#You’re right that it’s not scary at first

[pellucid-constellations]

Knowing You

Azriel was intimidating, scary—a menacing presence in almost every setting. But not to you. Never to you.

Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Elementary School Teacher!Reader (1k words, modern au)

~~

“Why’s your boyfriend all…pissed off?” 

“Huh?” You spun your head around, finding Azriel towering over everyone else in the room, a scowl seemingly permanent on his face. His eyes narrowed from time to time, taking in the crowd and its unwillingness to calm. He remained plastered to the back wall. 

“Oh,” you laughed, turning back to your friend with your fingertips drumming against your jaw. “He’s not pissed. That’s just his face.” 

Your friend’s brows jumped up to her hairline. “He always looks like that?” 

“He doesn’t look that angry.”

“Absolutely no one is approaching him. This is a party. He looks about ready to pummel that tiny guy next to him.” 

“He’s just a little intimidating,” you reasoned. “And—hey, look!” you pointed over your shoulder. “He smiled a little, see?” 

She scoffed, sipping her beer. “I don’t get it. You’re all… well, you. And he’s all dark and mysterious and—honestly kinda scary.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip and turned further to inspect the man you had been in a relationship with for the better half a year. Was he scary? You certainly didn’t think so. Maybe a little at first. Maybe when you walked into that tattoo shop with your friend and his dark gaze almost burned a hole in your head. But not now. Never now. 

“You don’t really get him, that’s all.”

“And you do? He’s got a whole thing going on that you shouldn’t be tied up in,” your friend urged, but this was hardly the time for long, important conversations. You were tipsy and the music was too loud and, to be honest, you’d heard it all before already. Nothing was going to change your mind about Azriel. 

“Are you even listening, y/n? You’re polar opposites. And you said that he smiles but I have still yet to see one since—oh.” 

Azriel spotted you then—his goal from the moment he walked into this overly crowded house. He hadn’t been pissed. He’d been looking for you. 

And it was clear that he spotted you, because the second he did a wide grin split up his perfect face. It simmered a bit when he realized your friend was observing the scene, but a quirk of his mouth still remained. He started his path to you then, weaving in and out of the inebriated crowd. 

He touched you the moment he could, his hand meeting the small of your back as you sat on the creaky kitchen stool. His lips pressed against your temple and a murmured greeting was lost in your hair. He was lost in the bubble he created each time he had you in his grasp, your bright eyes and adoring smile rendering him unmoveable, but then your friend subtly cleared her throat and Azriel looked away. 

“Hello, Amber,” Azriel greeted, keeping your body slotted into the crook of his arm. “Having fun?” 

She blinked at him. He really was intimidating, especially up close. Even with the heightened bar stools, he was a good head over where the two of you sat. 

“Um, yes, thank you.” 

“And the summer break?” he questioned. He had started to rub circles into your spine. 

Amber stuttered again, thoughts lost in her head before replying, “It was good. I’m sorry—how do you know my name?” 

“Y/n’s mentioned you. I’ve seen your Instagram, too. Connected the dots.” 

“Right,” Amber nodded, her eyes trailing down the vast array of tattoos that wound up from the neck of Azriel’s shirt. 

Azriel then looked back down to you. His voice was low, almost too low for the pounding music, but he made up for that by pressing up closer to you. “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?” 

You giggled at the feel of his breath at your ear, pushing him away slightly in a haze. He only shook his head and smiled at the space you’d created. 

“Trying to flirt with me in public? Azriel, you are scandalous.” 

He only breathed out a laugh, gaze bouncing between your glossy eyes. Once you stopped giggling enough to meet his stare, his expression softened. “You told me to pick you up at eleven. You have a lesson plan, pretty girl.”

You gasped, slapping a hand against Azriel's chest that didn’t even have him flinching. You whipped your head over to Amber—who was staring at the two of you in confused amusement —and hurriedly offered, “I have to go! Third grade!” 

In his efforts to capture your attention, Azriel had woven both of his arms around you to meet at your lower back, a hold that you now shot out of. You wobbled as you pressed out of the stool and grabbed Azriel’s leather sleeve. An unnecessary gesture; anyone at this party could see that the man would follow you anywhere. 

“I didn’t prep the multiplication tables,” you rambled, words slurring together. 

“You did. I helped you with the formatting on the iPad.” 

“I let you touch my iPad?” you gasped. 

“No, sweetheart. It was mine.” 

“Your work one?” 

Azriel only continued to guide you out of the party, you none the wiser to the dirty looks he was shooting everyone too drunk to get out of the way. 

“Let’s get back to your apartment, okay? Then we can deal with the iPad.” 

You giggled, springing off the threshold to the front door and giving Azriel a heart attack. “Okay!” 

[angelfic]

jason invites reader over to the wayne manor. in the night, she wakes him up because she cant go to the bathroom alone in the dark hallway

jason todd x reader

warnings — none! other than jason being sexy as usual u know the drill

a/n; thank you for the request safina!! I hope I delivered and made you yearn for sleepy jason as much as i do <3

“Psst! Jason. Jason, hey,” you whisper, gently shaking his arm. “Jay.”

No response.

“Jason,” you try again, a little louder this time, wincing when your voice echoes a little in the dead of the night in his childhood bedroom.

He grumbles, shifting to turn in your direction, eyes still closed. “What?” His voice is thick with sleep, rough but warm.

You let your eyes roam over his sleeping form and smile at the way his features have softened as he slumbers. It’s a sharp contrast from the way he entered Wayne manor, all clenched jaw and expressionless eyes. As the evening went on, he slowly began to shed the protective armour as he bantered with his siblings and held your hand for comfort. You don’t wanna wake him.

