#(well unless I run out of tag space)

[azumasoroshi]

forever cursed to write insane long tag spam on reblogs of other people’s posts until i realize that i should make a separate post for the idea and putting the post into drafts and then never getting around to transfering the idea to post form

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Two) (18+) / Part One

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 5.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

An uncomfortable nap taken out of sheer spite does nothing to improve your mood. Your neck is stiff now, as is your spine, and it pops when you stretch from your place on the tiny loveseat.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty has risen,” Jake grins, the cocky expression boiling your blood, “Ready for dinner, sunshine?”

“I’m going to push you off of this boat.” You grumble, and Jake blinks, toning his smile down into a grimace.

“Well, maybe some food’ll improve your mood.” Jake rises from where he’d been presumably sleeping as well, though you’re surprised he fell asleep after you and woke up before you. His bedhead gives him away, and he runs his fingers through it, “We’ve got a table reserved in the restaurant for 6, darlin’. We should get there a little early, though, wanna head out now?”

Your nose wrinkles involuntarily, though you wouldn’t have stopped it, “You reserved us a table? I’m not eating with you.”

“We eat together all the time,” He scoffs, “Come on, Y/L/N, this is no different from eating in the mess hall.”

“It’s different because everyone who sees us is either going to think we just had sex, or that we’re about to,” You protest, but he’s out of sympathy to feign.

“Or both,” He grins, running a hand once more through his slightly less messy hair. He’s still barely dressed, and it takes effort for your eyes not to naturally drift away from his face. 

“You’re usually wearing a uniform when we eat in the mess hall, Hangman,” You narrow your eyes at him, glancing pointedly below his neck to his bare chest, but straying no further, “Unless they’ve hired you to be a stripper on board, and I’m just now finding out?”

“Nah, I auditioned but they said I was too good,” He crosses his bulging biceps over his chest, a haughty smirk on his face, “I didn’t wanna steal any tips from the ladies.”

“Right,” You drawl, aiming to move past him to reach your suitcase that’s been mysteriously moved from beside your head to the side of the bed opposite from where Jake had been sleeping. Except, the man blocking your path doesn’t move, and you’re stuck in the small hallway-like space that the loveseat is squished into.

“Hangman,” Your teeth are gritted, and they warp your words slightly, “Move. I need my suitcase, I’m going to change for dinner.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with your dress,” He eyes the fabric with feigned consideration, “Except of course that it’s a little long. It only needs to go up to about here,” He snakes a hand towards your waist, laying two hefty smacks against the skin on your hip that lines up just beneath the curve of your ass. He moves faster than you can back away, but you land a valiant smack against his hand when he withdraws it, “Then you could join my stripping act.”

“Hangman, if you touch me again, I’ll rip off your balls,” You swear, but there’s still a glint of mischief far too bright in his eyes for your liking, so you shove past him, making sure to tap your knuckles gently between his legs for good measure.

He groans, hunching over and breathing heavily, “Shit, Y/L/N, you trying to take out the Seresin line?”

“It’s not that bad,” You drawl, setting your suitcase on the bed and delving into its contents, “But a world where you can’t reproduce sounds like one I want to live in.”

You’re already halfway to the bathroom, your evening dress in hand when he calls back, “You act all high and mighty now,” You can hear the grin that Jake’s voice indicates, even if he’s rummaging through his own suitcase for something to wear, “But later tonight I’m gonna have you beggin’ for me to knock you up, darlin’.”

Jake’s efforts to break into the bathroom you’re changing in are certainly impressive, if nothing else. He tries the knob at first, like you’d have forgotten to turn the lock before stripping naked. When you demand a reason he claims he’d forgotten his deodorant, which is a perfect excuse seeing as you miss no chances to point out his sweat-stench after training.

You spot the stick on the counter and give yourself the satisfaction of rolling your eyes, even if he’s not present to see it.

The second time he knocks, having learned his lesson, “Y/N, I need to pee.”

“I’m changing!” You cry, the straps on your dress proving impossible to untangle. Apparently being jostled in a suitcase wasn’t ideal for the dress’s shape.

“Changing what, seasons? By the time you get dressed our leave will be over, and you’re gonna have to get back into uniform.”

“If you’re so anxious to get to dinner, go by yourself!” You insist, frustration laced tight to your tone, “I’ll figure this fucking dress out, enjoy a leisurely meal, and then I’ll meet up with Daniel afterwards!”

You’re so used to Jake’s rapidfire quips that the silence ensuing after your declaration feels awkward. But it’s a victory, one that you don’t often win against the man outside the bathroom door, and you let it ease the sharp sting of annoyance that your dress is needling into you.

A fist lands heavy against the door, and Jake’s voice is unusually devoid of mirth, “Open up.”

“Jake, no!” You spit out his first name like a hex, “I fucking told you-”

“I’m going to help you,” He calls through the door, knocking incessantly, “Come on, you said you can’t figure out your dress, I’ll help you.”

“Nice try!” You scoff, finally pulling at the correct string and watching as the others fall into precarious place around them. You jab your arm into the hole it’s created and slip the rest of them into formation, standing triumphant in front of the mirror and realizing you look quite like you’ve had sex after all.

You smooth down a few flyaway hairs, grab Jake’s deodorant, and fling the door open, just as Jake flattens his hand to slam his palm into the wood, no doubt trying to make more noise than a simple knock.

You’re looking at his face, and he’s looking at yours, but both of you can feel his hand pressed firmly into your tit. You don’t doubt that he’d intended to hit the door instead of you, but he’s not moving away, either. You both stand paralyzed until his brain catches up with his body and he jerks his hand away, lashes fluttering as he blinks bewilderedly despite the wry grin purposefully etched into his features in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Didn’t mean to do that,” He simpers, and you’re certain that’s the closest to ‘I’m sorry’ he’s ever given you. You know him well enough to know he’s adequately flustered, but outsiders might not catch the barely-there pink tinge to his tan cheeks, too distracted by his charming smile.

You overlook the accident if only to save yourself the awkward confrontation, ducking your head and shoving the deodorant stick against his chest. His hands come up to catch it and you make a break for the heels you’d set out by the closet, intent on strapping them on instead of talking to him.

He mumbles a distracted, ‘Thanks,’ when you hand him his deodorant, but the stick remains firmly capped in his hands as his gaze trails after you.

“Your dress looks nice.” He concludes, voice a tone softer than it normally is. It’s- nice. You’re too used to the bite of his southern drawl, the way he pairs a cocky quip with an eye-roll more vicious than even the most belligerent teenager. Now they’re soft and gooey-brown as he stares at the straps on your shoulders. This isn’t the first kind thing he’s ever said to you, but it’s certainly the first in a long time, and you swallow the urge to use it against him.

“Thank you.” You grumble, then, to steer away from the thick silence you’ve been enveloped in, “Not sure it’s worth it, though, those straps were fucking confusing.”

You swear you hear a mumbled, ‘It was,’, but Jake’s back is turned to you as he sets his still-capped deodorant on the bathroom counter, so you can’t be sure.

You’re surprised to find that the elevator is just as empty as you’d left it when you and Jake board to head to the 9th floor. The restaurant Jake had reserved your table at is upscale, and you presume everyone else is too busy boning to manage a sit-down meal. You settle against the back wall of the elevator in silence, looking but not watching as Jake presses the 9 button with a thick finger.

The last time you were in this elevator, Daniel was backing you up against the railing and kissing you.

Just the thought brings heat to your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the support that the wall behind you offers. If it wasn’t there, you’re not sure your weak knees would withstand the crushing weight of your weighty crush.

“Was that where he sucked your face?” Jake’s voice shatters your reverie into a million tiny, unsalvageable pieces, and you forget any momentary truce that you might have had with him only moments ago.

“Excuse me?” You level a glare at the man across from you, unimpressed with his accusation even though it was accurate, “He did not suck my face. He kissed me like a gentleman.”

Jake lets out a bark of laughter, “Right. Because gentlemen smear a woman’s lipstick halfway over her chin.”

Despite knowing you’d have seen any makeup smudges when you’d been in the bathroom earlier, your hand darts to your chin.

Jake takes it as an admission of guilt, and his sharp grin only grows, “Exactly. I’ve sucked faces before, I know what the result is.”

A rather unsavory memory assaults you of Jake crowding a vacationing New Yorker up against a wall of the Hard Deck. You push away the nauseating burning in your chest at the image, intent on never seeing Jake Seresin’s tongue inside of anyone’s mouth but his own again.

“You suck faces,” You conclude, still slightly bothered by what you’d recalled, “Daniel kisses.”

“Daniel,” Jake snorts, grasping for something to tease, “That’s not a very moan-able name, is it?”

“Neither is Jake,” You retort, “Jake sounds like a toddler running loose at the mall.”

“That’s why the ladies call me Hangman,” Jake grins, his eyes narrowed in an attempt at a smirk, “Well, some of ‘em call me Hungman by the end of the night.”

“Oh,” Your face twists into a grimace, and you’re thankful for the dinging of the elevator, “You’re not allowed to talk at dinner.”

“Only way you’ll get me to shut up is if you gag me, darlin’.” Jake laughs, stepping out of the elevator and following behind you even as you storm ahead towards the entrance to the dining room.

It’s an opulent room, chandeliers and crystal adorning every surface. You slow your pace before you reach the reception desk, so that the poor employee doesn’t think you’re going to vault over the counter and attack him, but you’re fairly certain there’s still a scowl on your face when you attempt to speak with him.

“We have a table reserved,” You inform the man, conscious of Jake’s impressive build lingering behind you, present and firm, “Room 838?”

With a quick few buttons pressed on the screen before him, the host nods, customer service smile on full force as he gestures to his left, “Of course, right this way.”

You let him lead, and you try not to get distracted by the grandiose decor. Whether it’s authentic material, or just plastic spray-painted gold, it’s beautiful, and you’re so absent-minded that you don’t acknowledge your table until you’re stopped in front of it.

“Here you are; have a lovely meal.” The man politely excuses himself, heading back to the front to greet whoever else is waiting to be checked in for their tables.

You’d been too overwhelmed by finding out that your hot sexy mystery man was actually your brutally combative fellow pilot to think about what dinner would entail beyond heated bickering. He’d drawn a comparison to the mess hall and your brain had run with it, but this is decidedly different from the drab benches you’re used to.

This is a small, delicate, round table, a white tablecloth draped elegantly overtop. It’s two candles, giving off a small aura of warm light around the dim restaurant, crystalline dishes framed with polished silverware. It’s an enclosed space, it’s knees brushing and eyes twinkling with candlelight, it’s electric shocks when skin meets skin. It’s romantic by design, and you refuse to share it with Hangman.

But you can’t refuse.

The waitstaff is limited and overworked, evidenced by the mountain of covered trays you see them rushing to different tables. It would be rude to storm out, and while you’re not worried about offending Jake, you don’t want to inconvenience the staff.

Jake sniffs out your internal conflict by only a glance at your stiff stance, a skill he’s acquired after years of working out the perfect way to get under your skin. He can read you like a book, and he knows fury and guilt are waging war in your head right now.

You’d like to think he thought fury would win, but it’s guilt in the end. You step towards your chair, reaching out with two fingers to pinch the candle on your side of the table. The flame snuffs out beneath your touch, and the mild burning sensation is worth it to hear Jake scoff.

“Nicely done, killer,” He drawls, sounding offensively unperturbed by your obvious dislike of him. To your complete and utter indignance he reaches behind your back to pull the chair out from it’s seat, offering it to you as a peace treaty.

You are not a peaceful person, not when it comes to Hangman.

You take the opposite seat, maintaining sharp eye contact with Jake as you sit down. He inhales, and you take satisfaction in the puff of his chest, a telltale sign that he’s beginning to get aggravated. He lowers himself into his own seat, but notices the way your hand darts for the one candle that’s still lit, and he snatches it out of your way before you can snuff it out. It causes the silverware on the table to rattle, and you and Jake are required to send placatingly charming smiles to the people at nearby tables who turned at the commotion.

He turns that once-dazzling grin on you like a weapon as he relights the blackened wick of the candle you’d pinched, letting it burn once more to illuminate his features.

You don’t waste a second in snuffing it out again, “The point was so that I didn’t have to see your ugly face.”

“You are the most charming dinner guest I’ve ever had the pleasure of dining with,” Jake croons, unflappable as ever, “Put your napkin on your lap, Y/N, it’ll keep your dress dry when you’re drooling over me.”

You take ash-stained fingers and leave streaky, dark prints on the white cloth napkin, draping it over your lap and folding your hands neatly over it.

“Careful, Hangman,” You warn, your voice low and your face deceptively cheery as you nod kindly at a passing waiter, “They gave me two different knives to stab you with.”

“God, why are you so pissy?” He asks, and for a moment, you don’t know the answer. It catches you off guard, and that’s never supposed to happen, not around Hangman. He speaks again before you have the chance to respond- typical.

“So, we ended up on the same sex boat. Whatever, Y/L/N, shit happens.” His jaw is tense, fraught with annoyance while his eyes blaze like the jet engines he’s so used to gunning, “I’m just teasing, y’know. You know me, I’m not a monster, I’m not going to force you to have sex with me. If you don’t want to, then we won’t, and that’s that. You don’t have to keep snapping at me, I won’t bite you.”

It’s possibly the most heartfelt, sincere thing that Hangman has ever said to you, albeit in exasperation, and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that. Your rapport with the man has always been full of quips and jabs, nothing like what he’s just unleashed. You’d known he must have had a soft side, but you thought perhaps he’d left it back in Texas, because this is something new. You see a waiter approaching from behind Jake and smile politely at them, clueing your dinner date in to their appearance.

“Unless you want me to,” Jake adds with an insufferable wink, using the last few seconds that you’re able to speak freely to tease you. 

“Welcome,” The waiter smiles, once more with that impeccably tuned customer service politeness as he hands a wine list to Jake, “What can I get started for you this evening?”

As much as you hate to admit it, Jake’s teasing quip is familiar, a well-worn blanket you find comfort shrouding yourself in, and it breaks the awkward tension that had arisen when Hangman had spoken so sincerely towards you.

You don’t dare let a smile grace your features, but one tries; instead you settle for a kick to his shin beneath the elegant white tablecloth.

“We’ll have- mm! The- uh, the…” Jake trails off, eyes roving down the selection and realizing too late that he’s more attuned to cheap liquor in a beachside bar than he is to elegant pairings of food and wine. He recovers quickly, that special brand of Seresin charm, grinning across the table at you, “Actually, we’d like it if you surprised us. Money’s no object,” He throws in a grotesquely over-the-top wink, “Just make it special for my roommate here.”

Your teeth ache as you grind them together in a smile, and you swear you can feel your right eye begging to twitch, “How considerate of you, Jake.”

“Anything for you, dear,” He replies easily, accepting two dinner menus from the waiter and thanking him. You maintain the common courtesy of waiting until the poor man is out of earshot before tearing into Jake, and he’s lucky he’s got both of the menus still in his hands, or you’d smack him upside the head with one.

