#Lmao birds can fuck off

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

January 18, 2024. Sandhill Crane Flyby!!

I live at the VERY edge of a Sandhill Crane migration route, and I saw a flock of at least 40 flying southwest today at 3:52PM! I haven't seen any in a couple years, and this is the biggest group I've spotted. Usually I catch them with their strung-together rattle calls, but these guys were pretty quiet (just a couple brief rattles today, which was thankfully still enough to make me look up through the trees!). Allegedly it was 28ºF today but felt like 21°F--I hope they were staying warm up there. Safe travels, friends!!

[deathbypixelz]

I was gonna leave this in the tags but that got really inconvenient, so:

I agree with all of this. For your own safety, you should really assume any mammal acting weird has rabies.

BUT. I WANTED TO ADD. AS A CONSERVATIONIST AND ZOOLOGY STUDENT. Sometimes mammals are genuinely just injured or sick with something else. Personally, I'd leave it to its fate if it's something non-native to the area. But if it is native, and especially if it's a threatened species, then I would really encourage people to call a wildlife rehab center or the DNR or animal control (try the other two first though, imo) so they can get it the help it needs. They know what they're doing. If it IS rabies after all, they can kill the mammal before it can spread it to anything else. If it isn't, then hopefully they can rehab it. Because, hey, we're in the middle of the sixth mass extinction, and it is worth at least trying to help animals in those sorts of situations.

Also sometimes wild mammals are just more comfortable around people because they live in a densely-populated area and are desensitized (e.g. the population of squirrels on my uni's campus). But as people have said in the comments, rabid mammals often fall into the uncanny valley. Trust your instincts. We've evolved specifically to pick up on these sorts of things, because our lives depend on it. If it lives in a population center but seems wrong, if it lives away from people and is too friendly, assume it's rabies and stay the fuck away. And call the DNR or animal control so they can put it down.

Basically I wanted to say: yes for the love of fucking god do not approach random mammals acting weird or friendly. But don't assume every mammal acting strangely has the Absolute Nightmare Disease that is rabies, because it could - IT MIGHT - be rehabbed, if it's something else.

That said: Just assume it's rabies to begin with. Keep your distance, and call someone who knows what they're doing. And vaccinate your fucking pets. And if you do get bit or scratched by a wild mammal or feral cat/dog/etc., GO TO THE FUCKING DOCTOR and get rabies shots, because you can only treat it if you're fast.

Cartoons messed people up on what rabies looks like. Ppl think of a rabid animal and assume it's always snarling and frothing at the mouth and ready to attack. Rabid animals can appear really friendly because they lose human fear and they might approach you supposedly looking for food. It might look like a deer stumbling in circles and limping and falling over as if it's injured and disoriented. Might looks like a fox repeatedly trying and failing to stumble to its feet and unable to pick its head up. Their brains are melting. They might seem angry but they might also seem confused or injured or in need. But if you try to help that injured crying fox you could end up getting bit by an animal that's basically already dead and then your brain will melt too

[oetscop]

my mom is rly pulling all the punches trying to act sick while trying to force me to go back to work. bc like 1: i still do not have a fucking voice. i work in customer service. kinda need that. 2: im coughing up a storm still and i WORK IN CUSTOMER FUCKING SERVICE AND SHOULD NOT BE COUGHING ON PEOPLES FUCKING GROCERIES and 3: shes still a bad actor and way too confident

[homunculus-argument]

Things birds would make memes about:

when you're all fucked up and ready to GO but the male got too into doing his mating display and won't fuck before he's done dancing

when your hatchlings this year should be all grown up and you've taught them everything you know but they still follow you around beeping for food like GET A FUCKING JOB

lmao the stupidest fucking mf in the flock got stuck in a trash can

when your species mates for life and you just realised that your spouse that you imprinted on is a fucking idiot

stealing fluff for my nest straight off a sleeping dog because I fear no death and answer to no god

I think my huge idiot son is a cuckoo

THE SUN IS UP AND SO AM I, TIME TO SCREAM MOTHERFUCKERS

Birds of prey hanging around bird feeders waiting for rats, squirrels, smaller birds, and other bird food to show up.

I fucking hate seagulls, all my homies hate seagulls

suck my dick, I'm a seagull, fuck you

[writersdrug]

if you’re craving more bartender! ghost (like me), maybe reader meeting price for the first time? he’s got that rugged charm that actually makes her shy, and simon’s about to kick the owner out of his own bar?

or, regardless! how do you picture her meeting price?

Lmao I just saw this and I think I wrote a blippet of it in my Bartender!Simon headcannons but I'm in love with this particular idea:

You're in the kitchen, chatting it up with Soap as you prepare things like condiments, the dip heater, and slicing fruits. Soap drops a plate of pancakes under the warmer for everyone to share and you snag one off the top.

"Gonna go smoke a blem." Soap says, taking his apron off. "Simon's up at the bar if ye need 'im."

"Mphhm." You say, chewing on the pancake as you stir the nacho cheese with your other hand. Soap walks out the back, the door swinging shut with a clang behind him.

You vaguely hear Simon tinkering up front, taking the barstools off the countertop for the day. It's three pm, and the place officially opens at four. You're dissociating, staring at the congealed nacho cheese as it slowly warms up, stirring it while you snatch another pancake from underneath the warmer. You're thinking of asking Simon if you can paint your nails - dress code is one thing, health code is another. You could wear those plastic gloves if the nail polish is a problem - but, then again, you'd look ridiculous with those gloves. Is it alright to have clear polish on? Probably...

You hear the door creak open, assuming Soap already finished his cigarette. "That was fast-" You said, dropping the ladle into the cheese. "I'm gonna let Simon know about the pan-"

When you look up, you're not looking at Soap, as you had expected. You're staring at a different man, with a scruffy beard and a dark beanie, stepping in through the back door.

Simon nearly slices his finger open when he hears your blood-curdling scream. He curses, dropping the lemon and knife onto the counter behind the bar, sprinting off into the kitchen, soldier instincts kicking in. He bursts through the door to find Price, eyes wide and hands up in a peaceful gesture, shouting at you to calm down. You have an empty beer keg in your hands and are mid-swing, aiming for Price's head-

Ghost jumps into the scene - he grabs you around your waist and spins you away from Price, making the keg lose its acceleration. You shriek and kick your feet, dropping the keg on his toe. He curses as he slams into the wall behind him.

"The owner- he's the owner!!" He shouts over your struggling.

You freeze, staring at Price - who looks absolutely astounded with the situation that had just unfolded before him. "Oh- fuck, I'm- I'm so sorry!! Christ, I thought you were robbing the place!!"

Simon chucks you back onto your feet, wheezing out a breath in relief. Price sighs and relaxes his shoulders, rolling them out and standing straight.

"Fuckin' hell..." he says, reaching a hand out. "Price. You must be the new bird, yes?"

You nod and shake his hand. "Yea- seriously, I'm so sorry-"

"'S quite alright." He dismisses your apology with a wrinkle of his nose. "Didn't realize you hired a security guard, Simon." He looks to the bartender, still leaning against the wall.

You bit your lip. "You ok, Simon?"

"Y' broke my goddamn toe."

[kuiinncedes]

ugh

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: You've been the Twins' handler for years now, and when Tangerine blows up at you one evening after a mission, he apologizes in an unconventional way.

Epilogue

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: implied fuck boy!Tangerine, bitchy!Tangerine in the beginning, reader is named Peach, unprotected sex, passionate sex, not much foreplay (they're desperate lmao), swearing, insecurities, praise kink, degradation, emotional, Tangerine is all over the place and bad with his feelings!

~ i'm so sorry i feel like this took forever <3 enjoy! @j23r23 ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

"He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not," you smile, your nails drumming on the desk as you pick at the petals of the roses in the jar near your computer. "Ah ha, he loves me. Knew you were so full of shit," you hum happily. 

"Piss off," Tangerine loudly grunts in your ear and you tilt your head, scrunching your nose. You've told him not to yell like that—you've warned him that the earpiece is sensitive and you'll lose your hearing if he continues like this—but he never listens.

Being the Twins handler for almost four years now you've learned how to deal with their quirks.

Lemon, as ruthless as he is, is too trusting. He's also loyal to a fault and he'd die for Tangerine in seconds; something you've had to account for in your missions so it doesn't happen. 

Tangerine on the other hand? Recklessness under the guise of control. He'd burn the entire world down for Lemon without hesitation, his temper as bright as the flames of a wildfire.

Unexplainably however, you were drawn to him the most.

While he pushes your buttons like no one else, you also tend to push him in ways that leave him wanting—no needing—more.

"Tan," you warn again, "don't talk so loudly, they'll hear you!"

"Stop your yapping in my ear then, luv," Tangerine snaps, his comment snarky and you hear a loud humph as it sounds like someone crashes into something.

Tangerine sounds out of breath and you use your mouse to click on the map on your computer. You zoom in and ask, "Where's Lem? You aren't supposed to meet any security for a while—"

"He's busy, darlin'. And your little shortcut turned out to be not so short after all," Tangerine says and you hear a loud grunt. It's obvious he's in the middle of a fight.

Your blood runs cold as you chew on your lip. Your hands quickly dance over the keyboard as you try and find another way for them—an easier way—

"Hey, Peach, will ya stop breathing so damn loudly, it's distracting me," Tangerine's voice interrupts your worry and you hold your breath when you hear a loud thwap and then a grunt—immediately accompanied by cursing and more hoarse shouts. 

"Tangerine!" his name spills from your lips as you hear louder blows. "Tan?" you whisper when the line disconnects and a low buzz is heard in your ear. You fumble to discard the earpiece onto the desk in front of you and then you focus on finding Lemon. 

If anyone can help Tangerine, it's Lemon.