Unfortunately, the need to pee becomes agonising and you decide Jason can have a peaceful nights sleep tomorrow.

“I really have to go to the bathroom, Jay.”

Jason shifts again, curling further into his duvet. “So go, baby,” he mumbles. “Bathroom’s down the hall and to the right.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t wanna go alone. It’s scary.”

He opens his eyes at that and stares at you, clearly holding back a laugh. “You serious?”

“Yes,” you huff, crossing your arms and frowning at him. “The halls are creepy.”

Jason sighs, but sits up all the same, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re in a house full of vigilantes. If there were ghosts roaming the halls, we’d know about them. Probably.”

You glare at him. “Jason.”

He smirks sleepily, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up. “Fine, fine,” he mutters, stretching his arms up over his head. His t-shirt is a little small for him and the hems of his flannel pyjama pants don’t quite go past his ankles, evidence of him forgetting to bring something to sleep in and having to sift through his old stuff.

You laughed at him the night before, but the way his shirt is stretching across his chest and his hair is messy with sleep has you forgetting you’re about to pee yourself for a second.

“Let’s go,” he nods to the door, hand outstretched to lace your fingers together, tugging at you to get out of bed. He mistakes your temporary distracted state for apprehension and tilts his head. “Hey, come on. We can brave the big, scary hallway ghosts together.”

You sober up quickly, frowning at him, but letting him lead you out all the same.

Jason steps out into the dark hallway first, and you follow, allowing him to stand you in front of him with his hands around your waist as he walks you down.

You’re too focused on attempting to develop night vision, squinting down the hallway when Jason leans down and whispers, “Boo.”

Twisting to look up at him, you smack his arm. “Jason Todd, I swear—“

“What are you two doing up?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at another voice rumbling up from down the hall, hastily stepping back and jumping back into Jason’s chest. You clutch your chest at the sight of Dick, still looking half asleep.

Jason rolls his eyes, completely unfazed. You’re still catching your breath when the two of you reach the end of the hallway.

“Bathroom,” Jason says, lazily. “Someone was too scared to go alone.”

“Ah,” Dick says, understanding dawning on his face as he smiles politely at you, probably wanting to laugh. Unlike a certain boyfriend of yours, he’s gentlemanly enough not to make fun. Gesturing to the door, he steps back. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you, Dick.” You smile gratefully at him, entering the bathroom, but not before throwing another glare in Jason’s direction as you shut the door.

He shakes his head, unable to stop himself laughing this time as he dutifully moves to stand guard in front of the door.

Dick stays there, watching Jason with a weird look. The growing smirk on his face from watching his brother be so diligent in your protection against… absolutely nothing, has Jason’s own smile fading into suspicion.

“What?” he asks, gruffly.

Dick shrugs. “Nothing,” he replies innocently, but the way the corners of his lips are twitching makes Jason scowl.

“Shut up.”

[celestiamour]

Any ideas on Squid game characters (esp in ho and Dae ho) x hyper feminine! Reader?

ft. kang dae-ho, hwang in-ho, cho sang-woo, se-mi, cho hyun-ju x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ hyper-feminine! reader┊0.6k words

contains: lots of makeup, jewelry, pink, hyper fem stuff, sugar daddy in-ho, mention of transphobia for hyun-ju’s part

➤ author's note: when will i post a real one-shot? good question

━━━ .°˖✧ kang dae-ho ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ one would think that growing up with four older sisters would make him sick of all the pink and makeup, but it’s quite the opposite! he loves watching you put on your make-up, asking billions of questions about each product and your technique while also interjecting with his own surprising amount of information on the topic. he probably has the ability to do an entire face himself, but finds it a little embarrassing. he also insists that you put on little fashion shows of all your outfits of dresses and blouses acting as your biggest hype man to help boost your confidence. his sisters think you’re a doll, literally, and adore you! they love to steal you away for girls’ night and always return you to him with a basket of things they think would suit you.

━━━ .°˖✧ hwang in-ho ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ you know how buying things like makeup, skincare, jewelry, and clothes can get pretty expensive? well, with him, you don’t have to worry your pretty head over any of those prices and can shop to your heart’s content! he just adores how beautiful you are all dressed up and is willing to buy you an entire store of attire that fits your aesthetic if you so please, you just have to show him with a little twirl and give him a kiss on the cheek afterward. he’s usually like a scary old guard dog with his lovers, but you soften his intimidating presence with how girlish you are, but he doesn’t exactly hate it.

━━━ .°˖✧ cho sang-woo ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ acts annoyed when you have to spend extra time getting ready putting on makeup, spending your money on cute trinkets, and continuously asking him what he thinks of your usually pink outfits. he finds it excessive and sometimes inconvenient, but never vocally says anything against it because he doesn’t want to hurt the feelings he pretends he doesn’t care much about. he doesn’t admit it, but he would be gutted if you stopped living your life as a living barbie especially if it was because of him. it grows on him after a while and you’ll eventually see a glint of affection in his eyes when you’re going about your hyper-fem life. 

━━━ .°˖✧ se-mi ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ loves all things girly (especially girls) even if she doesn’t like it on herself. that being said, it’s the perfect contrast to her aesthetic: smudged eyeliner with glittery eyeshadow, dark cargo pants with pink pleated skirts, gauge earrings with dangly diamond ones, combat boots with high heels, the list goes on and on. every time she sees you applying a fresh layer of lip gloss, she feels a pang in his heart like cupid’s arrow and dramatically pout that you’re too pretty for your own good. she probably wouldn’t let you do her makeup in your style, but she does let you tie little bows into her hair and will fight anyone in the thanos squad who may make fun of her for her soft spot towards you (especially nam-gyu).

