#he’s got eyes that are like two pale pieces of blue-green ice’

[specific-dreamer]

give darry his green eyes back abeg 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

[lemons-bittersweet]

THE OUTSIDERS FROM THE BOOK IN DESCRIPTION.

IM SORRY IF THINGS ARE SPELLED WRONG NOR THE SENTENCES BEING REAL SENTENCES BUT I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO DO ALL OF THAT CURRENTLY

PONYBOY CURTIS- AGE 14- I have light brown almost red hair and greenish-gray eyes I wish they were grayer because I hate most guys that have green eyes but I have to be content with what I have my hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs squared off in the back and long in the front and other sides but I'm a greaser most of my neighborhood rather bothers to get a haircut size I look better with long hair I like to watch movies alone so I can get into them and live them with the actors when I see a movie with someone it's kind of uncomfortable it's like having someone read your book over your shoulder I'm different that way I mean my second oldest brother soda who's 16 going around 17 never cracks a book at all and my oldest brother Darrel we call darry works to long and hard to be interested in a story or drawing a picture so I'm not like them and nobody in our gang digs moves and books the way I do for a while there I thought I was the only person in the world that did so I loned it soda tries to understand at least which is more than darry does but then so does different from anybody he understands everything almost like he's never hollering at me at the time of day or he is or treating me as if I was 6 instead of 14 I love soda more than that I have ever loved anyone even mom and dad he's always happy go lucky and grilling while there Dairy's hard and firm and rarely grins at all but then darrys gone through a lot his this 20 years growing up too fast soda will never grow up at all I don't know which way is the best i'll find out one of these days Sodapop Curtis-AGE 16/17- more handsome than Ponyboy knows he's slim but has a friendly draw sensitive face that manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time dark gold hair that he comes back long and silky and straight and in summer the sun bleaches into a shining wheat gold eyes are dark brown lively dancing reckless laughing eyes that can be gentle sympathetic one moment and blazing with anger the next he's got his dad's eyes but his is one of a kind. Darrel JR Curtis-AGE 20- 6 feet two inches tall broad shoulders and muscular has dark brown hair that kicks out in front and slight cow lick in the back it's like his dad's but Darry's eyes are his own he's got eyes like two pieces of pale blue-green ice They've got a determined set to him like the rest of him he looks older than 20 tough cool and smart he would be real handsome with his eyes weren't so cold he doesn't understand anything that's not playing hard fact but he uses his head Steve Randle-AGE 17- Tall and lean with sick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated Swirls he was cocky smart and Soda's best buddy since grade school Steve's specialty was cars he could lift a hubcap quicker and more quietly than anyone in the neighborhood but he also knew cars upside down and backward he could drive anything on wheels he and soda worked at the same gas station steve part-time soda full time and the gas station got more customers than any in town whether that was because Steve was so good with cars or because so would attract girls like honey jaws flies

Two-bit (Keith) Mathews- AGE ???- Keith was the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch he was about six feet tall stocky built and very proud of his long rusty colored sideburns he had gray eyes and a wide grin and he couldn't stop making funny remarks to save his life you couldn't shut that guy up he always had to get his two bits worth in hence his name even his teachers forgot his real name was Keith we hardly remembered he had one life was one big joke to tube it he was famous for shopping with his black switchblade and he always was smart enough to the cops he really couldn't help it everything he said was so irresistibly funny that he just had to let the police in on it to brighten up their dough lives he liked fighting blondes and from some unfathomable reason school he's still a junior at 18 1/2 he never learned anything he just went for kicks I liked him real well because he kept his laughing at ourselves as well as other things he reminded me of Will Rogers maybe because of the grin Dallas Winston- AGE ???- He had an elfish face with high cheekbones and pointed chin and small sharp animal teeth and ears like a lynx his hair was almost white it was so blonde and he didn't like haircuts or hair oil either so it fell over his forehead and wisps and kicked out in the back and tufts and curled back behind his ears and along the Naples neck his eyes were blue blazing ice cold with hatred of the whole world dally had spent 3 years on the wild side of New York and had been arrested at age 10 he was tougher than the rest of us tougher colder meaner the shade of difference that separates the greases from a hood was a present valley he was wild as the boys downtown outfits like Tim Shepherd's gang in New York dally blew off steam and gang fights but here organized gangs are rarities they're just small bunches of friends who stick together in the welfare is between the social classes of rumble when it's called it's usually born of a grudge fight and the opposite just happened to bring the friends along oh there are few gangs around here like the river kings and the Tiber Street Tigers but in the southwest there's no gang rivalry so Dally even though he could get into a good fight sometimes had no specific thing to hate no rival game only Socials and you can't win against them no matter how hard you try because they've got all the brakes and even wipping them isn't going to change the fact maybe that's why Dallas was so bitter he had quite the reputation in the file and down at the police station he had been arrested he got drunk he rode and rodeo's lied cheated stole rolled drunk jumped small kids he did everything I didn't like it but he was smart and you had to respect him Johnny Cade- AGE 16- If you could picture a little dark puppy that has been kicked too many times and it's lost in a crowd of strangers you'll have Johnny he was the youngest next to me smaller than the rest with a slight build he had big black eyes and a dark tan face his hair was jet black and heavily greased and combed to the side but it was so long that it fell into shaggy bangs across his forehead he had a nervous suspicious look in his eyes and that beating he got from the socialist didn't help matters he was the gang's pet everyone's kid brother his father was always beating him up and his mother ignored him except when she was hacking off his something and then you could hear yelling at him clear down at our house I think he hated that the worst getting whipped he would have run a million times if we hadn't been there and if he hadn't been gang Johnny would have never known love and affection are.