With a frown, you activate the tracker you'd promised not to slip into Lemon's jacket, and a little red light blinks on your computer screen. He's not far from where Tangerine is. You lean over and connect to the microphone on your computer.

"Lemon?!" 

You hear a crack and then the shuffling of clothes against the microphone in the tracker. "Peach?" Lemon grunts, "Ya cheeky lil' bird, I told ya not to track me," he lets out a breathy laugh, and another smack is heard, "Fuck me, these fuckers just don't die easily!" 

"Lem? Where's Tan?" you ask, seeing that the tracker Tangerine wears voluntarily on his suit hasn't moved in a while. "Is he okay? I think the earpiece broke."

Something must have happened to his tracker too if it's malfunctioning.

"Yeah, which is why I say I should wear it—but he's bossy and he's your favorite," Lemon says. 

"I don't have favorites!" you insist, your cheeks burning.

"Sure, whatever," Lemon chuckles and then adds, "Ah, speaking of the devil—I can see 'im now. Damn, he's beat up ain't he. Bullocks. Y'know your little plan was shit, Peach, security swarmed us almost immediately!"  

You pinch your eyes and guilt settles in your stomach. "I know, I know, I'm sorry,"

You hear Tangerine's voice distantly as he grumbles, "Fuckin' arsehole broke my earpiece when he punched me—I lost contact with Peach," he complains and you hear shuffling. Your stomach fills with unwanted butterflies at the sound of his voice and how your codename rolls off his tongue. 

"She can hear ya," Lemon says, his smirk evident in his tone, "Say hello, Peach."

"She tracked ya?" 

"Yeah, and bugged me too apparently."

 "What the fuck, my tracker doesn't do that," Tangerine says and you hear an infliction in his voice. 

"Yeah, cauz you always have the earpiece."

"Because she likes me better,"

"That's what I said!!" 

"Oi, you wankers, I can still hear you," you interrupt, "Will you just come back to the van now? The mission's a bust," you finish. While they continue to bicker for a moment, Lemon finally shuts down the tracker—by breaking it you assume—idiot—and it isn't until the van door slams open that you hear and see them again. 

"Oi, now you're takin' the piss," Tangerine exclaims, glaring at his brother as he runs a hand through his mussed hair. He enters the van and you stand. Your eyes scan over his appearance; his suit is torn and bloodied and he has a gaping cut on his forehead. His ear is also bleeding from when you assume the broken earpiece had shattered. 

"Christ," you whisper and walk over to him. Lemon smirks as he walks by the both of you and collapses onto the second chair near your desk. He's less beat up than Tangerine—who'd taken on more men you assume—but you remind yourself to check on him later anyway.

Tangerine senses you come up to him and he tenses when you hold his cheeks in your hands and check his wounds. "Tan, this looks bad," you say. 

"Peach, I'm fine," he grumbles and turns his head away. He sounds grumpier than usual.

"Look, I'm sorry—I'm sorry I messed up, I—"

Suddenly, Tangerine explodes. His hand comes up around his ears as he scrunches up his nose. "Will ya just stop talkin' for one fuckin' second?!" he yells and even Lemon, who had been a silent bystander to the conversation, looks up from where he's bandaging his hand. 

Your eyes widen and you blink at Tangerine. "W-what?"

He presses his index on his temple and narrows his eyes at you. "I have a fuckin' headache 'cause of you and you talkin' my fuckin' ear off all the damn time! And now I can barely hear because it's ringing so fuckin' hard!" he points to the blood inside his ear. 

You flinch at his tone and try to control the tears threatening to spill as he harshly berates you. 

"Right," is all you say, "sorry," your voice sounds small and you push by him and out to the front of the van to start the engine. 

* * * 

When you arrive outside their house—well, your house too since you've been living with them for the past three months—you don't talk to Tangerine. You don't even look at him.

Instead, without a word, you walk up to your room, tears still brimming, and slam the door behind you. 

Your stomach hurts and your nails dig into your palms as you run a shower. You desperately want to wash away any memory of what happened tonight. 

It isn't uncommon for you and Tangerine to fight—but he's never shouted like that and never in response to your worry.

Once you finish with your shower and walk out of the bathroom, just a towel wrapped around your body, you jump when you see Tangerine standing in the middle of your room.

He'd clearly freshened up too but, unlike yours, his hair is freshly dried. You aren't surprised—you know he hates sleeping with it when it's wet. 

He's wearing a casual pair of beige slacks and a white T-shirt. The fabric strains against the muscles in his arms as he crosses them across his chest and you look up, feeling a burn in your cheeks.

Tangerine's ear has been bandaged and his cuts and bruises look kindly tended to. Lemon, you assume, he's always been soft on his brother even when he's acting like a jerk. 

Tangerine is staring at you intensely, his blue eyes shining a shade darker than usual. 

"Shit, stop being creepy," you grumble, holding your towel tightly around yourself. "Have you come to say you're sorry for acting like a prick or just stare a hole into my head?"

Tangerine's eyes narrow and he shakes his head. He stalks closer to you, pink lips parted and his hands find your hair near your nape. He pulls you in, seemingly unbothered by the squeal you make or how you're unable to move your hands to push him away. 

Not that you'd want to push him away anyway.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" you hiss, staring at him, "have you gone mad?"

Tangerine just continues to stare into your soul. "You're so damn annoying," he mutters.  

"I'll scream and Lemon will come and beat the shit out of you," you threaten, challenging him. You know Lemon would never do such a thing and you'd be a fool to scream. 

"But, fuck me, I like you so damn much," he finishes his sentence, and then his lips find yours. His hand tightens in your hair as he kisses you. There's no tenderness in his kiss, no hesitation or remorse, just pure passion as he wraps his arms around you and holds your back as he pulls your chest to his. 

You clutch the towel, making sure it feels secure, and kiss him back. You make a small sound behind his lips but you can't deny the heat in the kiss or how badly your stomach tightens just right. The steam coming from your bathroom is taunting as it surrounds you; sticky and warm. 

"Tan," you mumble as his hand comes around your jaw and he turns your head to kiss your neck. 

"Shut up," he growls, "you talk too damn much." He squeezes his eyes shut and the words fall easily from his lips as they press to your skin.

"God, you don't understand how hard it is for me; hearing your sweet voice in my ear while I'm trying not to get fuckin' stabbed or shot to death! You don't know what you do to me, darlin'. You have no fuckin' clue. It's fuckin' torture," he says as his hand tightens in your hair and you whimper.

"Tan, m-my towel," you tell him, struggling to hold it up as his body presses against yours.

This makes Tangerine snap out of whatever trance he's in for a moment and he looks down at you. His eyes have softened just a little and his tone is sultry when he asks, "Let it fall. I don't care. Do you?" His lips quirk up. "I've dreamt of you naked a thousand times, luv."

Your eyes round at the intensity of his words. You want to tell him to fuck off—that you've never thought of him like this. Never imagined his lips on yours or the way he'd feel inside you. But then you'd be a liar, and you aren't a liar. 

Instead, you drop the towel, your eyes still intensely locked onto his. The cold air sends a shiver up your spine and Tangerine's hands find the skin on your back instead of the towel. His eyes haven't left yours and he looks surprised that you'd done it. He hasn't looked down and his cheeks have turned a dusty pink. 

"What?" you move your hands up to his cheeks and hold them, "you said you'd dreamt of this. Well?" With as much confidence as you can muster, tilt his head to your naked body. You can feel your hands tremble against his cheeks, all kinds of insecurities and uncertainties bubbling inside you and just as you're going to pull away from sheer embarrassment, Tangerine speaks; 

"Fuckin' hell, you look so much better than in my imagination," his hands slide up the curves of your hips and breasts. His touch is surprisingly gentle for how passionate he'd been in the beginning.

You watch as his eyes roam around your body and he runs a hand over his jaw, staring at you with pure admiration. "You belong in a fuckin' museum," he whispers behind his hand. 

"Alright, lover boy," you roll your eyes and shift to move away but his hands find your hips and he hoists you up into his arms. You gasp, your arms finding his shoulders and your legs cling to his waist as your wet hair sprinkles water over his face. It's a weird position to be in considering you're naked.

"Tangerine!" you cry as he carries you over to your bed and you squeal when he drops you and hovers over you. 

"Let me worship you, darlin'," he whispers as his knee slides in between your legs and he kisses your lips again. He disconnects them and looks at you seriously, "Please," he pleads and your eyes widen.

Tangerine never says please.

You find yourself nodding, too lost in the haze of it all to hear the small voice in your head screaming how stupid this is.

He'll throw you away after. He doesn't care. He'll hurt you. He'll break your heart! 

You kiss him again, his lips moving against yours rhythmically. You're so lost in pleasure that when he sits up on his heels to strip his shirt, you whine and grasp at his arms. "Shhh, I'm here, dove," he chuckles, enjoying the power he has over you. When he leans over you to kiss you again, this time your hands find his abs and you can't help but explore them. 

"You countin' them, luv?" he chuckles after a moment and his lips find your nipples as he squeezes one of your breasts in his hands. You make an embarrassed sound that quickly turns into a moan when he positions your hips just right so the fabric of his slacks hits your clit. 

"I know, I know," Tangerine teases as he senses how needy you're becoming. "Shit, you're just a little slut, aren't ya, luv? Knew you'd wear those dresses to tempt me—didn't ya?"

You nod. You had. You didn't think it worked—he always played it so cool.

"You should know I would wank one out after seeing you—your thighs so visible and," he pauses and uses his hands to spread you open until he sees what he wants, "and that pretty pussy. So fuckin' pretty—

—you let me have a peek sometimes didn't you, naughty girl? Knew you did it on purpose," Tangerine says. He sounds satisfied with himself that he'd found you out and his grin widens when you nod. 

"Just for you," you whisper, looking up at him with hooded eyes. "Please, Tan," you whine, you're already so wet for him. 

