to have him. In one move, Tiffany rolls over him, wraps her arms around his waist and drags him down over her body until he’s half-lying on her, their breasts pressing together and their faces so close their breath mingles. A tingling runs through her teeth like lightning, like electricity in the water, with none of the pain.

His eyes dart down, checking where his legs lie, then with nonchalant possessiveness he shifts his shoulders and nudges Tiffany’s thigh wider. Delighted at his breath-stealing hands on her body, she lets him rearrange her so his leg won’t press against her cuts. When he goes to sit up, her arms lock around his neck. She needs to keep him close.

“Ah, ah, sweetface,” Tiffany whispers hotly, her nails digging into his nape, “Where are you going?”

“C’mon, hey, Tiff.” He tries a fleeting smile, playing for time, but it dies under the light of her intense stare. 

He licks his lips, desperate, and she shudders under him, squeezes her legs around his hips. The lines of cuts on her legs burn, but it’s nothing to the burning inside her. He touches her encircling arm like he’s thinking of pushing it off and leaving her alone on the bed. But even as he glares down at her, she knows she sees want blooming in his dilating pupils. 

There’s something molten in those eyes, compassion, hate, fear, lust, a hard and poisonous cocktail that makes her more dizzy than any blood-loss, makes her hungry for the flashes of tiredness, tenderness, ambrosia itself, between the cracks. His eye twitches; it’s his tell. He’s bluffing, like he’s afraid to gamble and lose. Or maybe he’s just afraid of her, hates her; Chucky has a part-time heart these days, one Tiffany just won’t resist.

“Don’t go, do it,” she breathes. Lets her neck fall lax, lets her eyes lid, lets herself uncurl beneath him like an offering on the altar. Hopes he’ll bite her. Hopes he’ll make it hurt. Hopes he’ll take the gamble, fall into the addiction, go back to craving her as badly as she craves him, in any body with Nica’s leonine snarl as he poses above her like a hunter with their kill. In this stolen body heavy and real on hers, in a crime scene of sex-stained sheets, hotel-plasters and Tiffany’s pretty white dress. “Do it to me, now.”

Anything that’s worked once is worth a try.

“Fucking – God,” he hisses, like he doesn't know what to say, eyes following the undulation of her body to her chest. She arches to give him a better view, her heart fluttering, begging, pleading. 

His gaze lands on the cold glint of bloody steel just visible in the valley of her breasts where she hasn’t bothered to tuck it away properly, and his lips flatten, his desire flickers. His hands tighten, scarred knuckles straining white; she wants to kiss the tension away and bite it in anew.

“No sharps in bed today, huh?” Tiffany purrs, eager to show him she’s noticed, she can be considerate, she can be sweet too. “I can work with that, honey.”

She grinds down into the bed, fans her nails over his back and digs in. Smirks and shudders her shoulders so her breasts bounce and the file slides out a little more. Her hips roll. He grits his teeth, plants his weight on one hand, grabs the nail file with the other. Each movement is jerky, zombielike, a plastic doll’s juddering in a leaping-smooth puppet.

 “Okay. … Tiffany.” 

He says her name like a curse, an invocation; it never sounds better out of his mouth than from these lips.

The file glitters in his hand like the moon. For one searing electric second, she thinks he might even stab her. She even sucks in a breath to tell him he can (what’s a little more blood and gore between lovers? Second and first thoughts are for losers), and she would never refuse him when he’s like this . But then he tosses it over his shoulder, and instead his hands tangle in her hair. 

Her prepared breath comes out a needy whimper. His grip messes up the sprayed blonde and the black roots; she feels his breath swirl hot and still reeking of cigarette ash over her chin. He cups her jaw with a twisted darkness in his aching, hungry eyes, a look that makes her wonder if he thinks of choking her, if he wants to hurt her, if he wants to kiss her. She moans.

She is alive, her heart pounding against the bones of her wrist, reaching out to him through the prisons of their bodies. He sees through her, sees all of her, the mess of Tiffany crammed into a body not her own, sparking and bright where they meet, mangled and pristine, skin on skin. 

“Kiss me?” she implores, and Nica does.

#tiffany valentine #nica pierce #charles lee ray #chucky #child's play #childs play #chucky series #inkwrites #tiffanica #niffany #tiffnica #chiffany #nica!chucky #my fic breaking skin

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Some fun insect photos I took today 🪲

📸 #1 (left) - female swollen-thighed beetle

📸 #2 (top right) - common red soldier beetles

📸#3 (bottom right) - fly mimicking a bee (hoverfly maybe?)

#nice to see so many out #the weather hasn't been particularly kind to insect populations #but i'm always happy to see a beetle #entomology

[entomoblog]

De la pollinisation à la formation des graines : le cas du châtaignier - Archive ouverte HAL

See on Scoop.it - EntomoNews

... En empêchant les insectes d’accéder aux fleurs femelles à l’aide de filets anti-insectes, la production de fruits s’effondre, prouvant ainsi que la pollinisation des châtaigniers est assurée par les insectes et non par le vent.

  Clément Larue, 2021

Biodiversité, Gènes & Communautés

  "Les coléoptères et les diptères sont les principaux insectes pollinisateurs, à la différence des abeilles, qui ne visitent pas les fleurs femelles.

  Certains châtaigniers sont mâle-stériles, c’est-à-dire qu’ils ne produisent plus de pollen. Cette stérilité mâle est d’origine cytoplasmique et existe à l’état naturel chez le châtaignier européen, qui est donc une espèce gynodioïque. Les arbres mâle-stériles produisent nettement plus de fruits que les arbres mâle-fertiles.

  Une expérience d’émasculation a mis en évidence le fort impact négatif de l’autopollinisation sur le succès de la pollinisation, suggérant que l’un des principaux mécanismes à l’origine de l’avantage des femelles et du maintien de la gynodioécie chez le châtaignier est l’auto-interférence entre les fonctions maternelles et paternelles aboutissant au gaspillage d’ovules chez les individus bisexués.

  Ce mécanisme a été confirmé par modélisation : les recherches de paternité et les mesures du succès de la pollinisation sont bien expliquées par un mécanisme d’auto-incompatibilité tardif provoquant l’avortement des graines auto-pollinisées.

  Le modèle a aussi permis de mettre en évidence des barrières spécifiques variables et asymétriques entre les différentes espèces de châtaigniers étudiées qui expliquent bien les résultats obtenus en vergers de production."

(...)

  -------

NDÉ

L'étude

  Revisiting pollination mode in chestnut (Castanea spp.): an integrated approach - Botany Letters, 02.02.2021 https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/23818107.2021.1872041

  In total, we observed 66 insects on female flowers (Figures 10 and 11). This represents a small fraction (1.8%) of the insects observed on flowering trees. They were typically observed landing on or taking-off from the styles (Figure 10(d,e)), walking on the tip of the styles (Figure 11(a,d,e)), or apparently licking the tip of the styles (Figure 11(b,c)). In other cases, the contact with the female flower seemed purely accidental (Figure 11f). We found 51 beetles on female flowers (42 red soldier beetles, 6 ladybirds, 2 sulphur beetles, C. sulphureus, and 1 tawny longhorn beetle, Paracorymbia fulva), representing 77% of the total, a higher proportion than on trees (52%, see Figure 12). We also found 11 flies and 4 Hymenoptera on female flowers, including 2 ants and 2 bees, one of which was a honeybee.

  [Image] Figure 11. Insects visiting female flowers. a) Soldier red beetle (Rhagonycha fulva) standing on the extremities of the styles of a female inflorescence. b) Sulphur beetle (Cteniopus sulphureus) licking the stigmatic portion of a style. c) Idem for a swollen-thighed beetle (Oedomera sp.). d) Adult ladybird walking on a female flower. e) Fly perched on a female flower. f) Pollen-collecting honeybee (Apis mellifera) accidentally touching a female flower

[decayingyouth]

From today's walk 🌿🌳🐞🌻🌼

#lgbt #they/them #nonbinary #nature photography #nature photoshoot #bug #beetle #daisy #flowers #nature #garden #grass #swollen thighed beetle #green #shiny #pretty #aesthetics #close up

[peterracer]

Swollen-thighed Beetle - Oedemera nobilis by pete beard Via Flickr:

#depthoffield #hilly fields #hwcp #nikonp1000 #Summer #wickedweasel #Swollen-thighed #Beetle #Oedemera #nobilis

[pseudofaux]

Hello i just want to say that i really appreciate all the Dazai contents you put out, there are not a lot of them here... i have a request for him if you're still taking them, some high on the spice drabble of Dazai hitting it from behind as he (gently) pins her down on the dressing table and makes her watch what he's doing to her on the mirror, maybe with a liiittle bit of edging too (he's such a big tease but he does it all lovingly and oh so innocently) thank you if you're doing this!