“I’m not paying out of my ass to get drunk at a candlelight dinner with you.” You hiss, courteous of the other patrons, but barely able to contain yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He agrees, blinking like he’s not sure why you’re close to shouting, “I am.”

“That’s- ooh!” You fume, eyes clamped shut and jaw so tight it hurts. You take a second to breathe, “Hangman, you know damn well I don’t like owing you money.”

You have a very strict no-loans policy, though it only applies to yourself. You have no problem spotting Natasha for a few drinks, or treating Javy to animal fries at In-N-Out, but you’d rather die than let someone use their dollar for your snack at a vending machine. Feeling like you owe something makes your skin crawl, and it’s something your friends have all had to accept. All, of course, except for Hangman, who seems to delight in making your skin crawl.

“You don’t owe me money,” He laughs, taking a sip of the glass of ice water that had been waiting at his place on the table, “And you don’t owe me anything else either, darlin’. I’m paying for the wine.”

“Then I’m not drinking it,” You decide, still caught in your blustering fury, “I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit - you can mill around the ship and beg some poor woman to drink with you, and I’ll go back to our cabin and sleep.”

You wish that the man across from you wasn’t so adept at setting your nerves on fire. You chalk it up to years and years of flying together, at each other’s throats despite being on the same team, but Jake really is able to infuriate you with something as simple as a grin. The way that hollow manipulation glazes over his eyes each time he doles out a charming smile makes your chest burn, and you wish you could get a handle on your frustration. It’s embarrassing, really, that he knows how to pick you apart and induce insanity; you wish you improved at resisting him through practice, but that’s not how it works. It only gets worse, worse and worse and worse until you’re sitting across from him at a candlelit table, yearning to whack him over the head with a black-foldered menu.

“Fine,” Jake snorts, setting the glass down in the wet indent it had made on the tablecloth before, condensation beading at its base, “You don’t have to have any. But you have to take me back to our room - if I get wine drunk, you’ll have to stop me from kissing everyone.”

The startling admission does exactly what Jake intended it to, and you’re caught off guard, the rapidly ticking bomb of frustration inside your chest temporarily disarmed. 

“You’re a drunk kisser?”

“A winedrunk kisser, yes ma’am,” Jake nods, the ammunition he supplies you with a far cry from his typically competitive nature, “First and only time I’ve ever had wine was at my sister’s wedding a few years back.” He reminisces, still holding tight to both menus as candlelight flickers on his tanned face, “She wasn’t necessarily thrilled that I started kissin’ on the groom, but I looked good in the veil when the photographer came around.”

He’s good-natured about the snort you let out in response, and finally he offers the menu to you like an olive branch, “You gonna whack me with this thing?”

“How’d you know I wanted to?” You arch an eyebrow, taking the menu from him. Prices aren’t listed - the cost of your meals was included with the boarding pass, but extras like drinks are something you’ll need to pay a tab on later. Nevertheless, the food looks to be worth your money.

“You get this look in your eye when you’re feelin’ feisty,” Jake notes, taking a look at his own menu, “Your jaw gets all tight, and I start gettin’ the urge to cover my crotch.”

Today was not the first time you’ve ever whacked him in the balls; evidently he does learn, even if he chooses not to apply that knowledge.

You neglect to respond, no longer irritated enough to tell Jake that he’s deserved every hit he’s taken from you, but never vulnerable enough to apologize. Instead you bury yourself in the menu, appreciating the array of cuisine that you’re not often treated to on a naval base. 

Jake lets you remain silent until the waiter comes back with the wine that he’d ordered, and you nod in thanks with a poorly-concealed clenched jaw to the man when he pours you a glass.

“That looks wonderful, thank you,” Jake gushes, eyes slightly narrowed as he raises his glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma wafting from the wine that he swirls gently, “Smell that, darlin’, ain’t it good?”

You reach for your portion with tense fingers that nearly shatter the stem of the glass as they wrap around it. The scent of the wine is oh-so-tempting; surely Jake’s objective for getting you to smell it was to wear you down into tasting it.

You won’t give in.

“Smells fantastic,” You concede, and if the waiter’s realized he’s in the lion’s den, pinned between two aggressors ready to rip into each other’s throats once more, he doesn’t show it. He merely bows, stepping away again and leaving the bottle on your table.

“That’s good,” Jake muses nonchalantly after a sip, glancing down at the menu in his lap as if you’ll believe he’s perusing it instead of plotting a way to make you explode at the table. 

“Well I’m glad you like it, because you’ve got a whole bottle to finish,” You snipe, “I’m not a toddler, Jake, you can’t trick me into eating my broccoli by pretending it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Who said anything about tricking you?” He leans back in his chair, wine set back on the table, “Y/N, I can enjoy a nice glass of wine without it being about you, thank you very much. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and you’re not the only thing I think about.”

You’re more than used to Jake’s accusations of your egocentrism, not because it’s true, but because it’s what he defaults to whenever he can’t think of a response, but is too stubborn to let the issue go. They don’t worry you anymore like they used to, but they do irritate you, and you’re glad for the deep, smooth voice that calls your name from your left to distract you from Jake’s insults.

You know it before you turn; Daniel is there with his roommate. She’s gorgeous, her dark hair intricately braided and styled, a compliment to her skin that’s only a shade lighter, and you’re only slightly jealous of the way his arm is draped around her middle. You quell it by reminding yourself that you’d frenched him in an elevator only hours after meeting him, and this is a cruise meant for casual sex.

Perhaps your voice is a notch too sincere when you greet him, “Daniel.”

You miss it, your attention fixed on the couple approaching your table, but a muscle jumps in Jake’s jaw as it tightens. 

“Well, I guess you’re all some people think about,” Jake drawls, his grin now wolfish and lethal, and while your voice was slightly too kind, his voice is slightly the opposite, scathing in a way, “So you’re- uh, Elevator Boy?”

Daniel’s slight smirk is bashful where he bites the inside of his cheek and nods, “I guess that’s accurate. I- uh, I hope you don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t,” You reply before Jake can conjure up any more misplaced snark, “We’re not hooking up.”

Daniel’s brows furrow for only a split second, a confused reaction he hadn’t been able to politely mask in time. His roommate glances back at Jake, and the knit of her brow is less fleeting; clearly she’s thinking you’re out of your mind for not fucking him.

“Random roommates don’t always work out, I guess,” Daniel smooths over the awkward silence that’s befallen your table, and you want to kiss him for it. Well, you want to kiss him regardless, but now you’re positively fiending for a repeat of earlier.

“He’s my coworker,” You explain, “We really can’t.”

“Oh!” He laughs, and his roommate seems equally amused by your poor fortune, “That’s crazy, and- there’s no changing roommates, is there?”

“She’s stuck with me,” Jake continues aiming that deadly grin towards Daniel, and you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on fire yet. 

“Well, if you ever want to switch for a night,” Daniel squeezes his roommate’s side, his fingers ghosting over her exposed skin in the cutout dress she’s sporting, “I’m not an idiot; Danica’s ogling you.”

You marvel at the friendly banter they share after only a few hours of knowing each other, but Daniel seems fantastic to get along with. Danica laughs at his teasing and manages to look barely bashful when she nods at you, “I wasn’t gonna say anything when I thought you two were enjoying yourselves, but I’d be happy to step in if you wanna get lucky for a night.” 

“That sounds great,” You jump at the offer, but Jake speaks at the same time, voice a hair louder than your own.

“We’re not interested.” He dismisses Danica’s offer but he looks at Daniel to do it, something dangerous gleaming in his eyes that you’re only used to seeing on the tarmac.

A laugh escapes your throat, horridly disguised as something casual and not your breaking point, “Oh, we aren’t interested? I am.”

Jake blinks, shifting his sharp gaze towards you, “No switching rooms, Y/N.”

“That’s for official placements,” You sit up straighter in your chair, turned fully towards Jake now instead of angled towards Daniel, “But they’re not gonna come check on us at two in the morning to make sure we’re all in our bunks. We can swap for a night.”

“I don’t know why you’re fighting so hard for a night in his bed, the elevator seemed to work just fine. Maybe Danica and I can have a few drinks tonight, and you can slip off and defile floors 1-4.”

“That’s not-” You’re hot on Jake’s trail, intent on defending Daniel and pointing out the hypocrisy in Jake’s scathing statements, but a firm hand falls on your shoulder that silences you. Daniel’s grip is firm, but not painful, more grounding as his touch practically sucks the fire out of your veins and replaces it with calm.

“I think drinks after dinner are a great idea.” Daniel speaks coolly, with all the perfect composure you wish you had around Jake, instead of the barrel of gunfire perpetually smoldering inside of you.

“Me too,” You add, and one of Jake’s eyebrows ticks up.

“Really? I thought you said you were going to bed after this. Something about being too tired to deal with-”

“Your bullshit, Hangman.”

What you engage in next would preferably be described as a battle of wills, but to the outside eye, might look like a staring contest. It’s your vicious glare against Jake’s lazy grin, eyes alight with mischief as he does what he does best - piss you off.

“We’ll plan on drinks, then,” Danica breaks the ice, and you’re grateful for the tones of her sweet voice, “There’s a bar on the ninth deck, do you want to meet there?”

“That sounds great,” You hope she takes your kind smile for what it is; gratitude, “We’ll head there when we’re finished with our food.”

“Right,” Daniel nods, squeezing your shoulder and letting go, taking Danica by the waist once more to lead her to the table their water had pointed at, “See you then.”

Whatever farewell you murmur is lost in the general hubbub of the restaurant, something that you wish would happen to the grating tone of Jake’s drawl.

“So,” He muses, playing coy, but you won’t have it, “You’re not tired anymore?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” You steel yourself, inhaling and letting your chest puff with the breath, “But whatever you’re doing here; trying to ruin this for me just for shits and giggles - it’s gotta stop. I’ll leave you alone, and you can fuck as many people as you want on this ship, okay? You can have what you came here for, a week-long hookup, and all I’m asking in return is for one chance. I just want one. fucking. chance. to enjoy myself. Okay?”

His eyes cloud over throughout the duration of your speech, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. It’s unsettling, like something’s dimming his spirit, though you can’t tell what. You’ve quipped back at him before, practically every time he’s ever teased you. But perhaps he’s just as unsettled with your newfound sincerity as you were with his, because his face settles into a hesitant expression. You press on.

“You told me earlier that you’re just teasing me, and that you’re not a monster. If that’s true, then leave me alone.”

He looks wounded only by a slight twitch of his eye; perhaps the prospect of being around you and not lunging teeth-bared at your throat is too much to bear. But he nods, slow and rickety like the joints in his neck protest the movement, “Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” You respond stiffly, glad for the menu in your lap as it provides an easy out for you; you’re not sure if you can stand looking him in the eyes. You’re afraid you’ll see disappointment there, perhaps real dislike, and you don’t want to find out that the only reason he speaks to you is to mess around with you. You’re content in feeling like you’re friends as well, and if he gives himself away now that you’ve asked him to ease up on the teasing, you’re not sure you’ll enjoy yourself at all on this vacation, no matter how much cheap, distracting sex you have. The truth of the matter is that you value the blossom of his friendship no matter how thorny it can be, and you’re not sure if he’s capable of playing nice without an occasional bite. 

You’re sure things will go back to normal on the weathered tarmac, but until then, bobbing along on ocean waves, you want Jake Seresin to be your friend, not your frenemy. If he’s incapable, you want no part of him.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[fear-is-truth]

Hi :) would you mind writing the Evans reactions to reader flinching away from them (possibly due to trauma?) ?

Btw ur like- one of my most fav writing blogs, and congrats on getting into law school! (Is it too late to say that? oh well, be proud of yourself!)

𝜗ϱ ┆ REACTIONS TO YOUR PAST TRAUMA .ᐟ

── THE EVANs ‧ h e a d c a n o n s ೃ࿐

ft. tate ‧ kit ‧ pre/post death kyle ‧ james ‧ pre cult & cult leader kai

⟣ TAGS ‧ SFW | gn! reader | tw: implied past trauma

a/n: ahhh thank you so much pookie !! ima study hard this semester fr >:)

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

the second you flinch, Tate’s reaction is pure shock. eyes widening, breath catching in his throat. his voice drops immediately, softening into a near whisper as he tries to process what just happened. he’s confused by why you’re reacting this way.

first thing he does is to apologise—over and over again, without even knowing what he did wrong. his voice is shaky as he tries to reach out to you, but he hesitates, afraid that you’ll flinch again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Please don’t be scared of me,”

after you’ve explained to him, Tate’s self-blame kicks in hard—he starts thinking that he’s just like the people who’ve hurt you in the past, and that thought is unbearable.

he moves slowly, carefully, as if you’re a porcelain that could shatter at any moment. Tate sits down beside you, not touching you unless you make the first move. he wants to reassure you, but he’s also painfully aware that words alone might not be enough. “i’d never hurt you, you know that, right?” he’d murmur, his voice breaking slightly as he searches your face for any sign that you believe him.

his protectiveness towards you intensifies after this. he feels a strong need to shield you from anything that might hurt you, whether it’s memories of your past or potential threats in the present. becomes a bit more possessive, but it stems from a deep-seated fear of seeing you hurt again.

Tate will occasionally seek reassurance from you, needing to hear that you don’t see him as a threat, that you still trust him despite what happened. it’s not that he doubts your feelings for him—it’s his own insecurities and fear of losing you because of his own actions.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

Kit is a naturally gentle and caring person, so seeing you react that way instantly puts him on high alert. he’ll stop whatever he was doing, his focus entirely on you.

he takes a step back, giving you some space, but his eyes are still locked on you, searching for any signs of distress. “hey, it’s okay. i’m not mad at you,” he says quietly, wanting to reassure you that you’re safe with him.

if you’re sitting down, he’ll crouch down to your level, making himself less intimidating.

even though he knows he didn’t mean to scare you, Kit would still the need to apologise. “i’m so sorry if i scared you. i’d never want to hurt you,” he’ll be more upset with himself than with you.

Kit is no stranger to trauma, having been through hell himself. he’ll immediately empathise with whatever you’re going through, and won’t press you to talk about it right away. but he’ll make it clear that he’s there to listen whenever you’re ready.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

will take full responsibility for making you flinch, even if it was unintentional. “i didn’t mean to get so loud, i’m sorry,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, upset with himself for causing you distress.

when you’re feeling more comfortable, he’ll gently encourage you to talk about what happened. he won’t push, but he wants to understand so he can avoid triggering you in the future.

whether it’s being careful about his tone or steering clear of certain topics, he’ll be hyper-aware of how his actions might affect you and will adjust his behaviour accordingly.

Kyle will learn to become very attuned to your emotional state, noticing even the smallest changes in your mood. if he senses that something is bothering you, he’ll gently ask about it.

⟢ franken .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑

the second you flinch, Kyle’s face will crumple with sadness. his eyes will fill with hurt, and he’ll look down at his hands, wondering if he’s done something wrong. “i’m sorry…” he mumbles.