"What do you want, hm? Tell me," he smirks and dips his head down to kiss your neck as his hands wander around your skin. He sits back up and removes his slacks and boxers. Your eyes downturn on his cock and you bite your lip. God, is he really this beautiful everywhere? How fucking unfair. 

Tangerine's hand comes up to your chin, "Where do you want me?" 

You look into his eyes, unsure how to ask him for what you want. Tangerine smiles, his thumb touching your lip. He's gentle, his eyes softer now, "Peach," he leans in and kisses just behind your ear. You shiver. "It's okay. Tell me where you want me," he smiles against your skin. 

"Inside me," you say, your voice small

Tangerine hums and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "Where inside you, luv? I want to hear you say it for me."

You feel your cheeks warm and you stare up at him. "In my pussy," you say and Tangerine's eyes light up and he smirks.

"My pleasure," he says and shifts his hips until you feel his cock press against your pussy. He feels you tense as your hands tighten around his shoulder.

"Hey, it's just me," he says, pushing in slower now. He looks concerned as one of his hands finds your hair and pushes the strands away from your eyes.

Yeah, that's the issue, you want to tell him but you just nod, squeezing your eyes shut. 

"Look at me," he says as he pushes inside you fully. You gasp, arching into him and your breathing becomes harsh. He's so thick and long. Tangerine doesn't move and you let out a whine, your eyelids fluttering. "I said, look at me. I won't move until you look at me, darlin'," he whispers sternly. 

When you finally look at him he smiles, "Do you trust me? I'm not gonna hurt you—promise." 

You nod, biting your lip. Of course, you trust him. "I trust you," you answer breathlessly. 

"Good girl," Tangerine praises and kisses your forehead. He starts to move his hips, pulling in and out of you with torturous strokes. He feels so good.

As he fucks you, he leans his forehead on yours, occasionally whispering praises into your ear as he tells you how pretty you look with him buried inside you. 

"So fuckin' pretty with my cock inside your pussy, hmm," he grunts, continuing the pounding of his hips. "You close, luv? Already?" He teases you with a smirk and kisses your lips. You let out small moans, skin warm and sticky as you nod. 

"Good," he smiles and uses his thumb to rub your clit, adding pressure as he fucks into you. "So good for me. All for me, hmm?" 

"Y-yes," you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. 

"Open your eyes, Peach," he demands and you do so instantly. "I want to look into your eyes when you come apart around me."

With that, the tension breaks inside you. Your body feels weak from the pleasure and your chest rises and falls rapidly once your high finishes. You let yourself relax into the mattress for a moment, ignoring the sudden stream of thoughts—good and bad—that race into your mind. Tangerine's lips touch your forehead again and then he pulls out, finishing on your stomach with a grunt. 

You blink, feeling the bed dip and then his warmth disappears. You panic a little but you're too weak to move. If he wants to leave, let him, you convince yourself as you stare at the ceiling. However, when you feel something cold and wet across your stomach, you flinch and scramble to sit up. 

Your eyes are wide and Tangerine pauses, removing the washcloth from your skin. He frowns a little, "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly. You stare at him. He's still shirtless but he's pulled up his trousers.

"You aren't leaving?" you ask, looking around the room and you suddenly feel very bare. 

Tangerine's frown deepens but he doesn't speak for a moment as he washes away his cum from your skin and, after discarding the washcloth, he reaches behind him to hand you his shirt. You accept it without thinking and put it on, wrapping your arms around yourself as you continue to stare at him. 

He shifts, sitting beside you with one leg off the bed. He still hasn't answered and you start to feel an impending pit in your stomach. 

"Why would I leave?" he asks calmly, his voice doesn't have a hint of concern in its tone. 

You fiddle nervously with the hem of his shirt, looking down. Your hair, now half-dried, is a mess from the pillows and you push it down and around your ears in an effort to compose yourself in front of him. "Well, I- I just assumed that you would—" 

Tangerine tilts his head. "You think I would fuck and ditch, did ya? Ya think so low of me, Peach?" It feels like he sounds almost amused.

You shake your head but your nerves don't stop. "I mean, what do you expect me to think, Tangerine?" you look into his eyes and continue, "You come in here, all pissed at me—you yelled at me earlier and made me feel all shitty about myself—and then out of nowhere you kiss me and then we—"

"Fuck." Tangerine finishes bluntly. 

You narrow your eyes at him. "Yeah, that," you let out a breath, "So, please, tell me. What am I supposed to think? What do you want from me now? Because I can't be one of your fuck toys, Tan. I refuse to be that girl. I- I care about you—" you feel your emotions get caught in your throat and you feel your eyes sting. Furiously, you wipe your eyes with your hands, refusing to cry in front of him. 

Tangerine hasn't said a word. He's looking at you but you can't read his expression. You hate it. You shut your eyes, ready to call it quits, and tell him to leave, but then you feel the bed dip again and you feel his hands cup your cheeks. Your eyes snap open.

"Don't cry," he whispers, his thumb sliding under your eyes and catching your tears, "Please, don't cry because of a stupid bastard like me," he cracks a smile, hoping you'll smile too but when you don't and he sighs, "Okay, I was a dick, a real fuckin' dick, and you didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry." 

You nod, still listening to him, "You really were a dick," you whisper. 

Tangerine chuckles and nods too. "Yeah. I was," he pauses and moves his thumb across your cheeks as if admiring you some more, "Do ya really believe I'd fuck ya for this to be a one-time thing, luv? That I'd just throw ya away after?"

Your cheeks feel warm. "I- I don't know," 

"You do know. You think I would do that to ya," Tangerine says, his voice low. 

"I mean—that's what you do don't you? I've known you for years, Tan. All those girls—"

Tangerine suddenly laughs and his hands drop from your face. "Peach, you aren't those girls," he says, suddenly serious, "I wasn't just making it up when I said how hard it is for me to listen to you in my ear all the time. Not because you're annoying—which sometimes you are but that's beside the point—but because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for years. You're all I goddamn think about. Do you understand how hard that is for me?"

You just frown, shaking your head a little. "No. This doesn't make sense. Why now—why not yesterday? Or months ago? Or years ago?"

 Tangerine runs a hand in his hair and lets out a breath. "Because I didn't want to but I snapped, I snapped, okay? I'm not fuckin' proud of it. I yelled at you and I felt so bad after I didn't know what to do with myself anymore—

—you're always there for Lem and me, and I realized, after that fuckin' earpiece broke, that I hated not having your pretty voice in my ear anymore. It felt like I'd lost you—do you have any idea how scared that made me feel, even when I knew it was irrational and that you were completely safe?" His words come out jumbled and strained. "I fuckin' hated it, I hated feeling like that so I snapped," he finishes. 

You stare at him, his words hitting you hard. You've never seen him like this and it scares you, but it also turns you on some more. Why does he have to be so fucking hot? "And I'm sorry. I am. I would never throw you away. I don't want to throw you away after this—especially after fucking you—that's the last thing I would want! I– I-" 

You stare at him some more, your eyes wide, "You what—?"

Tangerine pauses, "I love you," he says, articulating every word so you hear him clearly. 

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"As in love love?"

"Fuckin' hell Peach, ya want me to scream it at ya or somethin'? I'm in love with ya. I love ya more than anythin' I fuckin' have. You're my everything. I love you so damn much."

All your anger, doubt, and shame instantly vanished into thin air. He loves you. All this time he'd loved and he was just shit at expressing his emotions? You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as happiness overwhelms you. 

"Are ya laughing at me?" Tangerine's voice cuts in the air and you focus on him. He looks surprised and hurt. 

Your smile falters and you shake your head. There is so much you want to tell him that you're at a loss for words. He looks so pretty like this, sitting in front of you, and your hands find his cheek instead of using words.

Your fingers skim the bandage that's still wrapped around his ear and you want to ask him if it still hurts. You want to ask him so many things. He's staring at you, chest heaving, and you don't think as you kiss him. 

It's softer than the previous passionate kiss you'd shared. Only, Tangerine reacts with as much eagerness as earlier. His hands find your back and he presses you against him, your lips sliding against yours. It's intense and lovely all in the same. 

"I love you too," you say quietly between kisses. 

"Say it louder," Tangerine suddenly hums, his eyes shut in pleasure. You think he needs you to talk louder because one of his ears is bandaged and hurt.

So, you do as he asks and it earns you another kiss, however when Tangerine mutters, "I wanna hear ya say it again," you know he heard you fine. His voice is so love sick you just grin and wrap your arms around him, your hands bunching in his curls.

"I love you, Tangerine," you say breathlessly, "I love you."

"You have no idea how happy ya just made ma, luv," he responds instantly, running his hand over your cheek as he looks into your eyes. "God, I'd die for ya," he mutters and you frown, slapping his arm a little. 

"Don't talk about you dying, you git," you reprimand, and Tangerine smirks. 

He kisses your neck and with a teasing tone he reassures you, "Ya have nothin' to worry about, luv. I'd much rather live for you. You have all of my heart, darlin'. It's all yours," he guides your hand to press your palm against his chest and you feel how quickly his heart is beating.

"This beats for you."

You smile and kiss his lips once more as you bring his other hand to your chest too. "And I'm yours," you whisper. "Only yours."

And until then, you'd never seen Tangerine's grin widen as widely as it did when you said those words. 

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I also have another wack idea

Damian is Bruce's biological child with Talia, so what if Bruce had a child with another powerful assassin years ago, so batsis is basically Damian's big sister from different mothers. BUT, batsis lived with her clan because ain't no way the clan is letting THEIR assassin raised by Batman. Plus, batsis sees Bruce's low EQ and failures and go 'ew wtf'. A total mommy's girl.

Bruce trying to pst pst pst his biological child to join his family in Gotham and she's like 'no? tf?'