[chippedshake]

Ponyboy's narration

I think everyone in the fandom is well aware of the fact that Ponyboy is an incredibly unreliable narrator, but what I thought I would do is look at it a bit more in depth, seeing what particular methods Ponyboy uses to twist the reader's perspective. I was also originally going to say why I thought he was such an unreliable narrator, but then this snowballed into something much longer than I originally planned for so I'm making it another post

For simplicity's sake, we'll assume he's reliable when it comes to actual facts, because if we didn't, well that's a whole other can of worms I don't particularly feel like opening because analytically it's not very interesting (at least for me). So let's assume that it's only when it comes to people's personalities and thoughts that he diverges a bit.

Now, I started out with a very clear idea of how Ponyboy influenced the reader's ideas. There were two main ways: stating his opinion as fact, and placing information in convenient places that made the reader subconsciously change their opinion.

Then I started analysing and... well, things weren't quite as clear-cut.

A bit of background: I was going to use the Outsiders for a school project but then I wasn't allowed to, so all the analysis I've done is going to end up on here. The format, though, that's going to change, so rather than a clean, edited version that guides you through a clear version of my thoughts, here's my stream of consciousness.

Read it if you feel like it, don't if you don't.

Johnny Cade was last and least. If you can picture a little dark puppy that has been kicked too many times and is lost in a crowd of strangers, you'll have Johnny.

[Dally] liked to show that he didn't care whether there was a law or not. He went around trying to break laws.

Me and Darry just didn't dig each other. I never could please him. He would have hollered at me for carrying a blade if I had carried one.

These aren't facts, they're Ponyboy's perception of the world and, mainly, his friends. If you ask someone else what Johnny's like or why Dally breaks laws or what the problem between Pony and Darry is, they'll have different answers.

But Ponyboy presents them as an absolute truth. He doesn't say "I thought Dally just liked breaking laws" or "Johnny seemed like a dark puppy to me", he says these as if it's common knowledge, mainly because (I think) to him it is.

So these would be clear-cut examples of stating his entirely subjective opinion as a fact.

The problems started when I tried to analyse the following quote:

He stopped instantly. "I'm sorry." 

He wasn't really. Darry isn't ever sorry for anything he does. It seems funny to me that he should look just exactly like my father and act exactly the opposite from him. My father was only forty when he died and he looked twenty-five and a lot of people thought Darry and Dad were brothers instead of father and son. But they only looked alike — my father was never rough with anyone without meaning to be. 

Darry is six-feet-two, and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has dark-brown hair that kicks out in front and a slight cowlick in the back — just like Dad's — but Darry's eyes are his own. He's got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice. They've got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty — tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold. He doesn't understand anything that is not plain hard fact. But he uses his head. 

This is actually the quote that inspired me to say that he places things in convenient places so you agree with him. Because here, he dedicates two paragraphs to describing how Darry is rough and tough and cool and cold, right after Darry does something that, without Ponyboy's commentary, would be innocent and caring and a fairly mundane action: accidentally shaking someone too hard when you want them to come back to consciousness.

But there's not just that. There are about four explicit comparisons to Ponyboy's dad throughout his description, and the entire description is a constant comparison between Mr Curtis and Darry. This is practically the first we hear of Darry, mind you, and first impressions matter.

So, not only is Ponyboy demonising a perfectly normal action, but he's setting up these impossible expectations for Darry, not just as himself but also for the reader, because whether you like it or not, having the first description you read of a character be a comparison to someone else is going to affect the way you view them. Ponyboy views Darry as his guardian, not his brother, and he transmits that to the reader, changing the way we perceive him.

Remove the inner monologue, and this first scene is an interaction I could perfectly well see myself having with my little brother if I ever found him knocked out, much less beat up.

There's also the constant subjectivity and Ponyboy's opinions being stated as facts: "Darry isn't ever sorry for anything", "He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold", "He's got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice", etc.

(There's also the whole eyes thing that I absolutely adore and will go into with more depth at some point in my life)

"I didn't tell y'all something," Dally said, finishing his third hamburger. "The Socs and us are having all-out warfare all over the city. [...] We got hold of the president of one of their social clubs and had a war council. Yeah" — Dally sighed, and I knew he was remembering New York — "just like the good old days."