Kyle’s own trauma and his experience after being brought back to life will make him more childlike in his confusion. he’ll struggle to understand why you appeared scared, and his confusion will be written all over his wide-eyed expression.

if you seem uncomfortable, he’ll physically retreat, giving you space and trying to make himself smaller. he’ll take a step back or even move to a different part of the room, his shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

for a brief moment, a flash of genuine hurt flashes across his features. James prides himself on being a gentleman, and the idea that you might fear him is both insulting and wounding.

he’ll quickly mask his shock with a tight smile, but the coldness in his eyes will give away his true feelings. “my dear, whatever could have caused you to react so… dramatically?” his tone is polite, but there’s an undercurrent of offense, as if your fear were an affront to his dignity.

James’s concern is more possessive rather than empathetic. he’ll cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “has someone hurt you before, my love? tell me who it was, and i shall ensure they never see the light of day again.” and he’s not even joking.

he will turn the situation around to make you feel guilty for doubting him. “it wounds me deeply that you could think i’d harm you, my dear,” he’ll say with a sigh, voice heavy with feigned sadness. “i have done nothing but shower you with affection, and yet you flinch as if i’m some sort of brute.”

he’ll this incident as an excuse to subtly isolate you from anyone he views as a “threat” to your relationship. “i think it would be best if you spent less time with others and more time here, where i can ensure your safety,”

⟢ pre cult .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

given his background with his abusive father, he’ll immediately feel a wave of shame wash over him, fearing that he’s becoming like the man he despises. “i didn’t mean to yell,” he mumbles, almost to himself, as if trying to convince himself that he’s not like his father. this moment will haunt him as he worries about his own potential for violence.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

when you flinch, Kai’s eyes will narrow, his expression hardening. for a split second, he’s taken aback, but that shock quickly turns into annoyance. he’s not used to you showing fear around him—at least, not fear he hasn’t deliberately instilled. the fact that you flinched without him intending to provoke it will irritate him.

he will be to turn this moment to his advantage. he sees your reaction as a potential weakness, something he can use to exert more control over you. he won’t show concern in the traditional sense; instead, he’ll start to test the boundaries of your fear. (yeah he’s a pretty effed up dude)

later, he will subtly test your boundaries, raising his voice or making sudden movements to see if you flinch again. he’ll watch your reactions closely, noting every detail, using it to gauge just how much control he has over you. if you flinch again, he’ll smirk, filing that away as a tool to use.

if he senses that you’re genuinely distressed, he might soften his approach, but only slightly. “you know i’d never hurt you… unless you deserved it,” his words carefully chosen to keep you on edge. this isn’t a genuine reassurance—it’s a way to keep you uncertain and dependent on his approval.

Kai will quickly twist the situation to make it seem like your reaction is the problem, not his behavior. “you’re being ridiculous,” shaking his head as if disappointed in you. “i’m the only one who really understands you. don’t you see that? you’re safe with me, safer than with anyone else.” he’ll use this to reinforce the idea that you need him, that any fear you feel is irrational unless he says otherwise.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[cupids-chamber]

— " 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 " | Listen to this on loop for full experience.... ★. Content tags/warnings , 1.1k+ words, gender neutral reader, technically everyone x reader (including staff/not so much RSA), can be seen as both platonic and romantic, angst, mentions of food/eating less (reader no longer has an appetite), reader is tired, reader is having a really bad day, reminder: I haven't written in awhile.

Today was a difficult day, many days have challenged you in so many different ways, yet a keen feeling of gloominess had washed over you this particular morning. Your alarm rang blankly into the silent room, you let out a groan of displeasure as you sat up on your bed, staring blankly at the wall feeling a churn in your gut. The curtains were closed, a small ray of light shone through the empty space between your window and the fabric of the curtain; you took a moment to sit and stretch. 

Mentally you cursed yourself, reaching a hand to shut off your phone alarm. Perhaps it was a bad idea staying up late after all, yet how could you resist the urge to finish that new Twisted Wonderland fanfic you found on AO3 recently; The reader resonated deeply with you, and the author's writing was just what you needed. Your eyes stung, you felt like banging your head into your headboard just to stop it from ringing and aching, not to mention you could practically feel the weight of your eyebags.—had you known your body would behave in such a way, you'd have slept at least a bit earlier—Well that's what you're saying now at least, you knew you'd probably repeat the same mistake tonight if another storyline enraptured you just as much as the previous did. 

You began standing up, your whole body woozy from the lack of sleep, you found yourself stumbling over something you left on the floor. You recall how tired you were, too done with the day to be bothered to pick it back up. You walked right past it, 'today was going to end badly' you thought to yourself, since your morning had been a dead giveaway. 

You pocketed some random snack, as breakfast; Running a bit later as per usual. You'd lie to yourself, saying that you'd get up a bit earlier tomorrow but you knew for a fact that unless a miracle happened, you wouldn't. 

The rest of the day was but the same routine, you felt tired all throughout your morning classes, on edge. You would've fallen asleep but you tried to keep your eyes open, as your professor was going over some important project intel that you really didn't want to miss—though you were only half understanding what they were saying—their words felt like gibberish for your only half-functioning brain.

Lunch felt like a chore, despite it usually feeling like a break. You felt like something bad was definitely going to happen, which made you feel anxious; The churn in your gut made it difficult to eat, chew, or drink. Your lunches weren't all that gigantic, as you disliked the feeling of being bloated, yet you barely could find it in yourself to eat. You took a deep breath, you logged into tumblr, perhaps one of your favorite fanfic writers uploaded something new? Anything to distract this heavy mind of yours. 

You checked @kalims page first, they hadn't uploaded in a while—It's been a couple days since they've posted; you figured they'd be busy with school… You pondered on the following page for a while, checking @spadecentral‘s blog, they were far more active then most other blogs you’ve been following and their soft and sweet writings was perhaps just what you needed in this tim—They haven’t uploaded in a while as well? You looked at your screen, maybe everyone was just busy with their finals and/or finishing up midterms at this time. 

You hummed, scrolling frantically through your follows, you sighed softly, maybe today wasn't the day to read fluff, you started checking yandere blogs; ‘nothing like obsessive men to calm you down’ you thought as you clicked on @writingforatwistedworld‘s blog, you scrolled down.. 

‘Weird, nothing new..’, it was as if the whole world had conspired against you today, you took a sigh, perhaps @honey-milk-depresso had uploaded something new on her art blog, after all their wholesome tsundere ship art was just the perfect source of serotonin—And if you were just a bit lucky, perhaps she’s uploaded writing onto her main blog an—Oh.. She hasn’t uploaded either?..  

Your brows furrowed letting out a tired sigh, maybe you should just listen to some music. ‘How bad could this day possibly go?’—you consoled yourself with those words, as you tried finishing up at least a small portion of your meal. 

You forced yourself to clean up and change, crashing onto your bed afterwards. It always felt softer on these sorts of days. Like a welcoming warm embrace, that you didn't want to leave. You took a few moments to vent your stress onto one of your poor pillows, before getting nice and cozy with your warm blankets. 

You laid down on your bed, burying yourself in the blankets, as you grabbed your device from near you, turning the brightness to the lowest possible setting, perhaps you should finish your general tasks on Twst before you take a nap.. 

10 minutes passed and you let out a groan, where did the app go? You never heard of an app disappearing randomly; perhaps you miss-clicked and hid it by accident? A few minutes passed, and you still couldn't find the Twisted Wonderland app, you desperately opened up your computer.. Typing in panic, and yet the official website was gone as well—perhaps it’s just going through some weird update?—Maybe this was only happening to certain servers. You logged into tumblr once again, checking your mutuals profiles and.. some of them were gone? Most of the blogs had nothing from Twisted Wonderland left, the tumblr tags for Twst were completely empty. 

Two hours had only passed and your panic grew, it was odd. You scrolled through your mutual’s blogs for minutes on end hoping to find one post about the game which put a smile on your face on the daily... Yet none... You went on AO3 and even checked other websites which you'd only go to out of sheer desperation for content... Yet nothing...  

You took deep breaths, your breathing pacing as you scrolled till your fingers began to sting from pressure and stress.. Your back arched, as you stared at the screen with an intense expression, desperately tapping away…  finally you entered the app store hoping this was a weird dream or update, like those movies and manga’s and yet.. the app was gone. No mention of it.

You couldn’t even trace a single picture of the game down, not even on Pinterest where everything deleted was still sometimes somehow available. 

'Were you crying? You couldn't quite tell, you felt tired, perhaps this fictional world was just something you created as an escape, yet you didn't think you'd get this attached to some characters on a screen, and now that's it's all gone you feel... kind of.. empty.' 

‘Maybe it was all just a fragment of your imagination…’

| Masterlist | Kofi | Join Taglist

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[fuckablerobotbracket]

In the kindest way possible, because almost everyone who's left tags has been like, enthusiastic/nice/only playfully mean, I've been thinking about making a list of etiquette for interacting with these brackets. Because when you have enough people in one space, IRL or online, you'll inevitably have at least a few people who say some of the most hurtful, out of pocket shit possible, and I don't want things to get ruined for anyone else you know?

Like, things you SHOULD do (unless a poll runner specifically says they don't want it):

Uplift your favs

PLAYFULLY slander the competition

Make fun memes about the polls

Things you SHOULDN'T do:

Post multi-paragraph rants about how much you hate a character

Ask the poll runner to include characters well into the voting phase of the bracket

Demand they run second, third, etc brackets because Your favorite character didn't get submitted

Things you ABSOLUTELY do NOT do:

Compare the poll results to real-life politics ("Which robot would you fuck" != Brexit, 2016 POTUS, etc)

Tell people to kill themselves if they dont vote for your favorite character

Send death threats/doxx people running the Tumblr poll (!?)

I don't have an end to this post. I have to go to class. But I can't be the only poll runner tired of suicide jokes/death threats/doxxing in the fucking Tumblr Poll Community or whatever.

[teyums]

His Secret Admirer (Part Three) - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part one | part two | part four | bonus chapter

wc: 4.3k

a/n: here is the well awaited pt 3, I didn’t know it could get more angst-y than it already has but boy I was wrong. the next part will be the final part to the series, prepare for sh!t to go down y’allll 😗

contains: soft + angsty neteyam, lots of emotions so buckle up fr, some language (not much at all), familial conflict

“~~” resembles a time skip or a POV change

Neteyam rarely got angry. But after witnessing Eyiti purposely say what she did to hurt your feelings, he felt anger bubble deep in the pit of his stomach. He so badly wanted to chase after you as he watched you walk away, but he couldn’t risk having her run to tell her parents that the olo’eyktan’s son had disrespected her. This was what he faced on the daily, people holding his future over his head with no regard of how high he had to jump just to get it back. He was trying his hardest to keep his parents in a good mood, so when he would tell them about you they would be less inclined to deny his pleas and actually hear him out. If he went after you, it would squash all of his hopes of ever being yours. He whipped his head around to face the unapologetic girl in front of him, not being able to conceal his repugnance.

“Why did you do that?” He spoke through gritted teeth, jerking his arm away to remove her grimy mitt from his skin. “I did not promise you anything. My parents do not speak for me.” He brushed his arm, trying to expunge the feeling of her touch.

“Oh, but I think they do ‘Teyam.” She cooed with a pout that was far from genuine to shield the smug that lied behind her lips. “They said you’d talk to my parents, so that’s what you’re going to do. Unless, you want me to go and tell my father about your little girlfriend. And now that I think about it, I don’t even think I heard your parents mention her. Is that allowed?” She already knew the answer, her question was only a threat.

Everything began to add up in his mind. Why her behavior would change so suddenly- trying her hardest to gain his attention conveniently at the time you would come around. He had never once felt the urge to injure a woman, and he still didn’t, but he was definitely tempted to tag Kiri in on this conversation and support whatever method of action she chose to take.

He wished he could have told you in that moment that being her date was never his idea. But he was just as stunned, it hadn’t even been brought up to him before Eyiti revealed the information in front of the two of you. There his parents went again, making decisions for him knowing he would have no choice but to follow through. His heart felt like it had been stomped on, even more so at the thought of how badly you were hurting right now. He had no intention of leading you on, and you probably hated him for doing just that, even if it were accidental. In fact, he planned on agreeing to the Ikran ride, taking the two of you somewhere you wouldn’t be disturbed and asking you to be his date to the festival. But everything went to shit, like usual.

He exhaled sharply, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything that would have this brat running to make his life more of a living hell than it was already becoming. He dodged Eyiti’s attempt at grabbing his hand to lead him along, shooting her a piercing glare. If looks could kill, the village would be planning her funeral right about now. “I can walk just fine on my own. And stop calling me that.”

He entered her family’s home with as much respect as he could muster, grudgingly taking a seat once realizing his parents had already arrived. There was nothing he could do to stall this any longer. He kept his stare avoidant, anything to distract him from the conversation at hand. There was a drastic amount of space between him and Eyiti on the mat, which Jake had not failed to realize. The voices around him sounded like they were underwater as he tuned them out. He toyed with the intricate details on his armband while they spoke, all he could think about was how this was the last place he wanted to be. His mind was anywhere else but here. The image of you talking with Ta’olu reappeared in his mind like clockwork, regardless of how many times he tried to erase it.

“Neteyam?” Neytiri’s voice repeated for the third time, sending him a warning glance once noticing he was out of it before she proceeded. “Do you agree with the date chosen for your ceremony?”

No, absolutely not. He didn’t agree with the date chosen, he didn’t even agree with the woman chosen.

Eyiti never paid him mind years ago until the day she found out what he would grow up to be. She looked at him like a piece of meat and he knew it. Not that he ever craved her attention; when she would speak he would simply imagine she was someone else. You were the only girl in the clan who saw him for who he truly was. Just a man wanting to fall in love like everybody else. Was that so bad?

Neteyam abruptly rose up from where he sat and cleared his throat, effectively cutting the conversation short with an unexpected answer. “I am sorry, I refuse to mate with Eyiti. I will only accompany her to the festival, as that has been promised by my parents. But no one other than me will have a say in who will have my heart.”

The mouths of everyone in the room fell to the floor but Neteyam stood strong on his declaration, excusing himself from the conversation and walking out of the tent- leaving Eyiti as stunned and embarrassed as she had made you feel earlier. Jake and Neytiri immediately rose to go after him, apologizing for his change of behavior as much as they could while her parents consoled their daughter who was now sobbing dramatically.

He didn’t want to accompany her to the festival at all, but declining her as a mate, and forcing his parents to meet someone new all in one day was probably not the best idea. His plan was to show up with Eyiti, then ditch her in roughly ten minutes after her parents saw them together, slip out unnoticed and find you. He’d have to get Tuk in on the plan to serve as a distraction, which shouldn’t be too difficult for him. Neteyam was a stickler for being a gentleman, but he couldn’t care less about that witch’s feelings.

His legs were sent into a slight run-walk as Jake forced him into their family home by the back of his neck. He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair before turning around to face his father who was nearly red in the face, already knowing what was next to come.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how much you’ve embarrassed us? Our entire family? In front of the parents of the woman who is supposed to be your mate?” He yelled a string of questions, his finger pointed out of their tent to clarify exactly what he was referring to. His eldest son stood unamused. Silent and withdrawn. His physical body was here, but his mental was somewhere unknown. His head was turned to the side, his face not even so much as flinching at his father’s words. He simply laughed to himself, dropping his head towards the floor and mumbling incomprehensible sentences to himself.