HER DYNAMIC WITH DAMIAN WILL BE SO FUNNY. Damian is raised to believe bloodline superiority fight for the heir blablabla and batsis is like "then have him?? I don't want our dad, I don't even know why YOU want our dad"

Batsis just wants to vibe with her mama

This is absolutely funny but I beg you this concept.

He'res the thing. Damian doesn't even wanna be with Bruce..lmao. Like baby boy was a whole prince and now he's in the ghetto with commoners...he's pissed off.

You got to stay over with your clan????...he hates you. Like it's not fair. He wants to be an assassin and live by the rules he's grown up with his mom but no. He hasn't seen his mom in a year....

You come to visit to get to see who your father is because he's supposedly so damn great...then it's like oh. yeah nvm. Like the whole bird thing is weird to you.

Maybe Damian tries to assert dominance by being the "true official one and only my father loves me more" a blood child blah blah...

"fuck off Damian, I wouldn't want to be caught dead here anyways. Btw. Bruce looks like a moron in that cowl."

*shocked Pikachu face*

Bruce is trying to force you to stay because you are a new child for his collection and Damian is having a whole tantrum. Funny if Damian teams up with you and helps you stay away from his dad so you can be out of his hair.

Damian gives you shit and tries to force you to confess that he is the better blood sibling before he breaks you out of the restraints,,,,

Having a whole fist fight after he breaks you out because he cannot stop being a little shit.

Bruce eventually hearing the commotion and ya'll both be in trouble now...

*Damian secretly starts to become obsessed with the rivalry and doesn't want you to go but won't admit it so he starts sabotaging you.*

[waspsinyouryard]

✨ bald-face-beauty follow

y'all need to stop shitting on parasitoids. "i'm a wasp but at least i'm not the type that are gross dirty parasites lol" do you fucking hear yourself.

🪵 woodful-chewer follow

Has a cordiceps fungus taken hold or something?????? You're literally defending parasites??????? Like actual real parasites that do so much actual real damage to the bug community???????

✨ bald-face-beauty follow

You also do "so much real damage to the bug community" when you predate things lmao

💛 yellow-coat follow

not the parasitoid trying to say that PREDATION is problematic

✨ bald-face-beauty follow

I am literally a bald-faced hornet. And that wasn't the point i was trying to make anyways.

How is parasitism problematic when predation isn't?

🐛 kitty-pillar follow

Predation literally is problematic??????????????

✨ bald-face-beauty follow

please this isn't about that

🐛 kitty-pillar follow

How can this conversation not be about predation being problematic?

Do you have any idea what it's like to be terrified for your life every single fucking day? To know at any time that a bird or a lizard or even one of you could appear out of nowhere and fucking eat me? Do you have any fucking idea what that's like? Or are you so egocentric that you've never even thought about the fact that all the bugs you kill had lives and thoughts and feelings.

✨ bald-face-beauty follow

ok i'm turning off reblogs on this trainwreck of a post.

Do you ever think about all the plants you eat? Do you ever think about the fact that those plants feel pain? Do you ever think about the pain and suffering your existence has wrought upon the world? Of course not. Plants are beneath you.

Here's the thing, fucker: all life is lived at the expense of others. All of it. Even plants, who get all their food from the sun, grow over and poison each other to get ahead. There is no path to complete cruelty-free living. None. You cannot be alive without directly or indirectly harming something else.

What gives you the right to think you're better than us just because you hurt things that can't complain?

[demonic0angel]

Can you write some badhumor? I love them😭

(Hell yeah!! It got long bc I got excited lmao)

Nightwing was not in a great position right now. He was currently tied up, suspended off of the ground, injected with unknown drugs, and only moments away from being delivered to some new and unknown mob boss within Blüdhaven. All he could do was wait for an opportunity to escape until the drugs kicked in.

"I guess this is what they meant when an angel loses their wings, huh?" A low, velvety voice said. "You seem to have lost yours."

Dick looked up in shock. "... Wraith?!"

There, floating near the windows on the ceilings, was a being wearing black and white with glowing, floating hair and luminscently green skin. He smiled, flashing sharp fangs, and Nightwing felt his heart drop.

Wraith was a neutral entity that had appeared in Blüdhaven for an unknown purpose. There was little known about him, except that he was powerful, feared nothing, hated humans, and had a strange, unexplained fondness for Nightwing.

Although Nightwing could not trust him, he could not deny that Wraith hadn't done anything yet. For the most part, he just roamed Blüdhaven to follow Nightwing and watch him occasionally with flirty or cryptic comments before disappearing and then coming back at the most random times.

Nightwing shuddered as he realized that he was now vulnerable in front of this being with unknown motives.

"Hello, birdie," Wraith purred. "You seem a little... tied up."

Nightwing chuckled, hiding his inner nervousness. His body was beginning to shake from the drugs and the exertion of being extended off of the ground by his hands. "Yep. So could you untie me?"

Wraith floated down, touching upon the ground gracefully before prowling forward, head tilted as he observed Nightwing's tied up form.

"I could... but what's in it for me?"

Fuck.

Nightwing grit his teeth. His vision was growing blurry. Sweat began to bead at his brow as the heat within his body rose sharply. He glared at Wraith, who stood still, watching him with the eyes of a predator.

"If you can't, then just fuck off."

"You're more rude than usual, little bird."

Nightwing felt his body tremble as the pain and heat suddenly grew unbearable, like needles were stabbing into him over and over. His ears began to ring and the world started to swirl, spiraling into colors and dark spots.

"Ohhh. Oops."

And then his vision faded into unconsciousness and blistering heat.

In his slumber, he felt the comforting presence of something cold. He chased after the chill to drive off the sweltering heat, and as cool hands gingerly weaved onto his hair and scratched at his scalp, he fell deeper and deeper into a gentle sleep.

He woke up the next morning, eyes wide as he sat up in a comfortable and large bed.

He looked down on himself, where he was still dressed in his hero suit and mask, but all of his visible injuries were treated and bandaged. His sprained wrist was wrapped and splinted expertly, but there was nothing else that was out of the ordinary. He didn't not feel as achy or tired as he expected from such an ordeal yesterday.

Nightwing carefully climbed out of bed and then investigated the room. There were no cameras or recording devices, and the door was even unlocked and open. There was nothing suspicious about the room besides the fact that Nightwing was in it, alone.

He peeked outside of the room and then he went through the hallway, observing the place. It looked like a high-end apartment, and there was no one else but him inside. When he entered the kitchen, there was a meal prepared for him, wrapped up and cool on the counter.

There was a note attached to it as well, written in a messy scrawl.

'Nightwing, I hope you had a good rest. I can assure you that the food is not poisoned and the gang members have already been taken care of. Do not wreck the place, since it does not belong to me.

— Wraith'

Nightwing pursed his lips. He looked at the food on the tray and then at the apartment again. Everything looked cold, impersonal, but also neat and clean. Without a second thought, he snatched the entire meal tray before opening and window and jumping out with zero hesitation.

He landed on the roof of a building next door, mentally recorded the address of the apartment number, and when he got home to his own run-down apartment, he immediately began his investigation, though not without checking the food for poison first.

As the tests ran, he searched for the name of whoever owned the apartment complex.

The food was soon deemed clear before he could find anything, and Nightwing took a bite as he typed. He barely withheld a moan as the amazing flavors burst on his tongue. Nightwing's eyes lit up as he now regarded the food with more awe. He scarfed it down, barely able to focus on working the entire time, completely rejuvenated by the delicious food and rest.

The apartment was rented by a man named Daniel Nightingale, but owned by a man named Vlad Masters. Daniel was currently working as an executive assistant to the CEO of the Masters Company, who had recently moved locations into Gotham and Blüdhaven.

There were, however, no pictures of this assistant, and no reports or news of him.

Nightwing licked away the last remains of his breakfast from his lips, deep in thought as he tried to connect the dots between Wraith and this Daniel character.

If he looked into him now... then maybe he could find out more about Wraith?

(And maybe Nightwing could figure out the strange feeling in his chest that blossomed whenever he thought of Wraith, who had treated him with a strange amount of respect and interest all in once.)

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer. 

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.    

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.” 

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him. 

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.” 

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said. 

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?” 

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.” 

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant. 

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again. 

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.” 

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!” 

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped. 

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.” 

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?” 

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.” 

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?” 

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”  

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight. 

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s.  “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated. 

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!” 

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning. 

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while. 

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk. 

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows. 

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.  

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.” 

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand. 

Just what was happening? What had you done? 

Eywa, it had to be sky people. 

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind. 

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline. 

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known. 

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought. 

It was mom. 

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix. 

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you. 

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off. 

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father. 

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point. 

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches. 

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you. 

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.  

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”  

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin. 

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired. 

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life. 

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word. 

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain. 

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right. 

Got an ikran for nothing. 

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it. 

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone. 

A ticking time bomb. 

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful. 

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction. 

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know. 

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way. 

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.    

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety. 

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves. 

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily. 

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to.  “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you. 

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories. 

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony. 

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it. 

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.” 

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!” 

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air?  “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry. 

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute. 

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.    

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.   

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance. 

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking. 

And you fulfilled his wish. 