Without the internal monologue, the last sentence can be interpreted mostly one of two ways: sarcastic or genuine, and that vastly changes the way his character can be perceived. Does he enjoy wide-spread violence, does he find it to be an inconvenience, does he hate feeling unsafe in the streets? We don't know, not without the "I knew he was remembering New York".

Except who, exactly, is telling us they knew Dally was remembering New York?

Ponyboy, who thought Darry hated him because he was so worried about him being out late. Ponyboy, who thought Dally didn't love anyone in the world and only came to terms with the fact that he cared about Johnny when he died out of desperation at Johnny's own death. Ponyboy, who is writing this essay several weeks after everything happened.

I can't recount a conversation I had this morning word-for-word, much less one that happened weeks ago. Can we really trust the way Ponyboy remembers Dally intoning a fairly forgettable sentence weeks before he wrote it down, especially considering the entire plot hinges on him not understanding subtext?

I think not.

(I know I said that we would trust Ponyboy on factual stuff but we can't, not really, and tone is really toeing the line between objective and subjective)

I noticed this once, but I'm sure it's happened other times throughout the book, Ponyboy inserting his opinions at convenient times, telling us what a character is thinking went we can't know that he's right with any sort certainty.

Quick note: I just want to clarify something, which is that I am in no way trying to say that I dislike Ponyboy as a narrator. I absolutely love unreliable narrators and think that they're incredibly interesting and fun to analyse, as well as providing sort of ambiguity that really helps have each person make the story their own. I love them.

I do, however, also know that they are... well, unreliable. And part of what makes them so interesting is how you can spend hours and hours trying to dissect how much of what you just read was a lie (beyond the aspect of fiction and whatnot).

So yeah. Just thought that might need some clearing up considering the tone I used above.

[voteforintensepuppets]

“Darry is six-feet-two and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has dark brown hair that kicks out in front and a slight cowlick in the back—just like dad’s—but Darry’s eyes are his own. He’s got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice. They’ve got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty—tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren’t so cold.”

I refuse to be believe that, upon seeing young Henry Cavill, I’m the only one who said, “Oh my god that’s Darry Curtis.”

[battlexworned]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

Name:  Ironhide of Praxus

Alias: Holoform Alias is Isaac Hyde Velazquez, as for common nicknames: big red/red, 'hide, big lug

Gender: Male, goes by he/him Age:  millions of years old. but if ironhide was ever human, he'd be in his late 50s or early 60s

Species:  Cybertronian

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents: enhanced strength and durability, weapon knowledge and flexibility, combat strategist, lots of soldier/body guard experience.

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Agnostic. He’s not a big fan of religion, nor does he despise it. To him it’s just— there. He acknowledges that beings such as Primus, Unicron and the primes exist (hell, he literally fought with one), but the superstitious side of things ain’t his style.

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: modern cybertronian along with iaconian and praxian dialect, and is currently trying to learn eukarian. As for human languages, he speaks English, Spanish and Creole fluently.

Family: We dont talk about that

Friends: Ignite, a young bot who slowly turned into his mentee and the dynamic between them and ironhide is more of a child/father one. Blackarachnia, an eukarian who he met in... rough circumtances, but they saved his life, which he is grateful for. Rest is verse dependant.

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual  / asexual / unsure / questioning / other

Relationship status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / other

Libido: sex god / very high / high  / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby(-ish) / obese

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other (in holoform, it's a dark brown with faded strands of dyed red hair and the natural white hair as sign of his age)

Eyes: brown / blue / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown (in holoform + tan marks) / very brown / black / other (light-ish grey)

Height: under 3 foot / 3-4 foot / 4-5 foot / 5-6 foot (holoform) / 6-7 foot / above 7 foot (33ft)

Weight: under 100 pounds / 100-150 pounds / 150-200 pounds / 200-250 pounds / above 250 pounds

Scars: 3 facial scars: two of them are on his nose bridge due to a nasty punch, while the third one is a small scar on his lip.

Facial Features: His most noticeable features aside from the scars are: his blue eyes with lines that connect the faceplates (almost making it look like he’s tired but he isn’t), a slightly big hooked nose and a red armor piece that covers his stubble.

Tattoos:  (in holoform), two tattoos: one at his back which he got in his youth and the second was during the war, which is big gear with the autobot symbol inside and his name written above the gear. 

Dogs or Cats?

Birds or Hamsters?

Red or Blue?

Yellow or Green?

Black or White?

Coffee or Tea?

Ice Cream or Cake?

Fruits or Vegetables?

Sandwich or Soup?

Magic or Melee?

Sword or Bow?

Summer or Winter?

Spring or Autumn?

The Past or The Future?

tagged by: @13urningstars

tagging: YOUUUUUU

[samgirl98]

It's a Boy! 1/1

I couldn't pass this one up! Enjoy!

Two Years ago, The House of Mysteries

John Constantine finished the ritual. He needed help with a powerful spirit; apparently, only the Ghost King could handle him.

He was prepared to pay for the king’s price, even if it was for (a piece of) his soul. It wouldn’t be the first time he made a shady deal, and it wouldn’t be the last. A green portal opened up above the magic circle he had drawn.