━━━ .°˖✧ cho hyun-ju ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ is so grateful to have you on her side helping her out because all the things associated with typical womanhood is a tad bit overwhelming to her. she was literally a sergeant in the military, so studying all things beauty is a bit of a learning curve for her, but she quickly gets the hang of it. also, matching outfits!! she’s a little embarrassed at first, especially pre-transition because she’s worried she doesn’t have the right body type, but you help give her the confidence she needs with her hand in yours and give death glares to any potential assholes before they can even open their mouth.

[quarterlifekitty]

first of all i love womens hockey, strong ladies slamming up on the glass, amazing.

i went to a pwhl game and a man with his like teenage daughter were next to me and THAT MFER LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE JOHN PRICE hat and blue eyes and beard and everything it was nuts. anyways john price is a hockey girl dad of a scary 13 year old who kept staring at me the whole game.

just needed people to knoww

(fuck that mans gorgeous irl)

also i love your writing. Thank u for sharing ur brain w the internet.

That makes me think like. Imagine being John’s neighbor. You haven’t spoken more than pleasantries to him, introduced yourself to him and his daughter, made small talk at block parties.

And one cold day after school, his daughter is sitting on the front steps shivering, because she forgot her house key. You don’t have a spare, and John won’t be home for hours— so you tell her to stay inside your place until then. You call John and leave a message to let him know.

She’s a little wary of you, which is good. It’s not like you’re a total stranger, but you’re also not necessarily trustworthy yet. She just parks herself on the couch and watches whatever you’d had on tv, a little awkward as she sips the cup of tea you’d made her so she could warm up.

She ends up getting kinda attached. You joke with her that you watch the show that’s on because of the hot guys in it, and she smiles. She’s at that age, but of course she doesn’t really want to talk about it with John. You remember being 13, and she likes talking to you. John comes by once he’s home, thanks you profusely and apologizes for having to take up so much of your day. You tell him it was no trouble at all, and that she’s welcome any time.

She ends up taking you up on your offer. Usually after school, when her dad is still at work. You just leave the door open. She asks you questions about boys, about makeup— things she’s a little curious about but her mother isn’t around to answer. You get invited to all of her hockey games, with John insisting you sit next to him (when he can make it, that is).

You do holiday baking with her. She invites you to her birthday dinner. You’re welcomed over to John’s for every Christmas and other holiday they can manage to throw together a little gathering for. You’re so focused on her that you completely miss how John stares at you every single time you’re with his daughter.

Such a natural with her— and he’s had such a hard time connecting with her now that she’s becoming a teen. They’ve always had hockey, but it’s hard for him to accept that she’s not a baby anymore (even thought she’ll always be his baby). She storms over to your place every time they fight, and he’s eternally grateful she has somewhere to go for comfort when he doesn’t understand her.

She’s over at yours so much that he thinks it might be easier if you just moved in. That it would be a big age gap, but his daughter might like to have a little sibling. That if anything ever happened to him he’d want you to have every right to look after her. If that’s what you wanted, anyways.

And he loves his girl more than anything in the world, but it hasn’t been easy. Between raising her and his work, he doesn’t hardly have any time for dating. Whenever he’s tried— his daughter had found a problem with whoever he’d brought home, and that had signaled the end. It was hard enough to find anyone interested in dating a single parent.

So when you’d moved in next door, he couldn’t help himself. You’re pretty, single. He can see you through his window almost any time he wants. You don’t close your curtains nearly as much as you should, either. He’s just a man, y’know?

So, yeah, he’s made himself cum thinking of you more times than he can count. And it only gets worse once he has those fleeting thoughts about you being a mother for his girl. Maybe a few more kids if he can manage to get a ring on your finger. Insane thought to have when he’s never even asked you out on a date.

[koenigami]

tags : fluff, reverse comfort (kind of?), nightmares wc : 1k synopsis : his solace as much as his biggest fear

“No… don’t!-”

Caleb never knew that he could get so dependent on you. He'd probably go as far as to say that he's gotten addicted to your presence, in every sense of way. 

Specifically, on nights when sleep seems like a dystopian idea, a dream so far away and unreachable. Either because he's simply unable to fall asleep in the first place, or because haunting images won’t let him rest. 

Waking up to your body snuggled against his, hearing your soft breaths and seeing your serene expression, all of it is enough to immediately alleviate the lingering tightness in his chest, unlike when he has to go through all of that when he’s by himself. Tonight however, not even that seems to help at calming the persisting storm inside his mind. 

Long lost memories keep flashing behind his eyes, making his eyelids twitch almost uncontrollably and his chest rise and fall unsteadily. It doesn’t take long until you’re woken up by the broken pleas falling from his lips, and his trashing body which is physically trying to fend off whatever is robbing him of a peaceful night’s sleep. 

“Caleb?” You reach out to cautiously place a hand on his chest. Besides the sweaty shirt, he almost seems to be overheating considering how hot to the touch his body feels. Your breath staggers when you realise how much the nightmare is affecting him. It’s almost as if he’s frozen, limbs completely rigid and tense except for his head that turns from side to side. 

“Come on, baby. You’re alright, it’s just a dream.” But your words seem to hit an impenetrable wall, as he keeps on getting louder until he’s nearly screaming. With teary eyes, you hastily grab his right shoulder and try to shake him awake, unaware of the fact that doing so would do anything but calm him down. 