“And what are you laughing at? Which part of this is funny to you?” Neytiri chimed in, looking at him with such disbelief it would have hurt his feelings, had he found the will to care. There was no more approval he strived to seek from his parents.

“Answer your mother when she’s speaking to you, boy.” Jake growled, Neteyam’s ears perking up.

“I am not a boy.” His eyes shot up, challenging his father with zero hesitation in his tone. Neteyam had it to his wits end with his parents trying to control every aspect of his life. Elder or not, he was no longer going to let them have a say in who he chose to love or how he chose to live his life. “You heard what I said.” His accent was apparent.  “I will not mate with that woman. And I will not apologize for loving another, my heart belongs to [Y/n].” He stated strongly, lifting his chin to indicate confidence in his decision.

Neytiri blinked in astonishment, her voice sputtering while she tried to find a way to continue the conversation with words instead of knocking him over his head. “And what makes you think we will allow you to mate with someone we do not know? Someone we have not deemed fit for you? This girl will be Tsahik, Neteyam!” She hissed.

This. This was the issue. His parents were so concerned about status in the clan that they let it overshadow their own son’s right to happiness.

“I have tried so many times to tell you! She is special, I swear it. You guys won’t listen to me.” He extended his hands to the pair in a pleading motion, his voice growing louder with each word he spoke and a slight crack in his pitch giving away how much this was all starting to affect him. “Dad wasn’t even one of the people when the two of you mated, it went against everything the clan knows. You cannot judge me. And I couldn’t care less about this stupid title. You can give it to Lo’ak, for all I care.” He spat, leaving them right where they stood and storming out of their home.

He was right, whether they wanted to admit it or not. Jake wasn’t a real na’vi when he first arrived, he was an avatar driver with an aborted mission. Neytiri was promised to another, but went against her parents and mated with him anyway. They both went against the rules because their love for each other was so strong, just as he was now. How could his own parents blame him for wanting to find true love just as they did?

“Neteyam!” Neytiri gasped, both her hands coming up to cover her mouth and tears forming in her eyes.

Jake immediately turned to comfort her, pulling her into a firm hug and rubbing her back. “He doesn’t mean that, I know he doesn’t. He’s just upset, I’ll talk to him.” He held her as she cried into his chest, wanting to go after Neteyam but knowing he couldn’t leave his wife alone after what had transpired.

By the time Jake had soothed Neytiri and ran out after his son, he had already set out into the air on his Ikran without another word spoken.

Neteyam soared through the purple-tinted sky aimlessly, allowing the bond with the animal to reach deep into his heart and figure out where to take him. He winced at the thought of how he had addressed his mother, the look on her face after what he said. He was fed up and couldn’t stand to argue any longer, his voice was not being heard no matter how loud he spoke and it had pushed him well over the edge. By the time he realized what he was saying, it was too late to take it back and the damage had already been done. He felt the innate urge to turn around, to run to his mother and apologize. But he was tired of doing the right thing all the time. For once in his life he just wanted to be able to make a mistake like everybody else could without it seeming like the end of the world.

His father’s voice calling his name could be heard through the speaker connected to the neckpiece they all wore for communication. He curled his lips in annoyance, hooked two fingers under the band and snapped it off his neck with ease. He pitched it into the air without another thought, letting it fall to the ground below him. He had no idea where it landed and he couldn’t care less. He didn’t want to be bothered anymore.

He allowed the wind to flow through his braids, the cold, crisp air hitting his cheek and helping in keeping him grounded. After what felt like a short journey, his Ikran slowed and prepared to land in the open field by the Tree of Voices- a place for prayers to be heard. He eyed the giant willow tree, ignoring the heavy weight in his chest. He dismounted from the bird, gently pulling his braid to break tsaheylu and smoothing a hand up its rough back, followed by a tender pat to calm its spirit. He hadn’t been here since his parents brought him to visit the ancestors, when he was younger. There had been nothing he wanted enough to call upon Eywa for, and his duties rendered him far more busy than he had expected, which left almost no time for a casual visit.

He trailed a hand along the delicate, elongated tendrils of the tree as he walked- taking a brief looking around to make sure he was alone before he slowly lowered himself to the ground. He reached over his shoulder to pull the long braid from behind his back, taking hold of one of the tree’s branches in his other hand. He watched closely as his queue reached for the branch, wrapping itself around and making the connection that would allow Eywa to hear his pleas. He could feel the intense spiritual energy coarse through his veins, allowing him to let his guard down.

His head lowered and his eyes came to a close. He had so much to say but didn’t know how to phrase it, didn’t know how to start. Neteyam was not familiar in asking for things, let alone help. He was always made to do everything himself, made to figure it out on his own like a true leader. Every moment in his life boiled down to preparation for what was yet to come, so much that he didn’t even know how to handle the emotions that would arise in the present. He was constantly running, motivation carrying him forward. But now he questioned the purpose of the race entirely. Had he ever stopped to ask himself if this was what he wanted?

“Eywa, I have come to you to ask for help, if you’ll have me.” He started, his voice merely a whisper as he continued. “I don’t know what to do.”

Going against his parents was ultimately going against everything he knew. It felt wrong. Forbidden. But giving up on his feelings for you felt even worse. At this point he didn’t care what would happen, he’d bare with having his potential title stripped from him if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

His eyes shut tightly in attempt to stop the tears he dreaded welcoming. His throat burned and a lump began to form that felt nearly impossible to swallow. He didn’t want to cry, not after he had tried so hard not to. He hadn’t in years, and he knew if he allowed himself to break down in this moment it would only lead to bringing up every other emotion he had succeeded in bottling up for so long.

Neteyam’s shoulders began to shudder and he shook his head in resistance at the shiver that struck through his body, but ultimately failed at putting up a fight. A sob finally erupted from his trembling lips and he brought his free hand up to shield his face, as if he were afraid someone would see him in such a vulnerable state. He sat in the bioluminescent flora around him, simply allowing himself to cry, something he hadn’t been able to do in years. The pressure of being the perfect son had finally gotten to him. He was aware from time that it was slowly creeping up, taking an immense toll on his mental health and he tried his best to outrun it. A slight miscalculation on his end, you can never outrun the inevitable. He had never expected it to break him down in such a way, his body physically feeling weak and hopeless. He was completely conflicted, knowing it was always best to follow his heart but it went against his coding to disappoint his parents.

He felt the presence of Eywa and his ancestors calm him, the pace of his breathing gradually returned to normal and the beating of his heart followed soon after. He wiped his face dry with the backside of his hand, regaining his composure while gathering the will to carry on with his prayer. “I have never asked anything of you until now, because nothing has ever meant more to me than this. Until I met her, I hadn’t known the true meaning of happiness, what it felt like to be alive. And now, we’ve found our way back into each other’s lives and I cannot let her go. Not again.” He felt an ache deep in his chest, fearful that even saying these words out loud would turn them into reality.

“I fear that I have disappointed my parents greatly. I said some things I am not proud of, and I am not sure if I can take back the damage they have caused.” He sighed, his eyes opening and his head raising to peer at the sky above him. “I know she is special. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it, deep in my bones.” With his hand placed over his chest, it balled into a fist against his skin and he begged with everything he had left in him.

