#he’d definitely attempt to die for her a couple times

[sincerelyneo]

hiii can you repost hello angel? as a jaemin girl it was one of my favorite fics everrrr i read it everyday fr😭❤️

hey angel | n.jm

“i come alive when i hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound”

💿now playing: hey angel by one direction

❯ summary: You're Jaemin's best friend - so of course he loves to call you up late at night and hear your voice. He's definitely not calling because the sound of your voice turns him on - yeah definitely not that.

❯ pairings: jaemin x fem!reader

❯ genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff.

❯ words: 3.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, slight possessiveness?, begging, praise, heavy use of nicknames, reader uses she/her pronouns, just pure filth tbh, jaemin has a voice kink??

It was late and you were already in bed, snuggled deep and cozy in the sea of your blankets, when your best friend Jaemin called. He’s your closest friend and the person you were more than a little bit in love with — but you’d never risk telling him for fear of it ruining your friendship.

So even though it was late, and you were sleepy, you answered his call. To be fair, he’d answered plenty of your late-night phone calls over the years.

“Hey angel,” Jaemin greets in an eager tone.

You can hear the alcohol in his voice — that and Jaemin only ever used that nickname for you when he’d been drinking. Still, it never fails to send warmth curling through your heart. It felt like it was his way of wrapping you up in his strong arms whilst he wasn’t with you. 

“Annngelll,” your best friend continues in singsong, making you giggle softly. 

Jaemin’s voice sounds rough and gravelly, like he’d been shouting over a crowded bar all night. Which wasn't a surprise since it was his friend Jeno’s birthday tonight. And you knew your charming and extroverted best friend would never pass up the chance of a good time. 

Before you could respond to his greetings, Jaemin’s tone suddenly turned serious. “I missed you tonight.”

“Na Jaemin,” you try to match his quick change of mood, attempting a serious tone. But it was a losing battle as you tried to fight against the smile threatening to let loose at his statement. “You’re drunk—I bet you barely noticed I wasn’t there tonight.”

He grumbles and you hear fabric rustle like he was flopping back on his bed. You can’t help but imagine what he currently looked like: his body probably sprawled out on top of his comforter, the strands of his hair falling into his face as his head propped up on his pillows. He probably had one hand behind his head, his bicep bulging while his other hand held the phone to his ear.

You know it’s wrong, but your mind wonders if he was still in his clothes from the night or if he’d stripped down—knowing the fact that your best friend liked to sleep in his boxers.

But you were also familiar with intoxicated Jaemin, he likely hadn’t changed out of his clothes yet, too drunk, and tired to care. Still, that didn’t stop you from thinking about your best friend laying in his bed shirtless while he talked to you. 

“I may have had a couple drinks,” he admits grudgingly. “But of course, I missed my angel. I swear—cross my heart and hope to die—I was a good boy tonight,” he says with enough conviction that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“You’re silly, Jaem.” There’s a warmth in your voice, and you have no hope of wiping the smile from your face even if you tried. 

Pulling the phone away from your ear to check the time, you felt bad and ask, “Why are you calling?”

A long, loud sigh came through the phone from your best friend. “I wanted to hear your voice,” he explains after a silent moment.

It was a cute sentiment, making you feel warm all over, and you wished you could talk to him longer. “Jaem,” you start, gentling your voice. “It’s late and you know I have to get up early. So, if that’s all, I’m going to hang up.”

“But I can’t sleep,” he whines, and you could hear the pout in his voice. Without even seeing his face, you knew he was deploying his puppy dog eyes. “Just talk to me for a few minutes, angel, please?”

“Fine,” you say with another sigh, folding instantly at the thought of imagining his gentle expression asking you. He’d learned long ago it was a sure way to make you give in. You’d fallen sucker to Jaemin’s big brown eyes, and he knew exactly how to use them. 

Resigning yourself to being tired at work the next day, you settled deeper into your pillows. Your voice gentle as you got comfortable. “But you can’t hold it against me if I fall asleep,” you warn.

“Deal.” His smugness at getting you to agree so easily was loud and clear through the phone even if you couldn’t see his self-satisfied smile. “How was your day, angel?” he asks as his bed sheets rustled again and you presumed he was settling in too.

Tired, but always happy to talk to your best friend, you told him about your day and complained about why you had to get up early the next morning. Your voice turns softer and sweeter as you get more and more tired. Jaemin’s does the same, getting even deeper and more husky as he told you about his day. Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and you were about to tell him good night when he said something that surprised you enough to drag you away from the edge of sleep.

“Have I ever told you how hard your sleepy little voice makes me?” he asks, making a sound like he was biting back a groan. “I love calling you before you fall asleep, but I always gotta rub one out after.”

“Jaemin,” you say, voice going for stern, but not quite hitting the mark since it was still laced with sleepiness. “That is not true.”

“It is!” he insists, sounding more awake by the minute—and you were right there with him. “I’m hard right now.” He makes a soft sound, like a grunt.

Before you could stop yourself, you imagined him— still sprawled out on his bed — but this time he had a bulge in his jeans. In your mind’s eye, Jaemin grips his hard length through his jeans, stroking himself roughly. The thought makes you gasp softly, and you clench your thighs together against a sudden pulse in your core.

Jaemin must’ve heard the sound because you could hear the grin in his voice when he speaks again. “Tell me, angel, are you wearing one of my shirts tonight?” he asks gruffly.

You swallow heavily, trying to buy yourself some time. It felt like crossing a line to admit that you were wearing one of his shirts, but when Jaemim didn’t take the question back, you realise you’d had to answer. 

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Which one?” His voice is rough now, like sandpaper, but oh so eager.

“One of your varsity shirts from college—the one that says ‘Jaemin’ on the back,” you answer, unable to lie to your best friend even if you were a little shy to admit you still sleep in his shirts. You knew you didn’t need to be, since he clearly knew you slept in them. 

“I love it when you wear my shirts, angel,” Jaemin confesses. His tone now warm, like he was grinning and happy. It makes the last of your shyness disappear to hear him say that. 

“It lets everyone know you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours, Jaemin,” you protest half-heartedly. 

You weren’t, even if you desperately wanted to be his in every sense of the word.

“You’re my best friend,” he says, like there was no argument you could come up with to change his mind. “My best girl—that makes you mine.”

“Jaemin,” you exhale. 

You knew he was just talking about friendship, but you wished his words meant something different. You wished he felt the same way for you as you did for him.

“Fuck, say my name like that again,” he begs in a gruff voice. “Makin’ me so damn hard.”

You feel the blush rise to your cheeks and you go flustered, unsure what to do as Jaemin easily crosses lines you’d avoided delicately for years. But you didn’t want him to stop. The sound of his voice saying those things had wetness pooling between your thighs. So, you gave him what he wanted.

“Jaemin,” you repeat his name, voice breathier with your arousal, and he let out a happy hum.

“That’s my girl,” he says followed by a groan that is so low and husky, sending tingles racing through your entire body. “Fuck, I’m so hard,” he moans, a slight strain in his voice. “Do you mind, angel?”

It took a moment for your hazy mind to figure out what he was asking. Then, another to process that he was asking if you were okay with him stroking himself while he was on the phone with you. Your breath caught from a sudden surge of excitement. The voice that typically stops you from crossing the line with your best friend was conveniently quiet and all that was left was your need for him.

“I-I don’t mind, Jaem,” you answer softly, trying not to sound too eager.

The sound of him pulling down the zipper of his jeans was loud enough that you could hear it through the phone — and that alone sent a shiver down your spine. It was nothing, though, in comparison to the rough groan he makes as he grips his cock in his hand. 

“Fuck,” he curses.

You could feel yourself getting slicker from the sounds of him stroking himself. Distantly, you knew you were crossing a line by listening to him, by getting off on hearing your best friend pleasure himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you found yourself holding your breath as you strained to hear him.

“What else are you wearing besides my shirt, angel?” his voice octaves lower than normal. The sound of it makes you squirm, your thighs clenching together harder. 

Biting your lip, you debated for a second whether to answer truthfully. You didn’t want to lie to your best friend and, you rationalise, you’d already crossed the line, hadn’t you?

“Just panties,” you whisper. 

You trail your hand down your chest over his shirt to toy with the hem where it had ridden up around your hips. Your fingers were dangerously close to slipping under the waistband your best friend had become oh so curious about.

“Just panties? Fucking hell, angel. What colour are they, huh?” He questions in his deep, rough voice.

You swallow thickly, wondering if he could hear how hot and bothered he was making you. You wonder if he knew you were so close to playing with yourself by the way your breath was getting faster. But you couldn’t stop yourself from answering. 

“They’re pink,” you say softly. 

“Angel,” Jaemin groans, thickened with need. “Fuck, I wanna bury my head between your thighs and kiss every single inch of you until you’re writhing under me, begging me to tear those panties off you.”

It was your turn to groan, and when you say, “Jaemin,” on a sharp exhale, you sound even more needy than anything else. Your fingers brushing over the hem of your panties, teasing yourself with whether or not you should dip beneath the fabric and touch yourself.

“You like that idea, angel?” He asks, a grin in his voice. “Like thinking about my mouth so close to your pussy.”

At his words, you couldn’t help but picture the scene. His head navigating between your legs, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you open so he could follow through on his promise. It was all too easy to imagine the way he’d look at you, mischief sparkling in his brown eyes as he slowly, teasingly kissed your mound over your panties, tongue sneaking out to lick the pink material. The picture he painted had you squirming in your bed. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, your fingers finally sliding into your panties, finding your pussy wet and swollen and needy.

When you don’t respond except with a sharp gasp, Jaemin asks, “Are you touching yourself?” 

His voice turns seductive. “You have to tell me if you are, angel—best friends tell each other this sort of thing. I have to know when you’re fingering your needy little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jaemin,” you cry softly, your breaths coming harsher. But you don’t for a second consider hiding what you were doing from your best friend. “Yes, I’m t-touching myself.”

“Good girl,” he praises, making warm pride curl through your chest as more wetness flooded your core. “Touch that pretty pussy for me.”

“H-how would you know it’s pretty?” you ask on a gasp, forcing the question out between hitching breaths as you slowly trace a finger around your dripping hole, teasing yourself and making you wetter.

“Because everything about you is pretty, angel. The way you laugh at me when I’m drunk, the way you bite your lip when you’re unsure, the way you look at me… fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your finger pauses and you suck in a deep breath, thoughts running chaotically. Jaemin had never complimented you like this before, and you couldn’t help yourself from asking a question you desperately wanted an answer to. 

“How do I look at you, Jaemin?” you ask in a small voice, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in the expression he’d just mentioned.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he teases. “You look up at me, giving me the dirtiest fuck me eyes possible. Fluttering your pretty eyelashes like you’re begging me to bend you over every surface and stuff you full of my cock.” 

“Jaemin,” you cry out in a little sob, emotions and arousal swirling through your body completely overwhelming you for a moment. 

“I know angel,” Jaemin’s voice is soothing and deep. “I know you give those eyes to me.” 

He paused for a moment and all you could hear was his deep, steady breathing. 

“Because you’re mine, yeah?” There was a thread of uncertainty in his question, and it made your heart thump in response.

“Yeah,” you agree without hesitation, without protest. “I’m yours, Jaemin.” 

“Good,” he declares. Without giving you time to fully process what had just transpired between the two of you, Jaemin continues speaking, his voice diving an octave lower and growing rough. “Now slide one of your fingers into that pretty pussy of yours.” 

It was so easy to listen to him, to give yourself over to his command. Letting his deep voice reverberate in your head, heat curling all through your body down to the tips of your toes, as you press one of your fingers into your wet hole. A soft moan tumbles from your lips and you knew Jaemin heard it from the way he sucks in a breath.

“That’s it, angel, being so good for me,” his breaths coming harsher down the phone line. “Tell me how it feels.”

You sink into the sensations and the sound of his voice, letting your eyes fall closed. You feel like you’re floating in the soft sea of your bed as you pull your finger out and thrust it back inside your pussy. 

“Feels so good,” you answer in another moan.

Jaemin responds with a groan of his own. “Bet you’re fucking tight,” he says, breath heavy and raw. “Bet you’re clenching down on your little finger, aren’t you?”

Like your body was trained to respond to his voice, your pussy clenches around your finger at his words and you let out a hitching moan. But Jaemin doesn’t stop talking. His deep, hoarse voice fills your ears and makes you hotter and hotter.

“Fuck, angel, keep going—keep fingering that wet pussy for me while I stroke my dick to those sweet little sounds you make,” he urges, as he bit back his groans. You moan and gasp in response to his filthy words. “Fuckin’ hell, I wish it was your warm cunt gripping me right now, clenching hard around my thick cock while I fuck you.”

“Please,” you beg, not sure what exactly you were asking for but knowing you didn’t want him to stop talking. You add another finger to your dripping hole, crying out at the slight stretch.

“Would you like that, angel?” he asks, managing to fill his tone with teasing even as his heavy breaths gave away how turned on, he was. “Tell me—fucking tell me,” he prompts when you don’t respond, too busy fucking yourself with your fingers to the sound of his voice.

A whine forces itself out of your lungs, the simple command sounding so filthy from your best friend’s mouth. “Yes, Jaem,” you whimper an answer between your gasping breaths. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck—fuck,” he groans almost painful. “The next time I see you, that pussy is mine. Gonna bury my face between your thighs and make you come on my tongue,” he promises. “Then I’m gonna shove my cock deep in your cunt and fuck you stupid.”

“Jaemin,” you sob out his name, fucking yourself harder as you picture your best friend hovering over you while you lay in his bed. You imagine how his body would start fucking you into the mattress, his cock buried deep in your pussy, your arms and legs wrapped around him — anything to be close to him. 

Through the phone, you hear the soft sound of Jaemin fucking himself into his own fist, the strain in his voice every time he spoke. 

Imagining your best friend sprawled on his bed, jeans open just enough for him to have his cock out, gripping and pumping his length roughly with his eyes squeezed shut. Thinking about him like that makes you whimper.

“Fuck—I can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’d look while I fuck you, angel,” he murmurs. “Wanna see my cock stretch you while I pound into you, wanna see your pretty lips swollen from my kisses as you moan for me, wanna see your eyes go all hazy as you get stupid on my cock.”

As he speaks, your thumb circles your clit and you moan loudly into the phone. Your best friend’s filthy words make your pussy clench down hard on your fingers as you get closer and closer to your release. 

“Don’t stop, Jaem, please don’t stop,” you beg breathlessly. Jaemin lets loose a deep groan in response to your desperate plea, the sound making your thighs clamp down hard around your hand. You wish your legs were wrapped around his waist instead of your wrist.

“Fuck your pussy, angel, nice and hard.”

You cry out as you force a third finger, making yourself stretch to take the intrusion. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, fuck yourself stupid to the sound of my voice,” he encourages. 

Even with how far gone you are, you can hear the cocky grin in his tone, but your body just flushes and clenches tight in response. Desperately, you fuck yourself harder, hips rocking into your hand, mind drowning in lust as you gasp and moan into the phone. Knowing he can hear you only urges you not to hold back. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jaemin groans loudly, his breath coming in sharp pants. “Keep making those cute little sounds for me, my cock is aching for you—fuck!” The cockiness in his tone fades into desperation. 

“Jaemin,” his name tumbles past your lips. 

You’d said your best friend’s name countless times over the years, but never like this—never with your fingers buried deep in your cunt wishing it was his thick cock.

“Jaem, I need…” you trail off, not even knowing what you need, just knowing he was the only one who could give it to you.

“You need my cock, don’t you?” You can hear the way his grin curls at the edges of his mouth. “Need my cock just like I need your pussy.” He bit off the end of his sentence with a groan. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” he moans. “Gonna come so hard to your sweet little moans, angel.”

You gasp and your back arches off your bed when you rub your thumb roughly over your clit. You moan so shamelessly for your best friend. “So close.” 

“When I fuck you,” he starts, cutting himself off abruptly as he groans again. “When I fuck you, angel, I’m gonna make you come so hard on my cock,” he promises, voice rough and deep you swear you can feel the pleasure from the sound shooting from your ear directly to your clit. “And while you’re screaming my name and coming all over my dick, I’m gonna bury myself in that sweet pussy and pump you full of my load—you want my come, angel?”

“Yes, Jaemin, please come inside me, fill me up,” you babble, so close to your own release you barely know what you’re saying. 

“That’s it. That’s my slutty little angel, begging for my come.” He groans, stroking himself faster. “Come for me, come for your best friend,” he commands, pausing to moan lowly. “Tell me who you belong to.” 

“I’m yours, Jaemin, all yours,” you cry out. With one more deep thrust of your fingers, the heel of your hand grinding against your clit, you come apart. 

You moan loudly as waves of pleasure surged through you, consuming you. Your limbs shaking as you wrench every ounce of pleasure from your release, fucking yourself through it as you breathe fast and harsh.

“That’s my good girl. Coming so sweetly for me, so perfect.” He grunts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! You made me come so fucking hard, angel,” he mumbles, a little breathless.

Since you hadn’t fully regained control over your body, you just hummed in delight. You were still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, your lips turned in a smile while you listened to Jaemin catching his breath.

“Like hearing me come apart for you?” He teases the question. “Wish you were here to clean up the mess you made.” 

“Jaem,” you try to put some reproach into your voice but fail miserably as you giggle. 

“Don’t worry, you can help the next time I see you.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, the two of you gathering yourselves together. “You’re still my best girl, right?” he finally asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I’m your girl.”

“That’s good to hear,” he murmurs, sighing contentedly, and you can tell he was starting to drift off. “Because all of me is yours, angel. And I plan on showing you that when I’m back.”

[lauronk]

https://www.tumblr.com/lauronk/755126061482835968/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where?source=share Okay so I happen to be the person who has a lot of imagination for fic ideas even tho I don't have the writing skills.

Maybe an Star Wars AU where joel is a mandalorian and he has a mission to find and capture baby ellie for someone because she has some kind of value (like little grogu and his powers) but then he is just this hot man in a space bountyhunter suit that has a little girl hanging on his leg across space to everybody, and he can't get rid of her to his motherfucking clients because she's just so cute and likes to mess around on his spaceship and even has her own little chair and always gives a little peck on his helmet!!! And then when he finally lets her see his face, her little hand just grabs his big ass nose and he laughs because he knows it is too big, and then she finally gives him a little kiss on his nose instead of the helmet and their eyes met for the first time🥹and then when he wants to put the helmet back she makes a sad face and tries to put the helmet down, because now that she knows what her space daddy looks like she just wants to see his pretty eyes and kiss his big ass nose all the time.

okay so a couple of disclaimers before we get started:

i know SO LITTLE about star wars. i've watched mando and boba fett and ahsoka, but that's it. so if there's words or phrases or literally anything i got wrong, i'm very sorry, please be gentle with me. shoutout to my homie @princessofinterest for letting me bombard her with questions

ALSO. i sped-read this prompt, wrote the ficlet, had my friend help me fill in some stuff, and then came back and re-read it and realized...i did not quite do what you requested 😅 so i'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting but hopefully you still enjoy!

ALSO ALSO. i finished, was rereading, and realized i messed up my own timeline. so- yeah. it's been a brain-melty kind of week, so i'm very sorry

a space bound rocket ship (and your heart's the moon)

length: ~2.3k words tags: joel & ellie; star wars au; mandalorianverse au; joel is a mandalorian; din & grogu cameo; the author knows so little about star wars; father-daughter relationship; the cargo-to-babygirl pipeline remains; no beta we die like david

This was definitely not the plan.

Joel stares down at the little girl, eyes roaming over her worriedly through his visor, and she stares defiantly back up at him.

This was not the plan, and now he’s got a whole bunch of Morgan Elsbeth’s minions after him. All because he couldn’t just walk away when they tried to take her, even though it’s what he had been paid to do. Find the girl, transport her to Corvus and hand her over. The why didn’t matter to him so much as the payment. And maybe if everything had gone the way it should have - three days, max, of traveling with her before handing her over - then he wouldn’t be in this situation. But transport had taken nearly two months for an increasingly absurd number of reasons.

Dodging bounty hunters. Damage to the stabilizer on his ship. Two attempted abductions of her.