The candles went out, and the room got cold.

What came out was an eldritch being with galaxies dying and being born in his eyes. He had a crown of ice-cold fire over his white, floating hair and a cape that bellowed behind him. The cape had stars sewn into it. His limbs were long, longer than they should be. The being’s fingers tapered off into long, green claws. His fangs were dripping green liquid. His skin was blue, and he had elf-like ears. He had on a black and white suit of armor.

Its physical appearance didn’t throw John off; no, it was its aura.

John bowed before the entity, “Ghost King, I have summoned you for help. I am willing to give you my soul if you help me get rid of the spirit called Nocturne. He has been causing havoc by putting both citizens and heroes into a deep slumber.”

John felt a cold sweat starting the longer the being stared at him.

“I accept your offer, John Constantine,” the voice boomed. “I will capture Nocturne in exchange for adopting you into my family.”

“Thank you—wait, what?”

The being took a more human-like shape. His skin was pale, and his white hair no longer floated as if gravity had no hold. He was wearing a black and white hazmat suit with a stylized “D” and “P” in the middle of his chest.”

“You offered your soul; I accepted.”

“Yeah, my soul. How does that translate to me being adopted by you?”

The entity smiled, “In the Infinite Realms, offering your soul to a spirit or ghost means being adopted by them. How do you think I got adopted by the Ruler of Time?”

Fuck, John hadn’t known that! Maybe he should’ve done more research.

“I’ve always wanted a son,” the entity said in a chipper voice. “Now, let dad get rid of the problem for you, and then I’ll be back.”

The being disappeared, and he reappeared before John could process what had happened.

“Oh, and we’re gonna talk about why your soul is in pieces.”

The being disappeared again.

John took out a cigarette. He had no idea what happened, but he knew one thing: there was no way in hell he was calling that thing ‘dad.’

Two years later, The Watchtower

It was time to call his dad.

Trigon had merged with the Devil Nezha and had become unstoppable. There was nothing the Justice League and Justice League Dark could do. As embarrassing as it will be to have his dad help him, at least there’ll still be a world to be embarrassed in.

 John put out his cigarette.

“Okay, I have a solution. I don’t like it, but we have to summon the Ghost King.”

“The Ghost King? Isn’t he a tyrant,” Deadman asked.

The rest of the heroes started protesting when they heard what Deadman said. John shouldn’t have made him visible.

John whistled to get their attention.

“A new king replaced the old tyrant through the right of conquest years ago. He’s not the same as Pariah Dark.”

“How do you know,” Batman asked.

Paranoid bastard.

“I’ve met him. He’s a good person if a bit over the top.”

“Hn,” Batman grunted, “and you’ll think he’ll help you?”

“He will, for a price. One I’m going to have to pay.”

Before the others could protest, John used the summoning ritual his dad had given him to get him directly.

His dad came out of the circle in his eldritch form. Many of the Leaguers stepped back or got on the defensive.

“Dad, you’re scaring my colleagues. Can you tone it down a bit?”

“Dad,” the word echoed through the room.

His father smiled, showing his fangs.

“Sure thing, Johnny,” Danny Phantom, aka the Ghost King, answered in a booming voice.

Soon, he was in his Phantom getup, hazmat and all. He kept his ghostly tail, which he used to wind around John’s body. Dad smoothed John’s hair and kissed him on the cheek. He sighed. His dad was very touchy-feely.

Dad’s eyes went to the cigarette at John’s feet and frowned. Fuck. John felt a lecture coming.

“Johnny, are you still smoking?”

“No,” he answered at the same time that Hal Jordan, the wanker, said “yes.”

No wonder Batman hated him.

“This is so cute,” Flash said while taking a picture. Ha, the joke was on him; his dad corrupted pictures on modern cameras.

“Can we get back to the problem on hand,” Batman said.

Thank the Ancients for the stick in the mud.

“Batman’s right,” John said, “Dad, there are two demons on Earth that are causing havoc, and we can’t stop them. I’m willing to go to the, ugh, family reunion if you take care of them for me.”

“Johnny, I would’ve done it for free, but since you offered, I’ll accept your terms.”

Damn, he wished he knew that sooner.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

His dad disappeared, leaving an awkward silence behind.

“So, um, does that make you a prince,” Superman asked.

“Hell no, he can’t make me accept that title even when he’s begged,” John said, crossing his arms.

“But your dad is a king,” Aquaman said, “That makes you a prince.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he protested.

“How did this even happen,” Wonder Woman asked, “You said you don’t have a father.”

“First of all, I said I have an abusive asshole of a father. Secondly, getting adopted by the King of the Infinite Realms was a bloody accident.”

“How do you accidentally get adopted by the King of Ghosts?” Zatanna asked.

“Well, Zee, in the Infinite Realms, when you offer your soul, it means you’re permitting them to adopt you. I hadn’t known that when I sold him my soul.”

“John, you have got to stop pawning your soul off like that,” Zatanna lectured him.