Thank you very much! The thing about Dazai is that he’ll never get enough love. 🥺 So let’s GIVE! HIM! SOME! MOOOOOOOOOOOORE! 💜💜💜and get some, too

I hope you will see this and enjoy it!

(Requests are currently closed, I am working on overdue ones and will post a masterlist when they are all complete.)

You didn’t realize you’d closed your eyes. When you you open them, his are right there in the mirror, the gold of spring-to-summer. Their brightness flashes in the dim of your room like beetles’ wings and you’re lost in that glory, panting for him.

His shamelessness is usually something that makes you laugh, but right now it makes you breathe out little whimpers through your nose as his hips smack against yours. Every thump makes your precious collection of perfume vials rattle on the dressing table, and when your eyes are open you can see them near your hands and in the mirror’s reflection. One is uncapped. If he fucks you so hard they spill, you know he’ll do something with the liquid. Slide wet fingers behind each of your ears and then breathe in the scent while he gives you the filthiest love imaginable, maybe.

If he were fucking you more slowly, maybe you could think over whether or not you wanted that. But Dazai is not fucking you slowly at all and you can barely manage to keep your mouth shut so you don’t moan. Or clack your teeth.

“Maeko-san,” he drawls, able to snap his hips without losing his breath. His voice is even as always. Soft, it’s so soft, and deeply sensual. Even the snarl of challenge in it is smooth, a tangle of silken threads. “Eyes open,” he whispers. “Told you to watch.”

You didn’t realize you’d closed them. When you you open your eyes, his are right there in the mirror, the gold of spring-to-summer. Their brightness flashes in the dim of your room like beetles’ wings and you’re lost in that glory, panting for him. You do clack your teeth from the way he’s shoving you against the dressing table, but if there was any unpleasantness you forget it immediately when his thumb on your clit gives you something more important to think about.

His hand, so strong and supple, is curved around your mound in lazy ownership, fingers open to spread you and allow him to slam inside. You are mushy, you can feel how he’s made you swollen and wet and needy as you have rarely been before, even for him. He likes to see you pushed a little far, made a little messy, and apparently that is what he is going for now. The pressure of his touch slides over and between your lips because he’s made you so wet. And of course, his thumb glides over you, just as lazy, just as effortless, no less devastating. Your thighs begin to tremble.

“Da-za—” you try, but it comes out in staccato syllables, broken from quick but isolated thrusts he’s fucking you with. Your voice is not even at all, jute compared his silk.

He hushes you and slips his other hand up from its place against your naked back. Your shirt is still on, but he’s bunched it above his hand on your back so it’s nothing for him to slide over when he moves. Over your shoulders and your neck his touch goes, until he gets his fingers woven into the hair at the back of your head. He doesn’t pull hard, but he pulls and you go, a shaky sound escaping your mouth when the movement seems to leave your stupid jaw behind.

“Shh,” he repeats. The wobbling bottles of perfume look like they are dancing triple time to the calm cadence of his voice. “They’ll be done with lunch by now, you know.”

They will. And though all the curtains in your room hang loose over the windows and hide you from the outside of the mansion, if someone were to hear distressed sounds through your door you would definitely be discovered. The sharpness of his grin in the mirror mocks the existence of his fangs.

It get sharper still when he slows. You can feel little points of sensation inside yourself lighting up as his cock rubs against them now, like he woke you up to truly knowing him.

You half moan, half cry his name, trying to be quiet. He’s shown you a dozen times already that when he fucks you this way, his aim is to make you lose your mind. He won’t say it… he’ll probably say the opposite, soft words of love and care you cannot doubt. Not even when his sticky-wet fingers curl into the lips of your pussy like blunted talons and he slides up your stomach, tickling you. Not even when they go inside your shirt and he finds the curve of a breast. He smears you on yourself and promises he’ll clean it with his mouth. Later. Only when his thumb is mostly dry does he use it on your nipple.

“Dazai!” you quietly moan. Every time he slides back into you, your brain scrambles itself. You can’t think of anything but that slide and his hand on your breast and in the hair at the back of your scalp.

“See what I see?” he asks. “A pretty thing, letting go of all those silly old rules. Almost. Not quite yet, but we’ll give her time.”

He lets go of the pleasurable grip on your hair and brings his hand around the front of your throat. “Why don’t you let out a few quiet sounds for me, and I’ll feel them here and be content,” he offers.

You give him what he wants. Whether that’s because he is taking is something you’ll have to sort out when his fingers are not gently squeezing your windpipe. He’s not cutting off your breath, just keeping you both aware of it.

And all the while he is still pushing into you and then pulling out, elegant and measured as a dance. You’re so sensitive from his earlier speed that you swear you feel his cockhead as it spreads you inside, just as strong and gentle as his hand holds your neck. By your hands, most of your perfume collection has toppled, and they roll back and forth as the table moves beneath them. You don’t know when you got on your tiptoes but you are pushing back at him with your hips, not wanting him to go away.

“Naughty,” he praises. “I like that. An honest girl deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

He pinches your nipple just as you open your mouth to agree. He does it a few more times before he leans over you to kiss your cheek and smother his laughter on the softness of your blouse and shoulder.

“I’m naughty and dishonest,” he confesses. “And I want you trembling more before I let you come, sweet one. So you let go of those rules and show me that, and we’ll see what you get. It’ll be right there in the mirror for us to watch.”

He is not dishonest about that at all.

#ikevamp dazai #ikevam dazai #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevam fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfic #pseu slings

[dansnaturepictures]

Knapweed full of insects - Durlston Country Park 24th June 2023 

As sea mist began to lift and reveal the intense and hot June sun beating down on the emerald landscape, we were fixated by a patch of deep purple knapweed. These flowers acted like a nectar petrol station, hosting a vibrant array of summer insect life. Marbled White and Small Skipper butterflies, dazzling Six-spot Burnet moths and shiny Swollen-thighed beetle. The jewel of the crown, what most captured our attention, were Lulworth Skippers. Numerous Lulworth Skippers. It was a pleasure to spot several on these plants, a real wealth of this rare and localised butterfly species. A mark of identification, the gorgeous crescent of the females was a sight for sore eyes as these miniature butterflies glowed golden in the sunlight. A luxurious and thrilling wildlife encounter. 

The tranquil scene would be somewhat shattered as upon one knapweed up the stem did climb a giant. An enormous cricket which was striking to see and an instant attention grabber, a Great Green Bush-cricket. It commanded the purple flower head when it emerged, snapping at a Lulworth Skipper as if to hunt. A captivating few minutes watching this colossal insect which we had never seen before. These few minutes immersed in the wonders of summertime grassland was exceptional. 

All of the pictures in this photoset are ones I took yesterday of the species mentioned, however not all of them were at this particular patch of knapweed. The photos in order of appearance are of; knapweed, Marbled White, Marbled White and Six-spot Burnet together, Great Green Bush-cricket, five consecutive images of Lulworth Skippers and Lulworth Skipper and Six-spot Burnet. 

#lulworth skipper #great green bush cricket #six-spot burnet #swollen-thighed beetle #marbled white #small skipper #knapweed #dorset #england #durlston #durlston country park #uk #world #nature #happy #2023 #june #summer #sunny #hot #europe #grass #insects #wildlife

[postmanpetecoluk]

Oedemera nobilis by pete beard Via Flickr: The Thick-legged Flower Beetle (Oedemera nobilis) is a medium-sized beetle, commonly seen across the UK. Known by other names including the Swollen-thighed Beetle and the False Oil Beetle this brightly coloured beetle is often easy to spot being bright green, with a golden/coppery sheen; some individuals can appear blue or violet in colour.

#OLYMPUS #stadium #macro #Swollen-thighed Beetle - Oedemera nobilis

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye IX — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 9k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

Three Months Later

In the deep quiet hour of the night, Belles’ stomach jolted her awake to a dark room. For a moment, when her bearings were not quite right, fear settled as if she transported to a strange place. Quickly turning her gaze there laid Jungkook with his back facing up and an arm around her torso. For the first time she let out a sigh of relief seeing the man’s face knowing that her location was at least familiar.

It became all too familiar now. Yoongi pretty much moved in as their own private medic despite his knowledge on medicine being phoned advice from an actual doctor. Belle did not protest however, having the male close by helped dealing with these past few months. Nausea every single morning, cramps in every single place that had the potential to do so while a lingering worry that she would have to see her child grow up in a world full of betrayal and pain.

Right now her stomach grumbled for a different reason. Looking down, Belle could slowly notice a more prominent swell poking out from her white cotton night gown with Jungkooks’ toned arm gently over it as if to shield it somehow. Once again she felt a rumble and the thought of chocolates brushed her mind.

“Jungkook…” Belle whispered, squeezing his arm a little. When the male didn’t respond she shook him softly. “Jungkook wake up.”