So naturally, by the time Joel had gotten her to Morgan, she had walked away with this faintly betrayed look on her face that had wormed underneath his beskar and pressed against his heart until he’d caved. He’d damn near blown the place up getting her out of there, and now she was curled up on the front seat of his ship, chin on her knees, scrapes on her hands and a scratch across her face.

Joel sighs, the sound slightly distorted by his helmet. “C’mon, Ellie, let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Ellie’s not speaking to him, it would seem. Even though he went back for her, she apparently wasn’t over the fact that he’d left her to begin with. So she stays completely silent - more quiet than she’s ever been around him - as he wipes down her hands and her face and pulls out clean clothes for her to wear.

Once she reemerges, clean and dressed and still sulking, Joel nudges her gently up to the cockpit of the ship.

“You hurt?”

She doesn’t respond, and when Joel turns back to look at her, she mutely shakes her head.

“Good.” He lowers himself to the seat, tilting his head towards the one to his right. “Buckle up.” They’re sort of just cruising through space at this point, the ship on autopilot while Joel figures out what to do and where to point them, but that won’t be sufficient for long. He’s gonna need a plan, an actual plan. Somewhere safe for them to lay low for a bit.

And he thinks he knows just the guy to help them out.

–

“How old did you say you were?”

Ellie’s arms are crossed over her chest, face turned out the window. “Eight,” she says flatly. She looks younger than it though, probably closer to six if he’d had to guess. He’s got no way of knowing what her genetic makeup is though - and it’d be rude as hell to ask - so maybe she just aged slower, looked younger for longer.

“What did they want with you?”

“How should I know?” She bites out, still not looking at him.

Joel fiddles with the controls a bit, double checks their flight path. “They didn’t say nothin’?”

“Nope.” She pops the end of the word, emphasizing the ‘p’. “Just wheeled me back and started sticking needles in my arms.”

Joel sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them, Ellie has finally turned to look at him, staring at him so hard he thinks she’s trying to see straight through his helmet to his face. He’s never been more glad to not take it off - she’s young, but she’s too goddamn perceptive.

“Y’know,” he says slowly, gloved fingers gripping the sides of the yoke. “You asked me awhile back why I wear the helmet and don’t take it off.”

Ellie’s eyes narrow. “Yeah…”

Joel hadn’t given her an answer then, too focused on keeping a distance between him and the target. She was just a job, he’d reminded himself, even when he caught himself smiling behind his helmet at one of her many - many - ridiculous puns. Just a job. So he’d ignored that question and most of the others she’d asked.

Felt a little like he owed her an answer now, after the events of the last twelve hours.

“It’s part of my religion.” He turns away from her, finds the words flowing easier when he’s looking out at the inky darkness of space and not right into the eyes that no longer look at him so trustfully. “It’s complicated, very long story. But pretty much we wear the helmets at all times, and to remove it with those who are not family, or to have it removed, is a great dishonor. I only take it off when I’m alone. But I do that so rarely that it feels strange when I don’t have it on, like I’m missin’ some part of myself.”

Joel hears Ellie move but doesn’t look over at her, more concerned with the appearance of Nevarro in the distance.

“Cool,” Ellie replies after a pause, and he thinks her voice sounds a little warmer than it had before. “Thanks…thanks for telling me.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

–

The house is right where it should be, and as Joel readjusts his landing gear and angles them carefully down, he sees the glint of a sun off the owner’s helmet.

By the time Joel emerges, Ellie in tow, Din is standing in the doorway. Next to his boot, peeking out with wide obsidian eyes, is the small green - Joel feels bad calling it a creature, but nobody knows what species he is - form of his adopted son.

Joel lifts a hand in greeting, and Din matches the gesture. “I won’t stay long,” he says without preamble. “Ran into some trouble, and thought maybe you could help me out. If not, we’ll be on our way.”

Din’s head tilts to the side and then up, as though scanning for anyone who may have followed them. His son shifts over, and Joel catches Ellie’s whispered whoa from behind him.

“Grogu,” Din says warningly, and Grogu stops from where he’d been inching forward. His head turns back towards the Mandalorian, ears twitching, and Din tilts his head back down. Some sort of wordless message seems to pass between father and son, and then Grogu turns back to look at them, a cooing noise emanating from him. He doesn’t move any closer though.

“What do you need?” Din asks, his attention now back on Joel and Ellie.

“‘S a long story,” Joel replies. “But we need somewhere to hide out for awhile, till the people after her stop lookin’.”

Din’s head shifts minutely, as though he’s looking from Joel to Ellie and then back again. Even with two helmets - neither of their expressions visible to the other - Joel feels like he’s having his measure taken.

“She your foundling?”

“Foundl–” Ellie sputters behind him, but Joel cuts her off.

“Yes,” he says firmly.

Din is quiet for another long moment - Joel gets the sense that the other Mandalorian is a man of very few words - and Grogu coos again, his attention now on a bug crawling through the grass near him. His father looks down at him and…it surprises Joel, the visible way Din’s posture loosens and relaxes, watching Grogu waddle along slowly.

“I know a place,” he says softly, breaking the still air. His helmet is still angled towards Grogu, tracking every small move the child makes. “Safe. Quiet. Shouldn’t have any issues there.”

Relief wraps around Joel like a blanket, a weight he hadn’t even realized was on his chest lifting. “Thank you.”

Din nods. “This is the way.”

“This is the way.”

–

Joel’s careful as he sets down the ship in the field, already noting the heads emerging from a nearby field to watch him warily. They were a peaceful people, Din had said, but wary of outsiders. But once he found Omera and introduced himself, they’d relax and he and Ellie would be given shelter.

He looks back at Ellie, watches her peering out the window curiously. “Stay close to me,” he orders. “Don’t say anything.”

Ellie just rolls her eyes at him, traipsing along dutifully behind him. “Yeah, yeah.”

A fair number of people have gathered by the time he lowers the ramp and the two of them descend, the looks on their faces ranging from curious to openly hostile. Joel’s careful to keep his hands visible and away from the weapons on his hips, eyes flicking quickly from one person to the next.

“We’re not lookin’ for trouble,” he says loudly when they’re within earshot. “I was sent here by a friend. I’m lookin’ for Omera.”

A quick flurry of whispers passes through the crowd, heads turning and words hidden behind hands. Two people peel off from the group and dart away, and Joel watches them go with narrowed eyes. Nobody else says anything after they leave, all eyes remaining on Joel and Ellie. He can see them examining him from helmet to booted feet, taking in the dents on his armor, the gleam of the beskar on his chest, the gun at his hip.

But they all remain distant and observant until the two return, this time with a willowy woman with brown hair between them.

“Who are you?” She asks without preamble, coming to a halt ten feet away.

“Name’s Joel,” he replies gruffly. “This is Ellie –” he gestures behind him and sees her lift her hand in a wave from the corner of his eye “– and we need your help. Got some people after her, and my friend, another Mandalorian, said this was a safe place, if you’ll let us stay for a bit.”

“Hmm.” Her gaze narrows, lips pursing. “This friend - tell me about them.”

Joel shifts, eyes drifting past her to the still-swelling group of villagers behind her. “He’s a Mandalorian, like me. Travelin’ with his kid, small green child. Helped y’all get some raiders to leave you alone, him and Cara Dune.”

Omera’s face relaxes more and more with each word he utters, something wistful passing through her eyes before she looks away.

“Any friend of his is a friend of mine,” she says softly. “Come with me.”

–

It takes very little time at all for Sorgan to feel like home. The other children in the village take to Ellie almost immediately, and while there’s some lingering wariness towards Joel, it fades more and more each day. He doesn’t know how long they’ll be able to safely stay here, but he’s content in a way he hasn’t been in years.

“Joel!” Ellie yells, the door banging against the wall as she barges in. “Guess what?”

He uncrosses his boots, smiling behind his helmet at the sight of her. Covered in grass and dirt and what looks a bit like slime. “What, kiddo?”

She kicks off her shoes by the door, chest heaving. “I finally - fucking - beat - Visz - racing –” She doubles over, sucking in air to catch her breath.

Joel chuckles. “Nice. How about you celebrate by goin’ to wash up and get ready for dinner?”

Ellie salutes him and turns down the hall towards her room. Joel gets up to check behind her that the door’s shut properly, the curtains drawn over the windows. And then he sets the table, listening all the while for the sounds of Ellie cleaning up and returning.

Carefully, with a measured breath that does nothing to slow the way his pulse is racing, Joel lifts his helmet from his head and sets it on the side table. The breastplate and shoulder pauldrons follow, one piece at a time until he’s left in a simple long-sleeve shirt and the armor covering his legs.

And then he waits.

It’s only a few more minutes before Ellie emerges, water dripping from the ends of her hair. She’s looking down at the ground as she walks, not paying him the slightest bit of attention until she rounds the corner.

“Hey Joel, did we –”

Ellie halts so fast that she nearly over balances, eyes wide and jaw hanging. Joel doesn’t say anything, just sits with his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes flick to the helmet and back to him again, raking over his face. “You - you’re not wearing your helmet.” Joel inclines his head. “But you –” she pauses, clearly thinking back months ago, when he’d told her why he wore the helmet all the time. Ellie swallows. “You said you only take it off around…family.”

“I did,” Joel agrees softly.

Ellie clears her throat, takes a few careful steps forward. “So…I’m not just cargo?”

Joel’s throat tightens, jaw grinding, silently cursing himself. “No, baby girl, you’re not.”

“Okay.” A few more steps forward, until her feet are brushing the tips of his boots. “Okay, cool.”

He feels exposed in a way he’s not used to, watching Ellie take in every possible facet of his face - the scars, the wrinkles, the gray peppering his beard and hair. Nothing hidden from her this time around.

“You’re old,” Ellie finally says with a giggle. Her hand lifts, one of her fingers poking gently at his cheek. “How do your bones not collapse with all that armor, don’t they deteriorate at some point?”

“Little shit,” Joel says affectionately, batting her hand away and poking her own cheek in turn. She laughs again, hand falling to her side.

“Old man,” she retorts playfully. And then before Joel can blink - or even register the movement - she’s flung her arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. Automatically his own arms come up and wrap around her small frame in turn. She stays there for a minute and Joel lets her, hand rubbing softly between her shoulder blades. He waits for her to detach first, watches carefully as she steps back and scrubs at her cheek. 

“C’mon, kiddo,” Joel nudges her towards the table. “Let’s eat dinner.”

thanks for reading! you can find the full ficlet collection on my ao3.

anon, if this wasn't quite what you were looking for please let me know, and i'll try again!

[honeyandberryjuice]

A Mutual Agreement

summary: arthur gets super drunk over his romantic woes and finds comfort in the arms of abigail relationship(s): abigail roberts/arthur morgan word count: 2,082 warning(s): 18+, MINORS DNI

author's note: i wrote this in the ungodly hours of 4am, eyes stinging, and the need to impress my bestie with some porn. this is my first lil fanfic piece, please be kind to me ;w; tags: this is set before abigail is with john ok, i am an adamant john x abigail shipper & i'll die on this hill just let me have this please, some praise kink and reward stuff idk, arthur being an idiot (affectionate) & not thinking about the consequences of his actions, mutual drunk fucking, let's not think about what this means, top!arthur morgan

🍯 prefer to read on ao3? 🍯

 The crackling of the fire floats softly up to Arthur’s ears, face warmed both by its heat and the bottle of whiskey in his hand. Over the last couple of days, his nights had followed the same routine— He’d done whatever chores needed doing, argued with whoever stood too close to him, grabbed a crate of alcohol, and sat sullenly by the campfire. For the first few nights, several members of the gang had attempted to come over to him and get to the bottom of his attitude, though his expression and biting words had sent them all on their way with a scowl or injured retort.

 Now, the only one left was Abigail.

 The woman had only been with them for a little while now, shorter than some of the other girls but enough for her to get acquainted with the many members of the camp. Arthur wasn’t one to judge— Everyone had to make their living one way or another, and he was glad she at least had people to look after her now. Whatever she chose to do in her spare time was up to her, and Arthur quite honestly couldn’t care less. He’d hardly looked her way during her time here, most essentially because a particular blonde had been keeping his attention.

 His vision blurred as he looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed. Recently, she’d become slightly more… Present around the men, especially John. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the woman had developed some sort of attachment for him, for whatever reason. He loved John; the younger man was like a brother to him, but he really was only two cents short of a complete imbecile. Arthur truly believed that he wouldn’t ever learn to appreciate a good thing right before him, even if someone were to hammer it into his forehead to stare at in the mirror every day.

 The brunette sighed, clasping the bridge of his nose as the fire swam in front of him. He’d definitely had too much to drink…

 Soft, cold hands brushed against his arm, and the scent of berries, coffee, and fresh linen enveloped him. It took all of his willpower not to suck it all in like his last breath of air. Instead, he focused on trying not to pass out, reaching out his own hand to brace against the support on his arm. “Thanks, Abigail.” He managed, head pounding. The woman’s hands patted him in response before the warmth of her pressed against the side of his leg. 

 She didn’t respond to him, though she’d evidently come closer for some reason. Arthur guessed that maybe she was trying to look after him, though her hands fidgeted in her lap, and her eyes continued to search the camp. 

 Arthur clicked his tongue, pulling himself back up into a respectable sitting position. “Y’deserve better than that damn idiot.” He spat out. His words sounded bitter, even to his own ears, and Arthur wondered if he was really even talking about John at all.

 “Oh, Arthur. You… You don’t know him like I do. He’s sweet— And, well, he…” The first words she’d spoken since sitting with him at the fire, and they were all to defend the flaky outlaw. It infuriated Arthur to no end.

 His hot-headedness sparked easier next to the blaze warming his body, and the response escaped him angrily in his next breath. “Yeah, I bet he is. That boy’s always had a gift for charm, y’know. But he ain’t ever committed to nothin’ in his damn life. Y’better off not wasting yer time.” Words that hit too close to home, that made his chest squeeze as if a boulder flattened it. He pushed it down into the depths of him.

 There was only silence from the woman. It spread for so long that Arthur almost spoke an apology, though Abigail springing forward and grasping a bottle of whiskey from the crate froze it in his throat. Had he ever seen her drink? He decided he’d be much better off without saying a word, and instead leaned back and concentrated on sobering up a little. His eyes went from watching the fire to watching the black-haired woman, her own attention taken by the burning pit in front of them.

 Some time passed; it wasn’t awkward, or tense, but actually rather pleasant, with the crackling of the fire filling in their lack of conversation. It took a little while, and the opening of a new bottle of whiskey, for Abigail to seem to relax. Arthur noticed with some smugness that her attention no longer searched desperately around the camp, but rather she looked at her hands folded in her lap. After a while, she spoke again. “What happened, Arthur? Y… Y’seemed so content before. Did you…” She trailed off, likely thinking her questions were far too personal to ask.

 Arthur’s vision had unfogged slightly, and he leaned forward to give her more of his attention. His eyes were drooping lazily, though he could see her face clearly, features illuminated by the orange glow of the campfire. He realised, with his breath slightly hitching in his throat, that she really was quite beautiful. The next words didn’t hurt as much as they had in his head, the same ones he’d been berating himself with over the last few days. His voice was hardly audible when he said, “I lost her.”

 Their eyes met, and there was no surprise in hers as she looked at him. Maybe she’d already known about Eliza — women’s intuition and all that — or maybe he really wasn’t as good at hiding secrets as he liked to think.

 Abigail’s gaze softened, and her eyes drifted down to his lips.

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Arthur licked them, his thoughts tumbling away as the heat and the drink and proximity of the woman before him hit him. For a moment, he really took her in— the dark hair that reminded him so much of his first love, of the gentleness and sincerity that mirrored so very closely to the one who owned his heart. The three women became one, morphing into the lovely face barely inches from his own.

 He was kissing her before his thoughts began to make sense again.

 Though once the realisation hit him, it wasn’t followed by immediate regret like he would’ve thought. Abigail’s own lips only met his, and didn’t inch away— Instead, she seemed to be full of the same longing as he was. A mutual agreement of desperately needed comfort. 

 He lifted her into his arms, walking towards an empty tent with pure muscle memory. If anyone walked past them or noticed them, they didn’t speak— But Arthur wouldn’t have cared anyway. He needed this, to feel like he, for just a moment, wasn't a monster. That a blonde woman, the mother of his child, didn’t hate him for leaving her. Even if she wouldn’t even know it was for her own good.

 The frame of the bed hit against his legs and caused the two of them to tumble into it. A breathy laugh escaped Abigail, which only made his ears roar at the sensational sound of it. Her hands pulled at his hair, his clothes, his skin and it took all his effort not to roll his eyes into the back of his head. Abigail’s tongue probed at his lips, and the man could only think of how wonderfully experienced this woman was with her mouth, kissing her back with a moan.

 He pulled off his shirt and her hands rubbed down his chest, causing goosebumps to prickle lovingly against them. Arthur fought back his shiver as her nails scraped against him, his lip catching in his teeth as a shuddering breath escaped him. His cock ached against his pants, so he quickly fixed the problem by unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other reaching to touch the now-naked woman.

 Despite the drink causing Arthur to lose focus, he wanted to make this enjoyable for Abigail, too. The earlier roaming hand found its target, and the next groan came out strangled. She was wet. The cockiness came back, and he whispered, “Y’been waitin’ for this, aintcha?” The dark-haired woman nodded, though the motion wasn’t a good enough answer for him. His fingers caressed the opening, and he teasingly rubbed against her clit, eyes hard. “What was that, sweetheart?”

 “Y-Yes. I have.” Her voice was strained as his teasing intensified, though Arthur didn’t make her wait too long before he rewarded her by pushing his fingers into her pussy. The moan that erupted out of her made his cock twitch, and a throaty chuckle came from him as he relinquished it. He made her make that sound. The man wanted to cause her to make many more.

 Hovering over her, he continued to push his fingers in and out of her, holding onto her thigh with his other hand. He watched her with growing smugness as the delightful little sounds she made grew in both intensity and volume. “Arthur—” Abigail gasped, hands gripping into the sheets, “‘m gonna cum.”

 His name from her lips sounded like music, especially with it so strained with pleasure like it was. The man’s movements grew faster, his grip on her thigh harder. “Cum for me, darlin’,” Arthur responded, tone commanding yet encouraging. His mouth teased lightly against the inside of her thigh, and his teeth grazed her skin, begging her to fall over the edge of her climax.

 It didn’t take long before she was coming apart in his arms, legs shaking. Her breath was hot as he pressed his body into hers again, holding her for a moment. “Good girl,” Arthur’s voice positively purred, before he was standing over again. 

 His hands gripped hard against her hips as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, where his hard cock begged to enter her. The man teasingly stroked it against the sensitive area, though he didn’t push into her just yet. Arthur’s eyes pinned her, roaming over her heaving breasts before focusing on her drooping gaze. “Y’ready?”

 Abigail can only nod, body still trembling, before Arthur’s pushes himself inside her. The wet heat of her pussy envelopes him, and a deep and hoarse moan comes from him as he fully enters her. “Fuck, y’feel so good, darlin’.” Another breathy laugh from Abigail causes another ache, and he becomes ever more desperate for a release.

 His thrusts grow in intensity, hands still gripping her hips as he slams into her, over and over. Shivers of pleasure roll down his body, and another strangled groan as her nails begin scraping down his back. They dig into him, stinging deliciously as the pressure in his cock grows. 

 Arthur’s hands move to cup her breasts, the calluses of his fingers causing exquisite friction on her skin. He pinches a nipple lightly between his fingers before he’s leaning down and closing his lips around it. The man’s tongue flicks against the skin hardened with pleasure, his own mirroring hers. He grazes his teeth playfully against the nipple, praising her as her sounds become more frequent, “Louder for me, darlin. I want th’whole camp t’hear ya.”

 He’s pounding into her, harder and harder, the noises from Abigail growing into gasps as another orgasm builds up inside her. Arthur growls out, “Y’such a good girl, takin’ all of me so well. Y’my good lil slut, ain’tchu, sweetheart? Y’want me to fill y’up?”

 The dark-haired woman’s response is whiny as she responds with, “Yes. Oh, god— Fuck—” Her body once more trembles as she cums, pussy pulsating so enticingly around his cock. He can feel his own orgasm upon him as he releases another choked moan.