“Save it, Zee; dad already gave me the talk. Besides, no demon or spirit would take my soul after he adopted me. I have nothing left to bargain with,” he said bitterly.

John took out another cigarette and lit up when his father appeared. John sighed at his dad’s disappointed frown and put out the cigarette. Having a caring parent was exhausting.

“That was quick,” Batman said, “were you able to defeat him?”

“Yep,” his dad answered while pulling out a Fenton Thermos from his chest cavity.

“I had them close to my chest,” he said with a smirk. Damn his dad’s urge to spit out puns.

“So, they're in that little thermos,” Flash asked incredulously. To be fair, John had had the same reaction when his dad had explained the function of the thermos.

He had shut his mouth when he saw a demonstration.

“Yeah, demons are just spirits. Corrupted, evil spirits, but spirits nonetheless. This little baby captures and holds spirits. I’ll take them to the Infinite Realms and keep an eye on them.”

“Wait a minute,” great; Batman just had to interrupt, “How do we know they will be contained in that thing? How do we know you won’t let them loose or control them for your gain?”

Dad rolled his eyes.

“Please, if I wanted to take over the Earth, I wouldn’t need these two weaklings. Besides, I have a whole dimension aptly called the Infinite Realms that I have to deal with. The last thing I need is to add another headache to my plate.

“Johnny,” his dad turned to him, “I expect to see you at the reunion this Saturday. Your aunts are dying to see you again. Oh, Diana, you can come, too. I would love to get to know my niece.”

His dad left, leaving him to stare at Wonder Woman awkwardly.

“What does he mean ‘niece?’” She asked.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Dad’s dad might be Kronos.”

“What,” Diana asked. Damn it, dad, you couldn’t have kept that yourself?

Diana meets Pandora and her Grandfather (who is chiller this time around) and has fun. She keeps a lookout on her younger cousin and makes sure he doesn't do stupid things. It doesn't work.

John is embarrassed constantly by his dad and newfound cousin. Batman takes a bunch of blackmail pictures with an old camera to get John to do him favors.

Dp x Dc Prompt

I’m sure we all know ‘Constantine adopts Danny and/or Ellie’

BUT I raise you an even funnier concept: Danny is Constantine’s father. 

How? Idk maybe he is immortal and from another dimension and Constantine is somehow biologically his or maybe he just looked at the sad little British occult dude and was like : ,Ah another child perfect’ (if he considers Ellie (and maybe even Dan) his child)

There is a threat that the JL can’t beat and John motherfucking Constantine just rolls up and is like ‘hold my cigs I’m gonna call Dad in for this’ and summons this eldritch horror

But the eldritch horror just takes care of the threat shrinks a little, curls around Constantine and starts fussing over him.

Constantine looks absolutely done and resigned to his fate

[phantomrose96]

Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place – as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ice lolly, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: You (accidentally?) deep throat a popsicle in front of Min Yoongi. It's not what it looks like! Well, it kinda is, but you have a good reason! You just want to give your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin, a mind-blowing blowjob and you read some stuff online and, uh... okay, that still doesn't sound like a good reason, but I swear it is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; featuring seagull-BTS LOL; crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral); ft Min Yoongi witnessing your, um, attempt XD; my tongue technology strikes again, maybe you'll learn something?

this is inspired by your hapless adventures, cat whiskers. you told me not to do it, but I'm a brat and I did it anyway LMAO get rekt

--

So.

You read this thing online.

What if you just...

"What are you doing?"

You started with a shriek, jamming the entire ice lolly right into the back of your throat, instantly choking and yanking it out of your mouth, only for it to be flung off the wooden stick and fly across the sidewalk, leaving a long, ice-blue streak of melting sugar syrup ending with a demolished hunk of discarded popsicle.

A seagull immediately appeared to peck at it.

You gawked, still clutching the wooden stick, Min Yoongi standing beside the bench you were sitting on.

"Why did you try to deep throat your popsicle?"

A second seagull arrived to peck at the icy hunk of sugar water.

Your mouth was still open, mechanically jerking to face him with fire-red cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the bright sunny weather. He looked very much like a disgruntled cat with his expression, black eyebrow raised, dark brown eyes narrowed, pink lips slightly pursed. Yoongi squinted disapprovingly from under his wide-brimmed straw hat. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt under a white t-shirt, breezy black trousers, and sandals.

Yoongi hated the sun.

A third seagull flapped down onto the boardwalk and joined the other two to poke at the rapidly melting mess on the ground.

"Um..."

He raised a hand dismissively, eyes flicking away from you. "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Yoongi jammed his black clutch under his armpit and ripped open his own cold sweet treat, turning away from you to face the ocean.

A fourth seagull flocked over to peck one of them in the head and assist in devouring the ice pop.

"Hey, hyung, what flavor did you get?" a smooth baritone voice piped, appearing in an aqua-and-pink colorful shirt and brown shorts with snazzy sunglasses and tan skin.

You were staring at the four seagulls eating your ice lolly with glee, somewhat frozen yourself, feeling a mixture of jealous, mortified, and absolutely ready to chuck yourself into the ocean if Yoongi said anything to out you to Kim Taehyung right now.