“Please, allow them to see her the way I do.”

~~~

Had it not been for your mother that day, you don’t know what you would’ve done. The walk back to your tent was unforgiving as you tried to hide the tears that were forming once more, not out of sorrow, but of pure disgust. The speed in which you declined Ta’olu’s invitation was utterly comical. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t consider it for a second, but all the faith you had in his proposal died as soon as you found out he was only inviting you to make the same girl he ditched you for in the past, jealous. You wished you hadn’t even stopped to give him the time of day because the whole encounter only made you feel worse.

You pushed through the fabric that served as a doorway to your home and crossed the distance that separated you from your mother, sinking to your knees and tears flowing from your eyes when she wrapped her arms around you without question. “I’m too late, Mama.” You hiccuped. Your tears felt like acid on your cheeks and it hurt to even speak. You hated crying, especially over something like this. The entire process of being upset, realizing your emotions, then having to find an outlet to rid them- revolted you.

“What happened?” Your mother looked down at you, her eyebrows furrowed with concern and a hint of apprehension. Her head moved to the side with an understanding sigh when your crying picked up at the nature of her question, resting her cheek against the top of your head and stroking your hair. She quietly shushed you, rubbing your back to aid in comfort. Your fervent emotions shrouded your will to elaborate.

You sniffled, inhaling a pathetically shaky breath and forcing your voice to come together and make words after a bit. “I’m too late. He’s found someone else.” Saying it out loud to her made it all the more real. You couldn’t stop your heart from clenching when you admitted the truth to her. In all your years of loving him, your mother had never had you come to her with anything he had done that wasn’t positive.

She slowly pulled away from your embrace, but only to look into your eyes as you spoke. She needed to make sure for herself that she was hearing this correctly. “No… How? The two of you were just together only two days ago.” She sounded as dumbfounded as you felt.

“Eyiti,” You shook your head, wiping the tears that had fallen without your permission off your face with the heel of your hand, annoyed at the fact that more appeared no matter how hard you tried to settle yourself. “She’s his date to the festival tomorrow. He’s probably talking to her parents about it right now.” Your voice got quieter, your shoulders slumping down as you sulked and studied the palms of your hands- staring at the lines etched into your skin as a getaway from your feelings.

Your eyes shot up when you heard your mother breath out a sigh, it almost sounded like she was *relieved*. She quickly geared up to explain once the expression on your face became one of slight betrayal and confusion.

She shook her head and laughed quietly, “There is still time, [Y/n]. Her being his date does not mean they are promised to one another. But it very well could, if you do not take your chance tomorrow.” She used her thumbs to clean the tears that had rolled down the side of your face, cupping it in her hands afterwards. “Did you bring what is needed?” Her eyes were soft and seeing her calm expression somehow helped you in doing the same.

“Yes, I…” You blinked to clear your vision, opening your mouth to speak but settling for a nod of your head. The small bag was brought around to your front, holding it open so she could see inside.

A grin from her was all that was required to strike you with the ambition you didn’t know you had left.

Your fingers were sore to the touch and swollen after hours of carving the marbles and stones you had found into small beads. The process was intricate and painstaking. It required delicate hands and utmost patience. Had you tried to speed up the process you were at risk of cracking the material directly in half, rendering it useless. And after doing just that almost three times while trying to rush through, you had absolutely no more room for error.

You used a thin twine to weave the beads together, crocheting intricate rows of stitches between the material to hold it together, making a clasp that would be easy for him to take on and off on his own. Your mom had taught you how to make jewelry and garments years ago, you eventually surpassed her in skill. You hadn’t the desire or need to make something for a while, but the talent you possessed remained. You constructed his gift with unbelievable precision, your eyes strained from barely taking time to blink. But you were still incredibly nervous that it wouldn’t be to his liking.

Unknown to you, Neteyam loved everything you did, even if it was as simple as breathing.

You couldn’t thank your mom enough for helping you with this. She had given you a deadpan look the tenth time you expressed gratitude, so you figured ten was a good number to settle on. You felt silly even asking, so you were more than appreciative that she had offered. At first, it was hard for you to understand why she had been so supportive. Then she explained to you that when she were head over heels for your father, she had no one to lean on but herself, not even her own mother. She was more than willing to help her daughter win over the one she loved, because all she wanted was to see you happy.

Eclipse had long passed, the sun tucking itself away after a job well done and the moon announcing its arrival with how the night now encapsulated the village. The necklace was finally complete. One could tell how much effort went into it just by looking at it, it was beautiful. The beads were varying shades of brown, orange, and red- Neteyam’s favorite colors to wear. You honestly had no idea why you decided on still making it, without even knowing how this whole thing would play out at that. There was a small part of you that feared it would go to waste after what you witnessed earlier, but there was an even bigger part of you that since rediscovered the hope you previously lost.

How dark it had become outside skated past you without notice until you finally looked up from the spot your eyes were locked on since this afternoon. The both of you had even skipped dinner just to make sure you finished in time for tomorrow.

“How are you even still sitting like this?” You collapsed backwards with a exhale of great fatigue, your eyes fluttering closed against your will and your back crying out in relief. You knew hunching over in the same exact spot would hurt, but you had no idea you’d come out of it feeling a hundred years older than you already were. “Do you think he will like it?” You mumbled, sleepiness hurriedly overtaking you.

By the time your mother turned to respond, an array of faint snores could be heard. Had you not been so exhausted, you would’ve awoken at the sound of her laughing due to your mouth hanging open obnoxiously. She smiled at you with nothing but endearment, gingerly lifting your head to slip a cushion under it and draping a light blanket over your body that was now curled into a fetal position- a mindless endeavor to seek warmth. She leaned down to kiss your temple, pushing a few braids from your face so they wouldn’t disrupt you. “He will love it.” She whispered.

a/n: y’all knew i wasn’t gonna make her accept Ta’olu’s invitation that’s toooo cliche for my liking 😭 also you literally have the best mom she’s so sweet

This chapter was so emotional to write omg! but can we talk ab the fact that Neteyam finally stood up to his parents about you, need a him in my life fr 💔

Please like + reblog if you can, it’s much appreciated! 💞

tag list ⬇️

@hornknee-and-bi-myself @obsessedwithlife @llearlert @awkward-halfhug @extreamlycutecuban @answer-the-sirens @arminsgfloll @jackiehollanderr @tejas-kris @neteyamoa @instabull @halibanana @bookishaficionado @uwu-i-purple-you @neteyamsgirll @kre3ce @philiasoul @eringaitskill @bwormie @fanboyluvr @ssc7514 @meivap @afro-hispwriter @hellok1ttycake @melsunshine @casuallydogobsessed @katsukiswrld @mcdonalds-playground @itscheybaby @neenieweenie @babyvinnie @msjae @laylasbunbunny @epicy0n @dreamersbelieveinus @elegantzippercashshoe

[pinkroseblooms]

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex. 

“You smell so good.” 

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?” 

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with. 

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle. 

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile. 

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze. 

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone? 

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different. 

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.” 

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.” 

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties. 

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall. 

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought. 

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act? 

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile. 

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop. 

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.” 

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.  

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first. 

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you.  “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

[guiltysungho]

— Daybreak

genre : tags. fluff, summer romance, small town romance, angst (?), found family (?)

pairing. barista!sungho x fem!reader (she/her used)

wordcount. 3714

a/n. submission for the onedoornet summer event. i love writing stories set in the summer tbh most of my stuff is set in summer lol. this is heavily inspired by summerstrike, favorite k drama !! ty to @ddingdongz + @loserlvrss for helping beta reading this.

@onedoornet

Picture this. An empty room, your empty room, with you in the middle of it taking in the nothingness of it all. You tried to see it a different way, but that was all it was, an empty room that would probably stay that way unless you chose to fill up the space. A thought that often crossed your mind but never got any further.

The summertime somehow made it worse for you, with no plans you were forced to stay 24 hours in that void. The hours you would have usually spent in the office performing remote tasks with radio noise thoughts, you now have to spend in complete consciousness. You would try to distract yourself, but it was always the same thing every day, the same dreams wasting away.

This was the only life you knew; you had a job and place to stay, you had to find contentment in what you had, but it was harder than that. Maybe you had to seek out new perspectives to understand how to live again.

Run away and leave it all behind, the first step would always be the hardest but once it was done, it would be up to you. Small drops make a mighty ocean, right?

One day was all you needed, you would take the first bus in the morning to wherever it leads you and then… you would just try to live for once. Forget that your room is empty and that your dreams aren’t as easy to achieve so you could have a clear mind for the future.

No matter how much you planned, you would never know what exactly you would meet there so you kept the planning minimal, trusting fate to make the day memorable.

At 4 am, you were ready at the bus stop waiting with three other people in complete silence, half asleep as you stood there. The bus arrived soon enough, and you let yourself doze off by the tinted windows, counting the cars passing by.

8 am and you were finally there, you weren’t entirely sure where “there” was, but you were somewhere else and that felt like an achievement in itself. The sky was already well lit up, clear and blue. Everything seemed so new, so different even the sky looked a different shade of blue. The seagulls cried loudly echoing back and forth as you walked along the roadside, the ocean filled the horizon swaying along with the wind, crashing against the sandy beach.

You made up your mind to stay on the beach for a while, long enough for hunger to settle in, and you would figure out your next stop from there. You had been used to seeing crowded beaches so much in your life that you had forgotten how beautiful the ocean was, how calming the beach could be. The fresh smell of sea-life, calm breeze rushing through your hair as you sat there on the sand watching the push and pull.

You thought of taking a commemorative photo, but you had the funny idea to “forget” your phone this morning. You had this useless attachment to it, even when you were doing nothing productive on it. So, you figured it wouldn’t be necessary, and maybe you were right, but you wanted to keep this image safe from the inaccuracy of memories.

It was just as you dreamt it, the quiet, the peace, you could sit there for ages, let the sand envelop you and become a timeless myth, an artifact forever tied to the spot, but you had other plans.

Checking the watch around your wrist, you read the time, 9:43 am. A good time for breakfast. The problem now was finding where to eat breakfast, but you needed to not know so you could want to find out. So, you walked around, letting your feet lead you wherever, through all sorts of streets looking around for any kind of food.

It felt like a long search, but you had walked for less than 30 minutes before you found a nice cafe, deeper into the town, further from the beach but it held the essence of the ocean, encapsulated in all sorts of trinkets decorating the space.

A chiming ring echoed across the room as you stepped in, not a single person in sight for the first few minutes. It seemed empty despite the sign on the door that read “open”, so decided to move on. Almost like he heard your footsteps, ready to walk out the door, a tall young man came out from the back, tying his hair together and out of his face as he smiled at you.

“Welcome, please make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right with you.” You took a couple steps closer, completely hypnotized by the young man’s beauty, taking a seat right by the counter.

He somehow looked the part, exactly how one would imagine a barista in a small town in the middle of nowhere, precisely out of a daydream.

He handed you a menu before retreating back to the kitchen in the back. You scanned through meticulously, picking enough food to keep you filled for the rest of the day.

He came back out to meet you, this time with a name tag on, Sungho you thought as he asked you for your order.

“Long trip?” He smiled at the small list you had picked out from the menu, you nodded in response with a thin smile trying to ignore the urge you felt to stare at him. 

“It might take a few, I’m the only one in today.” you let him know you were in no rush, and just like that he left the room with a thumbs up and a smile.

It was a shorter wait than you’d expected considering it was just him in the kitchen. He’d started bringing over side dishes for you 10 minutes in, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he placed the plates in front of you. A few strands fell out of the grip of the hair tie falling perfectly on his face, he sighed, shaking the hair at his face before looking at you. 

He thought about it for a second, leaning in as he spoke, “Sorry to ask this but could you push this strand behind my ear?” you stared at him wide eyed, blinking at his face right in front of yours.

You reach for the hair hesitantly, carefully pushing it behind his ear. He flashed a thankful grin, backing up completely and out of the room.

After nearly an hour you got your full meal, your first meal of the day, and probably your last, so you ate it like it was. Big portions, cheeks filled, satisfied groans. Completely forgetting the other presence in the room.

He was looking at you, watching you purse your lips as you chewed on the food, the moment you looked up you were met with his stare, your eyes widened from the sudden eye contact.

“Sorry,” he chuckles nervously looking away from you, “…Are you here on vacation?”

“Oh yeah, I’m just here for the day.” you answer finishing the last crumbs off your dish. 

“What are you hoping to find here?” He asks curiously with an amused expression. The question sets you off into a whole explanation on your boring life and your strong will to see new things. You aren’t sure you will find what you were looking for here but that’s somehow part of the journey.

“…I guess I just want to see the world now, instead of locking myself inside.” you let out a light laugh, as if to lighten the mood after your slight rant.

“That’s really cool. I think you’ll like it here.”

“Really?” you beam, he lets out a light chuckle as he nods grabbing your empty plates to clear the space.

“Honestly. I could show you around a bit if you want.” he disappears into the kitchen as he suggests it. You sit  there with a smile on your face waiting for him to enter the room again to accept his proposition. 

“I’d love that, I didn’t really have a plan so you’d be helping me out a lot.” 

“Perfect. I’ll just clear up this place and close up for the day.” you mouth a quiet oh, surprised he would close the whole shop to help you. He notices and smiles reassuring you, “Don’t worry it’s usually empty on Saturdays.”

After a short wait he steps out with a light linen summer shirt, his hair is untied, shaping his face perfectly. When you thought he couldn’t get more attractive he just embodies the idea of a summer crush. He gives you a gentle smile gesturing for you to follow him out the back door, you watch him lock the doors waiting closely behind.

This was one of those things you would have never done a month ago and standing there you realize how absurd the idea of following a man around in a place he knew so well while you knew nothing about was, but for some reason you felt you had nothing to lose in the moment. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s incredibly attractive.

He introduces you to his bicycle, letting you know that that was his means of transport and so it would be yours. Biking seemed more appealing to you, it had been a while since you had been on a bike so when you hold onto him as he rides by the beach it feels like a lost memory that you had forgotten in the midst of all your working. You listen to the seagulls cry, feel the nice summer breeze on your face as the hot sun taps on your skin reflecting yellow beams onto the canvas.

Even his presence feels like a strongly cemented part of the memory, like he made it whole, you could feel him so close under the thin fabric of his shirt and it made you realize that the touch of a human was something you had been missing for the longest time.

“It’s really nice here.” You hum, resting the side of your face on his back.

“Yeah it feels like home.” He says with a smile looking over his shoulder to look at you. 

“Isn’t it home for you?” He nods as he turns back to the road, turning into streets, waving to the townspeople, before answering you. 

“I guess you’re right..” he let out a light chuckle, his bright smile lingering as he continues, “I actually moved here when I turned 18, I just needed to get away and I found myself here.” 

“Wow, that's such a bold move.”

“Yeah it was so out of character for me but I needed to and it was probably the best decision I’ve made.” he slows down his peddling gradually before stopping in front of a big house. You had been riding uphill for a while and now you could see why. 

The whole ocean right beneath you, you could see everything so clearly and it was so beautiful. You could feel your eyes glistening as you looked at the landscape with so much marvel. A sudden realization that life isn’t supposed to be dull, it’s meant to be filled with beauty and splendor. 

“This is so…” you look around searching for a greater word to describe all that you are feeling but nothing comes close. 

You only realize you are still on the bike once he gets up, taking your hand to help you off as well. He looks at you pleased, that you enjoy the sight as much as he did when he’d been here for the first time. 

“Come, let me show you something.” You follow behind him eagerly, watching him ring the doorbell to the only house that stood on the hill.  

The door opens soon enough and there stands an old lady with the kindest smile and soft rosy cheeks. You watch him give her a hug as he greets her, letting her place a kiss on his head.  

“And this is your girlfriend.” Before either of you is able to deny the claims, she gives you a warm hug. Such a loving hug you don’t want it to end, the type of hug you needed daily. 

“Such a lovely girl, what’s your name darling?” You give her a polite smile as you answer, letting her soft hands hold onto your for a little longer. 

You glance up to find Sungho staring at the both of you with a soft smile, your eyes meet and he gives you an apologetic pout. 