 Arthur can’t fight the building sensation for long before he’s finishing inside her. Abigail’s legs wrap around him, a vice grip, as his cock twitches with the last of his load, warmth spreading through the woman as he pants against her. His hands are shaking as he brushes a hand through his hair, head leaned back as the pulsing of his orgasm subsides. 

 With a wince, he pulls out of her and tumbles onto the bed beside her. His eyes are heavy as he clasps an arm around her, seeking comfort of a non-sexual kind. Abigail’s fingers trail soothingly against his arm, head against his chest.

 Arthur’s eyes flutter shut before he can think about what he’s just done.

[tumblingghosts]

How about a time traveling Livia where she stops Facet from running to the exit before the peacekeepers shot him , maybe velvreene is still shot and that breaks Facet and he yells at Livia for being insensitive to velvreene 's death and it starts an argument between them that he refuses to cooperate with her even when the interviews come and when he's in the games she is shocked that he can't fight or bring himself to kill someone and can't use weapons and if he sees another tribute he avoid them or leave them alone until the pack corners him and kill him. I personally feel like velvreene and facet didn't really stand much of a chance the only advantage they might have is that they aren't as malnourished as some of the other tributes but they are experiencing malnourishment for what could possibly be the first time in their lives and district 1 isn't involved in physically demanding labour the way other districts are so I feel like before the carrers became a thing they were harmless due to not having any skills with weapons and experiencing malnourishment for the first time

oooo i have a couple different ideas for this depending on how far in the future livia is coming from-

one scenario...

if she’s from way far in the future (e.g. married and probably poisoned by snow), i could see her being a bit more empathetic to facet just because after living so much, seeing facet again makes him look so young. too young. and she doesn’t quite believe this is real at first since time travel isn’t a thing.

and because she’s pretty sure she just died, and she’s lived long enough to not care as much about her social image as she did before, she’s a bit more willing to take some risks, bend some rules. facet is still mad at her because she hasn’t exactly been treating him well before this, and he’s not going to suddenly warm up to her just because she’s a bit nicer. it’s too little, too late, and velvereen is dead. they weren’t really friends, but she was the only piece of home he had. he’s not hopeful enough to believe he’s going to win by fighting. 

livia might be a bit nicer having grown with age, but she’s still lived with a lot of privilege. she can’t quite conceptualize the hardships that facet has had to live with, and even her attempts to help come off as condescending. facet probably refuses to do the interview, even if it hurts his chances at sponsors, just because he doesn’t want to work with livia. maybe livia sponsors some of her own money. 

facet survives for a while just on the things he’s sent, even through his reluctance to accept anything from her, especially since he’s a bit better fed than the others. but i do agree that his chances aren’t good going up in an actual fight, and he likely gets taken out by the snakes with no way to climb quickly enough.

this livia might do some work to undermine coriolanus, given that she’s lived through his ascension and just generally doesn’t like him. even if she can’t save facet or the classmates she lost in the bombing, she is far more willing to throw her money and influence around, especially now knowing that the snows don’t have anything.

alternatively…

if she’s from just after the hunger games end, that’s a whole different story. she’s mostly bitter that facet had the “audacity” to die in the arena bombing, “ruining her chances of winning the plinth prize”. she’s incredibly spoiled, but without any of the age or time to temper that, and when she stops facet from running away, she’s very upset by his reaction.

facet properly loses it at her when she yells at him that he “should be grateful to her” because “she saved his life”, and starts going on a rant about how if he’d tried to run, he would have gotten shot just like his district partner. facet does not take to livia talking about velvereen that way, and definitely isn’t taking well to livia speaking to him that way either. 

he starts shouting back, and doesn’t stop when the peacekeepers are raising their guns. he’s behind the bars of the cage and can’t physically attack her if he wanted to (and he does), but he can shout, and he can make her listen. he goes off on how spoiled she is, how entitled, how she’s been treating him terribly, yet expects him to perform for her. she hasn’t brought any food, yet expects him to still roll over to her like an obedient dog.

at that point, livia starts shouting back about how uncivilized he and the rest of the tributes are, about how they’ll be killing each other in a few days anyway, so why can’t he just do this for her? how she saved him, how arachne’s tribute murdered her, and blah blah blah. facet is not having this, and points out that her ‘rescue’ landed him back in a cage, and set to be slaughtered anyway, so what does she mean “saved”? and then points out that she only cares when her classmates die, but velvereen is dead, and why did she not matter?

livia is starting to repeat the same arguments over and over now in frustration, and facet just stonewalls her. he just entirely refuses to talk to her anymore- not for the interviews, not for strategy, not for anything. livia is getting progressively angrier because this is her second change, and her tribute won’t cooperate. why is he being so stubborn? she doesn’t get it.

then, they’re all being sent into the arena.

facet doesn’t bother for a weapon. he knows he won’t be able to use one. instead, he finds a place to hide in the tunnels. when he eventually comes out later, livia debates heavily on using the limited funds she has to send him something or not. she doesn’t think he’s done anything to ‘deserve’ being sent anything. but she also wants to win, so she does.

facet sticks to the sidelines, and livia starts to see that he isn’t the winning force she’d hoped him to be. he’s just a boy that she hasn’t been giving nearly enough food to. he’s starving and he’s not going to be fighting for her. more than that, it doesn’t seem like he can fight. and she slowly, barely, starts to shift in her views.

he can’t fight- and she remembers the little he told her about how they needed to work to produce jewelry for the capitol. there was no time to ‘train for the hunger games.’ this wasn’t some competition they were raring to go. it was just bad luck, and most likely a death sentence. livia resigns herself to not winning the plinth prize. 

i want to say that livia has this ✨big realization✨ and changes her ways, but i honestly doubt it. she probably feels bad, but for all the wrong reasons. like “i should have visited facet more for food” but because she thinks prepping him better would have given him a better shot at winning, not because he’s a person deserving of basic necessities. 

i feel like it would take more than just a single chance sent back - maybe a time loop where she keeps having to do it over until she learns a lesson. at first, her goal is to get facet to win. why else would she be given another chance? clearly, she’s special and even the universe itself wants her to win, right? (🙄🙄)

so that's what she does- it takes a bunch of loops of trial and error, but eventually, facet wins! she did it!

hooray for her!

except…facet isn’t happy to see her when he wins, even when she tells him that the win is all thanks to her and her strategy to keep him alive. he snaps at her that she wasn’t the one in the arena, he was. that his survival wasn’t because of her at all. livia tries to argue back (because he’s did in so many loops, how could this win be anything but hers?) but facet cuts her off, curses her out, and is promptly taken away by the peacekeepers to be sent home.

the loop still restarts.

livia is bitter after getting chewed out like that and decides the next loop that she’s not going to focus on facet at all. wouldn’t it hurt him if his mentor ignored him entirely? she tries to get close to velvereen instead (who isn’t too keen on her either, but that’s not stopping livia). the bombing happens and this time she makes sure both facet and velvereen are alive. she can’t get closer to velvereen if she’s dead, and livia can’t rub it in facet’s face if he’s dead. 

(yeah…character development is a slow process :/)

what this spiteful loop teaches her is that velvereen is a person too. facet has never gotten along with livia, but after so many loops, livia knows he’s not an uneducated barbarian, even if she still thinks he’s lacking in manners. but the rest of the tributes? they’re just background presences, as ‘savage’ as the rest of the districts. but velvereen- well, she’s alright too, livia decides. 

neither facet or velvereen make it to the end, but they do stick together in the arena. they split supplies, they even go grab some weapons. but when they’re cornered by the pack, it quickly becomes evident that neither of them know how to use them. livia decides that must be the problem - clearly the pair from four and ten are the problem. after all, the tributes from four are brutal, and she knows the girl from ten is perfectly capable of killing an innocent capitol citizen (blatantly ignoring that arachne was provoking her).

if livia wants them to make it further, she has to get them to ally with that pack. it takes several more loops with facet and velvereen extremely reluctant. if they join, it’s going to be obvious real fast that they don’t have fighting skills, and if/when the pack turns on them, it’s going to be bad. livia isn’t giving up on that though, and decides if she can’t convince the d1 tributes to ally with the pack, then she has to convince the pack to ally with them.

so, she starts to interact. she offers food, and the promise of sending more in the arena as long as they ally with velvereen and facet. she talks with them over this loop and the next and the next until she finally figures out a series of events that gets them to agree. except- now she’s talked to them, with them, plenty. and she finds that coral and mizzen and tanner and even brandy - they’re all normal. they’re not very cooperative (especially at the start), but they can talk with her just fine, and she thought that the districts were all uneducated.

this is when doubts properly start setting in. facet is a person, not just her tribute. velvereen is a person, not just facet’s district partner who died. every tribute in the pack is a person, not just a means to get facet and velevereen to last longer. she’s spoken with them, she’s had to get to know them to figure out the right ways to convince them, most importantly, she’s had to sympathize with them. and sympathy is just a hop away from empathy.

livia watches facet and velvereen and coral and mizzen and tanner and brandy die in the arena, and it’s getting more difficult to do. she has another chance, she always does, but she doesn’t know who she wants the victor to be anymore. it can only be one of them. but if facet wins, then velvereen and coral and (etc.) don’t. if velvereen wins, then facet doesn’t. if coral wins, then mizzen doesn’t.

...and so on.

she’s starting to see that more than one of them “deserve” to go home, and she doesn’t know who the “right” person is supposed to be. it can’t be lucy gray, she decides, because lucy gray has won plenty, and the loop still restarts. but facet didn’t end it either. so who?

livia spends even more loops trying to figure that out, fixing scenarios so different tributes win, talking with other mentors, other tributes- she speaks with them, she learns from them, she gains new perspectives without really realizing it. not until many, many, many loops later when she has her epiphany. 

she doesn’t want any of them to die.

no, not just that. none of them deserve to die.

but the hunger games only has one victor. livia decides that’s no longer good enough. everyone is going home. she has decided it, and she’s going to make it happen. she’s the heiress to the capitol banks, and everyone will be going home.

boom! character arc + a new goal :D

of course, change doesn’t happen easily, but she’s got as many chances as she needs. so she can do this over and over and over until something gives, and it won’t be her. it takes a lot- getting the rest of her classmates to connect with their tributes, to get them to see what took her dozens upon hundreds of loops to get, in just a week before the games. 

but eventually, it works! 

one voice of protest might not do much, especially coming from someone already marginalized. but sejanus’s arguments hold more weight when livia - born and raised in the capitol - is backing him. and from there, with the rest of their classmates, this isn’t something that can be silenced. they’re the children to the most important families in the capitol, and banded together, they cannot be ignored. not all of them.

the hunger games end.

livia understands now, why that was so important.

the loop ends.

---

anyway, thanks for the ask!

i love rambling about time travel, as i’m sure you could tell, considering how long this got - 2k+ words! that’s basically oneshot length. i might just clean this up and post it on ao3 later...

feel free to send more time travel thoughts! :D

[matcha-milkies]

MARLIN

Summary: Marlin travels across the ocean to save his son and comes home emptyhanded. (In which Nemo really does die at the hands of Darla.)

Content Warnings: Major Character Death

Tags: Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Self-Pity, Bad Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,069

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: I wrote this thousands of feet in the air after rewatching Finding Nemo on an airplane, and then I let it rot on my drive for months SO UH. Enjoy my sleep-deprived angst?

I’m telling you, if I had posted this right after I got off the plane I would’ve been rambling in these notes about how Finding Nemo is one of the greatest animated films ever created (which I mean, it very well might be) but that’s just to give you an idea of the overzealous headspace I was in when I wrote this

The journey home feels short. He spends most of it in a daze. He’s surprised nothing got him in its jaws, and he wonders whether he would’ve tried to get away if anything had made the attempt. All that wild, reckless determination that had driven him across the ocean in a crazed frenzy, it’s gone, dispersed like dust in the current. He coasts along the seafloor looking and feeling hollow.

A few fish recognize him from the rumors, and when they try to talk to him, he just stares dead-eyed and desperately wishes they would try to eat him instead. He thinks maybe the shame will lessen with each retelling of the story, but in actuality it only intensifies.

“I didn’t make it in time.”

“I was too late.”

“Nemo is gone.”

It hurts to say. With every utterance, cold reality solidifies around him.

What makes it worse is those little landmarks, the trench, the minefield, milestones he passed with someone he’s trying to forget. It’s like grieving twice over. At times it feels like more pain than his little heart can reasonably be expected to bear.

And whatever pain he thought he felt on the way back, it’s not enough to prepare him for the wave of grief that hits him when he comes home to an empty anemone for the first time. He circles the interior aimlessly for a little while, like his brain is broken and doesn’t know how to locomote anymore. After a while, he finally settles down and lies on his side. He’s staring wide-eyed at the open blue above him and he looks dead.

At some point he falls asleep, and when he wakes up, he can’t tell himself it was just a dream, because the empty space beside him is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t get up from his spot on the floor. He doesn’t leave the anemone. He doesn’t eat. It’s a while before anyone comes to check on him.

“Hey, uh, Marlin?” It’s the seahorse dad. The irony of not being able to remember his name when he finally remembered Marlin’s. “You… You in there?”

Marlin closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep. When he’s asleep he doesn’t have to think.

“A couple parents saw you come home the other day…”

After a few beats of silence, he finally pokes his head out between the anemone’s arms. “I appreciate the concern. Please go away.”

“But…”

Marlin’s already retreated back into his home.

He didn’t honestly expect anyone to care whether he wasted away, but to his chagrin they keep sending fish to check on him and make sure he eats. Maybe he wasn’t enough of a recluse before. They don’t seem to have gotten the memo that he wants to be left alone.

He has a lot of dreams about her, which is ridiculous and pathetic because she’s definitely already forgotten about him, and he was the one who left her when she practically begged him not to. How could he do that to her? A failure as a husband, a failure as a father, and now a failure as a friend too. Why didn’t he at least stay with her?

Because it would’ve been too painful. Because every time he looked at her, he’d hear, “The boat went that way.”

Well, it’s echoing in his head anyway. So a lot of good that did him.

He replays scenarios in his head where he does everything right and stops his son from going out there in the first place. Scenarios where he gets through the obstacles quicker, does things faster, gets to Sydney sooner. It’s a momentary respite and it’s also agonizing, self-inflicted torture.

Some fish named Gill finds him, what must be an eternity later. Claims to have known Nemo from the dentist’s aquarium. Marlin shoos him and the rest of his gang away, doesn’t want to look at them or talk to them. Doesn’t want to… to know what his son went through in those final days…

Except that he does.

Slowly but surely, he peers out from the anemone. “Wait.”

Gill glances back at Marlin.

“You were the last ones to talk to him,” Marlin croaks. “And the last thing that he said to me— I— I guess what I’m asking is…” He realizes he hasn’t cried since it happened, not really, overtaken first by panic, then shock. Here and now, to his absolute horror, he can’t stop his voice from breaking into tearful quavering. “What I’m asking is… Was-Was he angry at me?”

“Angry at you?” Gill seems genuinely taken aback. “He was desperate to get back to you. It was all he could talk about.”

“The last thing he said to me was that he hated me,” Marlin explains. (If he doesn’t count the terrified screaming for help, which he’s trying really, really hard not to think about right now.) “So you don’t have to sugarcoat it for my sake. If he really hated me, I-I want to know.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” the starfish lifts herself long enough to pipe up. “Anyone could see that kid loved you so much.”

“When he heard you were coming for him, oh, you should’ve seen the look on his face.”

“He was such a little trouper.”

“You gave him the courage to go through with our first escape plan,” Gill says, and then, growing more solemn, “It… It almost worked too.”

Resentful thoughts creep in. Why couldn’t you have escaped sooner. Why couldn’t you have taken my son with you? But that’s not fair. It’s not their fault Nemo is gone. It’s his. It’s only his fault.

Instead of voicing any of that, what Marlin does is break down into quiet, ugly. shuddering sobs. Before he even really realizes he’s weeping, he’s flanked on both sides by fish, the blue and white lady and the purple-yellow guy, consoling him with gentle fins. “Hey there, it’s okay,” says Deb.

“It’s not okay. I was supposed to protect him, and instead I yelled at him and he swam off, and there was the boat and the people, I—” He draws in an enormous breath, having forgotten to inhale. “Why didn’t I go after him right away?”

“You don’t know that it would’ve made a difference.”

Marlin breaks from his sobbing long enough to look at Gill.

“What’s done is done. All you can do now is… move forward.”

A/N: Why did I write this.

(Yeah I called this fish a husband and not a mate. He called his anemone a “house” in the movie’s opening scene, I’m taking a few liberties of my own.)

[artemistorm]

https://at.tumblr.com/unexpectedtraveler/ive-always-been-conflicted-when-writing-fics-or/66x4zruc0l7z

I do think Link (wild) died at some point. (It is called the Shrine of Resurrection, after all)

It would explain why it took so long as well. (Also extra angst)

Did Link die or not? Did his heart stop beating? Did his brain stop making brain waves? I dunno for sure. BotW Canon never says and I doubt we’ll ever find out the what the Nintendo Zelda Team intended when they came up with the game lore (if they even knew themselves). In the long run, whether or not Link died doesn’t really matter because the result was the same. Link enters the shrine broken and dying and he exits the Shrine 100 years later with a healthy body and a blank mind in a new world. (I’ll come back to this in a minute.)

Ok, ok, ok, you got me excited. You bring up a very good point of something that’s always bothered me but no one else talks about. Why did it take exactly 100 years for Link to wake up?

Even with Link’s mortal injuries, it would have taken at least a couple months, but probably up to a couple of years to completely heal Link. How long’s a couple? I dunno. 2? 3? 5? But surely not more than 10. So why didn’t Link wake up once he was all better? Why did it wait 100 years?

I’ve figured a couple of possibilities.

The Shrine has an internal timer set at 100 years either by default or by design. Maybe that’s what it defaulted to once the Shrine was made operational by Zelda, Purah, and co. (it doesn’t sound like any of them knew it would take 100 years for Link to awaken). Or maybe that’s what the ancient Sheikah set it to 10,000 years ago as part of their master plan to destroy the Calamity the next time it awoke.

The Shrine was waiting for an external signal to awaken Link, such as the Guardian Towers around Hyrule castle sensed Zelda’s weakening power and Ganon’s growing strength and sent the signal to awaken the Hero. Or maybe the Shrine would have held Link in stasis forever and Zelda had to use her Goddess powers from afar to force the Shrine to release Link. Or maybe the corporeal ghost of King Rhoam somehow intentionally triggered the Shrine to start its awakening process.

The Shrine was waiting for certain conditions of the world to be met, like X% of Guardians to decay, monster population to rise to a certain level, Hylian population to rise back to X number of people, Hylian civilization to return to a certain level of advancement, etc. Although, I don’t know how the Shrine would sense these things since the Sheikah towers and shrines weren’t activated yet. *Magic*

The Shrine was waiting for Link to choose to wake up. This is the least likely in my opinion but most angsty idea. Maybe once Link was healed, the Shrine was waiting for him to attempt to wake up on his own, but maybe Link didn’t want to for whatever reason (guilt, shame, sadness, fear etc.). The Shrine gave him time, hoping he’d come to term with his regrets, but it didn’t happen, and the Shrine predicted that he never would by his own accord and opted to erase his mind and reset him, to manually and physically remove the mental barrier he had to waking up. I could definitely see this process taking a long time since the Shrine would have had to cherry pick what things, what neural pathways in his brain to leave or to take away.

So did Link die? Did he not die? Why was he asleep for 100 years? The answer is simple:

What do you think?

But that’s the beauty of storytelling. It’s two-way, the storyteller tells you the main parts of the story, but you get to fill in the gaps. Whatever you think the answer is, that is the correct answer. That is canon. And I think it’s really so beautiful that there are so many different versions of canon for the same story. It’s so cool to me to see all these different interpretations and everybody is right. It really makes this story so rich and it leaves so much opportunity for exploration in the fandom.