"I don't know. I told them to pick one at random," the straw hat replied.

A fifth seagull appeared, slightly smaller than the rest, poking one in the neck and squawking before trying to prod at the puddle of blue syrup with a small chunk of ice in it.

"I got strawberry," Taehyung replied.

Two more seagulls swooped down, pushing the other five all around. All of them were now pecking at the ice-blue sugar syrup, honking and squawking. Like laughter. One of the seagulls had a weird cry, like a cloth rubbed onto wet glass.

Or a windshield wiper on a car window.

"Disgusting."

You narrowed your eyes at the seven seagulls.

We they... laughing at you?

"Strawberry-flavored things are the worst."

You jumped as someone sat down next to you, ripping open a paper package. He was wearing a short-sleeved pale pink dress shirt with a flashy tie and long blue shorts. A familiar someone dressed like this. He placed his backpack down next to you, smiling brilliantly. Full lips, sparkling brown eyes, milk chocolate-colored locks framing his handsome face.

Your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.

"S-Seokjin!"

He grinned and leaned in, kissing you lightly. Then he became flustered and laughed awkwardly, a little squeaky, almost like a windshield wiper on a car window.

"Hah, sorry, you looked really cute just now."

You blinked rapidly.

Do you tell your boyfriend that you tried to deep throat your ice lolly in attempt to see if you could extend your tongue around the bottom because you read on a certain-website-not-to-be-named that it might be possible to suck dick and lick balls at the same time and you were determined to learn so you could perform said act?

And do you tell Seokjin that Min Yoongi caught you in the middle of it?

Er…

Seokjin cheerfully licked at his lemon ice pop, oblivious to your inner struggle.

"Where's yours? I thought you got one too?"

The seven seagulls cackled. You glared at them, ready to fight.

"Hyung."

Never mind, you paled to the color of rice paper as the deep voice with a little rasp to it appeared beside Seokjin, straw hat and all. You wished you could merge with your pastel floral summer dress and float off with the sea breeze, straight into the ocean after seeing the deadpan expression of Min Yoongi holding a mint green popsicle.

He looked bored, but his eyes were mocking you.

Asshole.

"She dropped it by accident."

"Ah, really?" Seokjin frowned, nudging you with his hand. "Here, have some of mine. I'll share with you." He wrapped his arm around you and patted your shoulder fondly, holding his ice lolly out to you. You felt your heart skip a little at his kindness and closeness.

Yoongi smirked behind Seokjin's head.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

The seven seagulls flapped off, flying above five guys standing near you three, eating icy sweet treats together on the boardwalk this sunny day, enjoying this nice retreat to the sea. A lone seagull popped out from behind a trashcan, trotting over, eyeing the wet spot of sugar syrup soaked into asphalt.

It slunk away in a back corner, dejected that there was nothing left.

"Come on, hurry before it melts."

You nibbled off a chunk. Mmm. Cold, lemony, and delicious. You smiled at Seokjin gratefully and he smiled back, warm and inviting, his cheeks puffing a little like the edges of raised bread. A little sheepish at the public display of affection, but unable to help it when he was with you.

"You might as well stick the whole thing in your mouth," Yoongi said off-handedly, walking away to the group of five guys, leaving you choking on the bench again as Seokjin rubbed your back soothingly, worriedly asking you what was wrong.

-

"YOU TRIED TO DEEP THROAT A POPSICLE?"

"Seokjinnie–"

"IN FRONT OF YOONGI?"

"Erm, it's not what it sounds like–"

"YOONGI???????"

“I swear it’s not what It sounds like!”

Seokjin yanked the towel off his head, half-dried brown hair sticking up every which way, gawping at you with a slack jaw and shocked brown eyes. He was wearing his emerald green silk pajamas, fresh after a nice shower from the hot day. You too, wore a set of pajamas, a matching outfit with Seokjin.

“It’s not what it sounds like?” he sputtered, flabbergasted, partly flabbered but mostly aghast.

You opened your mouth and closed it. Then you opened it again.

“Okay, it is what it sounds like, but–!”

Why did you bring this up now? Well, your boyfriend was asking you if you wanted to take some medicine and sleep early because you said you weren’t feeling well at dinner. He was a sweet bean and wanted the best for you, and the truth came out in mid-discussion. Seokjin and you had left earlier than everyone else, declining the scenic walk home, mostly because you could no longer stand Yoongi making snide remarks that meant nothing to anyone else except you.

“You might need a bit more force to suck up that thick milkshake. Or wait for it to melt.”

“That’s a pretty big piece of steak. Maybe you should cut it a bit smaller, so you don’t choke.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dessert? We could stop by the store and get you an ice lolly on our way home.”

You glared at him all evening.

Yoongi just smirked when Seokjin wasn’t looking.

Asshole.

“Why would you do that in public?” Seokjin was saying, yanking you back to reality and out of your daydreams of socking that smug little shit in the face. “Why would you do that at all?”