“Mamie,” she turns over to him still holding your hands, “I wanted to ask you a favor.” She rushes over to him. 

He leans towards her and whispers a few words to her, making your curiosity grow, her smile grows as she listens to his request and as soon as he’s done she goes back into her house, leaving you there clueless. 

You turn over to him, narrowing your eyes with curiosity, he flashes a smile before turning away, waiting for her to reappear. 

“Here you go darling.” She walks up to you and hands you an ethereal conch shell. You had never seen one before but you never knew they could be so pretty. You stare at it for a couple seconds completely in awe, before looking up to her with a grateful smile. 

She stretches her arms out once again for you, hugging her tightly as you thank her. “Sungho could use the company. He doesn’t like mentioning it but I know. So if you’re ever thinking of coming back, don’t hesitate, just come, okay?” 

After saying your goodbyes, you get back on the bike, riding downhill back into town. Her words stay stuck on your mind as you ride through the small streets, a reminder that you would be leaving after today and you would have to accept that. Every part of you wanted to stay.  

“Was she a relative of yours?” you ask looking over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around his waist and he peddles. 

“Not biologically. When I first got here I was stranded but she took me in, and I stayed there on the hill for a while.” He explains as you arrive on a market street, a small crowd walking through the street, “This is where the fun happens, trust me.” 

He parks his bike in a hidden spot, helping you off and ready to guide you through the small market. You glance up at him amused by the liveliness in the street, such a crowd in such a seemingly empty town. 

A light tap on the back of your head makes you look down at your hand, you look up at him curiously. He takes your hand in his as you stare into his eyes with a puzzled look, pulling you closer, and leaning to your ear. 

“It can get a bit rough so just stay close, okay?” You nod at him, letting him guide you through the small crowd. 

As you walk together, he tells you about each stand and how the market works, how it changes depending on the month and the regular stands that people line up for. It could have been the least interesting topic but for some reason you were fascinated by the community, the dedication of each person to hold a stand as early as 7 in the morning. 

“Do you hold a stand for your coffee shop sometimes?” He smiles at the question, nodding in response. 

“Sometimes, but it’s mostly for festivals or big events. The market is more for the necessities and street foods.” Just as he mentioned it a savory smell hit your nose, you turn to the stand beside you watching the lady behind it cook the snack with extreme focus.  

He notices you staring and stops in front of the spot, to let you taste the speciality. The lady looks up from her workspace and her expression brightens as she sees Sungho, and even more when she notices you. 

“Sungho! Is this your girlfriend?” He shakes his head letting out an awkward laugh. “What are you waiting for?”

“She’s not from here.” She frowns for a second before glancing at you. 

“Do you like the town?” She asks you, hands still working on the food making. You nod, answering her with a polite smile. 

“She likes it here. You’re stalling.” 

“How am I—“ 

“Here’s a snack young lady, take care of the boy for us, okay?” You laugh softly as you accept the treat, he reaches out for his wallet and the lady smacks his hand. “Keep it and start saving up for the ring.” She laughs a mocking laugh before going back to her work, leaving the both of you stunned.  

Walking away neither of you speaks for a bit, just snickering as you walk side by side, “I’m sorry about that.” He says with a smile, you shake your head completely dismissing it, giggling as you did. 

You walk around a bit more, eating your snacks together and looking at the different stands. Watching the owners show off their craft, getting interrogated by the townsfolk on your relationship. You enjoy every moment with him, even just walking in complete silence feels right and you just met him. 

All your life you had been looking for this, you dreamt of being close to someone beyond the materialistic standards, of being with someone you could just be with and right now that was all you could feel. You hadn’t come to this place to find someone to help you out of your misery but you found someone and it was nice. 

But it only makes you dread the moment when his comforting presence wouldn’t be so close. He stops by one of the stalls, and you follow. A jewelry stand, handmade crafts with sea life trinkets, pearls, shells, squid ink, it is all so unique. You watch him look at the pieces, scanning through the selection before landing his eyes on one. 

He takes it from the display, a teardrop shaped pendant with sea water inside, dangling off a silver chain. He glances at you and then at the necklace, before asking to pay for it. After that he keeps it to himself, fidgeting with the paper bag it was in, waiting for the right moment to hand it to you. 

The walk soon ends and you take the bike once again, this time he rides you down to the beach, almost as empty as in the morning. You sit together on the sand just as you did in the morning and for the first time since you saw him you check the time. 5:27 pm, the day is nearly over, but you’re still enjoying it. 

“When will you be heading back? I’ll take you to the station.” He says quietly, eyes on the vast horizon. 

“I’m not sure I was planning for 7:30 maybe?” He nods, registering the information. “When is the last bus?” 

He turns to you, surprised by the question and somewhat relieved, that you didn’t want to leave so soon, “10pm, they don’t go too late here since nobody is really coming and going.” 

Those 5 hours seem like nothing, you want to stay forever but it would be irresponsible, irrational, you had to go back. You sigh, it wouldn’t be responsible to tell him how much you enjoyed his company today, since you weren’t sure when you would be back but you could feel the words itching at your throat. 

“I really liked spending time with you today, y/n.” He says, staring at the sand below you, voicing out your thoughts before you can. 

“I did too, you really did make me like it here.” 

“I’m glad.” He turns to you with a smile, it takes everything in you to not kiss him then and there. His hair flows in the wind, orange sun shining on his skin.  

“I don’t want to leave.” The words slip out mindlessly, as you stare at him.  

“Then don’t.” His stare shows more intent, all the begging he couldn’t do, his eyes reveal, “You came just like I did, with a backpack and now look at me, I’m running a coffee shop.” 

You give him an apologetic smile, it was too much for you leaving a whole life behind. You could come back eventually, but right now you couldn’t stay. 

“You can come work with me at the shop. The ladies in town are so welcoming, they’ll help you with everything.”

“Sungho… it’s not that easy.” He sighs, nodding as he turns back to the calm ocean view. 

“I know… It was worth the try though.” He laughs softly, you smile, taking his hand in yours. 

“I promise I will come back though.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You feel your heart bounce at the sound of those words, he makes you feel so special in everything he does. 

You stay there on the beach till the sun sets, enjoying the last moments together without thinking of the looming separation that is awaiting you. Once you reach the bus station, it’s about 9:48 pm and time is still moving as much as you wish it would stop for you. 

You look at him once more, one last time, he finally hands you the paper bag with the necklace he’d bought earlier. “A small souvenir, just for memories.” 

You ask him to put it on for you and he does. Pushing your hair aside, standing so close behind you, you could feel his breath. He comes back to your view after hooking it, looking at you with a pleased smile. Such a small pendant, yet it elevates your beauty in so many ways. 

The last call for the bus brings you both back to the moment. You both walked towards the bus the whole way in silence, waving each other goodbye as you entered the vehicle. You watch him out the window, as the bus starts he stands there looking at you. The words are inaudible but you can tell what he says as the bus drives off: “I’ll miss you y/n.”

[amorchai]

Hi! I know you're looking for Finnick Odair ideas maybe you could do one Finnick and reader reuniting in D13? Maybe reader was taken by the Capitol or they just haven't seen eachother

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊.

pairing(s): finnick odair x reader

words: 645

warnings/tags: violence mentions, katniss + peeta in a bad state, bit of angst but finnick being soft, established relationship, overall r having a hard time and finnick being the best bf ever.

it was all a blur to finnick. trying to pull you away from the tree as the lightning struck the cord-covered arrow and collapsed the dome. but it was hard to see at first, passing out on the floor before he could attempt to see if you’re okay.

next thing he knew, he woke up to find out not only peeta and johanna were taken by capitol – but you were too. it sent him into a state, begging plutarch to do something about it. to get you back.

for a long six weeks finnick and katnissed watched peeta on screen, getting progressively more worried as he grew thinner and more emotionless. and while he comforted katniss, finnick worried about the state you would be in.

when he wasn’t at meetings or aiding to katniss, he was crying in his small room in district thirteen, pleading to empty room for your safe return, and the same for his friends.

he would never sleep, unless the lack of hours caught up and he unwillingly passed out. and this time he woke to a startle, haymitch barging into his room, “they’re back, they’re all back.”

firstly, he visited katniss, haymitch letting him know of the return of a brainwashed peeta who attacked her. fear grew in the pit of his stomach as he watched, doctors surrounding her sleeping body as her neck looked badly bruised and breathing wheezy and tired.

“apparently, they only hijacked peeta. johanna and y/n have returned pretty traumatised themselves but with clearer heads.”

finnick desperately kept up with haymitch’s steps as he described the situation, “what about peeta? can i see peeta?”

with a sigh, haymitch answers, “i don’t think anyone should see the state he is in right now, maybe in a few days.” they approach a door, finnick mimicking haymitch as he comes to a halt.

“y/n might be asleep, but i believed you would still want to pay a visit,” haymitch pats his shoulder, finnick thanked him as he anxiously opened the door.

the room was dull, bright white lights making it more like an asylum and grey walls and matching floors. but his eyes immediately find you and fill with light. you weren’t asleep, you were awake.

you were sat up, the doctor just finished taking your blood pressure and had packed away while johanna slept at the other side of the room, finnick’s heart sank seeing her shaved head.

“finnick?” you say and he tries to not break down, wanting to stay strong for you. “yes, it’s me, honey.” haymitch stands by the door to allow finnick space as he approaches your bed carefully, too scared to hurt you or overwhelm you in this moment.

“i missed you so much,” you say, tears welling up and finnick finds his own vision blurring with tears as he sits in the chair beside your bed and holds your hand, “i missed you more, bug.”

you laugh softly through the sniffles, his affectionate pet name making you feel slightly more at ease while his thumb gently wipes your tears. yet he ignores the own ones falling down his face.

“are you alright? i’m so sorry i couldn’t save you,” finnick feels that he’s failed, a terrible boyfriend for passing out instead of ensuring your safety but you only shake your head. “none of this is your fault, finnick. i’m just glad we’re back.”

finnick stands up, leaning over to press a long kiss to your forehead, his hand moving to hold the back of your head carefully like your precious porcelain, his lips warm against your cool skin.

“you’re okay now, yeah? you’re not going back, not on my watch, okay?” he says in a murmur against your skin and you reach up to run your fingers across his arm gently, “i’m here now, finn.”

and god was he glad you were.

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amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[beenbaanbuun]

heyy

can i request pet playing with hongjoong? reader as a fox girly type of thing heheh

thank youuu

no because i can see him being so into this whenever you misbehave… like all you need to do is look at him the wrong way and he’s cocking a brow at you, asking whether he needs to get your collar.

before you can even answer, though, he has a hand on your shoulder, slowly guiding you to your knees. you’re more than willing to let yourself topple against the plush rug. it hurts, carpet burning your knees slightly when you land, but you keep your mouth shut. hongjoong has threatened to muzzle you before; you don’t doubt that he’d actually do it. especially if you started complaining about useless things.

“cub thinks she can disobey her master, does she?” he fixes you with a harsh look before spinning to grab what he needs from the bedside drawer. the red collar gets thrown against the mattress, quickly joined by your leash and then your plug. the orange fur of the tail always looks so silky, but you’ve never felt it except for when it’s brushing teasingly against your thighs. foxes don’t have hands, after all.

he shuts the drawer, thankfully not bothering to grab the gag. it surprises you, really; after being a brat and talking back all day, you half expect him to want nothing more than to shut you up now. perhaps he wants to hear you beg for your punishment—that’s always a favourite of his—or maybe he just wants to see how far you’ll push it. you really wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. he quite often likes to see how far you’ll go until your punishment finally breaks you and shuts you up.

not today though. today you don’t feel like talking back as an attempt to rile hongjoong up. today you just want to be his good little cub. no more being a brat and talking back to him, no pushing him to see just how mad you can make him, no pushing yourself to see just how much punishment you can take before you roll over and submit. you’re going to be a well behaved little fox cub and take your punishment like a good girl.

“nothing to say, pup?” he quirks a brow as he rests the red leather band against your throat and fastens it at your nape. soft fingers run across it, admiring how the colour sits prettily against your skin. they land on the name tag for a second, slipping into the d-ring that holds it and giving it a gentle tug. not even a squeak leaves you lips; hongjoong hums in approval. “so you’re being a good little pet for once, are you? finally learnt that good little pets don’t talk unless they’re told to?” he delivers another tug to the ring before letting it go.

“good pup.”

he grabs the leash next, swinging it around in his hands nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing in his hands. its not nothing, though. it’s everything. it solidifies your place beneath him, as a pet... his pet.

you hold your chin up, giving him space to attach the leash to the d-ring. he does so with a grin, mumbling to himself about how he’s so lucky to have such an obedient little fox. how he wishes you were always so well behaved for him. how much nicer he’d be if you didn’t insist on pushing his buttons so much. you sit and listen to it all, soaking in whatever praise you can get from his monologue.

finally, with your leash still in the palm of his hand, he turns to grab the tail. the final piece to solidify your rank as pet and nothing more. you hadn’t noticed him take the bottle of lube out of the drawer, yet he holds it in his hand. the sound of it being uncapped rings around the room, and the sickly strawberry scent clings to the air as he squirts a generous amount onto the bulbous head of the plug. he smears it round with a smirk, and without a word from him, you turn to present yourself. face down, pressed against the rough texture of the rug, ass up, your puckered hole barely covered by the thin fabric of your pyjama shorts.

“such a good pup, today,” hongjoong hums as he yanks down your shorts and wastes no time in pressing a lubed up finger to your hole. you suck in a breath as it breaches the muscle pushing deeper into you to stretch you out. “such a shame i still have to knock you down a peg or two, hm? a little good behaviour now doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re nothing more than a brat.”

you whimper as he inserts a second finger, pushing it in until his knuckles are brushing against your cheeks. he scissors them, opening you up. it’s uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar.

“but don’t worry, pretty vixen,” he muses as he fingers you open, “if you’re good, no doubt i’ll let you be my little lap dog when we’re finished.”

[reasonsforhope]

Heads up/warning that I'm going to start posting articles related to the Israel-Palestine War

I've worked really, really hard to keep my blog about positive news only, and that's going to continue - these posts will be only about good news related to the war.

Of which there really, really isn't much, so I don't know that there will be a lot of posts, but I will be posting articles about humanitarian aid reaching those who need it and actions that will prevent more lives from being taken.

I know that, no matter my position on the war, this is something that would be very controversial and make a lot of people upset, so I wanted to be explicit about my position on this - and my posting policy, which is not the same thing. I also wanted to give people a heads up because I know the war in general is really, really triggering for a lot of people right now, for a lot of different reasons. I'll be tagging all relevant posts, so if screening those out is something that you need to do, you can.

I have worked very hard to make this blog a space with only good news because I know how much it can matter to have just one place, if nowhere else, that you can count on to not give you emotional whiplash with horrible news. To know you have one place you can go where you are guaranteed not to see bad news that will send you into a tailspin. That's why I've had a policy of not including signal boosts or PSAs about tragedies, no matter what they are, on this blog. (I do post about some of that stuff, including the Israel-Palestine War, on my main blog, though. I consider this blog to be me trying to run a public service, basically, and so have specific policies for myself around that, including my editorial and fact-checking standards.)

I'm going to be honest, I was really, really hoping the war would end after a couple of weeks, which has historically not been uncommon for wars with/involving Israel.

But that's clearly not happening, and I can't keep not acknowledging what's happening on here, so, this post.

With that, I imagine people probably want to know my actual stance on the war, since that's what I'll be posting in accordance with.

So, here's the official stance of this blog:

Every time a civilian is killed, it is a tragedy; Every time a child is killed, it is a tragedy, no matter their nationality. I condemn all antisemitism and all Islamophobia.

I support all calls for a ceasefire, as well as demands that Israel immediately stop its repeated bombing of hospitals, ambulances, shelters (including UN shelters), and refugee camps.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of hospitals is justified.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of shelters or refugee camps is justified.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of ambulances is justified.

There is no situation in which the killing of children is justified. Yet more children have now been killed in Gaza than in all global conflict zones combined in each year since 2019.

There is no situation in which cutting off an entire country and/or territory's supply of food and water is justified.

Yes, this applies to every group involved in the war, including countries supplying either side, and any countries or non-state organizations who may yet join the fighting.

The initial Hamas attack on Israel was a tragedy. The continued Israeli bombardment and invasion of Palestine is also a tragedy.

Most of the things I post will be about aid reaching Palestinians or news about tangible, confirmed progress toward a ceasefire. I probably will not be posting good news posts about aid reaching Israel, unless it's explicitly and only humanitarian and/or barring drastic unforeseen changes in circumstance. This is because as of yesterday, November 7, the Palestinian death toll is over 10,000 to Israel's roughly 1,400 (only about 200 of whom have been killed in the past month, starting on October 8, aka outside of the initial attack by Hamas). At least 3,195 children have died in Gaza, 33 in the West Bank, and 29 in Israel.