Jungkook shifted with a drawling hum under his breath, one eye opened momentarily before exhaustion pulled him in again and he closed it. “What is it?” He spoke into the pillow.

She slowly pushed herself to a sited position as his loose arm slid onto her thighs. “I want ice-cream.”

“What?” His brows furrowed automatically despite his eyes still comfortably shut.

“What you big boss men never heard of ice-cream?” Belle caressed his forearm which really only helped him fall asleep more.

With a light groan, Jungkook moved his arms to prop himself up enough for both his eyes to open and scan the room. Turning around he glanced over to check the time on the phone. “Baby, it’s 2 in the morning.” He mumbled attempting to meet her gaze but sleep was even more stubborn, most of his curls either sticking to his face or up to the ceiling.

Hand caressed over her swollen belly with a slight pout across her lips. “There’s late night ice-cream parlors.” Belle muttered under her breath without giving him a glance.

Jungkooks’ eyes immediately flickered down to where she affectionately brushed over her cute belly. Clearly it was not only her cravings he had been stirred awake to satisfy. Sighing, he forced himself to sit up properly as one of his hands attempted to brush his hair down. “Alright…”

Belle couldn’t help the accomplished smirk tugged at her lips as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed to walk to the wardrobe. Although the slight heaviness caused more of a waddle than a proper walk. “Make sure to wear your mask, it’s cold.” And their faces were all too recognizable nowadays especially after the wedding. Three months had already gone by but it made more relevant than ever in the media making it harder to keep this pregnancy as secret as possible.

He hummed in agreement tapping a name on his phone before pressing it to his ear. “Jongho, put in the address of the closest late night ice cream parlor in the sedan.” Jungkooks’ voice still rung raspy from sleep as his hand rubbed his eyes to make himself more alert.

“A-I’m sorry could you repeat that sir?” Jongho asked politely, stammering a little.

“The closest late night ice-cream parlor.” He enunciated his words as dramatically yet clearly as he could.

“An–an ice-cream parlor?”

“Yeah you never heard of an ice-cream parlor before?”

Jongho cleared his throat lightly. “Yes, sir sorry I’ll—I’ll bring the car in right away.”

Belle pushed the sleeves off her shoulder, letting the gown easily drop to the ground leaving her in the slight cold air. Eyes quickly settled on any piece of comfortable warm clothing she could find. Grey sweat pants, loose T-shirt and a soft pink hoodie which let her body relish back into the embrace of heat.

Jungkook walked into the wardrobe squinting in the bright light, pausing in his tracks for a moment as he watched Belle put on a pink mask that pleasantly matched her hoodie. The corner of his lips twitched up looking at how much more comfortable she looked, possibly even more than she did in the night gown. Rare it was to see Belle in such a relaxed state when the woman spent most of her days looking perfectly presentable.

Making his way to corner, he quickly pulled on some black sweatpants with a hoodie and mask while noticing Belle tapping on a moisturizer on her skin with her mask hugging the underside of her chin. “Trying to look pretty for the ice cream?” Jungkook mused.

“You saying I don’t look pretty already, Mr. Jeon?”

“Positively glowing.”

“You’re good at flattering, I’ll give you that.” Belle chuckled, exiting the wardrobe towards the main bedroom, her arms automatically hugging her stomach.

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as he rushed over to her side, placing a hand on the small of her back.

Through the doors of the bedroom, Belle immediately say Nana pad over with the deep red blanket in her arms. “You’re already warmed up.” She chuckled before handing over the thick and small fabric. “It’s a little tradition thing but it was Jungkooks’ when he was a baby. Good to keep over the belly when you leave the house.”

Belle accepted the blanket with a smile, an odd tingle down her spin at the realization of how small Jungkook used to be. A little being full of wonder who smiled at random things before reality destroyed every remnant. “It might be colder outside who knows.” She tried to reassure the older woman somehow.

“Thank you.” Jungkook lightly squeezed her shoulder as they walked past the woman who bowed with a smile in response.

Jongho already stood at the edge of the entrance to the living room, bowing as soon as he saw the couple. “Your car is ready. The drive to the ice-cream parlor will be about fifteen minutes.” He announced though he still felt like this whole thing was part of some prank.

“Thank you, Jongho.” Belle grinned, almost skipping past the guard in glee.

“You know I’m the one driving to the parlor right?” Jungkook sassed, a brow jolting up.

“Well you’re the father, honey, it’s your job.” Belle walked towards the entrance as the guards opened them like some grandiose banquet.

Black sedan shone like a beetle under the moonlight when they reached outside. Crisp nightly air flowed through even their warm clothing except for the blanket Belle hugged around her belly.

Jungkook opened the door for the woman letting her climb in carefully before walking over to his side. It had been a while since he went on a drive for something so leisure and relaxed. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of content maybe even a little excitement at this spontaneous late night trip.

As he sat in the car reacquainting himself with all the controls, Jungkook noticed from the corners of his eye how delicately Belle placed the blanket over her belly as if she was tucking it goodnight.

Then they drove off.

Fifteen minutes stretched out a little longer than Jungkook expected but eventually they saw the pastel and neon lights in the shape of an ice-cream cone hit their area of vision.

Parking closest to the shop, Jungkook hurried over to Belles’ side and helped her walk out.

“I can still climb out of cars.” Belle giggled at how attention he was trying to be.

Jungkook held onto her hand while they walked into the parlor with their masks fully secured.

Bright lights touched their half-sleepy eyes while the blanket hung over her free arm. People continued on their normal conversations without turning their heads in recognition which brought a rush of relief in her body. No one knew about the pregnancy since Belle formed a talent in choosing outfits that hid the growing bump. Of course at some point it would get hard to conceal it.

Jungkook and Belle padded to the counter to choose their flavors. Her eyes and taste buds immediately leaned towards the chocolate while the male simply followed her lead. The man had not enjoyed ice-cream since he was a child when Nana would serve it to him when he was upset usually because both his parents were out to work. He figured chocolate was the best way to start up the taste in his mouth again.

Once the orders were done and they were served ice-cream in cups, they walked to one of the tables in the corner and sat across from each other.

Belle, once again placed the blanket over her belly in the same delicate fashion while her mouth practically watered watching the ice-cream just sit there waiting.

“People really come here at this hour just to have ice-cream?” Jungkook glanced at the couples and friends happily eating ice-cream at their tables as if time stood still within these walls.

She shrugged, scooping her first bite with the tiny neon green spatula. “It’s just fun, I guess. Every now and then to break the rules of regular schedule.” Bringing the spatula up to her mouth, Belle suckled on it letting the sweetness grace her tongue and soothe her cravings little by little.

Jungkook poked at his ice-cream, mostly watching the woman enjoy her order and already feeling full. “Have you done this before?”

“Once.” Belle mumbled. “When I first started at Saito, my boyfriend at the time got really drunk so I took him for ice-cream at 2 am to sober him up.” How strange it was speaking out a past self. Someone who she used to be. A person with her own decisions, who knew her own dreams and aspirations while working hard to gain them. She was a damn fighter.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, bitter taste on his tongue. “What happened between you two?”

“I started making more money than him and he didn’t like it.” Belle replied simply.

Jungkook hummed in a little wonder. “So he was weak.” He scooped up a decent bite, some of his dark curls hovering over his eyebrows.

“Yeah he was.” Belle had a small smile slowly playing on her lips. “Did you have anyone before me?”

He nodded in a slight nonchalant nature. “One. We were going out for about two months.”

“What happened?”

“She was a red angel in Sangria House.” Jungkook admitted. “Someone married her with a huge sum and I just wasn’t ready enough for the commitment at the time.”

“So you’ve never actually gone out with someone in a normal way.” She pointed the neon spoon towards the male before licking the remnants off of it. “Do you even know to how to?”

Jungkook chuckled before shaking his head. “Dating lesson wasn’t really part of my regime when growing up. Marriage and kids, yeah but anything to learn before that kind of got fuzzy.”

Belle tilted her head watching the way his expression turned a little faint, almost borderline sad. It was that burst of a moment where she realized that Jungkook never really had a real childhood or any sense of the matter. Growing up learning nothing but business and building legacy with no sense of true warm compassion and empathy created a good mob boss. Not a good family man. Her hand immediately rubbed over her plump belly once again silently reassuring the growing being that she was going to keep them safe from this mess. “I don’t want our child to feel fuzzy.”

“He won’t.” His tone grew serious now. “I promise he won’t be raised like I was.”

“He?” Belle grinned.

“Or she. Sorry my aunt kept saying ‘he’ on the phone, I think she’s infected me.” He scratched his brow.

“It’s okay. They are okay with girls, right?” Her heart almost jumped out of her chest when the thought crossed her mind.

“Daughters are treated just as well in our family, don’t worry.”