[stop-saying-tootsie]

48, 41, 43, 44 (cap and pat) and 38 :)

oh hey eli

48. What do you think the ghosts' jobs would be in a modern living-human AU where they're all just chaotic housemates?

my favorite kind of question >:)

i will preface this with: i am projecting as an elementary education major at university, and honestly i haven’t seen the show in so long that i don’t know if these are based off true characteristics, or the version that i’ve created in my mind bc of fan theories

robin - astronomer, no question, he’s so smart and would love mapping the stars and discovering new galaxies

humphrey - everyone (including me) puts him as a principal type, which i do agree fits pretty well. i think he’d enjoy being around kids and they’d definitely find him entertaining. also part of me wants him to be a chef for some reason

mary - she’d have a stand at the farmer’s market every week with really cool baskets and tons of food to sell, and cap would help her garden bc i said so

kitty - i really think she’d be a teacher, but definitely for much younger grades, she’d be so fun for primary aged students

thomas - do y’all remember trish from austin and ally? yeah that’s thomas in a modern au

fanny - she’d have no job, she came across a large sum of money after her husband died so she just sits at home with dante all day <3

cap - get this man into local theatre !!! (pat would drag him along and before you know it cap is the star), otherwise he’d probably enjoy a quiet job at a library, without much talking

pat - he’d definitely still be a scout master, and honestly he would make a fantastic teacher. he’s got the optimism needed for it, and he’s great at motivating people, so yeah absolutely

julian - he’d be fired from his MP job so he’d try to get into local government, and would fail, so his entire life is just attempting to campaign and mooching off the others

41. Let's settle this once and for all. Who's the real leader, the Captain or Pat?

i gotta give it to Pat. as much as i adore Cap, he’s too rigid </3 obviously in the military or other instances he’d be great at leading!! but with the ghosts, Pat just fits the vibe

43. You've heard rumours of a tenth upstairs ghost who doesn't often venture out of their room to visit with the other residents of the house. Who are they? (i.e. make up a ghost OC. I know i'm putting you on the spot. I just want to see what you come up with.)

okay i’m terrible at coming up with OCs oh god

it’s a teen who snuck into the house in the early 2000s and is honestly too embarrassed to show his face. he’s probably 16 or so, and was supposed to be meeting a “friend”, but got stood up, so he figured why not drink some of the alcohol that was up in the attic,,,it was not alcohol (honestly who knows what it was, one second he was fine and the next he was looking down at himself)

the reason he doesn’t venture downstairs is because he’s got a massive crush on like. pretty much all the ghosts, and mike and alison, but surprise!! he found out after a couple years that he can turn invisible (which was a relief because he thought every time he DID go downstairs, they just ignored him)

so he definitely listens in on all their convos, which frankly solidified his crush on most of them weirdly enough

also he wears jorts and a hawaiian shirt (he’s just like me fr)

44. me a song you think [insert character name here] would like, or a song that reminds you of them!

South by Hippo Campus is SO Cap and i’ll die on that hill BUT. a possible contender is The Astronomer from Ghost Quartet, very nice song and idk!! feels a bit like Cap!!

for Pat hmmm…i really like giving him ABBA or Queen songs, they’re just so perfect, so we’re going with Radio Gaga <3 (i swear at some point i did a post listing several songs for each ghost, and i literally have the playlist, but i can’t find the post no matter how hard i look so maybe i never posted it </3)

sorry to reuse these songs bc i’ve definitely provided them as answers before, but i haven’t listened to anything but will wood in months so i have no new music options

38. It's your turn to pick a movie for film club! What are you watching?

oh this is so much pressure coming from you eli

my personal favorite movie is richard jewell, so i would obviously choose that just to make them watch it. though i do think they’d enjoy the suspense, and absolute shitshow the FBI is

i may also go for Luca, because i think they’d all like it (cap may resonate particularly well)

and then of course the barbie movie <3 everyone needs to see it once in their life (or death)

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Trust (Feysand fanfic)

A/N: Okay so this is the one thing that made me angry throughout the entire Silver Flames book. I swear I was gonna kill Rhysand in his sleep for this. Btw, they explained what the organ does for winged infants but I have no idea what’s it’s called so if anyone can fill me in on that, I would appreciate it.

Summary: Feyre finds out about her and her baby’s fate. She is not happy.

“Feyre, please slow down.” Amren suggested as she tried to calm down her High Lady. Feyre had just learned about her condition from her sister. Apparently she didn’t have a special organ that allowed her belly to store her baby’s wings. Because the wings are so huge, the birth could be life threatening for her and her child. She was devastated. Sad. Angry.

No, she was furious.

Yes, definitely furious. Furious at the one person she trusted more than everything. Furious at the man who gave her life for her. Furious at the man who gave her a home when the human world was no longer her home to call. Furious at her mate.

When Nesta had left, she walked straight toward her husband’s office and banged her fist against the door. Amren was next to her, worried that Feyre’s anger would startle her into giving birth, but the baby wasn’t due for another 2 months. He/she won’t come yet. She knew Amren was just stalling for time.

Time for him.

Time that she didn’t have.

Sharply turning to the small woman, Feyre gave her the angriest glare she’d ever given to anyone. “Are you seriously defying access to your High Lady?” she demanded as Amren froze and took a step back. Amren may be apart of the Inner Circle, but Feyre will not hesitate to knock her out of the way of her mate.

He’d be lucky to even be calling her mate after this.

Feyre grabbed the doorknob and turned it. The door opened inward. She stepped in. There he was. Her mate. Standing up from his desk. He looked at her in her eyes. His eyes were full of fear and regret. Good. Feyre wanted him to be afraid.

Slamming the door, growling, Feyre stomped over to her mate as Rhysand backed away. “Now, Feyre Darling.”

“Don’t you Feyre Darling me! You knew this would happen and you kept your mouth shut!?” Feyre yelled, going straight to the point. Rhysand knew what she meant. From the moment he felt Feyre’s sadness and anger, he knew he fucked up poorly. He should’ve known this was coming. And yet, it still shocked him to see his mate like this.

Sighing, Rhysand tired to reason with his wife. “Feyre, I can explain.”

“Oh yes, go on explain! Explain how Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court LIED to his own mate about our baby when he KNEW it was going to kill her!” Feyre recoiled as Rhysand gulped. “Okay well when you put it like that...” Feyre screamed out of rage and walked around the office. She didn’t know what to do. She was just so...furious with her mate. Feyre dead-locked her eyes with his. “I could literally strangle you right now.”

“Feyre, listen. I didn’t know how to tell you.” Feyre laughed but humorlessly. “Tell me. Oh, I don’t know. How about, ‘Hey Feyre, guess what you and your baby are gonna die’. Or ‘Hey Feyre Darling, the doctor says that the baby has wings. Wanna plan our final wills?’“

Rhysand looked down in shame. “Feyre, it wasn’t like I was gonna keep you in the dark forever.”

“Oh really!” Feyre shouted, making Rhysand flinch. “You told Azriel. You told Cassian who told my sister Nesta. You told Amren. You told everyone. Everyone knew but ME!!!” Now, Feyre was on the urge of tears. Rhysand took a step toward his wife, attempting to comfort her. Feyre took a step back. “No! Don’t!”

“Feyre-”

“No! You do not get to touch me!” Feyre took a couple more steps away from Rhysand. Taking the hint, Rhysand stood where he was.

After crying for a few moments, Feyre dried her own tears and looked back at her unfaithful husband. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Feyre asked. She wanted to be angry at her husband. She was. But she also wanted to know why. She couldn’t stand not knowing.

Rhysand sighed again and turned away. “You just got your sisters back Feyre. And everything was going back to normal. With you, happy, loved, and safe. When I heard about you and our baby I just...acted without any regards for your acknowledgement. Feyre, I’m so sorry. Please, for the mother above please forgive me.”

Feyre looked at her husband, now weeping in front of her. It was clear to her that Rhysand still love her. And she still loved him. Her damn stupid heart didn’t hurt enough to get a divorce. But if they are ever gonna be able enough to rebuild their relationship, she has to put her foot down.

Feyre stared at her husband. “I understand why you did it, but it doesn’t mean I trust you. Not yet anyway. If you wanna sleep somewhere, you can sleep in your office or the couch. I don’t care which one it is, but it won’t be the bed.” Rhysand didn’t react to the sleeping arrangements. Feyre continued. “Also, if you wanna communicate, you can’t you the mating bond. You can only do it through Azriel. If you wanna ask me what I want for breakfast, you tell Azriel and he’ll tell me. Same goes for me too. You remain to your High Lord duties or whatever and I’ll paint at my art studio. When I leave, I walk home alone. No exceptions.” Once Feyre was done listing her ground rules, Rhysand stared at her for a moment, a brief expression of hurt showing on his face. It was gone quickly after a nod. “I understand.”

Feyre didn’t respond. She turned her heel and was about to walk out when Rhysand called out. “How long?”

Feyre hesitated. She didn’t know how long. A month? 2? Forever? She didn’t want it to be forever. She just wanted a mate who could tell her everything. To tell her when something’s wrong. To tell her that he was here. That he would never break a promise. She’ll always love her husband no matter what. But if he wanted his wife to win her back, he’s gonna have to do a lot of work.

Without looking back, Feyre replied. “Until I can trust you again.” With that, Feyre walked out of the office, closing the door behind her.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

do u have a favourite lonan and harrison moment?

oh my god SO MANY. One of the first is the veeeery earliest Lonanasona moment from wayyy back in 2015 (book 3 of Fostered, YA dystopian). 13-year-old Rachel was ON IT.

I think in recent years, it's the spin-the-bottle scene in Seventh Virtue which I shared before but I'll share again! I love this scene so much because they're actually flirting WITH each other

OKAY ALSO I love the scene in Feeding Habits when Harrison and Lonan are like we'renotgoingtosleeptogetherwe'renotgoingto- and then do HAHA.

All under the cut w/ my commentary!

Book 3 (2015):

Context is Reeve and Foster are a COUPLE & have been having a chill romantic evening while Lonan and Harrison are out on a ~~mission (let's ignore the fact that the mission is them visiting Harrison's dead girlfriend's grave as an olive branch between them because a) HE'S GAY and b) Lonan is the one who killed her :) ICING OUT THE COMPETITION?? /j).

I think they're 19 here! Scene with my commentary:

“You’ve been hanging out with Ris all day – how do we know that you two haven’t done anything?” Foster asks, and Lonan and Harrison’s faces go pale white. << WELL I WONDER WHY. They turn their heads to stare at each other, looking back in horror, before Harrison starts pacing around the room. This time, he’s slow, and lazy.

“I think – I think I’m gonna… I’m gonna throw up.” Harrison says, and does actually gag, but thankfully keeps his insides in. << NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE CONVINCING BABE

“You know,” Lonan starts, still pale white. “I second that. Foster you’ve just scarred me for life.” <<< ME WHEN I LIE

"What? It’s a… a perfectly normal and acceptable possibility –” << FOSTER SAID GAY RIGHTS

“Really Foster? With Loner? Oh my god, out of all of the guys in this world, you paired me up with LONER?” << the CAPS LOL

“Yeah, well why not? You both seem awfully close –” << HE RIGHT THO

Harrison screams loudly and does look sick to his stomach when I catch his face. “I’d rather die.” << FOR HIM YOU MEAN??

“Me too.” Lonan adds, and I laugh, crossing my legs and arms out in front of me. << LONAN THIS IS NOT CONVINCING AT ALL

“Let’s just all agree that we’re very busy people, and don’t have time to do… other things with anyone no matter their gender.” I say. <<< I SAY THIS TO MYSELF EVERY DAY

“Agreed.” They chorus together, and that’s the end of that.

More of that:

Shaking his head with a laugh, Foster wipes the back of his hand against his mouth and turns back to Ris. “How’d your trip go?”

“How’d your trip go?” Harrison fires back, head between his knees like he’s trying to calm the nausea. “All this love bullshit is driving me nuts.” << WHY SO DEFENSIVE HAHA THEY DEFINITELY FUCKED

“Is that because your feelings for Lonan are so strong –”

“Oh fuck you! If I liked a guy – and there’s nothing wrong with that – that guy would not be Loner –” <<< LOL

“You guys are practically a married old couple. You even have nicknames for each other…” << MEANT TO BE

Seventh Virtue (2021):

In the canon projects, Lonan and Harrison are :) disasters :) and Lonan also doesn't want to be in a relationship with Harrison (LIES but he's afraid lol), so there's so much angst at the foundation of their relationship. Seventh Virtue is different because their origin story is completely changed. From the start, they're attracted to each other and flirt from the moment they meet!

This scene has it all: Harrison DRAWING, sexual tension, banter, Lonan actually being a confident person!!! Everything they want in canon but suck too bad to have LMAO.

Context: Harrison is quite literally Lonan's prisoner <3 sexy <3

On Harrison and Lonan’s fifth unofficial date, Lonan brought dinner for two. Harrison had been scumbling a portrait of the man five cells over onto the concrete floor, or at least had attempted to. He’d managed to snag an HB pencil off the medic the second time she’d come to inspect his palm. She’d wielded a clipboard then, and had gone down a list of symptoms, most likely for sepsis. Harrison waited for when she’d finished ticking off each box with the pencil, then asked her to re-examine his wound. He said he’d felt a sudden burning and was concerned about an infection. With one hand clutched in the medic’s, he used the other to slip the pencil from the clipboard’s holster, and so, it was his.

He didn’t bother hiding this find from Lonan. Their mutual understanding was that Harrison would take what he pleased while in custody, and Lonan would be too impressed by his skill to reprimand him. At least Harrison hoped he’d be impressed. He was a thief, not blind.

“Have you come to poison me?” Harrison asked, gesturing to the silver pots Lonan had shuffled in on a red plastic tray. “I’ve always wanted to be poisoned. There’s something kind of sexy about never knowing the exact moment the poison really kicks in.” << LOL he's down bad

Lonan settled the tray on the ground. After a moment, he took a seat in front of it, taking care to adjust his freshly-ironed trousers. << typical

“You’re in CEO mode today,” Harrison said, mildly furious but also disgustingly satisfied by the clean wash of his blue button-up. “The last time you were here you were all Casual Friday.”

Lonan unscrewed the cap of the first pot. It steamed, swelled the holding cells with the scent of chili and anise. Harrison’s stomach lurched at the smell; in truth, he had not eaten well since his capture, and that must’ve been days prior, perhaps even a full week before. The man who did bring his three daily meals often dropped the containers purposefully so Harrison had two choices: starve, or eat off the floor like an animal. Sweat pearled on his forehead the more containers Lonan opened.

“I know,” Harrison said, trying to distract himself from his hunger by shading the portrait’s eye. Hatch, hatch, hatch. “You’re here to make me your official food taster.” Hatch. “You said you wanted to give me a job.” Hatch, hatch, hatch. “I’ll never know what I’m going to get.” Hatch. “Kung pao chicken or cyanide.”

“You’re left-handed.” << this delivery is SOOO Lonan

Harrison nearly took out the portrait’s eye. “What?” he asked.

Lonan undid the lid of the final silver pot; it shimmered with broth. He gestured toward the pencil, stubby and clutched in Harrison’s palm. “I’m going to have to confiscate that, you know.” Lonan laid out each pot on the cold floor, then unveiled two plastic plates, and a set of pre-packaged cutlery. “I hope you’re not allergic to anything.”

“So you cut me, arrest me, throw me down here, and now you want to dine with me?” << HA

“Yes,” Lonan said. He ripped open his cutlery packet, slipped out the black fork. As he unloaded bouts of fried rice, mounds of glossed orange chicken, and a generous helping of black pepper beef, he added, “And I didn’t cut you. You did that yourself.”

Harrison snorted. Oh god, he was starving. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the façade before he started drooling. “That’s because you were going to stab me in the gut,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to stab you.” << normal tuesday for them

“So what were you going to do with the knife? Use it to play spin the bottle with me?” << the LEAP LOL

Lonan arched a brow. “Would you like to play spin the bottle with me?”

“If you’re the one I’d kiss, then sure.”

This made them both smile, sort of. They equally bit their amusement for the other, tried to pocket it, ignore it, but it was there, their tangible joy. << EEEEE

“Please stop being stubborn and come eat something,” Lonan said, after a moment had passed.

“Please?” Harrison crossed his arms, slotting the pencil into his jacket pocket. “What else are you willing to do to convince me? You said I’m valuable, right?” << WHAT ELSE ARE YOU WILLING TO DO TO CONVINCE ME HAHA

“I don’t think I used those words, but sure.”

“Then show me why I should accept your takeout instead of starving myself to death.”

Lonan sighed. There really was little to gain in Harrison’s challenge. He actually had not planned on starving himself to death, but the idea of using his life as a bargaining chip excited him. Whatever skill he had, he could use to push and pull Lonan. He was valuable. Still, he stayed exactly where he was, trying not to vomit at the smell of good food he certainly wanted so badly.

Harrison watched Lonan as he rose, slowly, dusting himself as he went, bringing his set of cutlery with him. There was very little point to this—the holding cells, all located in a damp, sunless basement, were akin to dust bowls. There was no way to avoid it. Still, he flicked lint off his good shirt, adjusted his collar. Then he walked toward Harrison and kneeled in front of him.

It was more of a treat than a threat to have Lonan so close. He was maddeningly put-together, smelled once again of vanilla and sandalwood. He was the type of person who likely carried a comb around with them—his hair was split perfectly down the middle, a thin, pale thread indicating his parting. When he looked at Harrison, his eyes like burning forget-me-nots, Harrison looked at the portrait he’d half-finished. This is why he didn’t understand what the sound was, a plasticky whirring, until he glanced back in Lonan’s direction. << THE WAY I'M ONLY NOW REALIZING THAT THE WAY LONAN CONVINCES HARRISON TO EAT IS TO PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE WITH HIM THEREFORE SUGGESTING HE'S GOING TO KISS HIM AHHH BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT'S WHAT HARRISON WANTS AHHHH

A plastic knife twirled along the concrete, slowing to a stop at Harrison. He should not have been surprised that this is what that godforsaken handsome devil had done. It was both sweet, and irritating.

When Lonan reached for Harrison’s injured hand that at this point, had healed almost fully due to the medic’s assistance, Harrison didn’t resist. A line of butterflies fluttered through his chest. Lonan’s touch was cold. Disastrously careful. He turned it so his palm was face up and they both saw its wide, neat stitches. The medic had done a good job. In a day or so, Harrison would be back to normal, like nothing ever happened. But still, Lonan held his hand. Then like a prince, he bowed his head and kissed it. <<< OKAY LONAN HAS GAME LONAN HAS GAME

Feeding Habits (2021):

I love this scene because it's just the epitome of... them. Trying to do everything right and still managing to do everything SO wrong, not communicating properly being their love language, etc, etc. Talking about murder right before they kiss, LOL.

Harrison breaks their rule, or maybe they choose to break it together. There they are, draped across a single mattress, one on each side. Harrison considered splitting the bed with pillows, though there are only two and currently two heads that need supporting. He also considered rolling off his side and crashing, literally, on the floor, but maybe it’s the wine, or maybe he’s just tired, or maybe it’s something else entirely, a weak pulse in his throat aching for something familiar, or the veil of something familiar at the very least. He doesn’t know what he expects. If, in some fleeting, idiotic thought, he imagines a reality where they’ll somehow find the other, fuse bodies. That they’ll swap skin, breathe into each other’s mouths. In reality, sleeping next to Lonan after all this time is so much like sleeping alone. << this LINE

“Do you miss him?”

Harrison startles. Though he’s so hyper-aware of the person next to him, the smallest amount of space he attempts to occupy, it’s surprising to hear Lonan speak. Harrison foresaw this trip as being one giant loop of silence. It’s past midnight now—he expected this silence to intensify by this point. In some ways, it does. When Lonan swallows, nervous or maybe in severe need of water, Harrison hears the way his body seizes against the mattress, like he’s stopped breathing in that millisecond.

“Your mother told me Foster boarded with you for a few months.”

“Boarded makes it sound so formal,” Harrison says. It could have been, and in ways, might have been, the distance between two friends enough to make things feel palpably strange. In the mornings, Harrison would find Foster already awake, and they’d greet each other, saying, Hello, Hello, How are you, How are you. It was no one’s fault but Harrison’s—it was much easier to live blandly, in a safe cycle of dullness. One day, Foster was there, making an effort, trying to be a friend, and the next, he’d packed up, probably doubting his ability to be a person for how little Harrison wanted to interact with him. Even now, it’s difficult to feel guilty, even though Harrison should be. He understands he did not deserve the hand he’d been extended, and also understands he had no obligation to take it, no matter how much he should have. It’s selfish, how easily he rejected Foster’s presence, but also human. Or at least this is how he justifies it to himself.