It all happens in a matter of seconds as you watch him shoot up, the sight akin to someone diving out of the deepest parts of the sea and desperate to finally get a breath of air. Something cold and hard envelops your wrist so tightly that it makes you wince in discomfort, and you’re pulled forward against his heated torso. 

With unfocused eyes, Caleb varily scrutinizes you before his gaze drifts off to the space around you. Ever so slowly, the fog in his head seems to dissipate as you watch his eyes visibly regain clarity while his grip on you lessens finally. As if fearing that he had burned you, he lets go of your wrist with a suddenness that makes you instantly recoil.

The sound of his laboured breaths fills the room, and when he eventually looks back at you, you think you’d preferred if he had just ripped your heart right out of your chest instead. There’s a slight shake in his left hand as he reaches out to you with a certain hesitation that makes him look as if he were afraid of scaring you away. 

On one hand, his fear might be reasonable, considering that it has always been him taking care of you. Always him comforting you, always him covering your ears and shielding you from the scary outside world, always him holding your hand and never letting go. Burdening you with further ballast would go against everything that he has been working up to until now. 

“I-I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” 

On the other hand, you remember that as a child, you often wondered whether there was actually anything Caleb was truly scared of. He’d been your personal little hero at that time, and ever one of the most, if not the most reliable and helpful person in your life. 

Proclaiming himself as selfish and overly defensive when it comes to you, he has never been the one to deny his flaws, especially ever since he’s stepped back into your life. In this moment, as your fingertips gently graze his until your palm is nestled perfectly in his, you wonder whether you’ve been the selfish one all this time. Now, as he desperately tries to hide his pain behind a strained smile, you wonder whether you’ve relied so much on him that you never made him think of the possibility that he could do the same. Rely on you.

Caleb’s gaze falls to the reddened skin along your wrist, and combined with the tears lingering in your eyes and threatening to stain your beautiful cheeks, he immediately jumps to conclusions. “I did this, didn’t I? Are you alright? Does it hurt a lot? Shit, I’m so-”

“I’m fine, but…” The streetlight from outside enters the room through the flowy curtains, and reflects in your eyes. Those same eyes carry so much sorrow, pain as well as anger. Yet, he’s unsure towards whom the latter is directed. “But you’re not, Caleb.”

He smiles. And the fact that you can tell that it is a genuine expression angers you even further because you know that he’s completely disregarding his own feelings right now. It’s just another attempt at hiding the anguish that he’s being put through, and an attempt at hiding the things plaguing his mind, even though you’ve reassured him countless times that there is nothing that could scare you away from him. “That’s okay.” As long as you are. 

In the end, there’s nothing you can do except climb into his lap and hold him close to you. You can’t do more than lean in and press a gentle peck against his forehead as a silent prayer for the turmoil inside his mind to stop hurting him. Because despite his futile reassurances, you can feel how fast his heart is still beating against his chest. You can still feel the slightest tremor in his hands as they cling to your waist.

“One day, we will be fine. Eventually.” He whispers and presses his nose against the column of your neck, relishing in the way you smell, and how you perfectly fit in his arms. Because as it turns out, there certainly is at least one thing that Caleb is scared of, and it is for his nightmares to come true. 

[anthophi-lia]

Denki Kaminari loves grabbing you by your waist.

The first time he did so was probably on one of your first few dates. The two of you were walking along the side of a busy street as you recounted a story to him, words rambling out of your mouth so excitedly that you didn’t see the biker peddling towards you. Without thinking twice, Denki wrapped his arm around the back of your waist, pulling you tightly into his side and out of harms way.

You let out a small screech at the sudden pull, but once you realize what had happened you looked up at him closely. This was also probably one of the first times you saw how much Denki cared for you, even subconsciously.

You apologize for not paying attention and thank him for pulling you into safety. He just shakes his head and gives your waist a tight squeeze with his hand before letting go. (His little way of saying I’ve got you)

• • •

As you become more comfortable with each other, and you relationship dynamic becomes a routine, you’ve come to expect it. Every time he passes behind you in a room. Denki will gently place his hands on either side of your waist, softly pushing past you. If you two are watching a movie together on the couch, his grip rests firmly on your waist (if it’s a scary movie he jumps and squeezes you with ever fright before mumbling out a small sorry..). Whenever the two of you are out at some kind of party, he will always linger right behind you with his sturdy arms wrapped all the way around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. This level of PDA would be embarrassing if everyone there wasn’t already aware that Denki Kaminari is clingier to you than a koala bear.

If the two of you are hanging out, and he wants to get a better look at you, you better believe he’s grabbing you at the waist, and pulling you onto his lap. He holds you in this straddling position. He’ll gaze softly into your eyes as his hands brush up and down your sides in slow gentle strokes. He waits until you just about can’t take the silence anymore before he leans in presses a slow, sweet, kiss to your lips, his hands still gripping you and pulling you into him.

• • •

Your favorite is when Denki sneaks up behind you. Usually it happens when you’re sitting at your desk doing work, getting ready in the morning, or in the kitchen making you guys something to eat. He places his strong hands on your sides and pulls you back into him. You always let out a small gasp, even though at this point you know without a doubt that it’s your adoring boyfriend.

If he’s in an excited mood, he’ll pepper the side of your face with a flurry of kisses and ignore your giggling pleas for him to cut it out! And every single time he’ll shake his head and mumble out why should I when you’re so stinking cute in between kisses.