The Palestinian death toll is nearly 8 times the Israeli death toll. The number of children killed is 110 times higher in Palestine than Israel. (Source for death toll here, ratios via calculator.) Every single one of those deaths is a tragedy - and there have been far, far too many tragedies this past month.

(On a related note, Israel stands very, very little chance of actually eliminating Hamas with this war. The US has attempted this same strategy and failed many times: the US failed to eliminate the communist/North Korean regime in the Korean War, which is technically still ongoing 70 years later; failed to eliminate the Viet Cong in the Vietnam War; failed to eliminate numerous groups of Iraqi insurgents in the Iraq War, which triggered Iraq's civil war; and failed to eliminate the Taliban in the Afghanistan War, even though that war lasted for literally 20 years. Afghanistan is once again under total Taliban control.)

The last thing we need is another 20 year war. The last thing we need is more civilian deaths. Bombing civilian settlements, as well as hospitals, shelters, and refugee camps are war crimes under international law, meaning that both Israel and Hamas have committed war crimes.

It's time for the war crimes to stop.

Humanitarian aid reaching civilians is good news, and I will be posting accordingly.

Ceasefire now.

[osleeplessflowero]

Time for some conveniently timed romance with Dust! Oneshot Masterpost

*Notes - Gender Neutral Reader - A part of the Bad Sanses series - A little steamy this time. Nothing NSFW, but there is some making out..

tags/warnings: Forced Proximity, Biting

🔒Cornered🔒

"Alright, listen up." Nightmare said as he walked back and forth before your little lineup, each of you standing next to each other and waiting for him to speak further.

"I am only agreeing to start this little game because of Killer's insane amount of persistence. In order to make this little game of his fair, I will be casting a spell over the castle in order to temporarily disable your magical abilities such as teleportation and Checking for souls. This way you will naturally be able to hide and seek each other out. When the game is done I will remove my spell. Are we clear?" He comes to a stop before you all, looking over you and Killer who seem to be bouncing in place with excitement. The others look fairly neutral about this where they stand.

"crystal, boss! let's get this party started!" Killer cheers, already debating where his hiding spot should be, unless he is chosen as the seeker..

"Why you would want to play a children's game is beyond me. But, I couldn't care less, so do as you wish." He holds up his hand, magic forming around it before encasing the outside of the castle with a green glow. "It is done. I will be in my study, do not hide in there or my room. I will snitch."

You internally swear, because you'd decided on that earlier..oh well. You'll just find another space to hide.

"okay, who wants to seek?-" Killer is cut off by a series of "not it"s, frowning immediately. "no fair! you guys didn't give a warning or anything. whatevs, i'll do it. better get to hiding.." A menacing grin stretches across his face as he turns around to count, leaving the three of you to split up and find a good hiding place.

Hearing Killer's loud counting at the end of the hall, you take in your surroundings and try to pick a good hiding place with excitement. You open the door to one of the storage closets, only to be met with a pair of red and blue eyelights..

"Shit, sorry Dust- damn, I need to find somewhere quick.." You look around quickly as Killer reaches the lower single digit numbers.

"it's okay, just get out of here before-" He's cut off by Killer announcing the last number, and you quickly shove him back to enter the room with him and lightly close the door behind you hoping it didn't make too much noise. You look up as the skeleton hiding with you recovers from bumping into the shelf behind you both, apologizing quickly to him and backing up.

"it's fine, don't worry about it." He reassures you, the two of you listening intently as you hear commotion outside.

"You have to be really careful finding spots to hide in here..he's memorized almost all of them by now." You furrow your brows as you whisper, hearing a chuckle leave the skeleton behind you.

"i know. dude's a hide and seek fanatic. eh, at least it's fun for us. sometimes it's good to play games like this, even if we're considered way too old for 'em."

"I don't think you're ever too old for hide and seek." You turn back to him with a smile. He nods in agreement, pausing for a second when he hears a door open and close abruptly in the distance.

"if you run, you might be able to find another spot." He glances briefly back at the objects sitting in boxes behind you both.

"Nah, it's too late for that now. He'd catch me immediately if I left." You lean your back on the door, listening carefully for Killer outside. Dust opens his mouth to reply but hears the sound of something beginning to tip over and fall. He reaches out his hand to stop it, only to remember his powers have been disabled, and you quickly pull him towards you so the group of boxes doesn't hit him. You pause as you listen to the noises outside, Killer seeming to walk past with a few chuckles here and there as he looks into different rooms. Thank god he didn't hear..

"i'll find you sooner or later!" He disappears down the hall, and you let out a sigh of relief, turning towards the skeleton who is..rather close to you right now. His hands are resting on each side of your head where he'd steadied himself after you pulled him, his eyelights staring at you in slight shock as he realizes. You feel heat rush to your face.

"Shit, Dust, I'm sorry- I-I just didn't want you to get hurt so I pulled you out of the way and now we're um..we're in a bit of a predicament, huh?" You smile awkwardly, hoping that the darkness around you both isn't making your flushed face too visible. But considering his eyelights are natural flashlights..you have a feeling he already knows..

"it's okay." He speaks softly, sending shivers down your spine. "i'm not gonna be mad at you for helping me out. ..do you want me to move?"

"I.." You pause, your face growing much warmer. In truth, you don't mind this scenario all that much..being close to him and all. However his eyes being solely on you has you a bit flushed..butterflies appearing in your stomach.

Dust's face flushes within the shadows of his hood, him seeming to already know the answer.

"we haven't had a lot of time together, huh?.. guess this is some pretty damn convenient timing. albeit a little awkward." He chuckles, and you turn to face him more directly.

"Yeah..I'm sorry about that. But at least we can now..right?" You smile sheepishly, removing your hand from one of his arms after realizing it's still holding it.

"..yeah. it'll uh..probably be a while before he finds us.." He trails off, unable to break his stare from you. Slowly, his more awkward demeanor shifts, and a smirk makes its way onto his face catching you off guard. "you wanna..find a way to pass the time?"

Oh man. Oh shit this is indeed happening right now- Your face burns as you rest your arms at your sides, looking up at him. So unfair that he's towering over you right now..

"I-I mean if you want to, I wouldn't mind- I mean it's not like I would mind to begin with because you're really cool and is it hot in here or is it just y-" He cuts your rambling off by pressing a kiss against your lips, silencing you. You don't seem to mind this, raising your arm and placing them around his neck, pulling him a little closer to you.

His kisses start soft..but then the lack of attention begins to get to him..and they grow more desperate, at least on his end. He bites your bottom lip gently, sliding his glowing tongue into your mouth when you permit it. He takes a short break after a while so you can catch your breath, leaning down to your neck and ensuring it's exposed enough for him as he speaks. You feel a chill as his breath hits you.

"do you have any idea what you do to me?.." You hold your hand up to your mouth to ensure you stay quiet as he presses kisses against your neck, stopping at one space in particular before looking up at your expression. He grins to himself when he sees your flushed state, lightly biting down near your shoulder and leaving a mark.

"Dust, he could find us-" You whisper shakily as he returns to meet your gaze, wiping some bright purple equivalent of saliva away from his chin.

"don't worry about it." He leans forwards, kissing you again to keep you quiet as Killer passes by once more. "it's my turn to spend some time with you for a bit..please..let me have this. even just for a little while."

You furrow your brows, pressing a kiss to his cheek and hugging him tightly. "Okay. I don't mind having some time alone with you..though just know you can hang out with me anytime, okay? Come see me later..we could have a sleepover, just you and me." You smile, the skeleton sharing it before leaning back in.

"damn it, why can't i find those two? i found you easily, horror!" Killer crosses his arms, trying to think of where you both could've possibly hid.

"that's because i wasn't trying." Horror says nonchalantly, leaning against one of the walls with a grimace as he watches the shorter skeleton pace back and forth. In truth, he already knew where both of you were. He wasn't about to snitch, though. For your sake, and because he wasn't about to help Killer with anything.

"i mean, fair i guess. but they've gotta be around here somewhere. just gotta think..i checked the bedrooms..we can't go in nightmare's spaces..we already decided we wouldn't go outside..hmm. i'll check the entrance hallway again-"

You both break yet another kiss, breathing heavily as you smile at one another.

"Wow, you are..really bold when you aren't shy." You let out a little laugh, the skeleton sharing the action.

"you bring out different sides of me, 's all." He presses a kiss to your forehead, giving you some space as the door knob begins to shake. He quickly moves you behind him into the darkness, motioning for you to hide.

"aHA! found you, dust!" Killer grins proudly, tagging the other skeleton's shoulder. "now it just leaves Them.."

"better get looking then, yeah?" He watches Killer walk out of the closet, before turning back to you with a grin. You raise a brow at him, confused, before he holds up one of his fingers to his teeth and closes the door. You lean back in your spot on the floor, feeling your face burn hotter than a thousand suns.

You take a few minutes to reflect. You really need to spend some more time with Dust..you'll ensure that he never feels left out ever again. A determined look crosses your face before you lift your hand up to your neck, your face flushing when you realize his bite mark is still there. Damn it, Dust! You do your best to cover it.

"ugh, i can't find them anywhere. i give up.. HEEEY- YOU WIN THE GAME, COME OUT!" Killer shouts, causing the older skeleton to wince. "sorry, horror."

You exit the closet with a smug smile, Killer staring at you exasperatedly. "what?! you were in the same spot? no fair!" He puts his hands on his hips.

"There's nothing in the rules against hiding with someone else." You stick your tongue out, hearing Dust snicker in the background.

"well, whatever. i'll go tell nightmare to remove his spell." Killer waves you off, walking off in search of Nightmare's office. You and Dust share a glance before you walk over to Horror, giving him a side hug since you hadn't earlier in the day.

"Hey, where'd you hide?" You smile up at him, Dust taking a sip of a drink he got from who knows where.

"i just hid in my room under the bed. was a wonder i could even fit under there." He chuckles, before looking over you both. "you two have fun?"

Dust chokes on his drink somehow, spitting it out and coughing. You laugh awkwardly, playfully nudging his shoulder. "I don't know what you mean!"

"mhm. thought so. i'm gonna go take a nap, this shit wore me out. you two uh..do whatever." He messes up your hair, walking off. Well, now the two of you are left flushed in the hallway..

The spell over the castle is lifted, and before you can get a word out, Dust pulls his hood completely shut and shortcuts to his room. You simply smile at where he stood, deciding you'd go check on him later.

[jinkookspencil]

like couples do | knj

you run out of period products at dawn, and there's only one person who's up....

description/tags: namjoon drabble / fwb to lovers / fluff / but mentions the fact that namjoon and reader had unprotected sex (don't do this) and reader is relieved to get her period afterwards / so obviously mentions of period and blood / maybe a bit angsty? / been busy and been working on a request! but it's been a while since i wrote namjoon and, gosh, i love writing for him even though whatever comes to me for him is usually the most random bursts and ideas, like this one i thought of last night / let me know what you think <3

wc: ~1.6k words

+

Your gasp pulls you from heaven to hell.

Extracted from your dream, you’re out of the covers in a flash, dazed as you try to meet your reality. The room was sweltering despite autumn settling in and the fan whizzing away in your room as it always did. The sound you’d grown so accustomed to only made it harder to think, but you didn’t have to. The wet pools at your back and around your body suddenly made themselves known, with your black pajama top sticking to your sweaty skin. With a quick change into a tank top and a sip of cold water, you were ready to escape into a dreamland, far from the hellhole that had been your bedroom...

Only to be met with a small pool of a different kind when you pull away the blanket.

Fuck.

Quickly feeling between your thighs confirmed it - you bled through your shorts.

Well, at least it’s here, you think, your heart settling after days worrying about the sudden delay in your cycle. After all, Namjoon hadn’t used any protection… 

It was hard to put away the mental image of him once you were in the bathroom, remembering that one time he had you propped up on the cabinet, but looking through it now, the panic returns. You were all out of pads and tampons.

This is why people have roommates. Or stupidly organized Virgo boyfriends, you think, cursing yourself while rummaging through every drawer, cupboard, and overnight bag without finding a single tampon for the evening. 

The minutes spent on your phone were quick to squash any more of your hopes - the delivery service app had been shut down for the night after some seemingly catastrophic bug on their end, and your female friends who lived nearby hadn't answered your texts and calls, as expected at this time of day.

Reading the time on your phone, you knew one person who would definitely be up. The person who always showed up. The man worked ridiculous hours, following his ‘late-night creativity’… unless the universe really wanted to torture you and, for the very first time, he’d be asleep as well.

You consider running to the convenience store, double layering your bottoms with black fabrics, and taking a scooter... only for a stinging cramp to shock you at your lower back.

He had to answer.

+

to: joon 🌒[3:58am] - hi are you up?

to: joon🌒 [3:58am] - text asap please it’s urgent

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - yes i’m up. are you okay y/n?

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - i’m finally done with work for the night.

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - are you okay? i’ll call as soon as i’m out of the building.

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - don’t call i’m embarrassed to say this to you out loud plus i'm in pain

to: joon 🌒 [4:02am] - can you get me some pads and tampons? i got my period (aka the pain) and i’m all out so….

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - i need em and i can’t get em

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - y/n of course. phew i thought this was going in literally the complete opposite way considering…

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - anyways, aren’t we past embarrassment? never feel that when it comes to me please.

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - safe space just for us, remember? 

to: joon🌒 [4:04am] - yes :) thanks joon 

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - :) getting on my bike now. i’ll be there in 10.

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - the sky’s starting to change colors. look outside, pretty :) (1 image attached)

+

The knock, though expected, jolts you enough for your new bedsheet to spring away from your grasp once again. Frustrated, a groan escapes you as you walk to your front door, tightening the robe that covered your body and stained shorts.

“Sorry I’m late,” Namjoon giggles at the door, seeing your furrowed expression. “Oh, you’re most definitely on your period, huh?”

“Get in here and shut up,” you groan once more, letting him in. All too familiar with your place, he unpacks one of the bags in his hand, carefully displaying an array of period products on the nearest table. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t send a photo and ask me to choose one,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes.

“I… I grabbed everything in the aisle without thinking. Shit, I should’ve sent a photo, right? Are these not good enough? Are they the wrong size? Will they fit your....? I can go to another convenience store,” he murmurs, head tilted down as he surveys the products before you.

“No, Namjoon, honey, the photo is just a thing boyfriends tend to do when they’re asked to get period products. You asked the same size and fit question, though,” you laugh before quickly realizing you compared his actions to that of a boyfriend. Something he most definitely was not.

“I lived in a dorm full of boys, how was I supposed to know?” he says, scratching his head.

“These are perfect, and I’m stocked for at least the next three months. Thank you, Joonie,” you say, squeezing his arm.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he replies quietly, pulling you closer to him so he can kiss your forehead. It only hits you both when your hand is rubbing at his back in his embrace, and it takes even longer to break away than it did to realize the situation. 

Something shifts in Namjoon’s gaze when he sees you emerge from the bathroom in new pyjama shorts. “Cute PJ’s. I’m not used to seeing them on you for more than five seconds.”

“Enjoy the show, then,” you quip, plopping down next to him on the couch and extending your legs over his lap. You hadn’t really meant it as a command, but can’t help but smile catching the fact that Namjoon had obeyed. His fingers draw mindless circles at your ankles as his gaze travels upwards. Minutes are spent in silence, eyeing your thighs with intent before his eyes rest on your exposed clavicle. His circles stop, gripping your ankle and noting the undeniable rise and fall of your breathing and breasts, swollen and tender against your thin cotton tank top.

“Oh,” he finally says with a cough, breaking the silence and raising his brows. “I almost forgot. I thought you might need these.”

Leaning forward, Namjoon dumps the entire contents of the second plastic bag onto your hard coffee table. Small, colorful circles bounce off of it and onto the floor, long bars land with a thud, and instantly recognizable plastic packages are cushioned by its contents.

“Oh, Joon. I do. I do fucking need this,” you let out, almost as a moan. “You already know what I want.”

Smiling, he tears open a plastic packet of your favorite chocolate-flavored bread and another for himself. The time spent biting and savoring the pillowy snack was heavenly in the comfortable silence -save for the birds that begin to chirp from somewhere outside your window.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the sticker,” you say, handing Namjoon the tiny square envelope in your now-empty plastic packaging. He’s quick to grab it from your hands, giddy to see whatever Pokemon character was inside.

"Take mine, too," he says, handing you his square, with an illustration of a pink, deer-like creature - not at all like the Pokemon he usually mentioned.

"Oh, she’s pretty!”

"Exactly..." he says. "Deerling, that's her name. She's a new favorite of mine, actually. Her colors change based on the different seasons in the year... and when she evolves, her deer form's antlers are basically how branches are decorated in nature: budding flowers and leaves for spring, greenery for summer, you get the picture. She's the only one that truly encapsulates the beauty of our world..."

"All that for a Pokemon? I'm jealous," you tease, but he doesn't laugh, quietly opening the envelope you'd handed to him.

“Yes!” he cheers. “I don’t have this one yet - Moltres. Ah, you really are my good luck charm, huh?"