“G-Gah, it… it just… just occurred to me…”

“It occurred to you to suck an ice lolly like a dick?”

Seokjin looked as if he was going to pass out and divorce you at the same time and you weren’t even married yet.

“Why, because you’re going to suck frozen dick at some point in your life? Because my dick isn’t ever at subzero temperatures, so unless you’re sucking Mr. Freeze or Subzero’s dick–”

You waved your arms in a panicky manner, flapping your sleeves like a fucking seagull. “No, no, no, I read something online–”

“Oh, you read something online!” he exclaimed, wiggling in place, and now it sure as hell sounded like Kim Seokjin was mocking you while also being disappointed in you and if that wasn’t the most big dad energy you weren’t sure what was. “Yes, because that totally means you should perform fellatio on an ice pop in front of Yoongi of all fucking people! Are you trying to get bronchitis or something–”

“I admit it was a mistake!”

“A miss-take! It was a terrible take! Cut! Refilm! Actually, no, because maybe don’t try to give a blowjob to a fucking popsicle at the boardwalk in broad daylight!”

You smacked Seokjin in the chest and he looked highly offended, finally shutting up for one goddamn second so you could (poorly) explain your logic behind the incident.

“Look, Yoongi was not supposed to be there. At all. I got mine first and you all were deciding and arguing, so I decided to sit down and eat it, but then I noticed it was a specific length–”

Seokjin’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly left his face.

You prodded him in the pecs and he winced, pouting at you.

“So, I tried to put it in my mouth, but then Yoongi showed up and fucking spooked me and I jabbed myself in the throat because I was surprised and ended up rocket-launching my ice lolly across the sidewalk and then these fucking seagulls showed up, those bastards–”

“None of this explains why you tried to do it in the first place.”

“Uh…”

Your eyes shifted awkwardly.

Seokjin impatiently tapped his naked wrist that had no watch on it.

“I read it… in an online smut story I was reading…”

You perfectly handsome boyfriend might actually get a wrinkle if he continued to raise his eyebrows to the fucking moon. “You do what?”

You poked your index fingers together, biting your lip. “Because… I’m not very good at it… so I was thinking maybe I could learn some tips or something…”

“What?”

Now his voice was soft, immediately dropping the act and his anger. You saw him reach out and place his hand over yours, wrapping his fingers around tightly, tugging. You looked up and he tilted his head, brow knitted in worry.

“Hey,” Seokjin frowned, full lower lip sticking out. “What do you mean, you’re not good at it? You are. I like everything you do.”

You chewed on your lip anxiously. “But… but…” It was a stupid thought and, honestly, not that big of a deal, but it had been eating away at you for a while, so you just winced and let it out.

“You never finish with my mouth.”

Rapid blinking was his response. His eyebrows disappeared under his brown hair again.

“And it bothers me. You always finish with your hand into my mouth, but I can’t seem to do it by myself.”

Seokjin’s lips parted, looking apologetic. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

You wrung your hands, loosening his grip on you. “I don’t know, it seems weird to say in the moment and it’s embarrassing… I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough…”

“No, no,” he said gently, holding your shoulders and shaking his head. “I...” His ears turned bright red and he swallowed. “I just like… seeing it shoot out into your mouth.” He coughed awkwardly, squeezing your shoulders. “It’s, er, nice, watching my cum drip onto your tongue and lips…” Seokjin cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks puffing out, looking a bit like the sides of freshly baked bread. “I didn’t realize my selfishness was making you feel inadequate. That’s not it at all. I only wanted to make it easier on you, and, cough, it’s kind of hot…”

“O… oh.”

He patted your shoulder fondly. “It’s only a misunderstanding. We can do whatever you want next time, okay? I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I will do better.”

You nodded and smiled, feeling much more relieved about the whole thing. Seokjin always had the ability to help you let things go, and it always made you feel a little lighter. It was part of the past now and you wouldn’t be bothered if Yoongi teased you any longer, because you had the best boyfriend in the whole world. There was no need to feel embarrassed.

You wrapped your arms around Seokjin and gave him a big, fierce hug.

Only to be impaled in the lower stomach.

“Ow!”

“Ack!”

You jerked back, whipping your head down.

“No, no, no, stop! Stop looking!”

“Why are you hard?!”

Seokjin waved his arms and abruptly flapped his hands down on his massive tent. “We were talking about blowjobs! And you! What do you think is going to happen?” he spluttered, the red creeping from his ears to his cheeks now, matching the exact shades used on merchandise during Christmas time with emerald green pajamas and a red face.

You gawked at him and he gawked back.

Wait.

“This is a perfect chance!”

“No, no, no, it is not, cease and desist, woman! Everyone is coming back soo–Gah!”

There was flurry of movement and Seokjin’s pajama pants were flung off, along with his shirt, and you were pushing him down onto the bed, him panicking the entire time, but he couldn’t have been that mad about it, because he was helping you by backing up, yelping as you hooked your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and yanked down, freeing his erection that nearly slapped you in the face.

“You trying to take out my eyeball?” you teased, grinning.