“Do you miss him?”

“Is this question about yourself?” << JSJDJNSKJ Harrison turns to him, his jaw peaked delicately in profile. Lonan doesn’t meet his gaze, but Harrison knows he wants to. The very dome of his eyes glimmer, straining against the need to move. Harrison wets his lips, inhales, and as if tempting the eyes, says, “I didn’t miss you, Lonan,” despite how much of a lie this is. << AT LEAST HE ADMITS HE'S LYING HA

This gets the reaction he wants: Lonan turns also, and there he is, an open face, ready, so easy to ingest. Harrison could do so many things to that face. << OH CHRIST He could pry it right open, unlock the secrets woven across it and take them for himself. He could scream into it as if it’s the gaping hole that once was his ceiling back at the apartment, a space that never ended and also a space he never wanted to leave. Instead, he lifts a hand, and presses it right against it.

Lonan is cyan in the moonlight, but unexpectedly warm. This is another thing that’s wrong. Where did he get it—all this blood needling his body? Since when did he live, this walking dead man?

“You’re dead,” Harrison says, or maybe he whispers this, or maybe he only justifies even uttering this because of the wine. Lonan’s skin twitches, and this is disarming, how it deliberately betrays what Harrison says. It should be easy to control. Things this hidden always are.

“Then who killed me?” Lonan asks. Everything about him hums—his chest, his lips, his throat.

Harrison moves. He shouldn’t. God, that wine. But there he shifts, close enough to hear the weak rattle of Lonan’s heart. He once knew this sound so well, but even now, its rhythm is so unfamiliar. “Could’ve been anyone.”

“But who?”

“Me,” Harrison says. “Or Eliza. Or maybe we did it together. So many possibilities and so many outcomes.” << will graham behaviour

This is true. If he thinks about it, Harrison can nearly visualize the alternate life paths that could’ve been triggered right on the motel wall. What if things had gone differently? Consider the butterfly effect: what would have happened all those months ago, had Harrison returned to Eliza’s apartment, brought Lonan’s gum back with him because he’s a good man, not a leech? What would have happened if Lonan packed whatever of his things he kept in that Vegas apartment, shoved them in a car Harrison didn’t own, and split the drive back to the east fifty-fifty? What would have happened if they’d settled in Brooklyn and not Manhattan, a more familiar city to Harrison, brand new for Lonan? What would have happened if they’d both gotten jobs at the same convenience store, spent most of their time working eight-hour days, but sometimes, and only sometimes, having enough time to lie with each other on a potential futon and watch rented foreign films they had no desire in returning? What would have happened if they’d turned into each other’s bodies, learned the places they could absorb into the other and allowed just that to happen—a blending of cells, one by one. How would they know one another—would they know one another? The minute change the hardwood floors would make depending on who stepped, the exact minute they’d usually wake up? Would it have been easier then, to fully convince themselves their relationship was right? Stable? Ready? What would have happened if they’d landed anywhere but here, at some cheap motel, sweating through their clothes because the heater is turned up so high? Oh, trapped in this initial condition. << this. paragraph.

Maybe they move closer to each other at the same time. Lonan’s wisped hair brushing Harrison’s forehead. Harrison’s hand heavying into Lonan’s living skin. Maybe this is just a single one of their infinite possibilities, where they breathe into each other’s mouths, so close they’ve nearly fused. Maybe this is just one outcome, where Lonan’s inhale rattles, and Harrison’s exhale does the exact same thing. One outcome where Lonan admits, “I’m asking about myself,” and his previous question doesn’t even need to be repeated. One outcome where Harrison nudges his top lip against a mouth he doesn’t know, but in another time could have, recognizing its unfamiliarity immediately as he says, “I didn’t think about you at all.”

I'M SCCCRRREAMING HAHA gotta analyze harrison's "i didn't think about you at all" for the podcast!

[streetsiblings]

I might have just sent this ask twice because internet problems but what if street siblings au after Jason tragically dies Steph and Tim become robin at the same time, Steph as Robin and with brass knuckles as her weapon and Tim as Red Robin with his staff and also doing more detective work than patrol

Oh my goodness YESSSS I LOVE that, Steph and Tim being their own Dynamic Duo is just...👌.

No joke, I had a friend suggest the very same thing so I already have a whole

thing, where Tim is the red Robin and Steph is the green one (I think I saw someone comment on the fact that she wears a lot of green?). I feel like they’d call Steph something like Pixie (partly because she looks a lot like Tinker Bell and partly because of her insane good luck) and Tim might just be Robin for tradition’s sake. Don’t know how it’d fit into the au but I think they’d be cute partners.

[cynettic]

I just read Kitsune reader x yan Scaramouche's fic, may I have gotten hooked on it? and of course, it's just perfect and that's why I'm here to lose a part two with nsfw, thank you in advance and understand if you refuse:3

Link to Part 1

Summary - Taking you captive, Scaramouche continues to see you as a pillar of support. Coming back home to have you there, always. Even if it meant chaining you up.

Pairings - F!Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Smut, slight noncon ( I tried to make it as consensual as possible but its difficult with yandere themes ), fingering, electricity play

Rating - NSFW

Penpal - Ahhh I'm actually beginning to get attached to this series, might end up writing a couple more posts with different hc and stuff. I hope you liked the post though, have a great day <3

A/N - The literal definition of the ‘stoic cruel boy who’s mean to everyone but you.’ Oh well, Scaramouche is ooc af, but I did change a few things in his backstory so its supposed to make sense for this story ;) Also- since we dont know Scaramouche’s actual name, I have the reader still… yknow, call him Scaramouche. Which is kinda weird cause its his harbinger name but oh well. Also, credit to @cycletr4in for proofreading it ;3

Taglist - @cursedraiden

Stay with Me pt.2

Scaramouche was a gentle captor.

In contrast to piercing eyes and harsh stares when it came to others, he had a soft spot for you. Like the ice that encased him whole melted at your touch, craving for the warmth only you could give him. For your arms around him, to play pretend and imagine he were a child, free, fearless, unbound. A child in your arms, safe and protected.

But you were held hostage, which meant that the chains around your wrists and legs held you down and secured you. Like you were bound to one spot like you’d always been, except this time you didn't have a choice.

You weren't waiting for the Kitsune Saiguu.

Hell, you didn't even have your vision.

This brought on resentment for the dark haired boy. You hated him, you despised him for holding you down under his own judgment. But at the same time, all you saw in him was a child, a little kid who hadn't had the time to grow up. The one who refused to do so because it was his only way to survive in the type of world he lived in. Hide behind that same facade he developed as a kid, snide remarks and unrelenting cruelty.

Just to come back to your arms, sobbing because he was still that child. Sobbing because he was still hurt. Sobbing because you were still his beacon of light, of hope.

He depended on you.

And as much as you built up harsh words to use against him, they dissolved in your mouth when you saw him. His vulnerability that he saved for you and you only. A deep part of you cared for him, a little too much.

Gentle fingers brushed through the locks of Scaramouche’s hair, twirling it around and playing with the strands. It was smooth, a small detail no one would have the chance to notice from the distance he put around himself and others. A quiet hum left his lips as he leaned against your chest, eyes fluttering closed against the soothing feeling of you against him.

The lavish silk sheets were soft against your skin, pillow pushing your form to sit up. Just enough to have Scaramouche in your arms, knees on either side of his body as his head rested under your chin. His chest rose and descended, almost on beat with yours, if not just a tad slower.

You hoped he wouldn't hear the way your heart thrummed against your chest.

Warmth, his body flushed against yours, the luxury of a bed and the small candlelight on your bedside. Different from what you’d grown into just on the side of the trail, sitting for decades. Or with your time with the Kitsune Saiguu, it was never this warm, never this gentle.

But this warmth ended at your beating heart, furiously blazing. Sending an urge of adrenaline through your body, whispering ‘run’ through your veins. A primal urge that would've had your hands around Scaramouche’s neck, till he was wrangling and dead.

Till you could escape.

Hand slowly sliding down his jawline, you let your gentle fingers ghost along the soft skin of his neck. Claws outstretched and ready, sharp and pointed with a deadly intent to kill. You could end him so quickly, overturn his trust and make an escape. You deserved it, you deserved freedom. Not a delusional boy who thought himself protector against someone who’s lived decades more than him.

Jolting at the sensation of a soft grip on your wrist, you watched with idle fascination as he simply cupped your wrist in his hold. Not stopping you, not restraining you, he simply brought your hand to his face. To his lips where he pressed the softest of kisses into your palm. So heartfelt and genuine that all you could do was freeze, not even considering clawing his face.

“I love you.”

You both stayed in that position for a few moments more, silence cradling the tension that slowly dissipated from your body. Forlorn eyes watching as he shift the angle of your wrist to kiss your fingertips. He wasn't waiting for an answer, basking in these soft moments where he could hide in your hold. Like a child, forced to grow up too quickly, yearning back for his foolish naivety, yearning for the childhood he missed.

You were that childhood.

Which is why he clung to you so dearly, showed expressions he didnt know he could make, hold you captive under the impression that it was ‘right.’ What he was doing was okay.

Claws retracted, you pursued your lips, holding back the tears of frustration that burned at your eyes. You hated him, hated him for the chains on your wrists, for the disappearance of your vision that you’d given so much value to. Hated him for the warmth he still made you feel.

You hated him.

You felt like a housewife in some respects. Not with the cleaning and cooking part, and of course no children were part of the equation. But in terms of support, you stayed rooted to that room, loose chains too strong for you to break or tug holding you down. Window was too far, and you were stuck moving around the bed and the desk that sat just a little farther away.

Attempts at having your vision back or more freedom in movement had been discussed with Scaramouche, but as childlike and free as he acted with you, he was not an idiot.

“I don’t plan on underestimating you,” was his answer, head resting on the plush of your chest. “You’re strong, always were. But I have to take extremes to make sure you don’t get hurt, some people out there are stronger than you.”

You wanted to point out that there were a ton of people stronger than him as well, but you kept your mouth shut. “Can I at least see the house? I’ve been cooped up here for so long…”

And he cant say no to such an innocent request as that right?

So he unlocks the chains, the vision at his side reminding you that he was strong. You solely knew that he’d been tough as a kid, and under the intensive training he’d seemed to endure, he was much much stronger. You werent willing to give it a go and lose his trust just yet.

Not like he really trusted you anyways-

At the very least, you’d hoped to get some sort of blueprint of the house, and all you’d received was confusion and your mind making up that the house itself was a maze.

“Didnt we… just pass through here?”

Glancing at the obvious frustration on your face, Scaramouche chuckled, pulling your arm through the hallways you swear you’d seen three times prior. “Nope, most of the hallways look pretty similar. The house wasn't built for dumbasses.”

You flashed him a look and were about to make some snideish rebuttal before you saw the smirk. You knew what he was doing, trying to comfort you with casual arguments you both used to have. Consisting of you telling him to work on his people skills, and him calling you a lazy ass. Of course you missed it, but you also knew you couldn't go back to it.

And then there was the issue when you learned that he was a harbinger.

A scene you didnt want to replay in your head, when a maid burst into your room, Scaramouche acting a tad more intimate. He had an awful tendency to do that, hug your waist and press his face against the crook of your neck. Press gentle kisses down the length of your shoulder that had you shuddering. You weren't used to intimacy, and considering you’d watched him grow up, it was just weird.

Stuttering, the maid had demanded that he was requested by the Tsarista. You’d seen the fear in her eyes when Scaramouche slowly turned to her, seen the unshakable immobility of standing under his gaze.

“Do not enter.” He said, “It’s on the door.”

That was the first time you’d seen Scaramouche kill.

You hoped it’d be the last.

But you’d seen death before, so much death in the time of the Kitsune Saiguu. And for a few seconds, you found yourself fearless as you yanked against the chains, yelling at his figure at the doorway.

“Tsarista?” You snarled, standing just a few feet away from him. His hand on the girls neck, clenching around the pretty skin of hers. Disgusted, the chains that held you back from closing the gap and throwing the girl away from him were impossible to overcome. “Why the hell does she need you?!”

‘Let go,’ you wanted to say. ‘Let her go, she’s going to die.’

It worked, because the ironclad grip was gone, the maid tumbling to the ground lifelessly. You’d been too late, and now her blood was on his hands, your hands. This was your fault and you had half the self control not to thrash against the chains with sharp claws, hands on his neck.

The hard steel gaze vanished in an instant, and like he’d regained his senses, he took a few steps to you. Hands clenching to fists before loosening to fingertips brushing against his palms. Confusion, regret and guilt clouded his features like a child waiting to be reprimanded. You didn't back away, stood firm and fierce when standing and keeping a tough front.

You wanted to cry.

“Its… its a long story.” He finally stated to your question, and when you didnt budge, he took a deep breath. In control again, he closed the distance between the two of you, “I’m sorry.” And that same thrum of electricity jolted through your body, sending you into a spiral of the girls lifeless eyes and Scaramouche’s childlike eyes. Till everything went black.

You woke up with the body gone. Scaramouche was gone as well.

You learned that Scaramouche liked to have things his way. Which meant that he was always in control, always had control of every situation.

Even in those short stretches of vulnerability when he rested in your arms, he still held something over you. And you had to adapt, shift for his wishes, coddle him and stay as his beacon. Because he was stronger, and even if you’d find some way to escape, he would find you.

It was odd, and you slowly let go of the image of him as a child, you knew he was a lot older. He’d probably reached the age your body was stuck in, and with every sweet kiss he pressed to your lips, you knew he saw you as some sort of lover. But as someone who wasn't in control, you simply had to play along, just until you found some way to make your escape.

Without killing him.

_-_-_-_-_

“Strip.”

Laying on one side of the bed, your eyes jolted open at the commanding voice. Slowly, you sat up, eyeing the dim figure at the doorway. Without the help of a candle or the moonlight at the window, you could distinguish Scaramouche at the doorway, taking off the large headpiece as he flung it to the ground.

“Excuse me…?” Your voice was soft, rusty after an evening nap.

“I’ll make you feel good,” was his only answer. Slowly making his way to the bedside till he could properly face you. His eyes were soft, but there was an odd sort of determination that you hadnt seen before. You held back his stare, confusion lacing your features when he suddenly started pulling off loose decorations that hung on his clothes. Just till he unlaced the vest and slid off his shirt. “Don’t worry.” But you didnt know quite what he meant until he leaned further to you, catching you off guard.

So you yelped when his hands suddenly slammed down on your shoulders, shifting you to have access to the buttons of your top layer. He was quick when undoing them, simply swatting away at your hands when you protested and tried to pull him away. Throwing it to the edge of the room when he was done, you could only thrash in horror when he undid your trousers just as quickly, pulling them down before you could grab them back up.

“Scaramouche? Hey-”

And then he threw you down on the bed, exposing you in your undergarments in the cool air of the room. Shivers crept up your spine and bristled across your skin, and before you could curl up to at the very least hide away, you felt a tug at your chains. Fear finally settled in when you saw Scaramouche attach the chain to the bedpost, until your hand was lifted up and he began to do the same to the other.

“Wait wait wait, stop and explain what you’re-”

Only then did he pause from what he was doing, slowly looking down to properly face you. His eyes slid up and down your body, and he took a step towards you. “I’ll make you feel good,” were his only words, and you were forced to take them as all he was planning on giving you. Only when he sat on the bed next to you did you realize what he meant, hand settling on your shoulder, waiting.

“Alright,” you said slowly. Painfully, the words bit your tongue, but you were merciless against someone who had control against the situation. You could say no and you knew Scaramouche would stop, he was gentle to you and you only. And even if he’d been firm just before, you knew that he’d still stop if you asked him to.

A part of you felt thrilled to have that power over him.

Another part of you just wanted to escape.

But you didnt have any hope to do so unless you were willing too give him everything. Because he expected everything and would do anything in his power to obtain it. You’d let him fiddle around with this delusion, thinking that he had control. Until he didnt.

Which is why you didnt flinch when his hand gently slid up your stomach, cold against the warmth you’d had under the blankets. Rubbing gingerly against your skin and drawing smooth shapes over before he slowly slid over your body. His eyes seemed to glint under the darkness of the room, lust filled and wanting.

You didnt shift uncomfortably, you pretended to be that doll he expected you to be.

Just staring up at him as he slowly leaned down to kiss you. His lips felt like snowflakes on a winters day, idly swaying side to side to catch one in your mouth. Jolting like electricity when they melted into your touch, red and swollen when he pulled back. You now vividly felt every touch, as if a current flowed and static jittered in the places he briefly brushed his fingertips.

“You always take such good care of me,” he breathed, lips slowly drifting down your chin. Just past your jawline and right on your neck. The space between your head and shoulder, a soft vulnerable spot that had your lips humming at the affectionate pressure. “Its my turn to take care of you.”

And then his lips were everywhere, collarbone, shoulders, cleavage. Just until his teeth were tugging off your bra, face nuzzled in between both breasts. Both of his hands now resided on your hips, grabbing both thighs to hold them up and against him. You could feel him hard, pressing so close to your heated core.

You managed to keep your reactions in check.

Just until he slowly grinded against you, mouth on your breasts as he again pecked the soft mounds, molding his lips against them as if he could remember the texture, memorize the feel. It was just to that point that mindless sounds slipped past your lips, turning to gasps when his hands on your thighs suddenly buzzed, and static rushed in. Your legs felt weak, entire body thrumming in response to the electricity he sent jolting.

He was using his vision.

The realization was numb against his lips on your breasts, hands slowly stroking the skin of your sides, travelling up. He hovered over you for mere seconds before mashing his lips against you once more, different. He was no longer gentle, and it was with the contact on your tail that you lost all control. When he gently moved it out of the way, backing up.

You were a mess.

Not that you tried to be, you’d been doing your best not to enjoy his touch. But it was hard when your core heated up so fast, mashing both legs together in hopes he wouldn't notice. You knew he would, any action beyond that was just you trying to save your dignity.

He sat there like he was enjoying the sight, the first time you’d seen him actually portray any visual confirmation of satisfaction towards the chains. He’d drink dry any ounce of control you gave him, and it was impossible not to give him it all when you were visionless and vulnerable.

But the dignity you struggled so hard to keep shattered when his hands brushed against your inner thigh.

Fingers slowly made their way to the padded fabric of your undergarments, two digits rubbing the area slowly with expertise. You bit your lip, muffling any groan of anticipation, hiding the way your hips tried to rock back into the gesture. Desperate, oh so desperate. Hiding back the whimpers as he slowly quickened the pace of his fingers against your garments. “Archons Y/n,” he murmured. “I haven't even put anything in and you’re already a squirming mess.”

“Shut u-up,” was all you managed, trying to shift away from the pressure against your clit. But his other hand was on your hip, holding in place. You could only watch and press your thighs tightly together as he slowly slid down your panties, resuming hovering over you. Distracting you with kisses, his fingers gently stroked your core, two fingers slowly sliding into your cunt using your juices.

He was gentle when pumping both fingers in and out, too slow when you thrust your hips to meet his fingers, pleading for him to go faster. But he liked hearing your cries, slowing down when you begged, quickening when you whined and just lay there, taking it.

You shuddered the first time electricity jolted from his digits.

It was when he had three fingers that he sent the static up your body, back arching with such intensity that it even had him chuckling. “Oh? You like it that much?” And then it is like something buzzed against your body, fingers vibrating against your clit as your thighs tightened around his hand. So much that you thought you’d crush it, but it didn't matter, not with the electrifying feeling against your body. It felt so odd, so overwhelmingly good that it had your legs sliding up and down the bedside, toes curling as the static grew and you fell paralyzed to his touch.

It didn't take long with his fingers thrusting in and out of you to cum. Moaning mess when he gave you the time to breathe, teeth biting your bottom lip and then mashing against yours. Your eyes grew fuzzy and most happened in a haze, and all you knew the entire time was that you’d given yourself to him, and that it felt good. You couldn't see the childlike wonder in his eyes anymore, not the need of a beacon or of support. No, the look he shared was feral, the smile tinting his lips almost scary. But it felt too good to care, and you let yourself enjoy his ministrations.