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[getologist]

synopsis: you never liked mornings, but with satoru, you could make an exception.

a/n: this is a rewrite from my old fic lmao

your finger drew patterns on the naked skin of satoru’s hand, the feeling of his presence in his fingernail gave you warmth.

white covers were thrown over his sculpted body, his white hair billowed out on the pillows while the sunlight illustrated his skin. his chest moved up and down slowly as he sucked in steady breaths, not minding the quiet chirping of birds and the soft growling of cars from the window—or the lingering touches of his lover.

blinking the sleepiness away, you shifted your position and lazily sat up, the warmness disappearing on your body. you were about to wake up the other, telling him to get ready as you prepare breakfast before your gaze landed on satoru’s sleeping face. it was like a morning routine for you to wake up earlier than the other—so that you could get the chance to admire your boyfriend's face in peace.

you sighed endearingly, an uncharacteristic smile playing on your mouth as you rest yourself up with your elbow to take a better look at the face right in front of him. you brushed off the strands of his white hair to get more details of his face as you scratched his scalp.

pretty.

satoru groaned at the feeling of your hand against his scalp, unconsciously leaning on your touch from his sleep.

you stifled a chuckle, hoisting your index finger to trace satoru’s face gently. feeling warm cheeks under your fingertip as you continued tracing down the soft skin and staring at his face with pure adoration. a finger dropped lower from his cheeks to his slightly parted lips.

the feeling of his soft lips made you scold yourself as not to land a kiss there, you wanted to savor this very moment, not with satoru teasing you. you didn't want him to wake up and catch you staring like an obsessed creature.

as the time went by, when you thought that it was time to get up, you sat up and before you could wake him up—

“you've been staring,”

you felt yourself froze as you heard a hoarse voice from your side, you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, acting like nothing just happened, “what?”

satoru opened his one eye and grins, “you called me pretty.”

son of a bitch.

your chest was beating hard, a lazy smile lifted from his lips as he looked up at you with a teasing expression. his hair was messy, like any kind of bed hair usually is, white locks messily pointing in a lot of different directions in a way that wasn’t supposed to look good, but somehow satoru looked so hot at the moment.

“the fuck are you saying, satoru?” you grunted.

“my, you’re still denying it.” a dramatic deep sigh came out from his lips as satoru gotten more comfortable in his position, closing his blue ocean eyes like his intention was to get back to his dreamland, “there’s no need to be shy about it, my love. i’m completely aware of your fondness for me.”

you were still silent, not agreeing nor denying it, causing satoru to let out a breath chuckle. therefore, you put on your usual scowl expression as you sat up on your shared bed straightly, glaring down at the man beside you who had a eat shitting grin printed on his face.

crossing your arms, glaring down at him, “i can’t do that to you?”

satoru grinned, his eyes still clouded with sleepiness, “you can always do whatever you want to me. and i’m the one who will thank you.”

“how long have you been awake?”

he hummed as his eyes were still closed, “when you called me pretty,” there again, that stupid grin on his face that never fails to give irritation to you. he let out a loud yawn before stretching himself on the bed, not needing to sit up as he shifted his position, pulling up the covers for his body as he closed his eyes again.

“don’t be such a lazy bastard and get up,” you pulled the covers away from your sleepy boyfriend, receiving a deep frown. satoru didn’t say anything and took the covers from your hands, getting more comfortable as he snuggled his cheek against the pillow.

“baby,” he whined sleepily as he swatted gently your hand away that intended to shake him awake, “i don’t have work today, please, let me sleep.”

“idiot, you’ve been sleeping for 13 hours already!” you took a pillow from the bed and slammed it on satoru’s torso, “lazy people are not my type.”

satoru arched an eyebrow, “as far as i can recall, we fucked lazily yesterday. so you don’t like yourself, then?"

“shut up!” you raised your voice at him, gritting your teeth as you felt your blood rushing up onto your face. satoru barked a laugh, enjoying his morning by annoying you. you clicked your tongue as you stood up, deciding to prepare breakfast for the both of you before you could punch the sleepy figure on the mattress.

however, you stopped when you suddenly shivered from the cold. you realized the room felt colder than usual, or rather than your body itself. it didn't feel as cold earlier with satoru’s body pressing closely against yours, and now that your source of warmth was detached from him—the strange cold air felt even more pointing to your bones.

“why is it so fucking cold?” you rubbed your arms so the cold would go away from your body.

satoru sat up with his bird-nest hair, “what do you mean? it’s summer, silly.”

your ear perked up at that word, you turned around: “i’m not silly! and i’m serious. it’s so cold and i don’t even know why.” you glared at the man from the bed as the cover was strewn over satoru’s stomach, and you never felt this urge to take your camera and take multiple pictures of him. damn, he looks cute and hot at the same time.

“then, what do you want me to do?” asks satoru.

you didn’t open your mouth, leaving his question unanswered. instead, you pushed satoru’s shoulder gently back to the mattress, laying down beside him and snuggled yourself in between his arms, sighing contently against the broad chest on your face as you let a small smile lifted on your lips. and satoru wasn’t aware of it because of the sleepiness clouding his whole body.

satoru hummed before tightening his arms around your figure, letting out a teasing remark: “so this is what you want. should’ve told me earlier.” with that, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before lifting the covers and tucked him in. the warmness surrounded your whole body from satoru’s presence, in addition from the kiss.

“can i get my twenty minutes of sleep now?”

you lazily wrapped your arm around his torso, “an hour is fine by me. we’ll just order brunch.”

as you felt more comfortable, you could hear satoru was smiling up to his ears right now and you did the same as the sleepiness takes over the both of you.

[msgexymunson]

Prettiest Bitch

Description: you and Eddie have a special way of showing each other you care.

A/N: this is a real life fucking story of me and my partner lmao. Please like and reblog if you enjoy it sweetheart. 

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, mean Eddie and mean reader but it's just fun and games, reader is AFAB, female oral receiving.

Masterlist

900 words

Laying on Eddie's sofa, you bask in the warm glow of being near him. Your legs were draped over his as you rifled through a book that you were barely paying attention to. Eddie's hand is up your loose pyjama pants, tracing soft circles on the  bare skin of your calf. 

"Eddie?" 

"Yeah sweets?" 

"You've always got to be touching me, don't you." 

"Suppose so."

You smirk, pulling his hand out of your pants. He whines like a child that just got his favourite toy confiscated. 

"Why?" 

"Dunno, I just want your skin."

Laughing loudly, you scoot closer on your knees, just shy of climbing onto his lap. 

"You want my skin? That sounds so fuckin' weird." 

Eddie drops his voice into an odd gravelly gasp, the one he reserves for goblin NPCs when he's DM. 

"Eddie wants it! Give Eddie your skin!" 

Before you can react he's pulling you onto his lap, hands wandering up your top and stroking hard at the exposed flesh. 

"You dumbass that tickles! Stop!" 

"Never!" He doubles down his efforts, lifting your t-shirt and blowing a wet raspberry on your stomach. You try to lean away but he has you trapped. 

Finally wiggling from his grasp in a fit of breathless giggles, your rump bumps heavily on the floor. 

"You're an idiot, Munson." 

"Yeah? Well you like me, so who's the idiot now?" 

"Still you!" You flip him the bird and he pokes his tongue out at you at the same time. 

Now eye level with the coffee table, a leaflet catches your eye. 

"What's this? Hawkins County fair?" 

Leafing through it, you hear Eddie's chuckle. 

"Yeah, just a bunch of farmers showing off the size of their pumpkins and shit, it's so stupid."

"But look!" You wave the ad in his face as he rolls his eyes. 

"Dog show Eddie! Dogs! Look, they've got categories and everything." 

He goes to steal it out of your hands but you hold firmly on, reeling off some of the different categories. 

"Senior dogs… there's one for puppies that's cute… oh haha look, prettiest bitch! I should enter." You nod at him and his gaze softens, sinking down to join you on the floor.

"Oh sweetheart" his thumb brushes your cheek as you melt under his gaze. 

"You're not pretty." 

Gasping, your eyes snap back open to see Eddie rolling on the floor gasping with fits of laughter. 

"Edward James Munson! Gonna make you regret that!" 

You straddle him, fingers digging bruises into his sides, trying desperately to find ticklish spots. 

"It was a joke! Come on sweets, you know I'm not ticklish there." 

Grinning devilishly, you straddle him backwards, clinging onto his legs like a koala.

"Nope, but you are here!" 

Your fingers tickle at his socked feet as he writhes beneath you. 

"Fuck, no fair! Stop!" 

"Never!" Your relentless onslaught continues.

"I will kick you in the head!" 

"Say I'm pretty!" 

"Fine! You're pretty, stop, stop!" 

You finally relinquish your hold and clamber off him still giggling triumphantly. 

"Am I forgiven?" 

"Nope. That was really mean Edward." You huff dramatically, folding your arms over your chest. 

"Kiss it better?" 

You both use that phrase. It started off with kissing your knee when you fell, then you used it to comfort him once when some jocks had been particularly mean to him, then it just melded into your day to day life. 

"OK." 

His smile is wicked as he pushes you to your back, fingers hooking into your pyjama pants. 

"The fuck are you doing?" Gazing down at him, he smiles sinfully as he pulls your pants down in one smooth motion. 

"Didn't say where, sweets." 

His tongue runs the full length of your pussy and runs around your clit in a smooth circle. 

"Fuck, Eddie!" Hands make their way into his unruly curls as he continues his apology, suckling at your clit. 

Thick fingers probe your entrance, gliding in to curl in that spot just like you like it. 

"Sweetheart, you're the prettiest girl in this trailer." 

Not giving in that easily, you pull his hair. 

"I'm the only girl in this trailer!" 

He laughs and sucks your clit again hard, making your back arch off the floor. 

"OK," he practically breathes into your cunt, "the prettiest girl in Hawkins?" 

"Better." 

"Fine, the prettiest girl in the fucking world." 

"OK, oh shit, oh you're forgiven!" Moans replace words as he fucks you hard with his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to release.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna come, Eddie!" 

He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit hard as you ride his face into a searing wash of ecstasy. 

Releasing in a broken scream, you melt into a puddle. Moments later, a very smug Eddie hovers over you. 

"You are the prettiest bitch" He says, pressing a soft kiss to your nose. 

Too fucked out to argue, you pull him close and hold him. You'll get him back later. 

@munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiesprincess86

[chronicdisasterwrites]

gotta keep these kids on leashes

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru, shoko ieiri (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - MAJOR FLUFF !! alooot of swearing, smoking, sexual jokes, mention of grandparents doing it (lmao you gotta read it to understand), reader wants to murder the bois, suguru wants to die, everybody is CRAZY!

word count: 3,350 (rip)

summary: OKAY i wrote it. the dynamic quartet is back doing... nothing good. suguru gets hit on, the three losers do crazy stuff and surprisingly no one dies (shocker) :0

enjoy this tomfoolery <3

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the curses are dying and you're not the one doing the killing, your head isn't pounding and your bed is so, so soft. Your window is slightly parted so the cool breeze is making the curtains dance and your skin prick. Nuzzling your head on the plush pillow and pulling your blanket higher so only your head is visible, you open your eyes, check the time, remember you have no classes, smile to yourself and dive back into the warm embrace that is sleep. 

Until the tranquil atmosphere is disrespectfully shattered by the idiots you call your ‘friends’.

Your door is kicked open and the sudden sound was enough to make you jump and reach for your katana leaning against the bedside table. Your vision is blurry but your katana is half unsheathed as you contemplate killing the two perpetrators. 

“Yeesh, you're hostile in the morning,” Satoru grins as he kneels on the ground and rests his obnoxiously large head on his obnoxiously large palms on the foot of your bed, like some petulant child who broke a vase and is now being their best self to appease their parents. “Nice bedhead,” his grin gets exponentially larger and your hand twitches against the hilt of your katana.

“I told you we should've knocked. You never listen, Satoru,” Suguru sighs as he walks through the gap that used to be your door. 

Your morning is thoroughly fucked. The birds are dead, the curses are in your room, your head feels like it will explode and there are tiny fragments of wood all over your bed. 

Your jaw clenches and eyes darken as you fully unsheathe your katana with the pure intention of murdering these morons. 

“I will give you 10 seconds to run and hide.”

“Aw c’monnn,” Satoru’s obnoxious voice drawls as he attempts to pat your head, but before your blade had the chance to amputate his wrist, Suguru’s hand held Satoru’s away from you; therefore preventing a major bloodshed from occurring. Ever the mediator.

“Okay I think we pissed her off enough, Satoru,” Suguru says calmly as Satoru pouts with a small “Aw man”. Suguru lets go of Satoru’s hand as he slowly takes the katana from your hands and puts it into its scabbard. Releasing a breath he places his hand on your head and gently smooths down your wild mane. 

He drawls your name and you look at him with furrowed brows and a deep scowl. 

He chuckles, “We’re gonna have a day out and you can get all the mochi and pancakes your heart desires. Our treat, for ruining your sleep and…” he looks at the desecrated door, “…your door.” You hear Satoru whine about why you let Suguru touch your hair and not him and choose to ignore it.

He smiles when he sees the glint in your eyes at the mention of mochi and pancakes and your scowl gets smaller and brows get straighter. You sigh and get up off the bed, “Fine. I have to get dressed so get out.”

“Don’t be late, mochiii~ we’ll be waiting.” He manages to dodge the hairbrush you throw at his head perfectly as he jumps up to run out of the room while giggling like a schoolgirl.

Suguru laughs as he follows his dumbass friend out and you look at your completely fucked door, wondering what you did to deserve this. 

—-

“Can you shut up, please? I'm begging at this point,” Your voice is tired and your eyes are glaring holes into the brunette’s head as she laughs and chortles into oblivion. 

“They- broke your- they broke your door-” more laughter. “Dude this is a comedy-” more laughter and snorting. “comedy- gold-” Shoko slaps the table and wheezes as various strangers stare at the two of you and mutter among themselves with concerned faces.

You silently poke at your half-eaten cheesecake as you try to forget the events of the morning and ignore the moron sitting before you. 

“Why didn't they torment you like that?” you grumble as you cut up the poor cheesecake with your fork and turn it into mush.

Shoko takes heaving breaths and sniffles as she takes a sip of her matcha latte and drags her chair forward. Her voice is light and thoroughly amused, “Because I'm not fun to tease. You, on the other hand, are the best person to tease,” her lips tilt up to a grin as she stirs her drink with her straw.

You stare at her with dead eyes. “I hate you,” you deadpan.

“Yeah, I love you too,” her grin gets wider and a few chuckles escape her as she bites on her straw.

The mall was pretty packed considering it was the weekend. Pretty girls window shopping and checking out people with their pretty friends. Couples walking around holding hands and laughing at each other's jokes. It was fun to watch them live their lives, as you lived yours. You wish you wore one of your cute, normal outfits instead of your uniform, just for today. But as you look down at your uniform, you appreciate it more. This uniform got you through some crazy times. Some near deaths, some deaths, a lot of blood. You feel comfortable in it, and it doesn't look completely awful. 

Suddenly, you hear your name and Shoko’s name being yelled at in the distance and you both look at each other apprehensively and look around the little open cafe you were in. You quirk an eyebrow at Shoko and she shrugs, but then the sound of Satoru’s obnoxious voice yelling both of your names cuts through the chatter of the crowd and you both look to the side to see him running toward your table at full-speed screaming like an idiot. The moment he reaches your table he slams both hands down and heaves and wheeze as people stare at you with genuine concern.

“What the hell?! I've been looking everywhere for you two,” Satoru yanks Shoko’s matcha latte from her hands despite her “Hey!” of protest and makes a scrunched-up, disgusted face upon inspecting the bitten straw. He proceeds to open the plastic lid, chug the remaining latte, crumple up the cup into a tiny ball using his Limitless technique and drop it on the table for you and Shoko to gawk at. 

He then looks at your cheesecake-turned-paste concoction and makes another face of pure disgust. “Can't you losers eat properly? Jeez,” he complains as he takes your plate and finishes the cheesecake mutation in two bites.

“Satoru…” you sigh for the umpteenth time that day, as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“What do you want?” Shoko completes for you with her nonchalant voice as she rummages her purse for her pack of cigarettes. At this point, you know you need one too.

He makes wild arm gestures like a cheerleader for every word he utters, “Suguru. Is. Getting. Hit. On.”

Your face is unimpressed and Shoko says “Aha” while holding up a pack of cigarettes.

Satoru visibly deflates as a look of pure shock crosses his face at the shameless nonchalance you both are portraying.

“Okay. So?” you shrug as you pick at your nails with your teeth.

Satoru pulls your hand down and holds it there as he leans down and gawks at you with his jaw dropped and furrowed silver brows. 

“No, no. This is serious. Suguru is getting hit on and we're wasting time,” he stares into your eyes and you can see your reflection in the dark glass of his sunglasses. You bring up your free hand to fix your hair using his sunglasses as a mirror and something in his head cracks as he jolts up, grabs Shoko’s hand, and pulls you both towards the scene of the crime. You both scramble to take your purse and you leave more than enough money on the table before being dragged away by a tall, crazy man.

“Listen up. We are going to embarrass the shit outta him, okay?” He's walking faster as he makes his way out of the air-conditioned mall towards the outdoor food court. You and Shoko are reluctantly following him as you honestly have nothing better to do and you can't lie; embarrassing Suguru sounds really fun. 

“Roger that, sir,” you do a mock salute and hear Satoru chuckle. “What's the plan?” 

“You two will attack first. Shoko you gotta be as scary as possible and-” Satoru’s master plan phase-1 was interrupted by Shoko asking a tangible question. Or actually; questions.

“How scary? Can I slap him? Can I throw water on his face? Should I cry?”

Satoru groans and starts walking even faster. “Okay, you can do all of that, but remember your role is the ‘cheated girlfriend’, alright? You're mad but sad. Mad and sad.”

You hear Shoko mutter “okie” right as Satoru says your name, “You can act as the ‘cheated wife’ or something. Cry, latch onto him, beg him. Go crazy,” he throws a sly grin over his shoulder and you're concerned about the evil lilt his voice took when he said the word ‘crazy’.

“And what about you? What's your role?” you ask as you feel him slow down. You look ahead and see Suguru talking with a pretty woman with long, straight black hair. Satoru stops, steps behind you and Shoko, and says with his usual cocky demeanor, “You’ll see, Lil' Mochi,” and doesn't give you the chance to complain about the nickname as he shoves you both towards the victim of ‘Satoru’s Master Plan Phase-1’.

You and Shoko look at each other with devilish grins as you activate your inner drama queens and launch yourselves toward one unaware, unprepared Geto Suguru.

You gasp and squeal with a shaking hand against your open mouth, “Oh my- Geto Suguru?! How dare you! Especially now- how could-” You choke on a fake sob and place your palm on your stomach as Suguru slowly turns back with wide eyes and a bulging vein on his temple. 

“While I'm pregnant with YOUR CHILD?! You're inhuman!” you fall to your knees fake crying your heart out as you cover your face with both palms and try your hardest to not break character.

You hear gasps all around you and the sound of Suguru stuttering, and you wonder if you overdid it.

You then feel someone lift you with their hands on your arms. You glance to see Shoko acting all ‘mad and sad’ as you fall into her arms and fake cry some more.

“It's okay, I understand,” she pats your head with her soft hands and spits fake venom at an even more bewildered Geto Suguru. “He tricked me too. He was cheating on you with me first, you know?” You crank up the fake crying upon hearing this and you feel Shoko’s chest shake and you feel your concentration slipping.

Shoko nudges your head and you look at her with completely dry eyes, as you keep clutching your completely baby-less stomach. Shoko pulls out two water bottles and hands you one. She nods at you and you nod at her. You both look at Suguru and he looks like he just watched his dead grandmother have sex with his dead grandfather or something. He looks aghast. You and Shoko walk towards him and Shoko steps ahead of you as you wait your turn.