If he’s had a bad day, or is just in a tired mood, he’ll drop his forehead down into the crook between your shoulder and your neck. You know by now that when he does this he wants you to put one hand on top of his and the other up in his hair, gently combing your fingers through. He nuzzles into you and breathes deeply to inhale your scent. Sometimes he’ll whisper out almost unintelligibly, but you’ve learned to understand what he means. So you give his hand a tight squeeze before whispering back, I love you too Denks.

• • •

[fee224]

First kisses

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

When he invited you over you were expecting a town house maybe, or an apartment. Just something smaller than this. He told you he lived alone, which meant a nineteen year old rafe Cameron owned this.

He told you he’d “swing by” after golf to pick you up, so now you were following after him as he swung his keys, leading you through the front door.

“All of this is yours?” You said, your mouth gaping accidentally. It had been four days since your date, and you for some reason missed rafe terribly.

“Ah yeah, kinda lonely sometimes but…. Not really here much so..” he rubbed his hand over his mouth. casually opening doors for you, only for you to wait for him to also come through the door so you were following him again.

“Hmmm it’s nice” you smiled up at him, and for some weird reason he took your smile as an invitation to hold your hand. So now he was holding your hand, leading you to the sliding glass doors that lead to his pool. “Glad you think so” he winked and your head span in the other direction quickly to hide the flush.

“You brought your bikini right? Or not bikini- your swimming costume or- whatever the fuck yo-” he stumbled over his words “uh huh I did” you smiled again, interrupting him, something he usually didn’t like, but he smiled.

“I actually saw ward and rose and wheezie at the club yesterday, I was wondering if you were with them” you sat on the beach chair next to rafes, stating the sentence you rehearsed in your mirror countless times, as a conversation starter.

“Well no, I was working yesterday so I opted out, only really see them at the weekend for barbecues now that I moved out” he dragged your beach chair closer, a makeshift beach bed, you lifted your legs, lying down and resting your hands on your stomach.

“How come you move out so early, seems so scary” you stared up at him as he adjusted the towel above you.

“S’not really, needed independence. I mean I love dad and rose, and my sisters but just prefer this” he shrugged, and when he laid down his more muscley arm brushed against yours.

“You like it all by yourself?” You pouted, although he couldn’t see when he laid next to you. You turned on your side so you felt like you were talking to him, so you could remember what it feels like later.

He sighed deeply “never said that, just….” His head shifted to turn to meet yours. You knew what he meant. You silently looked at each other until you spoke in a quiet whisper “why’d you call rose, rose not mom?”

“Shit i did, huh? Well rose isn’t my mom” you frowned in confusion.

“She’s not?” You’re surprised you didn’t know this, your mom knew the Camerons well, but she never mentioned that.

“No, ah mom died when I was small” you accidentally gasped, death stirring an odd reaction out of you always.

“M’sorry rafe” you reached out for him, and rested your hand on his which he just chuckled at, lifting his arm up for you, tucking you under.

“Watcha sorry for baby?” So casually he name dropped baby. You shook your head wanting to giggle and scream and not be as red as you were right now. You wondered what he thought of you. He had to have a romantic intentions if he was calling you baby.

“Nothing” you went quiet, so close to rafe, your head almost laying on his chest, being able to hear and feel his heartbeat.

“You should come” your head lifted, to gift a puzzled look “to a barbecue, meet my family” he nodded, trying to convince you.

“No no, I don’t think so..” your head flopped back down to rest on the skin lower than his shoulders.

“It’ll be fun. I mean dad usually has his brother and my cousins, Sarah brings John b, wheezie almost always has friends over. You can just stick by my side, it’s no pressure” his hand was stroking over your waist comfortingly and you softly shook your head again.

“Not good with people rafe” you murmured at the embarrassing fact. Refusing to look him in the eyes.

“S’not true, you’re good with me” you could hear the smile in his voice, and he could hear the nervousness in yours. He pinched your hip making you squeal, followed by a panting giggle as you tried to playfully push him, rafe not budging an inch.

“Move rafe!” You closed your eyes, pushing harder until he was lifting himself up, his hands reaching for your face, and kissing you.

It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, your first kiss, you weren’t sure what to do else than mirror rafes movements. His hands were in the chub of your hips, kneading your skin soothingly.

He was kissing you so delicately, painfully slow, so slow that you whispered a moan into his mouth. He pulled back, you staring at him, kissing your own lips inwards at the strange swelling feeling, a small giggle escaping your lips as you looked down at your fingers sitting in between your crossed legs, feeling silly.

“Thanks rafe” you whispered, still giggling at a tiny volume.

“Don’t thank me for kissing you” he smiled downwards, laughing too quietly. Doing everything to make sure you were comfortable and weren’t gonna run from him.

You leant over the deck chair to peck his lips once more before returning back to your chair. He smiled at your frantic sweet mannerisms, needing to desperately cool down in the pool.

- fee xxx

[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Four - Blue

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings - fights, blood, anxiety, anger issues, angst, slight daddy issues, scary men, etc.

During the vote, things take a turn for the worst.

You did as told. Clicked the red “x” button to leave, and went over onto your side, watching anxiously as the other players casted their votes. Everything stopped once player 230 voted, with 456 speaking out once again. You stood behind him, watching as the other players pressed him for information asking, How did he know about the first game? Was he a plant? Was he working for the other side?

It didn’t make sense. If he was, then why was he so desperately trying to warn you? Why was he trying to save you? Everyone was shouting and arguing, and then- he explained it.

He had done it all before. Played these games, won the money. He was the last one left, and all the other players died. 456 players, 456 people, and only one made it out. If you keep playing, you’re all going to die. You’re going to die. You don’t want to die.