He pulled out and suddenly his own shorts were undone, boxers thrown to the side of the room just like all your other clothing. You didn't see how big he was, just felt his hard shaft against your throbbing cunt, pussy dripping and legs open wide and tired after your first go at it.

You expected him to be gentle like he’d been with his fingers. But he pressed the tip against your core, and in one full motion he was in. Teeth grinding against each other, you held back a scream, shock coursing through your body, overwhelmed with pain and discomfort. It hurt. But it was quickly overshadowed by his movements as he slid in and out of you, slow when pulling his hips back, and rocking himself completely inside you each time. A pattern that let you catch your breath and lose it all the same. Like he was continuously having a go at hitting the deepest parts of you, pulling back before fully thrusting into you and sending waves of pleasure and pain alike.

It was expected, but you couldnt hear yourself.

Not with your mind trapped in a haze of how he felt, body still buzzing after how he’d pulsed his vision through you. And now you were at the mercy of his member, hips swaying along with his, no energy for you to rock with him and try to push him deeper.

Archons, you didn't even think he could go deeper.

But you were proven wrong again and again as he kept the steady pace, hands clawing at your ass and hips. Stabilizing himself and trying to press himself against you, as far as he could go. Slowly, his hands drifted up to your hair, playing with the soft sensation of your furry ears. Pinching and rubbing, fingers coaxing the back of them like a massage. So gentle, but it paled in comparison to the harsh treatment of his dick.

You came first, gripping the chain with your hands in an attempt to stay stable. Walls clenching around him one last time before you got your release, your moans turning into cries when he continued to thrust into you. Your body felt numb, all nerves centred on the way he pounded into you, chasing his own release.

When he did, he pressed his head into your chest, his own breaths heavy with pleasure. Not pulling out, you could only lay there helplessly as his seed filled you, warm in contrast to the electricity he’d shot up your body just earlier. He didnt pull out, and laying in your chest, your heavy breathing didnt stop until he was asleep, collapsing on you and using you as support yet again.

Taking only a minute later to regain control of your senses, you shifted uncontrollably at his member inside of you, sending waves of pleasure every time you moved. Your wrists were restrained and you were stuck in this position till morning.

Achingly, you looked down at the boy, wondering how you would ever manage to escape.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Prey

got a request for a monster!Uvo as well as a request for an Uvo fic where he chases the reader. hope it’s cool that I combined the two of them

@ramwrites​ and I are in agreement that werewolf is the best type of monster for Uvogin

werewolf!Uvogin

Warnings: death, blood, gore, body horror, little bit of smut, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of cannibalism, attempted suicide, implied kidnapping, reader does not have a good time

Thin rays of sun that were able to slip past the branches of the trees hit Uvo's back as he went about his work, placing another upright log on the now considerably worn down tree stump and bringing his axe down upon it, slicing the wood in two and tossing the pieces into the pile to his right before he grabbed another unchopped piece from the pile to the left. Based off of the sun's position in the sky, it was only a bit after midday. Uvogin had been going at this for a while now, his sweat staining the white tank he wore.

Though the sweating wasn't because the work was in any way debilitating. Any other day of the month Uvogin would've been able to chop the same amount and not even break a sweat.

No, today was different because of what was happening tonight: a full moon.

Even though the night was still a long ways off, Uvo could already feel the very beginnings of his transformation shuddering through him. Faint, but still noticable. Unfortunately, with the ever present fact that nightfall wouldn't come for hours yet, there was little he could to other than to keep himself busy and distract himself lest the anticipation kill him. So he continued to chopping the logs, even though the amount he had cut already was bordering on excessive.

In the midst of his distraction, his ears perked up when he heard the faint rumblings of a car engine. His senses of smell and hearing were always pretty good even when it wasn't close to a full moon, but those senses were ten times as sharp now, and he could clearly hear as the car came in closer and closer.

Whoever they were, they wouldn't be the first people to have approached him today. Already he'd been asked two different times for directions to the nearby campgrounds, the first time by an elderly couple who were likely well into retirement, and the second by a group of individuals who had also gotten lost. The woman from that group who went up to him told him more information than he'd needed to know, informing him of how theirs was a company sanctioned team-building retreat. She had a piece of gum in her mouth and smacked it loudly as she talked, and because of his sensitive hearing, the sound of it became distressing to the point that Uvo had to keep himself from clawing his ears off.

Everyone in that group deserved to die because of that woman alone.

Uvogin didn't stop what he was doing even when he heard the car drive past and then suddenly brake, just continuing as he was while he heard the sounds of a car door opening and someone stepping out. Words were being spoken; what was being said exactly he couldn't say, but based off of previous experience it was easy enough to guess.

The car door slammed shut and the engine rumbled again as the car began to drive further down the dirt road. It'd be back in a little bit – over that way was a dead end. But Uvogin quickly switched his focus to the footsteps he heard walking through the unmarked pathway and headed towards him.

“Excuse me?”

He heard your voice call out to him, and Uvo finally turned to face you. Upon making eye contact with him, you smiled and held up a map as you called out again “sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help out with some directions? We're looking for the Visca lake campgrounds, but I think we've been going around in circles.”

You didn't come any closer when you said that, though it seemed to be more out of a desire to not intrude on his space as opposed to being nervous about the axe he was holding. There was a hopeful look in your eye, though you also seemed ready to apologize for bugging him if he instead told you to fuck off.

Already he knew he liked you much better than the bitch from earlier.

“Sure,” he replied.

Uvo set the axe down and walked towards you, his hand outstretched so you could hand him your map. You smiled and handed him the map without any hesitation, coming up beside him as he unfolded it and scanned the paper so he could give you an idea of what direction you needed to go. The height difference between the two of you meant that he needed to lean down a bit as he pointed out to you the appropriate road that would get you to your destination.

“The road to the campgrounds is here,” he told you.

Despite the way he had tried to accommodate the height difference, you still needed to stand on your toes to see where he was pointing. Your arm came up briefly before you swiftly pulled it back. Like you'd been tempted to place your hand on his forearm to better balance yourself but stopped yourself since the two of you were complete strangers. Though Uvo wouldn't have minded too much if you had done so. Taking advantage of the way you were right next to him, he inhaled, memorizing your scent for later.

Uvo then moved his finger towards the left as he continued “we're around this area, so you'll want to drive back the way you came and take the first right you see. Then you'll want to take another right to get onto the campground road. As long as you don't fuck up turning, you should get to the lake in about ten minutes. Maybe less.”

“Ah, okay!” you responded, taking back your map as you looked over the route he'd pointed out to you. As you were desperate to make sure you got his directions right so you wouldn't need to be in the embarrassing situation of messing up his instructions and needing to go back to him for further clarification, you didn't notice the way he was looking you over or how he inhaled more of your scent.

Your hair smelled of something flowery, some kind of hair product you must have used that morning before you drove out here. Your clothing also had a rather soapy smell, though it wasn't as noticeable as the product in your hair. Beneath all of that, he was able to take in your natural scent that was free of any products or chemicals, as well as... Perfume? An odd choice for a camping trip, he thought. Then another smell hit him, one that surrounded you but you were definitely not the source of.

Oh.

It was the unmistakable scent of another man.

The perfume made more sense now. You'd said 'we' earlier as well, so chances were you'd come here with a boyfriend for a romantic weekend getaway and his smell has just gotten all over you after spending several hours cooped up in a car with him.

Not terribly displeasing. A boyfriend being in the picture might make things a bit more interesting.

“Okay, I think I've got it,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts, “sorry if I took up too much of your time.”

“No problem,” he answered, “I get a lotta people asking for directions, so I'm used to it.”

“Really? That sounds like it gets annoying. Why don't they put up signs or something?” you asked.

“They do,” Uvo said, “but they usually get taken down by vandals.”

More like self-righteous teenagers who'd found out the truth about him and couldn't stand the fact that the elders of the nearby town allowed Uvogin to do as he pleased and thought they could thwart his killing sprees by taking down the signs leading to the lake, like they could save any innocent vacationers if they weren't able to find the campgrounds. Those kids had yet to learn that if they managed to deprive Uvo of his prey, he'd be forced to go to their own town and hunt there, maybe snatch up one of them or their families. The older folk in charge of the town understood that, and they'd decided that it was better to let the occasional out of town stranger be his prey than risk him coming in and picking off whatever stragglers he could find in their community.

People vacationing in the wilderness died all the time, after all.

“Vandals?” you asked. There was the slightest bit of concern in your voice, and when your eyes went slightly wide as you looked at him, he couldn't help but muse at how cute you looked like that.

“Just dumb kids,” he explained, “there's a small town a little ways back and I reckon they don't have much to do around there.”

“Ah, I see. Do you think we'll need to worry about them bothering us?”

“Nah, they wouldn't do anything,” Uvo said, “besides, they know that I'm out here today, and they know better than to bug me.”

You laughed a bit at that, any deeper meaning to his words going over your head.

“I can't blame them. If I was one of them I'd be too scared to do anything to get on your bad side.”

Uvogin just smiled.

A voice then called at the top of the path, and you both looked to see a dark-haired man around your age standing there. He called out what Uvo assumed was your name, and you waved to him, calling out a short “coming!” before you turned back to Uvogin.

“Thank you again for your help. I really appreciate it,” you told him.

“Once again, not a problem. Hope you two have a good time.”

You smiled and nodded at him, and then began to walk back over to your boyfriend. But before you had the chance to bid him goodbye, Uvogin spoke again.

“You wanna know something that's not in any visitor's guides?” he asked.

“Huh?”

He grinned at your slightly confused expression as he explained “if you go down to the southern side of the lake, there are these really beautiful cliffs in the forest. A lot of clearings that show a pretty good view of the sky, too. And it's a full moon tonight; if you want to make some memories, you should check it out when it gets dark.”

Clearly intrigued, you turned back to face him, asking “really? Why isn't that part advertised?”

“The locals want to keep parts of the lake to themselves,” he said, “but I think it's something that you might appreciate.”

“You sure you won't get in trouble for telling me?”

“Not if you don't say anything,” said Uvo, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

“Ah, gotcha,” you said. Behind you, your boyfriend was starting to look a bit suspicious, and his lips soon formed a frown. You weren't paying him any mind at the moment.

“What's your name?” you asked.

“Uvogin.”

You held out your hand as you introduced yourself, and he humored you by giving you a handshake.

“Thank you so much for everything,” you said, “maybe we'll see you again while we're here.”

“Maybe.”

With that, you finally turned and made your way to your awaiting boyfriend, who gave Uvo one last narrowed glance before he turned his attention to you as you eagerly pulled your map back out and began to tell him the directions that had been given to you. Your boyfriend only gave one more glance towards Uvogin before focusing his full attention on you, looking over the map with you before the two of you made your way back to the car. He seemed rather boring, Uvo thought to himself. Yet before you made it back in, you stepped up and kissed your boyfriend on the cheek. Uvo saw the way your boyfriend stiffened and the blush that reached his ears as he sat down in the driver's seat to escape your random but sweet action. You laughed as you entered through the passenger's side, and Uvo kept an eye on the two of you until he saw your small, light blue car pull away and drive down the road.

When the two of you were gone, Uvo went back to chopping wood, picking the axe back up and slicing the log into two even pieces. He didn't expect that anyone else would come blundering into the forest before evening, but if they did, he wouldn't pay them much mind. If he killed every single person who came in to enjoy the lake he would quickly lose that particular food source and then need to find another area to hunt.

No, the only ones that were on the table tonight were the company group and you and your boyfriend – he wouldn't bother hunting down that elderly couple as it wouldn't be interesting in the slightest to go after them. The larger group had a good number of people in it, so there would be no need to seek out anyone else. Honestly he shouldn't even bother with the two of you, but Uvo thought of you again, thinking over every action you had taken, from the way you had approached him to how you held out your hand when you introduced yourself.

The little bit of affection you had offered to your boyfriend also came to mind but he brushed that thought away. It was unimportant, he told himself.

No, he shouldn't bother with the two of you, but he wanted to see how your naive little expression might change when you saw him next, after the moonlight had transformed him, and hear how you might scream and cry as he hunted you down.

He grinned at the thought, and when his axe came down again, it sliced the log and the stump beneath it clean through.

The true beginnings of his change had started hours ago when the sun sank past the horizon and the moon slowly rose in the night sky. Just little things, like the way his teeth began to shift in his mouth, or how the black tips of his claws were starting to show beneath his fingernails, slowly pushing up beneath the nails and trying to force themselves out so he could have an easier time tearing apart whatever unfortunate victim happened to be closest to him.

His skin was starting to shift a bit in places as well as it began to detach from the muscle beneath, and he was hit with an overwhelming urge to run outside and allow his transformation to complete so he could go wild as he always did on a full moon night.

But he waited, forcing himself to focus on the fire that was burning before him, to wait until it had gone out completely before he stepped foot out of his cabin.

It had turned into something of a ritual for him; when he had started it he could no longer remember. It was purely ceremonial, and at the heart of it he knew that it did nothing to add to his hunt, but after being alone in the woods for so long he supposed he was entitled to a bit of superstition. And at this point, it would have felt wrong to do it any other way. When the fire went out, the moon would be at the highest point in the sky, and when he left the dark cabin and bared himself to the moonlight, his werewolf form would tear through and he would track down the victims he had met earlier in the day, the ones whose scents he had remembered after he'd chosen them for his prey. Didn't matter much in what order he got them, just whatever scent he came across first.

Although maybe tonight it mattered a little bit. If he could manage it, Uvogin wanted you to be the last one to die tonight. After the group from the company retreat and your bland looking boyfriend, he'd hoped he could then have you for last. Something about that made him feel like that would be the only appropriate ending to the night.

But that all depended if he could manage to remember that after he'd transformed.

The light of the fire was growing more dim, and he was having a harder time sitting still, his entire body itching to burst through the cabin door and let the moonlight take him.

Not yet, he told himself.

But soon.

Those black claws were showing a bit more now, and at least two of his fingernails had popped off, blood coating his fingertips as his hands clenched onto the skin of his legs. That same skin shifted once more as he did so, and after a few moments he felt something trickling down his thigh, and when he glanced down he could see in the faint glimmer of firelight the hole in his skin that he'd torn open, and the dark fur beneath the human flesh that was still covered and the blood dripping down his leg.

Not yet not yet not yet

A few more agonizing minutes later that had seemed endless in his mind, and finally the fire he'd begun earlier was reduced to a smoulder, the flames dying out and the wood glowing red as the fire reached the end of its life.

Now

No sooner had he thought that Uvogin had thrown open the cabin door and ran out into the woods that surrounded him, bare as he gazed up at the full moon as he allowed himself the moment that he'd been holding off on.

There were multiple changes simultaneously and Uvogin was barely able to comprehend all of what was happening to him because of it. There was always a pain that accompanied his transformation, and while it was a pain that he was used to at this point, it was pain nonetheless.

At the sight of the moon his green eyes turned yellow and his pupils narrowed into slits, while the bones in his body began to shift and grow. It started with his spine, extending and pushing out through his skin and almost causing a ripple effect through his whole body. His bones were snapping and stretching beneath his skin, growing as his muscles were expanding and making him into even more of a giant than he already was. Claws on his hands and feet tore through the flesh that surrounded them as those parts of him extended, the skin ripping open and allowing more of the fur that was hidden underneath to show through.

When he felt the flesh around his shoulders stretch out in an attempt to accommodate the transformation he sped up the process by reaching up and tearing it away with his own fingers, the black claws easily ripping in and pulling the skin away like a latex glove. Soon the skin that had been on his arms sat around him in pieces on the grass and he began the same process with his chest and legs, tearing away his flesh in messy strips and allowing the fur that had formed on his body to be exposed, matted with blood and looking almost black in the light of the moon.

His skull went through the same process as the rest of his body, and he felt his face crack into several different pieces before the bones began to remold themselves and pushed outward, taking the shape of a wolf's muzzle while his teeth extended and shifted to fit properly in his newly formed mouth. When his ears began twisting and pushing upwards into sharp points was when he tore at the skin on his face, pulling it off as he had done with the rest and throwing it to the forest floor.

When the last of his human flesh had been removed, his transformation was complete. The man who had stepped out of that cabin was gone and replaced with a large, bipedal wolf whose yellow eyes dilated as he looked up once more to the moon. Lifting his head up, he arched his back as he let out a howl loud enough that echoed through the woods and across the surface of the lake. Those that heard it in the nearby town quietly whispered their prayers to whichever gods they worshiped while those who were visiting the lake's campsite merely marveled at the sound.

If Uvo was in a different mindset he might have thought of you in that moment, and what you might be thinking when you heard him. If you had any clue of the danger you were in.

But in this moment, there was no thought of you or even saving you for last as he had tried to so hard to ingrain into himself. There was no thought of doing this in any order or trying to end the night correctly as he had mused about earlier.

The only thing going through Uvogin's mind was the need to kill.

As luck would have it, he'd managed to kill the ones from that company first.

There had been more of them. More that were wandering around their campsite, more that were talking amongst themselves, and in general just making more noise that, combined with their scents from earlier, allowed him to find them first.

There were actually more of them in that group than he'd anticipated, and as he killed off the last woman in the group, gum falling from her mouth as he twisted her head completely around. Uvo then looked around at the carnage he'd left in his wake. It was hard to tell with the way they were all in pieces now, but the number of people group had easily been in the double digits. That would probably cause a bit of trouble, as it would be hard to try and cover this up. This would easily make the news. Annoying, as Uvo would need to make sure to lay low for a bit, and it could possibly lower the amount of potential victims in the area when the next full moon came.

But it had still been worth it.

Uvogin felt more like himself again now that the murderous urges had been sated. Able to think a bit more clearly, more rationally. And he was able to remember you and what he'd hoped for early on. He could imagine it: your scared expression as you watched him kill your boyfriend before he slaughtered you like the rest, your screams cutting short as he bit into the skin of your neck and tore out your throat.

Now that his hunger was taken care of, he left the campsite of the now-dead group. Right now all he wanted was to find you and your boyfriend.

Remembering what he had told you of the southern side of the lake, he took a gamble as he headed off in that direction, making his way through the woods at speeds much faster than a regular human would be capable of. He stopped when he felt the wind blowing again, and lifted his nose in the air, trying to see if he catch anything.

….. There

It was faint. Very faint, but he managed to catch a familiar human scent.

He turned and headed off in your direction. It was too far away to get your exact location, but it was enough that he could get at least an idea of where you were.

Continuing towards the south side of the lake, he stayed close to the shoreline until he found your little blue car from earlier parked close to the lake, a tent set up not too far off from it. Your scent became a bit more clear as he came closer, and yet when stopped to scan the area, his eyes looking for the slightest bit of movement and his ears straining to hear any bit of noise, he couldn't find you.

A bit annoying, but based off of the way the two of you had left things, you should still be in the area. It was just a matter of hunting you down.

Uvo stalked about the campsite, just in case he missed something while also puncturing two of the tires on your car and cutting off that potential escape route. Satisfied that neither of you were on the site or next to the water, he walked back into the woods, following after the little bits of that fragrance he'd latched onto.

As he walked, he thought to himself with some amusement that you'd actually taken up his suggestion. Uvogin had found that most people didn't bother, either because they were too dedicated to the plans they'd made before arriving or because they didn't trust that the landscape was as beautiful as he'd made it out to be. In fairness, it mostly all looked the same to him, but there had just been something about that particular bit of campground that made him enjoy hunting there more. So it was even more perfect that the two of you had ended up there. Most likely you were just doing what you felt like and didn't feel like adhering to any particular schedule.

His ears perked up as he heard a low voice in the distance. Not yours. Probably your boyfriend, then. Focusing himself so he could move silently, Uvogin weaved through the trees, his eyes searching for you while he listened for more noise from either of you.

When he heard your voice next, he had definitely gotten closer. Your voice had sounded odd, though. Almost breathless.

He found the two of you in a larger clearing that stood beneath one of the cliffs he had spoken of. You were laying with your back on the grass, dressed in a swimsuit with only a shirt over it. Your boyfriend was in a similar state with the moonlight falling onto his bare back, and it looked like both of you were a bit wet, some drops of water still on your skin and hair still damp. So the two of you had gone swimming before you wandered over to this area to mess around.