“This is for cheating on me, you spineless pig! Even though I was cheating on you too!” she declares as she drenches Suguru in cold water. You hear more gasps and you see the woman he was previously talking to blanch with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. Suguru stands completely still as his bangs drip with water and his left eye twitches in pure rage.

Well, it's your turn. You step up and stare him down and fear for your life when Suguru stares back at you with a dangerous look in his eyes. You gulp down your fears and put on the bravest face you can muster, “And this is for breaking my heart and my hymen! And you weren't even that good!” For the added effect you choke on a fake sob after the last sentence and dowse him in some more cold water. You hear a bark of laughter from the crowd and you huff and hold onto Shoko as you both slowly step away from him as his cursed energy slowly grows and grows. Suguru drags his hand down his face and flicks his wrist splattering water by his side when you hear an obnoxiously loud scoff followed by an even louder voice.

“Can you stop your cryin’? It's hurting my ears,”

Satoru stands there looking like a full-on trophy wife, left arm stacked with shopping bags and right hand on his hip. Dazzled in a silver satin shirt; he definitely wasn't wearing before, with the top buttons open and sunglasses perched on his head, giving the crowd a clear view of his glittering sapphire eyes and very open chest. 

You and Shoko gape at him in horror and you both look back at Suguru who looks like he might just explode. His uniform is soaked, his front hair is sticking to the side of his face, and his eyes just about look like they do when he’s fighting curses, except now they look unmerciful.

“Sugu, I'm done with my shopping. How about we go look at some furniture now, hm? ” Satoru slings the shopping bags over his shoulder and sends Suguru just about the sultriest look you've ever seen his face make. 

You glance at Shoko and she glances back, and you both bite your lips to stop yourselves from spiraling into a peal of uncontrollable laughter. 

Suguru seems to have had enough, as his eyes glazed over and he turns around to face the downright terrified lady. 

“You seem nice, but I have some…” Suguru pauses, rethinks his sentence, and continues with a curt nod, “Well, take care.”

He gives her the sweetest, fakest smile as she returns a smile that looks more like a grimace and turns away. She looks back again and sees you and Shoko clutching onto each other for dear life, Suguru still smiling at her with a twitching eye and veins popping on his temple and neck, and Satoru spinning around swishing his shopping bags and singing Suguru’s name like a prayer, and quickly walks away. 

The crowd slowly dissipates as you, Shoko, and Satoru stand in silence and Suguru slowly turns around, smile gone, and eyes narrowed, “You idiots… are lucky I didn't like her.”

You break first, and then Shoko, and soon the two of you are shaking each other, rolling around and laughing like absolute menaces. Satoru chortles seeing Suguru’s unimpressed poker face and walks up to him, placing the shopping bags down on the floor.

“C’mon it was funny and besides, we saved your ass. She seemed so boooring,” Satoru drawls and gags.

Suguru exhales as he closes his eyes and the muscle in his jaw twitches. Satoru finds a chink in his armor and grins. He's gonna break.

Satoru laughs and throws his arm around his best friend's shoulder and calls out to you and Shoko.

You two wheeze and try to catch a breath as you see Suguru’s serious face on the verge of breaking.

“Suguru, for the record, I thought she was really pretty,”

You voice your opinion with an innocent smile and Satoru facepalms. 

Shoko giggles and shoves you, “That doesn't help, you idiot.” 

You throw your head back and laugh, “I dunno dude, I think I lost a bunch of brain cells after that performance.”

“Not like you had any to begin with, Mochiii ~” Satoru mocks and you launch yourself at him as you both run around Suguru, you yelling profanities at Satoru and Satoru chanting “Mochi” and laughing like the actual spawn of the devil. 

Suguru finally cracks. Resting his hands on his knees, he bends down and laughs freely, uninhibited; like a child. Shoko smiles and takes out two cigarettes from the pack she safely kept in her uniform pocket. She puts one between her strawberry lips and taps Suguru on his drenched head with her knuckles. Suguru looks up, his laughter subsiding, and accepts the outstretched cigarette held between Shoko’s fingers. He places it between his lips as he rummages his pockets for his little orange lighter. Finding it, he lights his cig and holds it in front of Shoko, as she lights her one. They stand next to each other and smoke their cigarettes while watching Satoru teleport behind you as he grabs you by the waist and spins you around. The sound of his cackling and your screaming fades into the background as Shoko asks, “You think they’ll ever tell each other?”

Suguru leans his head back and blows smoke into the sky. As people start filing out of the food court, you and Satoru were the only rambunctious morons making all the noise in the entire area. He looks at the scene unfolding before him; your head is locked between the junction of Satoru’s arm as his knuckles attack you with fierce noogies. You’re giggling while flailing around like a fish out of water as you try to shove him away but to no avail. Suguru huffs a laugh and takes another drag of his half-smoked cigarette, “Maybe, but not without help.” He nudges Shoko’s shoulder with his own and gives her a devilish grin. Shoko chuckles and stubs out her cig on the sole of her shoe, “What were you thinking? Push their faces together or ask Yaga Sensei to assign them on a joint mission?” She snorts, “That’d be something.”

Suguru hums. He stubs the cigarette butt on the ground and puts it in his pocket and says grinning cheekily, “Nah, I was thinking something more ridiculous. Something fit for two morons of their caliber.” 

Shoko quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head with a smile, “Alright.”

You manage to escape Satoru's iron-clad grip after much effort. You boot him on his shin and make a run toward Shoko, tackling her in a massive bear hug. Shoko reciprocates the hug and you two waddle around conjoined like two baby penguins. 

“Ow! That hurt!” Satoru limps toward Suguru and leans on him with his arm on his shoulder while Suguru does a hand-clapping motion. He receives a flick on the cheek from Satoru for that. 

“That was literally the point, stupid,” you flip him off as he returns the very thoughtful gesture. You both chuckle and Suguru and Shoko send each other cheeky looks.

“Don’t think this is over, by the way,” Suguru says with a vengeance as he flicks you and Shoko on the forehead, to which you both reply with a small “ow”.

“I will get you all back for this. And it won't be pretty,” he ends his threat by flicking Satoru on the forehead; to which he replies with a whiny “I'm already injured, maaaan”.

“Bring it on, champ,” you grin and smack him on his back as you finally release Shoko as you pick up the shopping bags and swing them by your sides. Satoru joins you and takes a few off your hands as you all make your way out of the mall. The golden light marks your path with an incandescent glow. Time flies by incredibly fast when you’re with these children. It's scary, but at the same time, it's humbling. Being with them makes you want to live. They inspire you and drive you to reach greatness. They also make you want to store these precious moments into unbreakable vials or freeze time so you never have to leave. Nothing would go wrong, it would just be the four of you, through thick and thin, through blood and dust, through life and death. But you know you’re smarter than that. However, for today, you'll let yourself dream a little.

“So, how about some KFC?”

——————————————————————————-

a/n: not another slow-burn, pining, friends to lovers situation w satoru and reader whoops-

tagged: @porridgesblog, @stray-npc

[l0stfoster]

May I offer you Harpy Two-Bit doodles >:)

Based on the Cursed Tulsa AU we made in the Bookclub server!! A ton of the greasers in town are just weird little critters. Only the greasers tho, socs aren't cool enough to get it LMAO. - Darry has emotional/psychological manipulation (he's a hella good liar bc of it) & can lessen/heighten the other's emotions or powers - Soda pretty much has a siren song, and can make people do what he wants with it. - Ponyboy's pretty much just favored by Mother Nature. Can grow plants and shit iirc, it's emotional-based as well. - Johnny's blessed by death, he can sense when/how people are going to die n just has a very.. off vibe - Steve's got telekenisis - Two-Bit's a Harpy, got all the bird shit >:) - Ace can manipulate and control fire (can't create it though, L) - Cherry's the only soc with power; can make sparks and little explosions iirc (Cherry Bomb!!!) - Dally is the only one of the gang with no power but he's a New Yorker so he's fucking insane anyways Follows the book, only Johnny and Dally don't die. Two's wings are fucked up because when he's jumped in Justice For Tulsa they pretty much destroy one of his wings L. Only canon relationships are QPR Johnny n Pony and Toxic Yaoi of Darry n Paul (who are bitter exes). { Tag List: @nova-drawzz @timewing06 }

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Male! idol x manager! gn! reader

WOOOH finally able to update. I got busy due to working for a summer reading camp. Woop tee doo... At least I got money for a new phone LMAO

And we finally, FINALLY finished the second set of yans! For now, no new yans will be done, and will be focusing on the boys!

Song featured: Too Sweet by Hozier

EDIT: I FORGOT THAT I MADE ELIAS THE SIBLING OF THE YAN! IDOL AND ALREADY NAMED HIM ZAYNE! I'll probably just change Zayne's to Tae-Joon.

Yan! Idol name: Raven/Tae-Joon

The deafening lights and cheers of the people in the gigantic stadium rang around the building. They kept cheering, almost shaking the whole place from their energy.

As the band started playing the intro song, the cheers suddenly amped up in intensity with the focus going back on the stage. Each and every lightstick glowed red, flooding the whole area with a scarlet hue.

The bass pumped, the music riffed, the vibe electric.

The stage fogged up, covering the whole place before the cheering got louder when a appeared in the fog.

Then, there he is.

"HOW'S IT GOING CITY OF [redacted]!"

A charismatic, boyish smile, with pearly white teeth that blinded the secret paparazzi in the crowd, with a tall and lean stature that encompasses talent and discipline in one body, and facial features that make people swoon even in just his photocards.

"RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN!"

The man, the idol named Raven, started to sing. His voice was smooth and low as the romantic yet also sensual lyrics pour out of his pink lips.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well?