"Am I? I guess you should keep me around, then, huh?" you say, leaning back on the couch and poking his shoulder.

"That's the plan," Namjoon says, his eyes still thoughtfully fixated on the sticker he fiddled with, but only for a moment. “Uhm… I… we… should probably get some sleep, huh? I should probably…go. Uhm, should I?”

“Do you want to go?” you ask, feeling a tightening in your chest at the thought. Just like all those nights in bed, it was too comfortable to remember that this wasn't your entire reality but stolen, secret time. Always, one found themselves reminding the other to snap back to reality. It was beautifully torturous, just as you two had liked it for so long… until it began to sink in that the beauty could stand on its own…. if only one of you had the courage. 

“….No. No I don’t really want to go, Y/N. But if you want me to….” 

“I don’t want you to,” you interrupt, nudging his fingertip with yours right over your knees until your hands are intertwined. “I mean someone has to help me fit that stupid sheet onto the bed... and you're quite familiar with my sheets."

“I am,” he smiles, nodding to himself and squeezing your hand with his.

“Then we can get in… and just go to sleep… or cuddle,” you wonder, feeling Namjoon's soft hand under yours.

“Like couples do?” Namjoon asks, finally meeting your gaze for the first time that night.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m thinking like couples do,” you whisper, your breath hitching on the words that spoke your once unthinkable, far-fetched desire while looking at it right in the eyes. 

“Me too,” he smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss it and rest it at his dimples. “Like couples it is then.”

[hippolotamus]

WIP Wednesday 🖤

tagged by the lovely and talented @tizniz @eddiebabygirldiaz mwah! 💖 the beans have taken a swift and sudden break, so I'm cheating by using segments that none of you have ever read before. not once. promise. have this bit of young Evan and Maddie from the witch!eddie/familiar!buck au

Hershey, PA - 1998

“Pleeeeease?” Evan pleads, giving Maddie his widest grin and best puppy dog eyes. In his six years and two months of being alive, this tactic has never failed him. 

Tonight she’s been tasked with babysitting while their parents are out. Which makes him happy because that means she’s the one tucking him into bed and reading him a story. As soon as she finishes their book, because it’s just them, he can’t resist asking for her magick. 

It’s not like she’s not allowed to use it, but for some reason their mom and dad never seem happy when she does. Unless it’s for a practical reason. Even then they look uncomfortable, barely being able to watch while she uses her gift. 

Shouldn’t they be happy? Not every family has magick, but they’re so lucky with Maddie. She’s a natural healer, with the power to make people better. She always makes him better whenever he gets a cut or scrape from falling off his bike, or does something tricky like that time he jumped off the swings and hit his chin when he landed. 

“I should have known you would ask,” Maddie teases.  

She takes her time putting the book back on the shelf and switching off the bedside lamp before making herself comfortable at the foot of his bed. There’s a sliver of light streaming in through the curtains, enough to see Maddie tuck her hair behind her ear and wiggle her fingers at him. The wiggling is mostly for show (he thinks) and to make him giggle. She’s always doing her best to make him smile. He wonders if everyone has a big sister like her. He hopes so. 

Maddie holds one palm out, showing him it’s empty before she turns it face up. With her other hand, she stirs her pointer finger in her cupped palm. Excitement and anticipation run in a gentle current under his skin. It’s a little like a swarm of butterflies in his tummy, or the feeling he gets when the car drives over a big hill. He clutches at his blanket, leaning forward to get a closer view of the pink and green beginning to form. 

“Ready?” She asks.

“Uh-huh,” he answers, eagerly nodding his head. 

They’re only slightly out of sync with one another as they begin counting out loud. “One… two…” Evan takes a deep breath, as much as his growing lungs can hold before Maddie exclaims “Three!”

His breath rushes out of him, blowing into the pink green glow. He watches in awe as it disperses, making the sunburst patterns on his walls light up, warm and golden, illuminating the space like fireflies. 

“You did it!” She praises him as if he had any influence on any of what just happened. He gives her an enormous grin anyway. It feels impossible not to with how content he feels. 

“No, you did!” 

“Well, you did the most important part,” she argues good naturedly, tousling his hair. 

He beams with pride, leaning into the touch. Thankfully, she takes the hint and strokes his forehead with her thumb. 

“Okay, lay down. It’s way past your bedtime.” 

“Not sleepy,” he protests through a yawn. When she gives him an incredulous look, he burrows into the covers, letting his head loll to the side. “Hey, Maddie?”

“Yeah?”

He hums as she resumes lightly scratching his scalp. “Do you think I’ll get my magick soon?”

“I-” Her movements slow almost to a stop, but start again before he can complain. “I don’t know.” 

“Hope so,” he mumbles sleepily. “Can’t wait to have mine, just like you.” 

The mattress shifts and soon he feels her press a kiss to his temple. “Get some sleep, Evan. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

The reassurance is a formality — of course she’ll be around. It’s nice to hear the words anyway. Before she leaves the room, he’s already drifting into a calm slumber, beautiful shades of pink, green, and gold dancing behind his eyelids.

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon @mountedeverest

@diazheartsbuckley @weewootruck @saybiwithme mi amor @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6

@ramonaflow @taketheplanspinitsideways @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley

@stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

@thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @wikiangela @underwaterninja13 LOML @lizzie-bennetdarcy

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[corn-fanfiction]

Mark Hoffman fluff?

Ask and ye shall receive, dear Anon.

Rating: M

Tags: language, drugs n alcohol, Eric Matthews being himself, fluff (I tried anyway), some descriptions of facial wounds

Not an Asshole (Mark Hoffman x GN!Reader)

-·=»◆‡«=·-♡·=»◆‡«=·-

"Ah!"

You suck air through your teeth and cradle an ice pack against one side of your head while thick yet curiously nimble fingers work at the laceration on the other side. Mark has removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Things would be different if your vision wasn't still skewed from the tussle. For one, you'd be fixing your wound yourself. Also... you'd be able to better glimpse at Mark's face while he focuses on his work. His brow furrows differently than normal when he focuses, like the usual scowl is a front and this is him in his element.

"Am I gonna have to report this?" he grumbles, setting aside a bloodied alcohol wipe and readying a suture.

"I'm probably the last person you wanna ask."

"Why?"

He's mumbling, clearly looking to fill the silent space. You indulge him.

"Because you know what I'm gonna say."

"That I shouldn't report it?"

"Yep."

"You broke a pretty strict code of conduct," he murmurs so quietly it almost registers as a hum.

You had, in fact, broken quite a few codes of conduct, and in public no less. There's a reason you're in your apartment and not the hospital.

"He had it coming."

Mark 'tsked'. "Still."

You smirk. He agrees with you.

"Get that smile off your face. He's gonna run straight to the chief and tell. I give you a day, if that. Hold still; this is gonna hurt."

You clench your teeth and grip your whiskey glass so hard you're afraid it might shatter in your hand, and then Mark will have even more to clean up. He begins your sitches and you take a shaky sip.

"Still," he scolds you like you're a disobedient animal. You roll your eyes.

"Just take me out back and shoot me."

"You're so dramatic. They're stitches."

"Yeah, and they fucking hurt."

"Well, you fucking earned em, didn't you, Ace?"

Ace. Your nickname, or rather, his nickname for you. Because no one else called you Ace. It started out mean, critical. You were, after all, a rookie, and he your mentor. He was allowed to say basically whatever he wanted to you, and in the beginning, he did. He said things that had you crying in your car as soon as you were out of sight. Any stress, he took out on you. Even the shit that probably wasn't even related to work- it ended up on your shoulders.

It was like that for a while. Then, something changed.

To put it simply, you had saved his life. He was caught unawares, him, and you managed to talk the perpetrator down. More than that, you'd been stupid, deliberately putting yourself in harm's way just to save Hoffman from a beating or maybe a bullet.

So you're Ace. Hotshot, hotheaded. Everything Mark was before you entered the picture. Now, he finds himself taking on some kind of new role to balance you out, though he's not exactly sure what it is or how much he likes it.

"Not my proudest moment, admittedly," you say with a pained groan as Mark pulls the sitches through.

"I'd really hope a bar fight with Eric Matthews was not your proudest moment, no."

"It wasn't a bar fight."

"Ace-"

"It was outside the bar and he threw the first punch."

"He missed."

"Yeah, the first swing."

"I don't feel like arguing about this- hold still unless you wanna lose an eye."

Begrudgingly, you seal your mouth as he manages the last stitch. He pulls a particularly sensitive piece of skin, or maybe sends the needle a little too deep because you hiss and shoot a hand out to clutch his leg.

"Sorry," he mutters. You can't see him, but you feel his eyes hot on your hand and you pull it away, trying and failing to mumble an apology of your own. Even though he's literally sewing your skin closed, the hand to thigh contact is somehow the most intimate thing that's ever happened.

And you have to admit: you maybe had the occasional fantasy about Mark. It couldn't be helped. He's a man in a position of power and you have enough childhood whatever that it has a certain draw. But in any of those fantasies, it's you playing doctor to him. He's the more notorious hothead, after all.

"You're probably mad I'm stealing your title," you half joke. He snips the suture and dabs at it lightly with a fresh alcohol wipe.

"Oh yeah? You think you're gonna make head detective?"

The first part of your response is a gut reaction. "God no. I meant as the biggest asshole in the precinct."

His hands slow, and for a moment, though you're still coming down from your near blackout-level of drunkenness, you're scared you offended him.

"You're not an asshole, Ace. Well, maybe sometimes. But your heart's in the right place."

You're never one for serious or genuine conversations. You always want to leave a conversation with a joke or snarky remark. But here, now...

"And yours isn't?"

After a moment, he sighs and turns himself away. You're sitting on your kitchen counter and he's on a barstool. Even with these levels, he's as tall as you. You kick your legs as he stands.

"This isn't about me."

You hop down from the counter. "I think it is about you as much as it is about me."

He shoots you a grim look. "How do you figure that?"

"Come on. Matthews is pissed that you're good at your job, and by extension, I'm occasionally good at my job."

"That's vanity," he quips.

"But am I wrong?"

He struggles for a moment, caught between lying versus telling you that you're right. He says neither.

"Not the point."

He removes his gloves and tosses them in the trash, along with the wipes and leftover sutures. There's a moment of silence, of him watching you as you retrieve the whiskey and refilling your glass.

"Want one?" You ask.

"Sure."

You get another glass and pour. Like it's a strange instinct, you touch glasses before drinking.

"To being the two biggest assholes in the precinct," he says. You half expect the phrase to be some sort of sad, but he says it with a small smile, as if to say 'yes, we are, and that's just the way it'll have to be.'

You don't mind the idea.

You down your whiskey and pour another glass.

"Slow down there, Ace. How many painkillers have you taken?"

Honestly? You don't remember.

"...some. I'm fine."

To prove just how fine you are, you push yourself from the counter and immediately stumble.

"Alright," Mark sighs and sets his glass on the counter. "Where you trying to go?"

"Couch," you point. It would seem that yes, most of the substances you've ingested in the past two hours are combining at once.

Mark comes and hovers a guiding hand at your lower back to move you to the couch. You make it, plopping down and grabbing the remote.

"Whaddya wanna watch?" You ask, not quite slurring your words but definitely not enunciating them.

"I really oughta get home, let you rest."

"Noooo!" You groan. "At least not right now. What if I have a concussion? I can't sleep, right?"

Panic starts to creep in. You have been a little irresponsible tonight.

"And the drinking, and the meds- holy shit..."

You get woozy, start to fall on your bad side and Mark catches you and sits you up.

"Okay, where's the bathroom?"

You wave your hand to the hallways behind you and he leaves. Distantly, through your haze you hear Judge Judy on the tv. Mark returns with a cold wash cloth and the small trashcan from the bathroom.

"Here," he hands you the cloth and you set it on the back of your neck. Mark sets the bin by your feet. He straightens up and gets a good look at the state of you.

"Well, now I'm worried about you passing out."

And now you feel guilty about keeping him here.

"You're fine," you mumble. "Don't wanna keep you here."

Mark sighs, looks around the room, then looses his collar, undoes the first two buttons of his shirt.

"Scoot," he instructs, and you move yourself to one side of the couch. Mark kicks off his shoes and sits beside you.

"I'm staying until we're certain you won't overdose in the middle of the night. Deal?"

You would verbally respond but you're getting sleepy. You nod.

"Hey, wake up. Can't sleep yet."

"Whynot."

"Concussion."

You turn so your body is facing inwards, towards Mark. You toss the remote onto his lap.

"Pick something."

"This is fine."

"No, you hate reality TV."

"How do you know?"

"You told me once," you mumble with your eyes closed. You roll your head back and forth to keep awake.

"Oh," he says. "Well, I don't mind this one."

You crack an eye open. "You like Judy?"

He doesn't respond, just purses his lips.

You're not in your right mind. That's what you tell yourself every day since this night because it's the most dignified way you can justify your next move.

You've pulled your socked feet up on the couch and start nudging Mark's leg with your toes. His head swivels towards you.

"What?"

You clear your throat and squeeze your eyes shut to let a stab of pain pass.

"Lap."

When he realizes what you want, Mark sighs and moves his arm so you can swing your feet onto his thigh, snuggling even closer. He tenses, but doesn't move.

"You're not an asshole," you mumble. Your forehead gets closer to his shoulder.

"Yeah, I am."

"Not to me."

"I used to be."

"I know," you yawn. "I forgive you."

As you fall asleep, you think you might hear an apology slip through his lips.

-

When you wake up the next morning, Mark's gone. But you wake up on your side, covered in a blanket, the trash can placed strategically by your head. On your coffee table is a glass of water and two painkillers. And next to them is a sticky note.

Ace,

eat first. Don't take on an empty stomach.

-Mark

You smile and chug the water, then take the pills anyway. Your stitches ache, and your brain pulses against your skull, but you grip the note tightly in your hand, content to slip it into a drawer somewhere and 'forget' to throw it away.

Yep. Maybe an asshole. But not last night. Not today.

-·=»◆‡«=·-♡·=»◆‡«=·-

Sorry if it's OOC but Mark's not a super fluffy guy. This seemed like a natural-ish way to play it. Thanks for the req, anon!!

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Snowed In (Good Omens One-Shot)

Aziraphale x GF/GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: It's time you came out to Aziraphale as genderfluid.

Fic type: fluff

GOMENS: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @florduarte @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @jaziona92 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The snow was usually one of your favourite things about Winter. The cold, brisk air, the soft puffy jackets and layers, and the crunch of snow underfoot as you went about your business from place to place. 

One of the only things you weren’t keen on though was getting snowed in. Not unless you had company, of course. Then it was alright. 

The snow had fallen quite thick last night, and because of this, you found yourself stuck in Aziraphale’s bookshop. At least until the snow started to melt and you could escape into the street again. 

Not that you were all that upset about being trapped there, anyway. The Bookshop was one of your favourite safe spaces. The only thing was, well, you had something you needed to tell him. 

“Goodness, don’t you just adore the snow?” He asked, coming out of the kitchenette with two mugs of cocoa. “I must say that God certainly knew what she was doing there. Who knew little white flakes could bring so much whimsy?” 

You couldn’t help the affectionate tilt of your lips at that. Aziraphale always had the oddest of things to say. It was like he viewed the world through a classic Disney lens. 

“So true,” you replied, eyeing the soft flakes through the window. Taking the mug of hot chocolate from him, you took a sip before placing the mug down. “So, uh, Zira? I’ve, uh, got something I wanted to tell you.” 

Aziraphale tore his attention away from the window immediately, casting his full attention upon you. He sipped at his drink and encouraged you to sit down opposite him. Your fingers twisted together anxiously. 

“I- I think I better stand for this, actually,” you said, unsure. Perhaps today wasn’t the best day for this, after all. There was nowhere to run if it didn’t go well. You were completely snowed in. Oh, Jesus, this was going to be a disaster. 

You took a shaky breath, forcing your nerves to calm. 

“Oh, right, yes, of course,” Aziraphale nodded, standing up again. He watched you quietly, waiting for you to utter whatever it was you wanted to tell him. If he was concerned at all by your anxiousness, he didn’t let on. 

“I, so, oh God, uh, you know how sometimes I- fuck, let me start again,” you panicked. Aziraphale stepped forward, mug suddenly sitting on the coffee table beside his armchair even though he hadn’t moved. He took your hands into his own and softly rubbed his thumbs over the back of your hand. 

“So, I’m, you know how sometimes I refer to myself as a guy, and sometimes as a girl when I’m joking around?” You asked carefully, drawing strength from his soft touch. Aziraphale nodded quietly, giving you an encouraging smile. “I’m, uh, I’m genderfluid.” 

There it was, slapped out on the table like a newborn. Vulnerable, naked. Afraid. You didn’t even realise how tense you were until he let out a breath, and you copied the motion. 

“Genderfluid,” Aziraphale tested the syllables on his tongue. “Gender- oh, yes, is that the one where what you identify with changes from time to time? Yes, I think I read about that in a magazine somewhere.” 

You blinked, not surprised by his instant taking-to of your identity, but surprised at yourself. You were so used to bracing for disaster that it almost felt like a blow to the senses when it actually… went well. 

“I- it depends on the person, but, yeah, that’s the one,” you replied barely above a whisper. Tears started to swell in your eye line, blurring the man before you. Aziraphale tutted and brushed a thumb over your cheek comfortingly. 

“Now, now, my dear,” he said affectionately. “There’s no need for tears. No, no. Ah, yes, see, that’s better. A shame to hide such a handsome smile.” 

A soft blush tinted your cheeks at the compliment. 

“Now, I simply must know,” he said seriously, though there was always that smile in the corners of his mouth. “Are we my handsome, strapping buck today, or my stunning, beautiful doe?” 

You gave your answer, and Aziraphale gave the smallest hint of a nod before reaching to put your cocoa back in your hands. 

“Okay. I think given the unfortunate circumstances of our weather situation, perhaps we can reorganise the biographies today. What do you think?” Aziraphale looked warily towards the biography section in the dark corner of the shop. “I had been avoiding it as much as possible, but perhaps I should take this as a sign.” 

You snorted a laugh behind your mug and gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze with your free one. 

“Sounds like a plan, dearest.”