You said something to him before the two of you shared a kiss, and you moaned into it when he slipped his hand under your shirt to grab at your chest.

It certainly wasn't the first time Uvo had come across a pair of lovers in the woods. Such encounters usually ended with one or both betraying the other, as several times in the past one would push the other into Uvo's path in an attempt to save themselves after having a passionate make-out session only moments before.

Uvogin stepped out from the treeline and waited for one of you to notice him. You let out another moan, and to him it sounded like it was slightly exaggerated. Was your boyfriend not that good? Not too surprising, based off of Uvo's impression of him.

If Uvo had been the man on top of you, he was certain he could do much better.

….. Where did that come from?

Uvo didn't get much time to wonder about that as he heard you let out a sharp gasp, and when his eyes refocused on you, he saw that you were looking right at him. Your eyes were wide and your skin paled as you stiffened, your hands grasping at your boyfriend's arms.

“What's wrong?” your boyfriend asked when he noticed your reaction.

Keeping your eyes on Uvogin, you answered him in a small whisper “there's something over there.”

Your boyfriend turned his head to where you were looking, and he went stiff as well when he saw Uvogin's werewolf form.

It was quiet in that clearing, free of any noises from any woodland animals or even the insects, as anything that was in that immediate area sensed the danger and were desperate to keep silent. No, the only sound Uvo could hear was your breathing that became more panicked as you struggled to keep it under control and the way your boyfriend tried to shush you while he broke out into a cold sweat. You two were both under the impression to stay still and not make any sudden movements for fear of provoking him.

Then your boyfriend whispered your name.

“When I move,” he breathed out, “I want you to run back to the car and get out of here. Even if I'm not with you, you have to take the car and leave.”

As he spoke, your boyfriend slowly moved his hand over to a pack beside you that Uvo hadn't noticed at first. Still, Uvo grinned. He thought he could take him on?

You tried to protest but your boyfriend wasn't hearing it, only repeating his instructions to you and trying to make you promise that you would do as he said. You didn't want to; that was clear, but when you looked back over to Uvogin's form outside the treeline, you shuddered once more and agreed to leave with a short nod.

Uvogin waited for the boyfriend to make his move. He looked just as terrified as you were, but he was clearly trying to be brave for your sake, and his resolve seemed to steel when he got a hold of whatever he had been searching for in the pack.

“Now!”

Your boyfriend yelled as he shot up and charged at Uvo. For the first time since seeing him, Uvogin felt mildly impressed with your boyfriend; he'd been genuine about wanting to save you over himself. Not like he wouldn't still die for it as he was still incredibly weak, but there was something to be said about the willingness he had to face down a beast like Uvo for your sake.

You must be something special to make a man go that far for you.

The thing your boyfriend had pulled out turned out to be a can of bear spray as well as a medium-sized hunting knife. Uvo managed to doge the stream that had been aimed at him easily on account of how badly the hand that held it had been shaking. The boyfriend ran back a bit, unwilling to get too close to Uvogin even with the knife. He tried to aim it again, but Uvo used his claws to slice at him, slashing upwards as he aimed for his throat.

Somehow, he missed the boyfriend's throat and only managed to hit the side of his face, opening up his cheek and taking off his ear. The boyfriend cried out at that, one hand going up to his bleeding cheek while still trying to incapacitate Uvo with the bear spray. But with the way he stumbled about, it was almost too easy for Uvogin to grab him by his face and hurl him into the trunk of a nearby tree. He hit headfirst, and there was an audible cracking sound that came from the impact. Uvogin didn't even bother to watch the way his body hit the ground, experience telling him that he was definitely dead.

Uvogin was much more interested in you.

You were still in the clearing. At first you had done as your boyfriend had told you and bolted the second he yelled, running back to your campsite. But you stopped and turned back when you heard him cry out when Uvo had slashed at him. You wanted to help him but you also knew there was nothing you could do, and so you were left standing in the clearing, your whole body shaking as you struggled with the decision to stay or leave your boyfriend behind.

It was cute how loyal you were to him.

And loyalty certainly wasn't a bad quality.

When you saw your boyfriend die you froze, tears streaming down your face as you looked between the now dead man and the thing that had murdered him. You were clearly in a panic, your legs trembling as your brain struggled to figure out what to do, where to go from here. Certainly you had to be aware that you'd lost any chance of getting away like you'd been told to do, right?

Apparently not, as when Uvogin stepped forward you bolted, running back towards the camp. Yet Uvo found a sense of relief with that, that you wouldn't just sit there and let him kill you and end it so early.

For whatever reason, that last thought displeased him.

But he brushed that away as he chased after you only moments later, not bothering to be quiet with his movements and instead being as loud as possible, breaking apart any low-hanging branches in his wake as he howled into the night air once again.

You had only made it a little ways past the car when he emerged from the forest and lunged towards you. It seemed like you were trying to get away on foot given the damage to the car. Already there was a scent of blood in your wake, as the soles of your feet had already been cut up on the sharp debris of the forest floor.

You turned towards him just in time to see him raising his clawed hand over his head before he sliced it downwards. Through what must have been some bit of luck, you stumbled backwards at that moment and all he managed to do was give you a flesh wound.

You hit the surface of the gravel road hard, crying out in pain at the force of your fall as well as the cuts that were on your arm, your hand immediately grasping at your wound as you desperately tried to use your legs to get yourself off of the ground.

Then he was on top of you.

He opened his jaws wide; you saw as he did so, and attempted to crawl out from under him.

He snapped his jaws shut on your throat.

And you went stiff.

It was quiet for a few moments.

And then a small rush of air escaped from your mouth as you let out a breath you had been holding.

Almost.

He had almost killed you in that moment.

The pointed tips of his teeth were pressing lightly into your skin, not quite hard enough to make you bleed, but that would change if you shifted your neck just slightly.

Why had he stopped?

He stayed there, hunched over you, his arms caging you in while his maw was around your throat. He felt the pulse in your neck beating wildly, almost causing vibrations against his teeth. You had stopped struggling, your legs still while you continued to clutch at your wounded arm, the only noises coming from you now being your uneven breathing.

What was he doing?

His yellow eye glanced over to your face, and he found that you weren't even looking at him. You were gazing in the direction of the night sky, where the light of the moon shown down on you like a spotlight, but it didn't even seem like you were even looking at that. Your eyes were wide as you breathed hard, and Uvo had to wonder if you were currently seeing your life flash before your eyes. That perhaps your mind had accepted that this was the end of your life and was remembering as much as you could before Uvogin would sink in his teeth and sever those major arteries in your neck.

Were you satisfied with all that you had accomplished up to this point, or were you disappointed and felt that you should have done more?

Moments passed like that, his hulking form engulfing yours with no movement from either of you. He took in a deep breath, and he once again caught some of the flowery smell of your shampoo, though it had largely faded by now, and you smelled much more like the woods after the hours you had spent there. More like pine and tree leaves, and the fresh water of the lake, and....

Uvogin let out a short grunt that made you whimper and you clenched your eyes shut as you believed this to be the end. You had no clue that Uvo could smell your arousal coming from between your legs. It had come from the way you'd been fooling around with your boyfriend earlier – there was no way you could have been turned on by this.

Uvo thought again of what he had seen when he stumbled upon the two of you, and that odd thought that had interjected at one point. You had been on his mind almost all day, and he thought it was because he wanted to kill you. And now you were beneath him and the moment couldn't have been more right, and yet now that was the last thing he wanted to do.

It hit him then. The different urge he'd had about you since he had seen you earlier in the day, since he had seen the way you treated your boyfriend; the way you had kissed that man had stuck out in his mind. Hardly any different than any other couple he had seen who were too big on PDA, yet combined with the way you had first come up to him, had smiled and thanked him, and introduced yourself so willingly while also asking for his name had made all of the difference in the world.

His days in the woods were lonely. It was something Uvo was well aware of but had thought he could handle, and he had done so for several years now without issue. But now that he knew you, with your actions and your touch and even the sweet scent of your arousal that he wished more and more that he had been the cause of, another second of being alone sounded more like torture.

Still, the biggest reason he had stayed on his own for so long was that he had accepted that there would be few in this world who would be alright with spending the rest of their lives with a man-eating monster. And any that he may have wanted to keep alive despite that probably wouldn't have been worth the trouble. Keeping someone else with him would also mean he would need to put in the effort to keep them alive, and if he had them unwillingly he'd need to make sure they wouldn't be able to get away, either by restraining them or locking them up.

He watched you, watched the way your face stayed scrunched up as you waited for him to finish it. He wanted you, but were you worth the trouble?

When Uvogin pulled off of your neck and sat back up, you meekly opened your eyes in confusion and trying to anticipate what horrible thing he would do to you next. You yelped when he grabbed you by the back of your shirt as he stood, pulling you up to your feet and setting you in front of him. With one hand on your shoulder and one on your hip, he turned you so you were facing away from him, making sure you were steady on your feet.

He leaned down so his maw was right next to your ear, and in a voice that sounded more animal than human, he growled out a single word:

“Run.”

With that he pushed you forward. You stumbled a bit, your brain still processing what he had said as you barely took a few steps away from him. Then, like a lightning bolt had hit you, you finally seemed to understand as you snapped back and made a beeline for the woods. Your bare feet were loud on the cluttered forest floor, and he occasionally heard little gasps and soft whimpers of pain when you cut your foot open further on a rock or a sharp branch.

Uvo waited, wanting to give you a good head start before he began to chase after you. It would be easy to track you, especially with how much you were bleeding now, but he shuddered with barely contained excitement, eager to chase you down but knowing that he needed to give you a decent head start or else it would be over too quickly.

If you proved yourself worthy of keeping alive, then he'd take you back to his cabin.

And he really hoped you wouldn't let him down.

…. But then something felt wrong.

Uvogin's eyes narrowed as he sensed that you were still within the immediate area and not moving away from him as he had expected. The direction you had gone in was the same one the both of you had come from; the patch of woods and the clearing where he'd found you in the pathway. There wasn't anything there that you could have fallen over or gotten stuck on, so why....

A new thought occurred to him, and Uvo growled lowly to himself as he hoped he wouldn't see what he felt he might when he found you next.

You were back in that clearing, sitting next to your boyfriend's fallen body. Your body was facing the direction Uvo had arrived from, both of your hands in front of you as looked down at your now former lover. There were tears rolling down your cheeks as you sat there.

A wave of disgust hit Uvogin as he found he was correct and was thoroughly disappointed with your actions. He'd given you a chance to get away and you'd wasted it by sitting around crying. Clearly he had given you too much credit.

You heard him as he began to walk towards you, and he noted the way your hands slipped beneath your boyfriend's slightly upturned body, your head still downcast.

He stood across from you, letting out a huff that made you flinch. But still, you didn't move from that spot.

As he opened his jaws your head shot up and you lifted your hands from beneath the body.

Just as you did so, something sprayed into his nose, eyes and his open mouth. Something that stung and made him gag. Fuck it burned, and Uvogin let out a howl of pain as he clutched at his face.

The bear spray-!

Something sharp then dug into the flesh beneath his collarbone, and the pain from the bitter spray was accompanied by the sensation of a knife blade stabbing into him.

With another howl as he was now blinded, he swiped a hand in your general direction and heard you yelp as he simultaneously clawed your shoulder and forced you to the ground. With his hearing now being his greatest sense, he managed to pick up the clatter the bear spray can made as the force of his blow made you drop it, and he moved one of his feet to stomp at it, crushing it and making it useless.

Uvo roared again as he swung about wildly, trying to catch you once more, but you managed to avoid his attacks and made your way into the woods again as he heard your labored breathing and footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

He clutched at his face as he tried to make himself calm down, trying to will away the pain and regain his sense of sight and smell.

…. Not bad.

Even with the rage he had felt in the moment, he found himself relieved, almost happy that you had caught him off-guard. You had gone as far as to use your boyfriend's body as a prop, to make him think that you were too broken up about his death so he would lower his guard. Had you been a bit taller, you could have done a decent amount of damage if you'd managed to stab the knife into his throat.

The knife was still in him, he realized, and after regaining a little bit of his sight in his left eye, he easily pulled it out and threw it across the way.

Now you had no weapons, but he was also at a disadvantage as his eyes were still watering and he could no longer smell you as clearly, the harsh chemicals of the spray making him internally wince every time he breathed through his nose. If he wanted to catch you, he would need to rely almost entirely on his hearing to search for you.

The sounds you were making were quite distant now, but he grinned to himself and stayed there a while longer, letting you get further away.

The direction you were going had no civilization, there was only forest for miles, and he was happy to let you get yourself more and more lost if it meant that his hunt would continue.

By the time dawn was nearing, signaled by the sickly pale color the sky had turned to, Uvogin had managed to chase you further into the wilderness, up through the trees and near the edge of a cliff face. Throughout the night there had been times where you had slowed or stopped completely as you tried to regain your strength, taking advantage of your smaller size and slipping into places that he couldn't easily get to. You also had several brief spurts of energy where you had sped up suddenly, more determined than ever to get away from him while you threw various stones and branches back towards him, though you never tried anything else as bold as you had with your trick from earlier as you didn't allow him to get that close again.

But as you stumbled to the edge of the cliff and looked at the steep drop before you, it was clear to him that your fight was gone. He knew it even before you fell to your knees on the sharp rock. The chase had ended, and just in time, as daylight would be here soon, and when that came he would revert back to his human form.

It had been one of the most memorable hunts he'd had in years, and even though your will had been broken in the process, by now he was certain that he wanted to keep you. To have a little partner in his solitary life, someone to keep his bed warm and wait for him to return home in the evenings. The scenario was nice to think about, and he especially liked the idea of you cuddling up to him during the colder months of the year, trying to keep yourself warm with his body heat to fight the chilly air that would sneak inside. Maybe eventually he'd get you to give him sweet tokens of affection like you'd given to your boyfriend, perhaps a kiss on the cheek before he went out to hunt.

And maybe every once in a while, if you were still insistent on putting up a fight, Uvo might let you out during a full moon and make you think you had a chance to escape, just so he could hunt you down and drag you back to his little home in the woods.

The thought of it gave him chills, and he wondered how long he would need to wait before he could let you out.

You were lightly swaying in place as you looked to the ground below while Uvo was consumed in the thoughts he had about you. He assumed that you were just waiting for him to finish it – your willpower was dried up, and there was no way you would try to run around him or do anything as stupid as try to climb down the cliff face.

He had no clue where your thoughts had taken you in that moment.

Realization shot through him when he saw your shoulders sag and your body began to fall forward over the edge.

Uvo rushed forward and grabbed you by your shoulder before you fell off and he threw you back, a good distance further and far rougher than he had been intending, as you wailed weakly when you hit the ground.

If you were willing to kill yourself to escape him, he'd need to wait some time before letting you run about the woods again.

By now, you were covered in dirt and blood and whatever else had stuck to you from the forest while you had run from him. Your skin was covered in cuts that he and the forest had given you and it would likely be some time before you would be able to properly walk again based off of the state of your feet. When he approached you once more, you clenched your eyes shut again. By now you were past the point of tears and just waited for him to finish you off.

You jolted at the feeling of his fur brushing against your skin when straddled you once more, but just as before, the killing blow you were expecting never came. You opened one eye, and just as you did so, the first rays of the sun shone over the landscape beyond and hit Uvogin.

You watched in silent horror as the fur that covered him caught on fire and began to burn. He was briefly consumed by the flames before they vanished into puffs of smoke. His bones were snapping again, breaking into pieces and retracting back into their normal size while his muscles and skin rippled and shrunk back down, tightening around his fingers as the claws also retracted and vanished beneath the skin. As his wolf face broke apart and reformed, there was a look of shock in your eyes as you saw the beast on top of you become more and more human. And that shock soon turned into a realization when you found that you recognized the man who was on top of you.

His transformation back to his human form was over in a matter of seconds, and when it was over and his green eyes looked back down at you, you stuttered as you tried to find your voice.

“U-Uvogin?” you asked weakly.

He grinned, pleased that you had remembered his name.

Without another word, Uvo leaned down over you so he could begin the process of properly claiming you as his.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

the thing about life was that a flame could be so easily blown out, so people fought like hell to keep it alive. the tip of the candle could easily be cupped for protection, gentle breath given to let the flame flutter back to life. (is that what she did? when she pounded his chest again and again, her magic stronger than any human could be? when she pressed her lips to his and breathed the very essence of life back into his body?) what people often forgot was that you could simply relight the candle.

bernard hadn't thought about darla in years. people on online forums, ones he'll never tell tim how often he visited, spoke of their experiences with metas and myths and anyone in between. he knew what happened to people accosted by magic, knew of chains trapping them with their own terror, their minds turning against themselves as their nightmares came to life.

bernard, on the other hand, could say that he wasn't all that haunted by darla. she'd lifted his car off the ground in a display of power, told bernard she was laura fell now, no matter the fact that she looked and walked and talked like darla aquista, then threatened his life on behalf of her seemingly never-ending obsession with tim motherfucking drake. seemingly, because when bernard had brought up old times they used to spend with darla over lunch, casual as you please, tim had grinned a little before dismissing his fears. darla was training with some sort of enchantress to try and be good, growing more powerful by the day.

bernard wondered, for a moment, if all of his friends could make the earth quake with a press of their fingertips. if all of his friends could bend those figures of myth and meta and magic with only their will. if he'd spent his life in the company of gods in everything but name, right down to the perfect muscles pulling under skin and battle-worn glimmer in eyes too old to be on a faces so young. (bernard wondered, for a moment, if there was any way he could join them. if the madness in darla's eyes as she demanded tim's whereabouts and the screams of terror on his boyfriend's lips as he woke up with a knife in his hand were worth it.)

bernard knew there was nothing he could have done for darla. probably not now but definitely not back then. he had no power over life and death, he couldn't have saved darla from the bullet wound that cost her nearly everything had he even attempted to try. sometimes, darla shifted in his memories, morphed into someone with the same dark hair and same blue eyes, but with broader shoulders and a kinder smile.

there was the fear that one day, something would take tim down, a dark shadow grappling with his boyfriend's shining, golden soul before snuffing it out as surely as a candle. then there was the fear that one day, something would bring tim back, clawed fingers opening his boyfriend's eyes and twisting that golden soul into something dripping and jagged, as poisonously yellow as laura fell.

(bernard learned of what happened to jason todd on accident, a couple years after the cult of dionysus. there were some horrors he could force himself to speak aloud, some fates that he couldn't stomach.)

(if tim was surprised at the way bernard's fingernails dug into his back as he held the vigilante close, at the way bernard took advantage of the inches he'd lost to tim's late growth spurt to curl himself completely into his boyfriend's arms, then tim never showed a whisper of it.)

the quickest way to avoid all of that, bernard thought, was to just make sure tim didn't die in the first place.

"hey," tim said, bringing his hand up to flick bernard on the forehead. "only shit nurses get distracted when they're treating their patient."

"only shit patients have such abysmal bedside manner."

"oooh, abysmal," tim waggled his eyebrows. "that word-of-the-day calendar is really coming in handy, huh?"

bernard sniffed. "i'll have you know that i am a well-read intellectual. fuckin' sherlock at this point."

in the movies, people with wounds like the glaring one on tim's shoulder sagged into the wall, made tearful confessions through a mouth full of blood, shuddered in pain at the slightest touch. tim's fingers hurt where he hit bernard's forehead, he didn't lose his smart mouth for anything, and was tapping his foot in impatience before bernard propped it up on the sofa.

"you're fucking sherlock? that's such a sweet pet name, you should use it more often," tim teased.

"don't get a big head, you're not that good."

bernard opened the first aid kit, unusually large and unusually used. his fingers found the small pipe bottle of water and the gauze. he tore a small piece off before wiping off the rest of the dried blood as gently has he could.

"you know," tim sounded almost contemplative, musing. completely disregarding what should have been a throbbing pain. completely trusting bernard to take care of him. "ra's al ghul called me detective once."

bernard's fingers closed around the saline solution with more ease than what was comfortable, but he had plenty of practice pushing those thoughts aside.

"i have no clue who that is," he said, feeling tim tense only the barest bit when he poured the solution over the wound. it had to have stung something fierce. bernard had seen grown men whimper at the sensation. tim sighed and tipped his head back instead.