Your chest felt tight. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Panic and dread made your stomach twist, your lungs constricting. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

And then player 230 stepped forward, out of the group of blue “o”s who wanted to stay. “If you’ve played these games, then you can give us some tips, and help us all win.”

“He’s won this. We can all win. Let’s make some money!” Player 100, the old insolent man added, the one who had been shouting at 456 this whole time.

They were cheering now. Cheering for another game. Make some money. As if they aren’t making money off of other people’s deaths. As if other people wouldn’t have to die for them to make this money. Player 230 was cheering. He was smiling, and he still had blood on his face. Blood from the innocent people he killed. Blood from that man you knew. The man who believed in you.

You clenched your fists and gritted your teeth. Breathe. Just Breathe.

You tried to hold back, tried to calm yourself. But you couldn’t. The fuse was lit, and you exploded.

“Are you fucking stupid?” You snapped, stepping in front of 456, face to face with 230. “Do you think this is a joke? You’re making money off of other people’s deaths. You’re killing each other. You want to listen to him? He shoved people during the game. Innocent people that had families, wives and children. He killed them and for what? Because he thought it was a joke? Thought it was funny to push people around?”

You started to shove him. “You want to push people around asshole? You think it’s fun? I’ll show you fun.”

He smirked at you. You saw red. You slapped him. Slapped him so hard that he stumbled backward slightly, his cheek imprinted into a bright red shape of your hand. The other players gasped in surprise. You went to hit him again, but another player, his friend, 124, grabbed your arm, trying to intervene. “Alright, easy now-”

“Don’t touch me!” Your instincts kicked in, and you drove your elbow right into his face. He doubled over and grabbed his nose, watching the blood drip onto his hand. He snapped.

“You psycho bitch, I’ll fucking kill you!” The players on your side rushed to your aide, one of the men holding him back.

“I’d like to see you try!” Someone held you back, and you fought against them, eager to get more hits on 124, ready to fight. Ready to hurt someone, and make them feel the pain you had been put through, that that innocent man had been put through. The guards intervened, pointing their guns at you and 124.

The man who stood held you back stood in front of you now, holding you by the shoulders, looking you in the eye. You recognized him as player 456. “Calm down. I know you’re frustrated, I am too, but this isn’t something worth dying over.”

You gazed past him, at the guards pointing the guns at you. You glowered at them, before looking back at 456. You could see the sadness in his eyes. The loss. The look of a broken man. One you knew too well.

You took a deep breath. The fire inside you dimmed down to a dull roar. You shrugged his hands off your shoulders, stepping back into the crowd. The guards lowered their guns.

“Starting now, any further actions that interfere with the voting process will not be allowed.”

–

O - 183

X - 182

You had no other choice. You had to stay here and play another game. Where you could get killed. Where you probably would get killed. You walked back to your bunk, feeling the devastation, fear, and anxiety run through you.

You heard your name being called. You turned back, seeing Dae-Ho, the blue “o” patch clear on his chest. As if things couldn’t get any worse. Betrayal and anger bubbled in your stomach.

“I saw what happened, and I wanted to-”

“Are you serious? You voted to stay? After what we just went through?” You didn’t even let him finish his sentence.

“I just thought we made a good team and-”

“And what? You think we’d win the games together? You heard what 456 said. We’re all going to die here. We don’t even know each other. We’re not a team. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. So if you want to stay and get killed, that’s fine by me. Just leave me out of it.”

You could see the hurt on his face from your words. You didn’t mean them. You really didn’t. You were just…scared. You wanted to survive this place. The last thing you needed was to depend on someone else surviving too.

“Okay…Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” You turned away, unable to watch him walk off. It was for the best. You don’t need anyone now. You just need to live and get the money for your mom.

–

Thanos’ cheek was still throbbing from your slap, and he could feel a slight bruise starting to form as he ran his fingers over it. For such a pretty little thing, you sure packed one hell of a punch. He gazed at you from across the dormitory, eyeing you, watching you unzip your jacket and place it on the edge of your bed, his eyes roaming over the curve of your body, admiring how the sweats hugged your ass. He played with the cross around his neck, smirking to himself.

Nam-gyu stood in front of him, leaning against the bedpost and blocking his view. “You doing alright man?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? I know that bitch hit me pretty hard. Damn near broke my nose.” Thanos hardly listened to him, gazing over his shoulder to look at you.

Nam-Gyu followed his gaze, looking over at you, before looking back at him, smirking. “You wanna do something to her? Hurt her for hurting us?”

Thanos gazed at you, before gazing back at him, bobbing his head along to an invisible rhythm. “Nah, man. We’ll get her later. The hottest chicks are always the feistiest.”

Nam-Gyu grinned. “So, what do you have in mind?”

[just-some-random-blogger]

ME TRYNA GIVE YOUR FIC ALL THE HEARTS IN THE FUCKING WORLD

WHAT THE FUCK ALLLIEEEE WHAT THE FUCK

Unfortunately I have to requote your entire fic back to you I'm so sorry

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

HOW COULD YOU START YOUR FIC LIKE THIS????? HOW COULD YOU BE SO FUNNY AND WITTY AND ENDEARING AND WELL-WRITTEN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚

“Sadist,” he hissed.

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 SO WHAT????

“Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

EAT HIM UP. ALLIE ARE YOU CONVERTING ME INTO A SIRIUS GIRLIE????? I FEAR I FEAR HIM COS GART OLDMAN WAS SO SCARY TO ME IN THE FILMS I FEAR I FEAR I FEAR THE CHILD IN ME CAN SEE HIM IN MY MINDS EYES BUT THE WOMAN IN ME IS LIKE 🤪 I LIKE SCARY MEN NOW THO?????? AHHAHAHAHAAHNSIDDNNCJDKKD

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

🗣️AND🗣️WHAT🗣️IF🗣️I🗣️AM🗣️ 👏AND👏WHAT👏IF👏I👏AM👏 PUNK ASS LOSER WHAT THEN

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

Das my ride yall

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

YOU MEAN MY HUSBAND 🤬🤬 GET IT RIGHT BLACK ITS FIRST NAME MY LAST NAME HUSBAND. YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING ALSO STOP FUCKING MOVING YOU LARVA YOU WORM

Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

[VIOLENTLY SHAKING] I NEED TO WRAP HIM LIKE A BURRITO

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

Wrong. That's my chair. My comfy beefy bed. My warm biteable pillow. You fool. You imbecile. You misguided spirit

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

😭😭😭😭😭😭🤚 IM CRYING YOU WRITE SO BEAUTIFULLY SO WELL SO AMAZING SO VIVID IM BITING YOUR BRAIN NOM NOM NOM

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

Sigh. Fine. Smash. Give me Sirius right now. I'm gonna eat him up

HO IS YOU A POET WHY YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

🤞 hoping it's up

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

With my thighs????? I thought you'd never ask

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

WRONG YOU SHOULD HAVE JUMPED HIS BONES THE MOMENT YOW SAW HIM. WEAK PIECE OF SHIT 👎👎👎👎🍅🍅🍅🍅

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed.

🤨 says the witch?

“Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

The fact you didn't do this sooner is criminal

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,”

❓❓❓❓❓ REM YOU JUST MET AND YOURE CALLING HIM REMMMMMMM SKSKSKKSKJSKSJSJSJSBSHSBSBSISKKSSK 🫡🫡🫡🫡 RIZZLER I FEAR

He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

AN ANXIOUS THUNDERCLOUD IS CRAZY WHAT RHE FUCK

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space.

HES SO

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

Lick. ((I am nothing but a dog))

You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

YOU AND ME BOTH SISTER IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF ME ENCLOSURE 👹👹👹👹🤤🤤🤤🤤🫠🫠🫠🫠

Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

🫵I🫵KNOW🫵WHAT🫵YOU🫵ARE🫵SIMMMPPPPP🫵

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Sirius is also in love with me 😞 it's hard being THAT gworl 😣

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Sit on it. HUH WHO SAID THAT (me)

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫SHE GETS ME YOU TELL HIM GIRLIE RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

We love an emotionally intelligent girlie

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

I dont remember what I wanted to say but I bet it was something inappropriate 🫦

Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

🫵 SIMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPP

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

😰😰😰😰😰😨😨😨😨😳😳😳😳😃😃😃🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

We got blue's clues up in here

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

🫵 WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

Eat me then 🙄

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN SHOULDNT SAY THIS YOU BUFFOON YOU ABSOLUTE CANDLESTICK YOU NINNYHAMER YOU JOBBERNOWL

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

BROTHER EUGH WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE VERY EFFECTIVE

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

FUCKING hell

Was he…jealous?

HE BETTER FUCKING BE

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

LICKING HIM SO MUCH

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

She really said

And I respect her for it. She a bsddie

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

She's so smart I love her I will shove my tongue down her throat. So hot. She is me. Holy shit am I a narcissist

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT IS STOPPING YOU COS IT AINT FUCKING ME

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

I CAN BE GENTLE BUT DONT GET IT TWISTED IVE BEEN TRYNA DEVOUR YOU THE MOMENT YOU WALKED IN FUCKER 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

✍️ FOLDED✍️LIKE✍️ORIGAMI✍️ IM CRYINGGGGGGG WHAT THE FUCKKKK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM GOING TO CREAM MY PANTS ON HOW GOOD IT IS

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

THE DAY I TELL YOU TO STOP THEY NEED TO PUT ME DOWN

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

🫠😃🤓🫨🤪😣😫👹 IM FINE THIS IS FINE. SHE PASSED THE TEST THAT IS THE ONLY CORRECT RESPONSE

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

IM GONNA GET PREGNANT IF YOU DONT STOP

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

I'm legally obligated to say I feel so bad for Britney I nearly use this gif but I don't like using people I don't kin as meme reactions and I love women so #freebritney

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

Little did he know I would give him 10000000000 babies. Fucking hell I need a blunt (don't smoke)

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

HES INSANE ACTUALLY OK THX

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

YOU DONT EVEN KNOW YOU DONT EVEN KNOW YOU DONT EVEN KNOW

I WANT HIM SO BAD I WANT HIM SO BAD

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

1000 things prompt list (closes feb 1!) | masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed his by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended it to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their well being, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You chirped, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost everyday,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hoped up onto the chair,, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you know what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent and owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw him, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

[honehonn3honey]

What happens to this empty place, waiting for my arrival...