“That’s good. Cause I don’t want her to be raised like I was either.” It was bad enough Belle spent her whole childhood always being told she wasn’t good enough to be like her brother. But the thought of her possible daughter going through it sickened her to the core.

Jungkooks’ fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of Belle’s hoodie sleeve. Those same fingers traced to her own, intertwining them together in a light lock.

For a brief moment Belle forgot everything again. They were back in their fantasy bubble where things were warm and welcoming. Jungkook was a sweet man who did nothing but give her affection in ways no one had ever done. He dedicated so much of his time and energy to taking care of her.

His empire, on the other hand, still tried to tape itself back together while a wrecking ball slowly hurdled towards it.

-

As the murmurs died down, Yoongi creeped outside of his bedroom door through the dark hallway. Quiet and a little chilly as sock covered feet slowly pattered across the floor. Only sound he could catch was Nana carefully walking down the stairs with a big basket full of laundry. He had the strong urge to help the woman but it would make it ten times harder to sneak towards the second living room.

Time had been running out. Four months really stretched over the amount of time he was supposed to be inside working but Yoongi knew what he had to get. With Belles’ pregnancy, Jungkooks’ attention fizzled and moved rapidly from the career to his new building family which usually ended with him out of his office more than he should be.

Belle once again proved her power in the Jeon mansion when a simple ice-cream parlor date seemed to get the dangerous drug lord out of the house in minutes at ungodly hours of the night. Though Yoongi honestly was not completely sure whether it was a ruse or just a rare strike of luck that she had cravings at this perfect time.

Ears pricked up when he heard a light crash from the right, clothes flying in the air and the sound of skin slapping onto wood roughly. Yoongis heart jumped seeing the older woman fall at the end of the stairs. However before he could step forward to help, three guards already rushed over immediately to her side like a pack of medics.

They huddled over Nana while she tried to laugh it away. “Just a little clumsy.” Her eyes seemed to flicker up exactly where Yoongi was standing. Only for a split second where he wondered if it was simply a random action.

Though if he stripped himself of any piece of naivety he had then it might not have been a random action at all.

While the three guards were preoccupied, Yoongi padded over as casually but quickly as possible out of the main living room towards the second living room.

Not glance over his shoulder but his heart still pattered and yearned to turn around. He had to be quick.

Across the second living room, his feet sped up until Yoongi couldn’t even keep up with it anymore.

He stood in front of the door of Jungkooks’ office which is when he finally looked over his shoulder to see the place empty aside from the sounds of Nana being helped at the stairs. Fingers wrapped around the golden knob, twisting it slowly hoping it didn’t squeak.

Turning and turning until all the door could was be pushed open.

Yoongi sneaked through small gap, entering the dark office before closing the door behind him.

Once the door closed, there was nothing stopping him from rushing towards the table almost making the wood underneath his feet squeak. He stood at the table where Jungkook would usually sit, gaze frantically searching anything that looked remotely helpful to what they needed.

Rustling through the papers, Yoongi found handwritten letters confirming deals and hard-copy information on secret funding towards dens. Patting the pocket of his pajama pants, he felt his phone, pulling it out and taking a picture as steadily as possible despite his hands trembling under the pressure of getting caught. He was at the heart of the nest now. If the guards saw him snooping around here, he would be dead instantly.

In his attempt to reorganize everything back again, he stumbled across one letter that looked unfinished. Yoongi had his phone ready until his eyes finally caught who it was written to, in Jungkooks’ handwriting.

‘Dear Mother and Father…’

Brows furrowed, slowing his pace for a moment while his chest still rose and fell in the heat of the moment. When Yoongis’ mind began gain a more steady pattern he began to read.

‘I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I got married recently. I want you to be one of the first to know that Belle is carrying my child. I apologize for being unable to tell you sooner. She’s doing really well, doctors appointment have been doing good.

The reason why I’m writing this letter is not only to inform you but to also carry out something I’ve been wanting for a long time.

When the baby is born, I’m stepping down. This world. Everything. I began a relationship with Belle hoping to make all of you happy by marrying the perfect woman. She was it. Unfortunately she was too perfect. I’ve grown fond of her.

Everything about her makes me feel calm and warm like I can be normal around her. I’m not even sure what is but it’s a good feeling from what I’ve experienced. My wife and child’s happiness need to come first. I want to grow a normal family with her.’

Yoongi felt like his hands were dirty reading the letter now. He was going to step down. Then that’s it, right? It was going to stop and maybe there could potentially be some form of normalcy in all their lives. He kept reading the few words left.

‘However protecting this empire before I’m gone also holds the utmost importance. In the remaining months of Belle’s pregnancy, I am devising a method that should get rid of our Park Chul situation once and for all…’

Heart moved back to its original speeding pace when there were no more words to explain just what Jungkook had planned. Yoongi almost crumpled the paper a little but quickly dropped it onto the table, taking a few more pictures before placing under the pile of extensive work.

His eyes flickered up to see a little light coming through the open gap and his stomach dropped, seeing Taehyung glance at the male and at the desk. Yoongi wrapped his fingers around a pen tightly not wanting to hurt him truly but they were so close. So close to getting this over and done with. Especially now that Jungkook had some plan to strike back at the one strong source they had to take him and his empire down.

“Kitchen. Now.” The younger male stated glancing over his shoulder to see anything oncoming.

Yoongi relaxed his grip on the pen and let out silent sigh of relief watching Taehyung walk away from the office and disappear to the side. He hurriedly tip-toed across the room looking back to see if he missed anything before sneaking through the gap again and closing the door.

When he looked over the guards seemed to be chatting in the center of the living room instead of peering towards the second living room for any disturbance. Yoongi could only hear their murmuring and light chuckling before blindly following Taehyung past the fireplace towards the door that led to the kitchen.

The kitchen had been modified significantly compared to the rest of the mansion which still had an vintage feel to it. White marble with subtle gold details shining in the dimmed warm lighting.

Taehyung padded over and stood at the kitchen island. Fingers tapping on the surface of the counter with a sigh passing his lips. “Okay look Angel already told me what’s going on.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed. “Jesus Christ, is this an undercover mission or a party?” He kept his voice to a whisper, hands on his hips.

“Apparently Seokjin said there was no point in hiding it anymore now that Belle knew.” He shrugged although a confused expression still adorned his features. “Said if she’s involved, everything will fall into place.”

“So he’s playing Gandalf now too?” He retorted. “How much more is everyone gonna ask from Belle?”

Taehyungs’ heart dropped as the question lingered in the air, head hanging. That nagging feeling was slowly fading away but now it replaced with something so much more painful. A guilt of what cost had be paid for this recovery. He never truly paid for his debt. Belle did. “You’re going to help her out of here, right?”

“I’m trying.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.”

“I know it’s not.” Yoongi spoke through gritted teeth. “But it’s all I can give you right now.”

Taehyung nodded, body deflating a little despite the slight ray of hope that all this might change for the better. “Is there any way I can help?” Ever since this whole mess began, he had not been able to ensure his little sister that he had her back. Because he didn’t for a while. All his thoughts seemed meld into one hazy need to get rid of the pain he felt. Except that time the pain never identified itself. Taehyung knew why it hurt this time. He wanted his sister out of here, towards a better life just like she did for him.

Yoongi searched the mans’ expression turn into something a little more desperate. He succumbed to drowning in that same feeling. Nana’s honest words ringing in his ears. This is not just an undercover mission anymore. He hadn’t even been there for that long; not as long as Taehyung but god, he could feel it. That aching tug wanting to hold onto Belle and take her away from all the pain she didn’t deserve. That fucking burning anger at the people who used every piece of her patience and good heart only to rip it away from her permanently. It sickened him knowing the woman never wanted all this in the first place.

His hand tightened around his phone when a thought jolted in his mind. “Do you trust anyone in the Sangria House?” Yoongi asked.

Taehyung had no hesitation in any nerve of his body or part of his soul when he said: “Yes.”

-

A familiar outing now waltzing into the Sangria House early morning when the air was cool and the sun just almost took its highest point in the sky. Brunette hair flowed to the side as he walked across the pathway through the entrance door with everyone immediately recognizing his face.

However today Taehyung walked in a less relaxed demeanor than normal as a tiny object in his jacket pocket grew heavier, forcing him to walk slower. You’re doing this for Belle. He knew Angel told him the truth about everything but something about this still felt like he was diving into a pool where he could not see the end.

Into the private room he was lead, the white coat opened the door and Taehyung saw Angel standing in front of the table

Angels’ smiled immediately adorned her glowing features as Taehyung walked into the room. As soon as the white coat closed the door behind him, she broke all manner of rules and jumped on him, arms wrapping around his neck and face buried into the crook.