He goes up to the edge, swinging around the mic stand as if it was a dance partner. One can hear the passion going off in his tone as his messy hair got flipped upward.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

He gets on the middle of the stage, and the pedestal raised as the spotlight went to him.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

Everyone was seduced, everyone was mesmerized. Raven gave off seductive energy that they held their breath every time his gaze penetrates them. And some even assumed his gaze was on theirs, making them squeal.

It was truly a night for everyone in the stadium.

After almost two hours of performing, Raven, with sweat pouring out of him but still managed to look amazing, descended down on the stage hatch.

But the once shining star back in the stage suddenly threw his beret on the ground.

"FUCK! What was that buzzing sound in the dance break?!" Raven yelled. "Are you serious?! I thought we went over this!"

The people in the back started to groan inwardly. There he goes again.

"Ah... Tae-Joon..." The director said, "We made sure to reprimand the lights and sounds..."

Raven, or rather Tae-Joon off stage, clicked his tongue in anger. "Whatever. Bring me my coffee! I need a break."

"But you can just go home after the cleanup. Do you still want coffee?"

A naive voice said, obviously new to the scene as she juggle with her box of wires.

She's a big fan of Raven and pulled a lot of strings just to be there. A bit bold, she decided to be the concerned type of staff and berate him of his beverage choice.

Yet she absolutely cannot see the pale faces and the dread sticking on the visages of the people around her. She's in too deep in her tunnel vision of Raven to notice his microphone cracking. Another thing to add to the casualties.

"You... What's your name?" Raven glowered. The fan can feel her heart rate pick up as she told her name. "Oh. You're new. All i could say is..."

Raven got up to her and glared at her much smaller form "You're fired. Get out! Nobody gets to dictate what I damn drink!"

The woman was too stunned to speak as she got dragged out of the venue.

This is Raven. Or in real life, Tae-Joon. A charming man in his own right, in front of the public, he's a gentleman with a seductive touch. Talented, with a handsome visage, he's an international idol.

But in reality, he's one hell of a spoiled brat.

"I WANT MY COFFEE NOW!"

Somehow, because of his sheer dumb luck and his reputation, nobody from his staff decided to expose him for what he really is.

He's full of himself and loves to gloat about his own achievements. And one thing he makes sure to take advantage of is his looks.

He brushes his hair back, shaking off sweat (ew) yet somehow looks so ethereal as he clicked his tongue in annoyance, mesmerizing his staff.

He even went as far as to feed his delusional fans and stans.

He's that far gone.

"Where the hell is my coffee!"

"AY COFFEE!"

He's awful to everyone.

Except...

"Tsk. Tae-Joon... If I hear you yell one more time!"

Raven cowers a bit, pouting as he slithers towards his manager.

"But manager~!"

As if he's a new person, Raven clung to you. His head on your shoulder as he played with your left hand.

"I want my coffee and none of these incompetent people are giving me my coffee!" He whined like a child complaining to his parent. "Scold them for me pwease!"

The staff, used to it, sighed in relief as your deadpan look didn't tolerate Raven's rudeness. On your right hand is his coffee that you handed to him.

"Manager! Thank you so much!" His eyes wide and appreciative, he sips on it and sighs in relief. "Ah... So good... This is why I love you, manager."

Goodness. He's putty in your hands.

Tae-Joon was once a trainee. He's naturally good looking already so he's being pulled left and right by companies to be in their side. He's an uncut gem, a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished. They saw his potential and wanted a slice of his being.

The once sweet boy, hardened by the harsh training, became a gloating hardhead from the way these people fight for him. After all, he was just a quiet, ambitious guy in highschool. He wanted more, and he got it through hard work and natural charm. And now, years later, he's about to reach his dreams.

Yet once he got in the company of his choice, his demands were... Too much.

"I need to share a dorm with others? No way!"

"Ugh the mattress is too stiff."

"Seriously?! You want me to train for five hours a day?! Two hours! Just two hours!"

"What are these clothes?! These are not branded!"

"No way that I'm performing in that small stage. I don't care if I'm pre-debut, that is ass!"

"Trash beats. Next."

The company was exhausted. He's not even raking money in, yet he's too demanding for his own good.

Desperate, the company opened their doors for a babysitter manager that has a "calm and pleasing personality", "trait that can work in high stress situations", "adaptability", "great leadership skills and authoritative", and can "teach those who are under them". Aka: someone who can tame the damn bird.

That's where you came in.

You were just a fresh graduate in desperate need of a job. Nobody was hiring you since you're new, and needed more experience.

The hiring process was intense, to say the least. You had to herd rowdy children and change them to upright good kids in 10 days. You somehow did it and even got gifts from the grateful parents. Next, you had to juggle schedules and ridiculous demands. Then, you had to endure being yelled and insulted at.

Your mind, heart, and body are now made of steel from that hiring process and you're the only one who rose to the top.

"Congratulations. Here's your care. His name is Tae-Joon, stage name Raven." The head said, nervous and hopeful that you with Tae-Joon will change his attitude.

Tae-Joon raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Ugly."

You were flabbergasted. This is a supposed to be future idol?

But you can only manage a twitch on your lips.

It was hell with him. You thought the hiring process/training regimen was bad, but this was something else.

A explosive personality, he's sassy and mean to a point of wanting to face palm through your head. You had to physically reel him in at some point just because of a hater.

But unlike the others who cowered and tolerated his behavior, you were stern with his behavior and lectured him most of the time.

"You can't just yell at miss Park just because she messed up your order!"

"Get the hell up! You're going to be late to your training!"

"Who the heck do you think you are, ripping up clothes like that huh?!"

You were feisty in your own right and constantly butt heads with him.

But even then, even just with you around, he's just a growling beast cowering from your lectures as you yelled at him.

Yet, even if as you yell at him, your caring hands wiped his sweat off and gave him his water. If somebody actually messed with him, you would lecture that guy. And there are some times that you laugh at his antics and shake your head.

You treated him like an actual human with feelings, rather than a ticking time bomb.

Slowly but surely, Tae-Joon clung to you. You were his only ally in this godforsaken industry and the only one who understood him. You also didn't tolerate his personality and shaped him to be somehow decent.

And, as his manager, you cared for him like nobody did.

Your lectures became less frequent, and he had more instances to see where you smile at him proudly as he finally had his solo debut. More time to talk to him normally, and had small, intimate moments that fuels his social needs.

And as his fame skyrocket, you were always there, waving his lightstick and being his number one fan.

Understandably, he fell for you.

He started to be openly affectionate with you, constantly confessing his love to the point that management had to tell him off to stop being so open with his affection since paparazzi can take a video or picture and ruin his reputation.

He honestly doesn't care. But with you raising an eyebrow at him, he pouts and only becomes clingy in private.

He'd rather hold it in than nothing at all.

And hell be damned if someone took you away from him. Because he may be somehow tolerable now, but that's only because you're there with him.

Raven just got back from practicing for his new song, and was totally exhausted. He dragged his feet, clearly irritable especially that you weren't there with him.

The staff knew he's not in a good mood so they steer clear of his way.

"Have you seen my manager?" Raven asked a staff who only shook their head. "'kay..."

He looks so depressed that the people around him took pity on the guy as he trudged towards the head.

He passed a meeting room and he heard your voice.

"Another Tae-Joon?"

Another him? What?

He decided to listen in and he heard the managerial head clear his throat.

"Yes. Since Raven is calmer now, we think he needs to move on to another manager. You, on the other hand, will be training another... Hothead."

You held your head, feeling a headache incoming.

"No way. I'm not going through that again. I went through hell with Tae-Joon before. I'm not repeating that."

Ouch. Tae-Joon held his chest, a bit saddened by your words. Well, it was true but it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Yet... You're not going to be his manager anymore?

Strangely, he felt the numbness creeping up his nape.

"No buts, y/n. You're going to be transfered."

"Did you ask Tae-Joon about this?"

"... Yes, Raven gave the thumbs up."

Liar. LIAR!

Tae-Joon wanted to rush in the room and shake the managerial head until he faints. He didn't give the thumbs up at all!

But he's strangely rooted in place as he heard you sigh.

"Okay. Where's this guy?"

"His name is [redacted]. He'll be here by Monday so be prepared."

When you finally finished the meeting, you went out of the room yet felt a lingering warmth by the wall.

Meanwhile, Tae-Joon rushed towards the trainee building. Eyes cold yet body tense. He wanted to see who the hell is this [redacted]. Nobody, as in nobody will be yours. Only he can be yours.

The trainees were flabbergasted as they saw Raven in the flesh, gawking at his presence and bowing in respect.

Tae-Joon didn't care. He wanted to see where this [redacted] is.

Room 5, and he bursts open through the door.

"What the hell- Raven?" The guy was slack jawed, starstruck. "I'm- I'm a big fan--"

Tae-Joon grabbed his collar and looked him in the eye. It was filled with unbridled rage yet at the same time, bone chilling coldness.

"Fix your fucking attitude." Tae-Joon warned. "Don't be over your head, worm. You better be goddamn nice or else I'll lob your head off."

[redacted] felt like it wasn't just a baseless joke, so he swallowed his saliva and nodded.

"Now. I better see you demand a transfer to the group idol department. You hear me? You aren't debuting solo." Tae-Joon tightened his grip. "Understood?"

It reached the ears of the head that Tae-Joon threatened [redacted]. But don't know what. All they know is that [redacted] pleaded to debut in a group and was suddenly meek and quiet when he transfered departments.

Yet, they somehow knew it had to do something with you, as he clung to you desperately for a week after that.

Then and there, they knew to never, ever try to separate you from him. If they don't want to let go of their greatest asset and set him off.

So, despite how dangerous Raven has become, they forced [redacted] to be quiet by... Not so savorable means.

"You're not leaving me, right?" Tae-Joon whispered, looking exhausted yet satisfied as he hugged your waist.

You, who just realized how deep Tae-Joon is in his affection, sighed and rubbed his head. "I'm not."

And it better stay that way.