Rook in my heart. You can read the monster list here @lustlovehart

[Alt under the cut]

This is the original version but God, I don’t see anything else and I didn’t want others to get hurt watching

Now here I put my thoughts as I drew him:

I think our beautiful creature doesn't really have a human anatomy, his limbs are long and with very little muscle covering. Their bones could click together if it fully manifested. Claws replacing part of the bony fingers and nails. You could feel the long ribs behind that thick sack

He doesn’t need beyond his big and cool gothic sack to cover his abnormal appearance, after all the is no more shadows and fog for everyone’s eyes

The darkness consumes you from the pores, in each puff of lungs, you could become one with him and he would be delighted

I feel that it is detached from all worldly, but I would keep a thing or two of those who most appreciate... like the feathers of Neige or a brooch of Vil

[skhardwarevers1]

if this post gets like…5000 notes I’ll actually start writing scripts/making storyboards for videos I’ve had ideas about for months

additionally if this gets to 10000 (which I highly doubt it will) I’ll actually work on my abandoned stories, book ideas, and poetry

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

they call me the griever because halfway through a thing I enjoy I’m already sad that it’s closer to being over

[what-bot]

Beck glanced over to his companions to see how they were taking…whatever that just was. People in the crowd were already speculating. Who was that? What happened to his face? Dyson knew him? Where’d he come from?

Mara was nodding to herself. “I can get behind that.”

Beck elbowed her. Tron could probably hear her with those monitor senses of his. “Don’t encourage him!” He pointedly frowned at the wall Tron had just vanished from. It was like he’d just melted into the background. But it was entirely possible he was still lurking somewhere, seeing if he could make good on his threat.

Zed stared into space, and shuddered. “‘He’s not that scary’, you said. ‘He’s a harmless old guy. Just talk to him, he’s friendly.’”

“I didn’t say he was harmless. Just that you shouldn’t be intimidated by him.”

“As long as I don’t beat you up, apparently.”

“Even then, he knows you. He probably won’t take your eyes.”

“Probably?!”

“He just really hates this specific guy. And Clu.”

Up on the stage, Dyson hissed something into his communicator. Probably along the lines of “Find him!”

“We’d better get out of here before they start searching.”

“Agreed. He’s nasty.” Mara threw one last scowl up at the program before they left. She’d been doing that a lot today. He’d managed to weasel his way into sounding almost reasonable, but she’d hated him from the beginning. “If it were me, I’d just kill him.”

Beck groaned. “Not you, too!”

*****

Even though Beck still had to finish his shift, he somehow made it to the hideout first. Beck made sure he was dramatically pondering the window-screen after he spotted Tron riding up. He’d considered cataloguing when he walked in, to further turn the tables, but he only half-understood Tron’s filing system and didn’t want to mess anything up.

Tron returned with a spring in his step. Beck didn’t know what the monitor was doing for all that time, and he didn’t want to.

“You must be proud of yourself,” Beck quipped.

Tron chuckled quietly, and clapped him on the shoulder. “You know, you taught me something today, Beck.”

“Which is?”

“I can only kill him once. But I can scare him for the rest of our runtimes, and that’s much more fun. You’re right, this way is better. Thank you.”

That wasn’t really what Beck was going for, but at least it was progress. Kind of. “Anytime.”

*****

This progress seemed to be holding, mostly, as Beck discovered during a planning session.

Mara and Zed leaned forward eagerly as Tron explained Beck’s infiltration route, and everyone else’s role. “Once you’re outside the barracks, I’ll find Dyson, and-“

Beck whipped out the spray bottle he’d been keeping on hand just in case. The other two gaped in disbelief that he would threaten to spray the great Tron with water. Mara cringed, and Zed gave a strangled gasp. “Dude, what are you doing? You’re insane!”

Tron threw his most sullen glare in response. Beck did not flinch.

“As I was saying, I will find Dyson and incapacitate him.” He stressed the word ‘incapacitate.’ Like he was being so well-behaved, he promised he wouldn’t turn up covered in energy and pretend his disc just slipped.

Beck continued aiming. “Define ‘incapacitate.’”

Tron thought about it for entirely too long. When Mara looked about to offer a suggestion, Beck flicked the bottle in her direction and she backed down.

He sighed. “How about, he still has to be able to walk when you’re done with him.”

“And have all his extremities, I assume,” Tron grumbled.

Beck hadn’t even thought of that. “Obviously.”

“Not even his hands? He tortures people with-“ He relented when Beck raised his eyebrows and readied his finger on the trigger. “Okay, fine. All.”

“Deal.”

Zed breathed a sigh of relief when Beck put down the spray bottle. “Oh, thank the users. I thought he was gonna start chasing you for a second there.”

Just before Beck shook on it, he remembered something else and pulled back. “And leave his eyes alone.”

Given his earlier threat, Beck expected Tron to protest, but to his surprise, he said “Relax, I won’t actually take his eyes. That’s too obvious. No, I’ll do something else if it comes to that.” He trailed off, apparently daydreaming about that ‘something else’.

Beck very much hoped he didn’t have any more mortal enemies they had to worry about.

Beck: What would you say to Dyson if he were in front of you right now?

Tron: I’d say ‘which of these would you prefer to be killed with?’

Beck: Tron!

Tron: And then I’d kill him with the other one.

Beck: TRON!

[spineless-lobster]

if one more person asks me about college applications i’m going to burst into tears and rip their face off with my bare hands

[lesbiansanemi]

Rereading your kny role reversal au for funsies and I find it hilarious that Mitsuri has all the scary dog privilege in the world but her own bubbliness powers right through that

Mitsuri really decided to marry Shinobu, Obanai, and Sanemi, and not only does her cheerful kindness outshine their, frankly impressive, combined asshole-ery, but she also managed to be the scariest fucking demon out of the four of them despite that, and ya know, I love that for her

[spookymakosharkskizzers]

It’s so strange to me when peoples first reaction to hearing you hallucinate is “gosh that must be so scary”. I wish I could articulate right now exactly what it is that reaction makes me feel but all I I’ve got right now is it’s strange.