Whatever knotted nerves he had loosened when Angel embraced him, warmth radiating from her body onto his and the scent of vanilla gracing his nose. His own arms wrapped around her waist, nose nudging into her shoulder to take in more of her aroma and ease all troubles.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” Angel murmured. A month had passed since his last visit and it was embarrassing to admit that she grew a little worried. After all the two were not really doing anything exciting other than talking. At some point people would get bored and move onto someone who would easily provide better services.

Taehyung hummed in near bliss, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry.” His voice muffled against the fabric of Angels’ dress.

She gently pulled away from the hug even though Taehyungs’ arms were still secure around her. “Don’t apologize. I just get worried.” Angel chuckled shyly. Another bright smile tugged at her lips now as she broke his embrace but held his hand, leading him over to the table where a colorful array of rice cakes on a plate rested. “They made more flavors this time because you liked it so much.”

Taehyung could hear the delight in her voice making his heart warm. For a moment, he wished this was just a casual visit as they sat down next to each other once again. “Thank you…” His voice merely came out in a whisper. “Angel—” He placed his hand over hers, caressing it softly. “There’s another reason why I’m here.”

Angel’s smile softened now, not so much as a frown but an kind expression to show she was listening in all seriousness. “What is it?”

“You’ve already helped me so much.” Taehyung wrapped his longer fingers around her small, soft hand turning his body around so he faced her completely. “I need you to help me just this once. For my sister.” He grinned. “Are the cameras on in here?”

“I asked Seokjin to turn it off.” She smiled shyly. “It’s—it’s so I could hug you without the guards barging in.”

Taehyung grinned leaning in, forehead pressed against hers. “I wish I could stay longer…I really do.” He whispered. “But we’re not going to be able to see each other for a while.”

“I know.” Angel whispered, voice shaking ever so slightly. “What do you need me to do?” There she was again with the award-winning smile ready to do whatever she was required no matter what the cost.

“Please—I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He shook his head. “Say no if you want to.”

Angel caressed his chest gently as a way to comfort him. “I’m always safe, Taehyung. Believe me, I’ve probably been safer than Belle this whole time.” Shining eyes met his gaze giving him a more faint but hundred times more genuine smile. “No one deserves to have their life taken away like that. I want to do this.”

Taehyung had a bitter taste on his tongue hearing those words. Belle had been less safe than members of the Sangria House. Her own made-up home and equally fake family could not keep her safer than Seokjin did with his angels. “Okay.” He whispered, reaching into jacket pocket and pulling the tiny object. He placed it on his open palm making the thing look absolutely miniscule.

A USB stick, dark almost matching the color of Taehyung’s jacket. Angel accepted it and placed it in the last place anyone was coming looking. If they did, it would end in a heap load of trouble. Once the object was in her hand, she stuffed it in between her breast until it lay securely in her bra but unseen.

He bit down the wide smirk tugging at his lips watching the USB stick traveling down the valley of her breasts, hiding in the forbidden area for safe keeping. “Was that to tease me?”

Angel giggled reaching out and caressing his cheek. “Maybe a little.” She scrunched her nose.

Taehyung absolutely melted at the adorable sight, taking the liberty of the shut cameras to lean in and press the quickest kiss on her lips. “I-I know it’s against the rules.” Before he could explain himself any further, he felt soft plush lips quieten him down again, his heart jumped out of his chest.

Quickly pulling away from the kiss, she bit down her bottom lip to hide her grin. “There’s no rules anymore between you and me. Just don’t take too long getting back, okay?”

He chuckled and nodded. “You know what to do?” Taehyungs’ eyes absentmindedly flickered down to her breast.

With all her usual elegant confidence, she smiled. “You and your sister will be safe soon.”

-

The air was thick with elegance and style, vibrant colors of yellow, sky blue and rose pink gracing every corner twinkling in diamonds. Growing up Belle watched in awe every fashion show or design video imagining her own name etched on the curtains for all the critics and admirers to see.

Belles’ own attire was simple, long white dress with long, layer frills that helped conceal the bump to the best of its ability. Worst case scenario people would think she let herself go but really the news should be coming soon considering a four month bump already proved to be difficult to hide no matter what the dress looked like.

Makeup artists actively moved about each model almost like machines while Belle checked every outfit was fitted to perfection.

Only thing that doused the fire of energy was the aching. Her back, limbs and belly kept sending either dull or sharp pains ever since this morning which caused Belle to have a less than enthusiastic demeanor while preparing for everything.

Boyoung explained that it was normal to have these aches during the fourth month of pregnancy so Belle let it be. Except now she wished she had time for a small appointment with the doctor just to check everything was okay.

“Madame Belle!”

Saito’s voice brought her back to reality while she was fixing a models’ earring. Belle turned over her shoulder to see the woman wearing a white attire as well to ensure colors did not clash with the actual designs. A grin tugged at the corners of her lips, kindly giving the model good luck before turning to see the older woman. “Am I allowed to be called that yet?”

“Sweetie, you deserved to be called that long before this fashion show.” Saito chuckled, rubbing her arm. “How’re you feeling?” She tilted her head searching the youngers’ expression.

Belle took a deep breath feeling a jolting ache on her back but she smiled nonetheless. “I’m okay. A little nervous.”

“Good. It’s good to be a little nervous. That means you care.” Saito squeezed her shoulder gently. “I’ll be here with you the whole time.”

“Thank you.” Belle’s eyes flickered to the side where she saw a familiar figure in a suit walk backstage with his gaze looking around for something. “Excuse me, Saito.” She muttered before moving past her towards Jungkook.

When Jungkook finally set his eyes on her, his expression softened and a smile tugged at his lips. “You ready?”

She nodded mimicking his smile absentmindedly. “You came, I thought you had meetings.”

Jungkook shrugged non-chalantly. “I’m their boss. They can wait.”

Belle chuckled lightly watching Taehyung make his way backstage but one person still missing. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“He’s at his seat already.” The man nodded to the side. Jungkooks’ hand almost automatically reached out to caress her belly gently before quickly pulling away. “I’ll—see you at the end of the show.” He smiled.

“Yeah…” She whispered, giving him a bright grin.

For a moment he thought to just turn on his heel and leave but he couldn’t resist. Leaning in, Jungkook chastely pressed his lips against hers. Slowly he stepped back pressing his lips together before walking away.

Belles’ smile disappeared as soon as Jungkook was out of sights. Maybe to him the kiss meant a sign of good luck for the show. To her, it was a kiss to say goodbye.

-

Fingers caressed the warrant like his first born child, brush of light cool air bringing even more relief than Namjoon already had. God how many years did he sacrifice his health, sleep and sanity to come to this moment? Where he had a car parked just outside the gates of the Jeon mansion awaiting the clear sign for them to enter.

Of course the captain had some reluctance in giving them the warrant but a direct order from the mayor had him quaking enough to give the approval.

Every nerve in his body tingled in anticipation, looking at the paper before staring at the majestic mansion. All that power was about to crumble down to the state it deserved to be in. Obsolete.

Granted the male was not naïve in thinking that this infiltration will end everything. The Jeon family had roots so deep in this city that it would take ripped out the entire land just to get rid of everything. But this was a first step to ensure the empire never grew too big for its own good.

Every King needed to lose their crown every now and then to learn that they were just a person underneath all that luxury and power. Easily breakable.

And Namjoon felt oh so pleased finally being able to break Jeon Jungkook in his tyrannous reign.

In a perfect pattern, that thought led to the gates finally opening with two police officers signaling to him that the coast was clear to enter.

-

“It’s time. Places, everyone!” Belle called out and all the models rushed over to the area they needed to come out from. Her own heart pounded faster at every second and another ache jolted in her abdomen now strong enough to make her wince. But she held her composure with all the strength could muster.

Then the first model walked out onto the runway and her stomach jumped knowing her path to any possible reputation as a designer now began its course.

Camera flashed even more violently than before as Belle caught a few happy murmurs from the crowd. She smiled before another searing burst of pain hit both her abdomen and back forcing her to stop for a moment to take deep breaths, her hand caressing her belly to somehow soothe it.

“Just bear with me for a minute, sweetheart.” She whispered to the belly as it seemed to getting more and more violent in its power.

Halfway through the show, Belle succumbed to leaning on anything close by with the constant pain but her smile stayed intact. She felt something uncomfortable between her legs as if a period came along without her knowing.

That was when worry sunk in. Before she could place any attention on it however, one of her models’ dress got snagged with the necklace. Belle almost could not catch her name being called but the woman quickly got herself back and rushed to separate them to ensure no thread was out of place.

“Belle?” Saitos’ hand hovered over her back with a worried expression on her face. “You okay?”

No. That was the initial answer that formulated in her mind as she once again leaned back on one of the vacant vanities. “I’m okay it’s just—a little sore.” The description had been underwhelming to describe whatever was happening to Belle. Her knees were losing all its power to hold her body up, even her hearing ability became a little muffled as if trying to conserve energy or to numb more of the pain.