"no one important," tim chuckled. "but i do kinda wish damian was here to hear that."

antibiotics next, and if tim felt the urge to shy away from bernard's fingers as he brushed the wound with ointment, bernard couldn't tell; he suppressed it as impressively as always.

"come on, no sibling talk when you're shirtless and i'm on top of you." bernard joked. neither of them mentioned the blood staining tim's undershirt-slash-makeshift-bandage, the dried blood flakes all over tim's lap, the way bernard's thighs were clenching tim to the point of pain.

between one blink and the next, tim was all wrapped up, gauze in place and bandage taped on top. his boyfriend's lovestruck little smile gleamed up at him, one bernard recognized. a pinch of awe and a dash of trust and a sprinkle of comfort. mix them together and bake at 350, bernard thought a bit hysterically, and you get love for a man who's terrified at how fast he can use bandages.

still, tim took precedent. every night bernard spent washing his hands too roughly at the sink was another night his boyfriend was breathing on the bed in the other room. every night bernard opened that unusually large and unusually used first aid kit was another night tim's soul stayed whole and shining and untarnished by whatever creatures took people beyond the veil only to drag them back. every night bernard spend trying to rub the scent of copper and the spill of liquid poppy off his fingers was another night bernard used his bloodstained hands to keep tim's flame alive.

i mayyyyyyyy have gotten a little too excited every time i used the word "boyfriend."

tag list: @woahjaybird @anothertimdrakestan @birdy-bat-writes @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @buticaaba @comics-observer @newsical

[harrysddtittys]

Could you maybe write something where Harry is a single father to maybe a girl. And just write how he’d deal with her terrible twos. Like from morning to night or something like that? 🥺

wow i finally got a requestttt!!! here you go! I know nothing about young children, so i don’t even know if this is an accurate description of a 2 y/o lol. but i hope you like it <33

Warnings: fluffff, dadrry, most likely some typos :)

Masterlist ❣︎ Requests

Piece of work

“Oh my God, Lani.” Harry groaned, groggily, as he was pulled out of his sleep by his daughter sitting on his back and yelling “Daddy, wake up!” in an playful voice. As much as he tries to pretend to not to like being woken up so obnoxiously every morning, they both know he loves for the first thing he hears every day to be his little girl yelling in his ear.

He lays there for a couple more minutes, wanting to sleep for a little bit longer, but gives up when he realizes she’s not going to be quiet until he gets up. “Okay, okay. I’m awake. Calm down.”

When he says that, she immediately gets off his back so that he can sit up, sitting next to him. He looks over at her. She’s wearing a random shirt of her’s that she doesn’t really wear other than to sleep, and her pull-up that she wears to prevent wetting the bed at night, and she has a head full of curly, unruly hair. He just smiles, so in awe of the fact he helped create something so beautiful.

Fatherhood was by far the best thing that ever happened to Harry. The second he looked his little girl, Alani in the eyes, he instantly felt the connection. He loves her with his entire being. But she can definitely be a lot to handle

She turned two not even three months ago. Harry Honestly thought the “terrible two’s” stage was a myth. Boy, was he wrong. The tantrums hit like lightning. Not only is she in her terrible two’s, but she’s naturally very stubborn, and sassy. She definitely got that from him. He swears she’s a 13 year old in a 2 year olds body.

“G’morning, bug.” He says, sitting up slowly because of the stiff joints from not moving much all night. “Good morning, daddy!” She squeals excitedly. Once he’s fully sat up, Alani jumps on him, throwing her tiny arms around him, causing Harry to chuckle. She gets so excited when he wakes up for the day.

He wraps his arms around her and squeeze her lightly, but grunting as if he’s squeezing her as tight as he can, making her giggle. “Did you sleep good?” He questions, quietly. “Yeah.” She mumbles, feeling so content where she is, like in her dad’s arms is the best place in the world. “V’got some things to do today. Y’wanna go run some errands with daddy?” This causes her to pull away from him with with wide eyes, nodding eagerly. The biggest smile spreads across Harry’s features. “Yeah?” Which she responds to by nodding again.

“Then we gotta get ready, bub. Y’hungry?” He asks to which she responds with a simple “Yes.” “Alright let’s go eat.” When he says that, Alani gets down off the bed, before sprinting out of his room, and toward the kitchen full speed. “Stop running!” He slightly scolds, hearing her tiny feet padding down the hallway at a much slower speed than before.

He always gets so nervous when she’s running around, but especially when she’s running in the house. She’s so wild and crazy, yet so clumsy. Constantly falling, and running into things. She rarely actually gets hurt. Most of the time she moves on from it like nothing happened. But it scares the absolute shit out of Harry every time.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees Alani standing next to the counter. As soon as he’s in her line of vision she starts pointing to the box of cinnamon toast crunch. “Daddy, this?” with pleading eyes. Harry just laughs. He doesn’t let her eat those than often for breakfast, because of how sweet they are, choosing to fix something on the healthier side for them to eat instead. But today he figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her have a little bowl of it before the day starts.

He goes over to the little girl who is still aggressively pointing at the box of cereal, ending down to pick her up. “Alright, alright. Hold you’re horses, will you?” He coos softly. He gently sits her down on at the kitchen table before returning back over to the counter. He opens the cabinet, pulling out a small bowl. When he’s finished making her cereal, he grabs her one of her baby spoons before serving it to her. “Thank you!” she says loudly. “You’re welcome, princess.” he chuckles.

Harry doesn’t like cinnamon toast crunch, it’s way to sweet for him. He decides he’ll just pop a bagel in the toaster and call it a day.

* * *

Once they’ve finished breakfast, they got completely ready for the day, and we’re soon ready to head out. Harry turns around to look at his daughter. She’s dressed in a denim dress, with a white t-shirt underneath, and white tennis shoes. Her hair’s brushed up into two sleek pigtails, which he’d become a pro at over the past couple years. Harry decided on a white t-shirt with a gray pair of pants. “Y’ready t’go, love?” he asked, feeling around his pockets to make sure he had everything. “Mhm!”

once they’re out to the car, Harry straps Alani into her car seat in the back, peppering kisses all over her tiny face once she’s all buckled in. “Daddy!” She squeals. Giggling, he closes the door, and goes around to the drivers side, getting in and powering the car on. “Alright, let’s roll.” he sighs, turning around to back out of the driveway.

They needed to stop at the grocery store, just to stock up on some things they needed around the house. So that’s where they were headed to now.

“Daddy, look! Red!” Alani exclaimed, pointing at the red car that was next to them. “Yes, that is red, baby, good job!” Harry beams. “Y’so smart.”

They continue driving toward their local grocery. Harry looks into his rear view mirror to check in Alani, and catches her staring at him. She’s always staring at him. It seems to be her favorite thing to do. He pulls the silliest face he could think of, causing her to burst into laughter. Harry laughs right along with her. Her laugh is so contagious. “Do it again!” She giggles. Harry happily obliges, pulling the goofy face once more, causing her angelic little laugh to engulf his ears.

After a little while of driving, they finally reached their destination, pulling into the grocery store parking lot. Alani watches her dad get out of the car, patiently waiting for him to make his way around to her side to get her out of the car. Soon enough, he does, taking her out of her cars seat and carrying her on his hip as the go into the store.

* * *

“Daddy, Daddy! Can I have that?” Alani asks loudly, pointing to something. “Shhh, you have to use your inside voice, darling.” Harry reminds her gently. He looks over to where she was pointing and not to his surprise, he sees a doll on the shelf. He’s grown to hate telling her no, but they didn’t come for toys, and she has more than enough at home already. “No, my love. Not today.” Her face immediately dropped. “But… but please?” She whines, her lip quivering. Harry hates that she’s disappointed but he knows he can’t give in. “No, baby. You don’t have to cry. Just not today, okay?” he says gently.

That doesn’t help, considering her whimpers are quickly turning into loud wails, and he knows the meltdown is coming. “Lani, it’s okay. You have plenty of toys at home to play with.” he try’s to reason but it doesn’t stop the tears that are slowly rolling down her face, and the loud, attention drawing cries. People were starting to look, and Harry was starting to get frustrated, but she was only 2. He knew she was still learning how to deal with her emotions. But when your kid is having a complete meltdown, and screaming in the middle of a store over a doll, that’s definitely a bit annoying.

Harry leans down to be face to face with her in her, who’s seated in the cart. “Alani, I know you’re upset, but you’re not going to scream.” He says softly, but slightly sternly. She looks at her dad, still crying but visibly calming down. Harry waits for her whines to die down completely before asking her “Are we okay now? Can we keep shopping?” to which she responds to with a nod.

After picking up just a few more essentials, they’re in line, waiting to check out. Harry looks down at Alani, realizing she’s been pretty silent ever since she stopped crying. He sees her with the all too familiar scowl on her face, with a pout of her lips. “Why are you looking so evil, bub?” Harry asked, with a gentle shake of his head. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t need to because he already knows she’s mad at him for refusing to buy her a doll.

He just rolls his eyes and try’s not to laugh. She really is something else. But he knows that she’s genuinely mad at him and him not taking her seriously will set her off again.

Eventually, they make their way up to the front of the line to check out, and soon enough their heading back out to the car. Harry looks at her, as he’s loading all the groceries into the trunk of his car to see that she still has the same mean look on her face. “Y’gonna stay mad at daddy all day, huh?” He teases her solely for his own enjoyment, knowing she’s much to busy trying to have an attitude to laugh at anything he says. She nods silently, still refusing to speak to him. Harry can’t help but laugh at that, knowing that wasn’t true in the slightest. “Y’have to learn t’take ‘no’ for an answer, baby love.” He sighs.

When they’re in the car in the way home, Harry looks at her in the mirror, pulling some silly faces like he was doing earlier. She sees him, and while she was still trying to hold her angry face, he can see the smile tugging at her lips. He doesn’t stop until her scowl is completely replaced by a smile, her beautiful laugh ringing through his ears, making his heart flutter with joy.

“Ahhh, I thought you were mad!” Harry laughs, causing her to laugh along with him, knowing she failed her attempt at holding a grudge on him. “Are we gonna be friends again?” Harry asks jokingly. “Yeah, we’re friends again!” Alani states matter of factly, causing Harry to chuckle.

This child really was a little piece of work, but he loves her nonetheless.

“Good.”

[nagipops]

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[theluckyyyoneee]

i love you. | myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader

word count: 2,3k

summary: you ask yourself what your husband's reaction would be if you didn't tell him you loved him back

“So I tried it—and he didn’t even notice!” Karina grumbled over the rim of her glass, earning drunk exclamations and agreements around the table. 

Suji shook her head and wagged her pointer finger in the air and moaned. “My husband will go weeks without telling me he loves me these days, I doubt he’d even care if I never told him I loved him again.”

Slurred words of comfort rang through the air before the attention turned to you, already shying away from their sudden stares. “Y/n, what about you? What do you think your husband’s reaction would be if you suddenly stopped telling him you loved him?”

You opened your mouth to attempt to answer the question you’d never thought about, but were saved by Karina’s loud snicker, almost dropping and shattering her glass as it almost slipped from her loose grip. “Y/n has that man wrapped around her pinky. I legitimately thought Yoongi was incapable of smiling before he met her. He’d probably die of heartbreak.”

“Oh, lucky you!”

“That’s so cute!”

“I’m so jealous!”

More versions of the same kind of phrases were cried out as your cheeks heated up, embarrassed but silently agreed with you friend’s words. Not that you’d consider Yoongi wrapped around your finger and all that, but you could admit that he treated you very well, with that kind of cuteness and slight clinginess that you definitely didn’t expect when you two started dating all those years ago. 

Ever since the two of you met through mutual friends, to silently draping his jacket over your shoulders when he noticed you shivering through your thin sweater, to going ahead and ordering your preferred meal choice when you running late to a dinner party, to his attentive stare that had you flushing whenever you met his gaze, to him quietly and a bit awkwardly asking you out on the first date of many—he’s been the perfect friend, then boyfriend, then husband.

It hasn’t all been a walk in the park, the two of you had your share of arguments like every other couple did, but you prided yourselves with being able to communicate your insecurities and newfound doubts the two of you ran across and worked together to reassure each other and find a solution.

That, and it seemed as if Yoongi couldn’t help but profess his love for you every chance he got. Which wasn’t something you minded at all, it was incredibly endearing and something that about made you fall in love with him all over again. You still had trouble believing he could make a complete stranger trip over their own feet in trying to get away from him by a simple glance. 

How could anyone ever be scared over a cutie like him?

As the conversation around you livened up again as a new subject was brought up—ah, the drunk mind and their attention span—you took a distracted gulp from the drink in your hand.

What would Yoongi’s reaction be if you didn’t respond to the three little words he loved to shower you with?

Were you so cruel that you wanted to find out?

That was all you could think about as you returned to your house a few hours later, having taken off your heels as quietly as you could and shedding off your dress in exchange for a large shirt of his. You breathed in the calming and familiar scent of him as you snuggled into his side after half-heartedly washing up, his arms immediately opening up with an opening for you and held you to him. Still pretty much asleep, he attempted to ask you about your night and place soft kisses over whatever inch of skin he could find at the same time, already fully asleep about ten seconds later. With a breathy laugh, it wasn't long before you joined him.

You woke up earlier than you would have liked, but your stomach was screaming at you in forms of grumbles to get some food in your system. So after a quick shower to rid yourself of the groggy feeling as best you could, you retired to the kitchen, noting with a smile Yoongi still sleeping peacefully, cuddling your pillow with your absence in the bed.

You were scooping the rice into the bowls and finished frying the eggs when he emerged from the bedroom, looking absolutely adorable with the shuffling steps he took towards you and his face slightly swollen from sleep, even after he had obviously washed his face.

"Good morning, baby." He breathed his greeting into the sensitive skin of your neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his gummy smile making its appearance at the slight squirming and giggle that left your lips. "You should've woken me up when you did, I could've helped with breakfast."

You shook your head and gazed tenderly at the soft stare he met your eyes with, leaning in for a quick peck before you scooped the eggs off the hot pan. "It doesn't take long, I can handle it. Plus, you were sleeping so nicely, I know how tired you've been and I wanted you to sleep in a bit longer." Playfully pushing him away with your shoulder you told him to go set the table.

"Anything for Mrs. Min. I love you," He squeezed your sides once before stepping away, ignorant to the secret grin that lit up your face as you sprinkled a bit of salt on the food, hearing the clattering of utensils as well as his last three words but saying nothing.

"So, any plans for today?" You asked chirpily as you sat down, noticing him staring at you strangely, but you pretended as if nothing was out of the ordinary and stared at him expectantly with the same smile on your lips.

He blinked and gazed at the food with furrowed brows before responding, "Uh, Hoseok and I were going to go look at some equipment today. I should probably call him and see if he's up," his words were a bit distracted and he fumbled a bit with his phone while you say silent across from him, munching on the rice in your mouth.

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit." Yoongi looked at you once he was done with his short call but you were already spooning a generous amount of food in his mouth. You had heard his entire conversation with Hoseok—not that you planned to eavesdrop, but Hoseok’s voice had the ability to be heard even over the loudest siren.

"Go get ready when you're done eating, I'll take care of the dishes, you still haven't taken a shower yet."

"Did you want to come with us? We shouldn't take too long, and we can go do something after if you want?" You smiled at just how innocent and imploring he seemed as he stared at you with wide eyes and his cheeks puffed out with how much food was in his mouth.

You shook your head and took a sip of your water. "I'm good, I have a bit of a headache from yesterday. I think I'm just gonna laze around today."

"Are you sure?"

He still looked unsure, and you leaned forward as you sighed, wiping a grain of rice off the corner of his mouth. You reassured him that you’d be fine and now it was his turn to smile as your words, nodding as he hurried to finish his food. 

It was under an hour later, and you were lounging on the couch when Yoongi came out, all dressed and ready to go. 

"Alright, I'm heading out. I'll be back later. Call me if you need anything. Love you." He bent down with his lips puckered and you couldn't help the smile that rose the corners of your mouth as you leaned in the remaining inch and met him halfway.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get home. Bye.” You were smiling and your eyes were trained on his face, expecting a certain reaction that you knew you’d get.

In a millisecond, the relaxed grin that had been in place on his face fell to a frown. He blinked at you and even waved a hand in front of your face. "Did you hear me? I said I love you."

You nodded and offered another smile. “Yeah, I’ll see you when you get back. Have fun.”

He blinked at you in obvious confusion now, his expression shifting into a frown as he kneeled in front of you. His eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline and he looked back at you expectantly as he repeated, “I love you, Y/n.”

You just nodded and smiled in response. “You’re going to be late.”

“Are you mad at me for something?"

"No, why would I be mad?" It was hard to keep a straight face, but this was more fun than you had previously thought it would be, even if you did feel the tiniest bit guilty at the look of concern donning his handsome features.

It about tore your heart to pieces when he gazed up at you with such a dejected and hurt expression on his face, a sad pout on his lips as he quietly whined out, “Then how come you won’t tell me you love me?”

You were going to hell for your actions that made him look at you in such anguish and you would go willingly. 

“I’m so sorry,” you all but cried as you threw your arms around his shoulders, almost taking the both of you tumbling to the floor if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s fast reflexes. “I love you, I love you,” you continued to repeat those words as you grabbed his face in your hands and peppered kisses wherever you could.

Once you had pulled away, his frown was almost completely gone, he was still looking at you a bit peculiarly though he now had the barest hint of a smile as he stared at you in silence as you snuggled into him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just there was a conversation yesterday with the girls’, and they were talking about their husbands not telling them they loved them and I just wondered what your reaction would be if I did that to you.”

"What?"

"It was just a little prank." You brought your thumb and pointer finger a width of a hair strand apart to emphasize that he shouldn't take it too seriously. You sent him a smile you were hoping would appease your actions that you were regretting more with every second that passed.

"Oh, so it was just a prank?" His eyebrows were raised once again and you nodded silently, that feeling of guilt coming back. A grimace settled on his face as he stood the two of you back up and backed away a few steps, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive stature as he interrogated, "was it was fun to make me worry about if I did something wrong?"

You shook your head and opened your mouth to refute his words but stopped at the vulnerable look that fleeted across his expression as his arms across his chest turned into a more protective gesture, kind of like he was comforting himself as he muttered, “I really thought I did something to make you stop loving me,”

“Honey, I’m so sorry. Don’t ever think that, it was just a stupid prank. I’ll never do anything like this ever again, hmm?” You rushed to him, feeling like you might seriously cry for making him feel that way. “I love you, Min Yoongi. I love you.” You were raising yourself on your tiptoes to gaze into his eyes to which he attempted to evade, but ultimately giving in when you keep persisting in your exclamation of love, giving you that smile and that fond look you associated with him.

“Okay, okay, I believe you. Say it again.”

“I love you, Yoongi. So much.”

He took your face in his hands and pressed a sweet and slow kiss to your lips. You gasped a bit in surprise when you felt his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip so suddenly, opening your mouth and he wasted no time in deepening the kiss with a small moan of his own that had you squeezing your thighs together just at the sound of it.

He tugged you even closer to him, his hands leaving your face to travel down your sides, going as far as to drift underneath your baggy shirt to get to the skin underneath and you couldn’t help shivering as you felt the slightly rough skin of the calluses on his fingers glide over your back.

“Min Yoongi, you're supposed to be meeting Hoseok in ten minutes.” You hated to pull away, especially when he was looking at you with those dark eyes, his mouth glistening and his breath faster than usual. He chose not to answer, letting his gaze linger on your mouth as he tightened his grip on your hips. You pulled further away with a sigh and a sound of surprise was pulled out of you as he pulled you against him, biting your lip as you felt the firmness of his body meeting yours.

"That can wait. I think I need to teach you a lesson about pulling pranks."

bonus:

Hoseok sighed and ended the unanswered call, the fifth time he’s called Yoongi with no answer, not even answering the texts he sent, to either of you. 

“That asshole told me he’d be here twenty minutes ago,” he whined, feeling his ass slowly but surely turning numb with the amount of time he’s spent sitting on his ass in the driver seat of his car waiting in the store parking lot.

Min Yoongi, just you see.