Saito nodded though not looking completely convinced since she could see through the younger female on any occasion. Gaze flickered down to her belly before meeting hers again. “Tell me if you need to stop. It’s just a show, okay?” She briefly caressed her cheek before glancing over at the models coming in and out, trying to analyze the situation. “Two more outfits left then we’ll go to the doctor.” She muttered. “Alright?”

Belle took another deep breath, cheeks puffing out a little in the process but she nodded putting herself back on her feet again. “Alright.”

All the models made their way to the stage showing off a final viewing of all the outfits in all their glory and the crowd soared. Anyone who knew Belle could feel the success simply oozing from this show. The sheer extravagance yet simplicity with subtle connections to the beautiful expression of nature during spring time brought an impressed smile even on the harshest critics.

If only the designer herself could completely enjoy this achievement without her whole body being overwhelmed with discomfort and pain.

“You have to go out for a bow.” Saito explained gently as Belle tried her best to focus only on her breathing.

Aside from her muffled hearing, her whole body now burned like a furnace making Belle a little lightheaded. It’s almost done. It’s almost done. One more smile.

God, that was the last thing she wanted to think on her first successful fashion show.

Once again the woman nodded giving Saito a big smile which she returned before turning on her heel and walking to the stage. Step after the other carefully trying to keep her composure as best as she could.

Then all Belle saw was a bright white light, her hearing now resorted to a high-pitched drawled out beep making her think she was watching a muted video in front of her. Shaking fingers intertwined with one another, the girl stretched her exhausted lips into a wide grin. Heavy head lowered into the most decent form of a bow without her legs giving out.

Keep it in. Keep it in. She repeated to herself, trying to focus on her breathing while barely being able to hear anything.

Camera flashed and the crowds applause tried to push the barrier of mute suddenly formed in her ears. Belle could see the smiles however. That was all she needed. They liked it. They liked her designs. Her work paid off just like she always dreamed. That thought kept her standing on the stage in the best composure she could muster. Another bow given to each side ensuring they knew how grateful she was.

Maybe for a brief second, Belle forgot her whole body was warning of something in messages of deep ache and lack of orientation or balance.

Though it quickly came back for another reminder. This time more persistent. Belle felt like her belly was being jabbed by something sharp in such a ruthless manner, she worried she could collapse right here on the floor. Even her legs trembled and the discomforting feeling between her legs now almost felt wet like it soaked through her panties.

Belle kept her smile though it was trembling significantly before she backed away out of the stage, almost running but there was hardly any strength left for that anymore.

The white light now faded away and she was away from the stage, coming in backstage.

As if something snapped in her willpower when Belle felt her legs stumble onto the floor just past the closed curtains. Knees crashed against the wooden floor leaving a thud echoing across the room.

Both Saito and Taehyungs’ smiles disappeared watching the bright looking woman drop to her knees, only thing they could hear now was her agonized whimpering.

Saito sped towards her before anyone else truly gauge the situation, heels slamming onto the floor before her arm over the youngers’ shoulder as she almost fell on her side. “Belle?” She turned her around to see mascara coated tears dripping down Belle’s cheeks. “Belle what’s wrong? Tell me please.”

“It hurts…” Belle cried out, lips trembling and the drenched feeling between her legs leaking down the insides of her thighs and making her dress stick to her skin. “The baby…” She whispered before gasping.

For a few seconds her vision turned white making her whine shakily as her lower belly felt like it was being ripped apart with someone’s bare hands. Cold tears under her eyes, unable to close her legs from the sloppy sensation and the pungent smell of blood. Belle tried to look down but all she could catch was a glimpse of her white dress now glistening in deep red.

“You sick fuck get out of here!” Taehyung grabbed the reporter by the collars just after the flash of his camera. He had every nerve in his body to punch him until his nose fell to the floor but the sound of his sister sobbing made him stop.

Three guards immediately rushed in and carried the reporter off backstage while they tried to thrash around like a dirty insect.

Taehyung breathed heavily grimacing at the pig before looking at one of the guards who looked equally distressed. “Get Jeon here now.” He gestured.

Eyes shone in delight as Jungkook looked at the audience chatting away with an air of enthusiasm. He could almost see his wife climbing up this ladder of success. She deserved every bit of it especially since the man now saw the designs for himself. Growing up seeing Saitos’ designs, it was pleasing to see that the style may have changed but the quality never diminished.

A guard then walked over to him, reluctantly tapping him on the shoulder and leaning into his ear so his voice could be heard only to them in the crowd. “Sir it’s your wife… there’s been an incident.”

As soon as those words were muttered in his ear Jungkooks smile disappeared. He knew there were cameras around but nothing else seemed whirl around his mind except Belle. His body grew cold at those horrid words that he hoped would never come together.

Feet bolted, passing the guard to backstage even though his increasingly pounding heart made it hard to move faster.

Yoongis’ stomach and heart were already dancing in distress this whole night after getting a call from Namjoon that they would be infiltrating Jeon mansion tonight and then arresting him as soon as possible for the amount of concerning evidence. The police would be waiting for Jungkook to be taken away at his own home. It was a cruel fate in a normal context but for a man like Jeon Jungkook, it was what everyone knew he deserved.

However then the guard rushed in to whisper something in Jungkooks’ ear and without even the slightest warning or preparation, Jungkook stepped into a run backstage.

If his nerves were not in knots already, now they were just tangled up forever. Not asking for any kind of clarification, he simply followed the younger male in the same pace knowing only one thing and one thing alone could have Jungkook so worried to be in such a rush.

Once Jungkook arrived backstage, breathing heavily and sweat already forming on his neck, his stomach twisted at the sight in front of him.

Saito wrapped dark burgundy cloth around Belle’s waist area, his wife’s white dress tainted with red while the models either wept or just looked utterly worried.

Taehyung had a phone to his ear speaking through gritted teeth possibly to a doctor attempting to give instructions.

Jungkook rushed towards the woman, tears already burning behind his eyes just looking at her sobbing in complete pain. “What’s happening? What do we do?” He whispered. For the first time in his life, the man had fear seeping through his tone.

Belle gripped onto Saitos’ clothes feeling her vision blur although she wasn’t sure it was from the tears or the lack of her ache ceasing. Before she could get her bearings, something hooked under her back and knees. Her body lifted from the ground and cold rush flowed through her from the speed she was being moved in.

Then all Belle could see was black. Everything shut down almost as if she was lulled to a deep sleep.

-

Yoongi practically kicked the door down as they tried to get out the backdoor. He opted to drive before anyone else could, running to the driver’s seat of the black sedan waiting just in case paparazzi rushed in too thick at the entrance.

Saito and Taehyung ran out with Jungkook following close behind, carrying Belle as securely as he could despite his stomach lurching.

Taehyung opened the door while Saito moved to the other side and climbed in.

Jungkook tried to place Belle laying down on the car seat as gently as possible before climbing in at the same time Taehyung sat in the passenger seat.

Before they could even close their doors, Yoongi drove off definitely breaking a few speeding rules as he practically burst into the streets, tires screeching against the tar.

-

“Go to the J District, there’s a shortcut button there.” Jungkook nodded to the GPS, city lights passing across his face.

“This isn’t time for a road trip, Jungkook.” Yoongi seethed.

“We need to go to the private house and get our own medic.” He argued.

Taehyung pressed the button even though anger still burned in his body. “Why can’t we just go to a fucking hospital? It’ll be closer.”

“Hospitals are public places, alright? The minute one disloyal nurse gets a glimpse of any of us, the press will be outside in seconds.”

Yoongis’ grip around the steering wheel tightened so much, he could feel his pulse through his palm as his knuckles grew white. “I swear to god, Jeon. This isn’t one of your damn danger missions.” Something cracked inside him and the male couldn’t seem keep any of the usual composure he had around the power figure.

Jungkook sighed looking over at Belle who struggled to keep her consciousness while her blood soaked through his own shirt. “Just do it.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Taehyung, dear get a medic to the private home now so no time is wasted.” Saito broke into the tension with her gently yet firm voice while her slightly blood stained hand brushed through Belle’s hair. “If she doesn’t get treatment quickly, it might cause an infection.”

Yoongi glanced at the rearview mirror, his heart feeling empty not being able to see Belle from this line of vision but he increased his speed anyway taking a quick left.

“If anything happens to her, Jeon I’ll kill you, I swear to god.” Taehyungs’ eyes were reddened and glossy, a phone pressed to his ear again as he called for a private medic to go to the Jeons’ private house immediately.

-

Belle jolted awake for a moment seeing a grey ceiling and a blurry vision of a face looking down. Some voices spoke but they were heavily muffled. Then her body felt like it was being moved again. As if she was flying or levitating somehow through her locations. “Tae—” It was the only name she could breathe out.

A burst of bright warm lighting hit her exhausted eyes making her close them for a moment. It left her trying to get her hearing together but they were still difficult to pick up. She heard a familiar deep voice. Her big brothers’ voice. Most of them seemed familiar except one who from whatever she could catch had a calm demeanor.

Her vision cleared just for a second but Belle was welcomed with blood dripping from something thick around her waist. At least she thinks it was from her. It tainted the wooden floors nonetheless.

In a few more heartbeats, she felt a soft surface under her body and Belle fully melted into it without any hesitance.

Jungkook backed away reluctantly as the doctor leaned in to examine Belle. A tear threatening to escape at the brim of his right eye.

Taehyung bit down the urge to sob looking at the amount of blood his baby sister shed on the floor. He looked around for some kind of cloth and found white hand towel with golden lettering. Grabbing the cloth, he crouched down to wipe off the trail of blood on the floor while his tears mixed in with it.

“We need to get some cleaner clothes on her.” The doctor stated looking over at Saito who quickly nodded.

“There’s some nightgowns in the cupboard.” Jungkook muttered, gesturing towards the white closet next to the vanity.

Saito shrugged her jacket off leaving her in her shirt tucked into her skirt as she opened the luxurious cupboard and pulled out the most breathable nightgown. Walking back to the bed, she climbed on the other side after pushing her shoes off.

The doctor took out some scissors and cut the middle of her dress so it could be ripped off easily since it was mostly ruined as it were. Saito helped the piece of clothing get shrugged off her shoulders.

Belle whined at the sudden cold feeling passing through her body. It definitely didn’t help since the blood began to stick to her skin.

Jungkook noticed the little sound and rushed to the fireplace, crouching down and switching it on to add more warmth to the room. His disoriented focus had to stare the running fire for a moment not able to gain any kind of patterned thinking. Shrugging his jacket off his shoulder, he threw it onto the chair to his side where his mother would usually read.

“May I have only one extra person in this room?” The doctor asked kindly.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder, snapping back to reality as Taehyung got up to his feet.

“I’ll take care of her.” Saito reassured the both of them.

Niether one of them opposed knowing there was really only one person who always took care of Belle without her having to give something in return.

Both males padded out of the room. Jungkook gave one final glance towards Belle before closing the door in front of him.

-

Once they reached the private home and Taehyung and Jungkook were preoccupied with getting Belle acquainted, Yoongi stopped at the entrance to shakily grab his phone. A light groan passed his lips when he couldn’t get his thoughts together to click the number. Eventually the memory came in and he typed the number in, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Yoongi we’re ready, where are you?” Namjoon muttered into the phone.

“Something’s happened, it’s Belle. We’re at the private home at J District. Get yourself fucking ready here now.” Yoongi quickly informed and hung the phone up, trying to delete the number on his phone as calmly as he could. His hand reached into his holster to feel the harsh object giving him some form of relief aside from the ache in his heart.

Walking into the private home, he saw Jungkook pacing around worriedly while Taehyung leaned back against the counter with his arms folded over his chest.

Yoongi found it so strange how a man of such power could look so vulnerable in front of him. It was the perfect time except he had a bitter taste on his tongue calling it ‘perfect’. To think it took Belle to go through an immense amount of pain for this to happen made him look more like the villain than the murderous druglord worried for his wife and heir.

-

It felt like eternity had passed and restarted again when Belle finally woke up without her vision being blurry or her hearing almost completely lost. The wet feeling between her legs now completely dry and even comfortably warm. Pain slowly subsided though there was still very faint ache that also slowly passed.

Reddened eyes flickered over to the side where she saw Saito listening to a man in a white suit talking to her in a soft murmur.

The expression on Saitos’ face only spoke concern or maybe pity.

“Saito?” Belle tried to speak but it came out in a raspy whisper, throat a little ticklish from how dry it was.

Saito looked over at the younger woman, sighing before meeting the doctors’ gaze. “I’ll tell her, you just inform the three men out there.” She gave him a reassuring nod.

“Of course.” The doctor agreed before opening the door and disappearing behind it.

Once it was just the two of them, Belle tried to shift in the bed to somehow sit up but the ache only increased making her wince.

“No no, stay still.” Saito quickly sat down on the edge of the bed, soothing her still swollen belly and held onto her hand.

“What—what happened? Where am I?” She looked around the strange bedroom before glancing down at her belly. “I–I can’t…” Belle placed a hand over her belly. “There was so much blood.” Her breath hitched in her throat.

“Belle…” Saito tried to keep her voice as calm as possible even though her heart dropped seeing the look of confusion and fear ridding the youngers’ face. “The doctor said your baby may have had a heart defect of some sort…” She gulped down. “It couldn’t survive, sweetie.” She tried to soothe her chest. “I’m sorry.”

Belle shook her head, feeling a burning behind her eyes. “No…no the–the doctors’ appointment—said everything—was fine.” She tried to breathe through her frantic sobs. “Why would they say it was fine?” She pulled herself up, wincing as tears collecting at the brim of her eyes. “Why would they say it was fine if there was a heart defect?”

Saito took a deep breath, squeezing her shoulders gently. “Sometimes they can’t catch it. These things are very difficult to predict, Belle.”

She had already been unconscious before now something else seemed to turn off inside her. As if the whole world did not crash or explode. But simply stopped working for the arrival of cruel fates’ plan.

-

Torturous amount of time passed before the doctor walked through the door with a solemn expression on his face giving none of them any sense of reassurance. Because there wasn’t any to give. He looked at all three of them who had stopped in their usual tracks to gaze at the older male. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.” The doctor looked more at Jungkook now. “Your wife has had a miscarriage. I’ve cleaned everything up to ensure there was no infection but I do suggest that she go to a proper hospital for proper checkups.”

Jungkook looked completely frozen as the news lingered in the already thickened air. He backed away a little, balance on the edge of a study table of whatever it was the man didn’t care. Tears brimmed at his eyes trickling down his already flushed cheeks without a care in the world.

If Yoongi didn’t feel like a villain before, he did now.

Taehyung turned away to face the wall but he could still hear the light sobs passing his lips.

Yoongi faced the doctor and led him out of the home.

Out in the dark night, he smiled at the doctor giving him thanks as he opened his car door for him.

Once the doctor drove off onto the road, Yoonginoticed from the corners of his eye the figures moving around in the bushes around on his left and right. Blatantly the man turned to notice the dark uniforms even from the distance, their badges glimmering just a little in the light. On the right he heard the sound of metal moving.

It was time. This had to happen here and now or never.

Licking his lips he let out a deep sigh and walked back inside, once again, checking his holster before entering the house again.

-

Sound muffled to non-existence as the room seemed to get progressively smaller, walls hugging her still body. It ached everywhere. She could feel the burn and still smell the pungent stench of her own blood tainting the now soft, dry surface. Back cramped, lower belly so weakened as if it was punched a hundred times with spiked metal fists. Exhaustion clouded Belle’s mind, pulling this broken shell into a decent lull to slumber but her eyes stayed wide open. Unblinking. She stared at nothing and everything.

Mind finally accustomed itself to the new setting of the Jeons’ private home. Deep warm lighting from the lamps at each corner, dark wooden floors and a running fireplace facing the front of the bed. Belle remembered catching a glimpse of it when they carried her in here leaving a wet red trail on the floor as she was moved. Her body barely moved however, limbs burning but frozen at the same time. Belle told herself to try and wriggle her toes or move her fingers. Not a single nerve responded.

She had one thing in common with her mind now. Loneliness.

So strange to think that a being barely grown to be called a full human could place such a heavy weight on Belle’s head. The loss now brought this in this feeling of being alone. Belle was once two. Now she was one broken thing. Barely able to move or function.

The door clicked open but Belle still refused to move whether out of exhaustion or just lack of care. It didn’t matter what anyone said, that empty feeling was still there.

Saito stayed silent as long as she felt it was necessary. But the words seemed to fall out of her without control. “I really can’t say anything to make you feel better, honey. There’s no easy way to comfort someone who’s lost something that could’ve been.”

Persistently unmoving as the woman was, her eyes still flooded on its own accord, burning and liquid flowing onto the pillow. This wasn’t Belle’s fault. It wasn’t anyone fault. Nothing but fate once again showing how it never had it out for her in the first place.

That was the problem though, wasn’t it? Belle spent so much time praying for fate to do something right for her but it only gave her more pain. What was going to happen for the better if she just stood and smiled at all the suffering thrown her way? Fate gave her a fake marriage, forced her to fall in love with a man who only cared about his reputation. Fate allowed her to be impregnated against her will. Fate stood by while Belle lost the child she grew to love. The child she had envisioned to raise and protect was now gone.

“It’s a good thing.” Belle whispered, still not shifting from her position nor looking at Saito.

The older womans’ brows furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

It had to stop. It had to stop now or never.

Belle pursed her lips together before swallowing down the lump in her throat, preparing the words that kept swirling in her mind for months. Begging to escape so she could be free. Finally she moved her head to meet Saitos’ gaze. Despite her weak nature, her eyes held firm onto hers to ensure that the woman heard and understood everything she was going to say.

“There’s something I need to tell you…about how Jungkook and I met.”

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

[outdoormagic]

Swollen Thigh Beetle..... by favmark1

#flowers #beetle #macro

[onenicebugperday]

...why are his legs so thick? what gym does this little man go to? (found last summer in germany)

This little man is in fact a little man - a male Oedemera nobilis, also known as a thick-legged flower beetle or swollen-thighed beetle. The ladies have much thinner legs. He must work out. Thanks for sharing this swol friend :)

#animals #insects #bugs #submission #beetle #thick legged flower beetle

[travelling-my-little-pony]

A Breezie has been joined on this yellow flower by a lovely green insect. This is a Swollen-thighed Beetle (Oedemera nobilis) - a bit about it at:

https://www.naturespot.org.uk/species/swollen-thighed-beetle

In Torquay, in Devon, England.

#My Little Pony #g4 #breezie #yellow #flower #torquay #devon #england

[delldarling]

puzzle pieces | merrick ii

commission for @shoto-todoloki-a-hoe  who requested more of merrick <3 looking for part i? male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 1500 words lemon | handjob, ear attention

“I can walk,” you insist, thumping feebly at Merrick’s tattooed back. Truth be told, you’re simply enamored with touching him at the moment. You’ve dreamed of stroking your hands over the broadness of his shoulders, of biting at his plush lower lip and shaking apart under his touch. It’s a heady feeling, having had it. Knowing that he’s wanted you in the same way. “I’ve never been laid low by a single org- ouch!” You jerk away from where he’s pinched your thigh, but all Merrick does is adjust so he can hold you tighter. He’s still ignoring your complaining though, continuing on his way to the bedroom. “Hey! Are you even listening?” 

He walks faster, and you catch sight of his heels and calves below the bare curve of his ass, tattoos stark against the pale skin. “I’m trying not to,” he says, and his fingers tremble in their grip on your legs. The cadence of his speech, the way he words things- why must he make everything sound like a secret? 

"Merrick," you start, voice soft as you trace the wing lines of his tattoos. He doesn’t let you get any farther though, tossing you onto your bed, a sly smile curling his mouth as you bounce, and gasp in mock outrage. He follows after you, spreading your legs so he can kneel between them, and places a soft, almost reverent kiss, over your heart. You start to clench your jaw, emotion welling up in your chest, but Merrick- 

“Do you think I could lay you low with another orgasm?” He asks, leaning back and raising a brow when you don’t immediately answer. You kind of want to laugh, and sigh, and scoff, all at the same time.

It’s a relief, finding out that he’s still himself with you, even after what happened in the kitchen. It’s a relief that he’s still around, that this isn’t a dream, that everything you’d agonized over is-

You settle for scowling at his pretty smirking face. Actually, it’s kind of irritating, realizing how much time you’ve wasted mooning over each other in silence. It’s not something to dwell on, at any rate, because you still have questions for Merrick. About Gar, about his tattoos, about his ears and his stupid way of phrasing things.

“Am I still allowed to touch?” He asks suddenly, brushing his pale curls out of his eyes. The question startles away your scowl, but this is still very new. For both of you.

“Yeah, definitely,” you hasten to say, heat coursing through your body.  

Merrick makes it so damned hard to concentrate on asking him anything, even at the best of times. Now that you both have this, you kind of despair of getting any answers at all. Even now, you’re distracted by the careful way he lays beside you on the bed. The way the dim daylight coming from your window plays over his shoulders. It almost makes his wings look like they’re moving. Before you can think any more on it though, he’s moving close, hand stroking over bare skin, and his teeth are gentle against your shoulder, followed swiftly by a swipe of his tongue. You press even closer, breath soft, and Merrick lays a trail of kisses along the column of your neck, long fingers ghosting over your back and hip.

The kissing, the touching… It’s new and exploratory and you’re both reveling in it, finally knowing you can be this close to each other- but your brain just doesn’t want to shut off. His tattoos, and his ears. You keep tracing them while he’s kissing you, palms cradling his jaw, fingertips soft against the delicate points, wondering about them. He has odd interests, but you never would have pegged him for any kind of body modification, and they seem to be sensitive- or maybe Merrick just hasn’t made out with someone for this long while they fondle his ears. You drag yours hands down his chest, and replace your fingers with your mouth, nipping at the fine cartilage- and Merrick spasms, groaning against the hollow of your neck, and the room grows a little brighter.

“Like that, do you?” You pull back to ask, voice low, heart thundering unsteadily in your chest. The room seems to dim again when you meet his gaze. He looks a mess, lips swollen from kissing, pupils blown- and his ears are flushed pink.

“Yes,” he says, serious, almost desperate sounding when he follows the word with your name. 

“..More?” You ask, coaxing, as all he seems able to do is breathe, and stare, and clutch at your hip. He nods his head, and your thigh slips between his when you get back to work, teeth careful against his earlobe. Merrick shudders under you and turns absolutely breathless when you tug at his curls to get a better angle. 

"You've ruined me," he gasps, lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "The way you look at me, how you feel, the way you say- say Merrick." Again, it sounds like he chokes on the words, barely able to say his own name, but then his hips are rolling, and you realize how hard he is against your thigh.

You let the questions go, ignoring the puzzle pieces still quietly rearranging themselves in the back of your head, and focus on pleasure. You catalogue the way he sounds when your tongue touches the shell of his ear, the way he thrums with tension when your fingers curl around his cock. All you can taste now is that strange floral tea - on his tongue, on his skin, just breathing in the air near him. You can’t seem to get enough of it. The both of you are starting to lose your nerves now, too eager for each other to be slow. 

“What do you want?” Merrick asks, panting when you pull away for air, letting go of his cock so you can think beyond the word more. “Tell me.”

You laugh, just once, before you adjust, sitting back on his thighs. “Trying to make this all about me?” You tease, pleased, but slightly embarrassed by such acute attention.

“It’s always been all about you,” Merrick confesses, thumbs soft against your knees. “Your happiness is important to me, and-”

“Yours is important to me too, Merrick,” you interrupt, a little exasperated. “Let me,” you insist, enjoying the sight of him spread out beneath you. 

He rolls his eyes, but a dimple shows in his cheek, and now all you can think about is kissing it. “Hands then,” he suggests, and you laugh again.

“What are we, teenagers?” You ask, but you still lean forward, taking him back in hand and pressing another kiss to his shoulder. Merrick makes a small strangled noise, thrusting up into your grip.

“Hardly,” he murmurs when you start to stroke. “Would have been too-” His eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Too impatient to draw things out this way. Would have rushed, wouldn’t have-” He breathes your name again, voice shaking, when you nip at his other ear. “Wouldn’t have realized what- what I have.”

You’re still stroking him languidly, not wanting the friction to be unpleasant, but he seems to enjoy the pace. He does lose his breath when you press yourself against his cock though, eager to help him lose his composure, and he almost keens when you bite his ear again. Your eyes are closed, enjoying the taste of his skin, the feeling of him, hard and pulsing in your hand, when he bucks. “What do you have, Merrick?” You ask.

“Ev-” He curses, hand curling around the back of your neck, and tilts his head until he’s nearly kissing you. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself,” he gets out, and then looks shocked by the admission. You want to ask what he means, but he pulls you into a rough, wet kiss, and wraps his hand around your own, speeding your pace. He’s actively chasing his own orgasm now, hips lifting, cock head rubbing against your skin, and you have to squeeze your thighs to keep from being displaced.

“Merrick,” you gasp between kisses, and then he’s coming, over your hand and his, dripping onto his belly and he’s still hard. You cease to notice time, taking a minor break to clean up before you’re both back in bed. Whether he’s using his hands, or his mouth, or just rutting against you, you feel like you’re nothing but nerve endings, over eager for every brush of skin.    

You lose yourself in him completely, until the both of you are smiling, half-awake idiots and it’s nearly dark outside. It isn’t until Merrick is drifting off to sleep, eyelashes pale against his cheekbones, limbs still, that you notice his tattoo again. It reminds you of bee wings, or beetles, gorgeous, and almost frail looking. You run your fingers over the edge, and then it hits you:

Merrick is a fucking faerie.

[[If you didn’t already know, Merrick and his reader have a full length 60k word story over on my patreon! fastidious & puzzle pieces are just the beginning of a vast faerie world - come check it out?]]

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #fae x reader #gender neutral reader #faerie x reader #d.darling writes #so yeah i can happily draw hair forever #just want everyone to know that