“You assaulting me and you’re upset that I’m fighting back?” Seokjin retorted, trying to hide his smile and be serious, but he was terrible at that and so were you, both of you grinning like a pair of idiots.

Well, you were certainly a little bit of an idiot for trying to deep throat a – you’re right, we’ll let it go (for now).

“I learned some things,” you said excitedly, forcing his legs open abruptly and making him squeak.

“Things? Ack!”

You leaned down and lifted his hard length up delicately, licking a fat stripe from base to tip, sighing softly as you came into contact with the velvety skin and his clean scent, Seokjin gasping above you, but suddenly this was not about him, this was about the cock in front of you and all the information you had complied to this point, ready to apply your learning. You wrapped your lips around the head, swiping your tongue on the underside, and Seokjin groaned, hips twitching but you grabbed them and pressed them firmly to the bed, shooting him a glare.

“Don’t interrupt me,” you growled around his dick.

He gave you a helpless frown. “Hello, I’m still attached to this di–”

You stared at him and slid your tongue out from your lips, swirling it around his girth, pressing the sensitive tip around the contours of your mouth, his eyes widening as he witnessed spit dripping from the wet muscle.

“O… oh…”

You let your eyes drift over his form, slowly, slowly, savoring the lines of his body, broad shoulders, shapely collarbones, the curve downwards to his trim waist, all the while taking him your mouth, tongue and lips soft and mouth tight, breathing deeply, eyes flickering up to his face and his expanding pupils, watching you with awe.

“Holy shit… and you’re not even naked… o-oh, fuck…”

You cocked an eyebrow, probably looking much more confident than you actually felt, but that didn’t matter. Fake it till you make it, right? And besides, every protagonist in every story has a moment of letting go and having courage and this was your moment, inorganic or not, flexing your tongue against Seokjin’s ever stiffening length, his breathing turning into wispy moans, watching you poised over him with his dick in your mouth, still wearing the silk pajamas and yet.

He watched you with amazement, love and lust in his brown orbs.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Your ears burned hot and you tried not to choke on his dick in embarrassment.

Don’t ruin the moment!

Somehow you managed not to freak out and pressed your lips to the base of his cock, hitting his crotch, the uncomfortable feeling of too full expanding your throat, the head practically plugging your airway, but one glance at Seokjin and the suffocation was worth it, seeing him tip his head back, messy brown hair sliding past his forehead, groaning your name with his eyes closed.

You pulled back a little, took a breath, and went back down for the kill.

“What the fuck…?”

Lower lip opening, tongue stretching out, only able to move the tip a bit at the top of his balls. Hm. This wasn’t working. You adjusted and cupped a hand under them, lifting the two soft mounds and pressing them to your chin, your tongue swiping out over them, his dick bending a little in your mouth (more flexible and a lot warmer than an ice lolly, by the way), and Seokjin was losing it above you, shuddering and whining, a mix of curses and your name as you turned your head to get a different angle, the tip of his cock pushed to one side of your throat, determined to see what was most comfortable and got you the best reaction, saliva coating his balls and causing them to become more slippery. You furrowed your brows and gripped his balls tighter, smearing the slick liquid over the soft skin and Seokjin moaned obscenely loudly, falling onto the bed, back arching.

“Oooh, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Abruptly, your throat spasmed, reminding you that needed to breathe, and you pulled back, coughing and panting slightly.

“Does that feel good?” you wheezed. Not the sexiest. You grimaced and cleared your throat, asking again. “Did that feel good for you?”

Seokjin tipped his head up, brown eyes glazed over, breathing hard. “Ah… It feels nice, but I don’t think I could finish with that…” Your frown deepened, but he shook his head, sending his brown hair floating everywhere. “It’s not tight enough. But it’s an insane turn on, so I think I could cum faster after…” He coughed, cheeks flushing. “After feeling and seeing it, you know?”

Your frown erased and you nodded, gently rubbing his soaked balls, seeing him shiver and his breathing shallow. “I think I understand, yeah.”

“Can… ah, can you finish me, p-please, ack, you k-keep – fuuuuuuuck…”

You went down again, but this time your focus was on the tightness of your mouth, tongue sliding from side to side, bobbing your head in a smooth, swift motion, keeping your lips soft, eyes closing as you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth, completely focused on the sensation of Seokjin in between your lips, breathing him in, the soft scent of fresh soap and his sweetness, trying to remember if there was anything you had forgotten.

Ah, yes!

You tipped your head back slightly and Seokjin cried out, heady and erotic, as the head of his cock dragged along the roof of your mouth before burying into your throat, over and over, hot saliva and a squirming tongue amplifying the sensation, realizing you needed to relax your throat but clench your mouth muscles while relaxing your lips and doing all this while keeping track of where his cock was going in your mouth so you didn’t accidentally choke on his dick.

A whole new level of multitasking.

Was the writer of that erotica you were reading some kind of sex god, because what the fuck–

But it didn’t matter, because even if it was sloppy and you couldn’t focus on all these things simultaneously, Seokjin was feeling only pleasure, fingers curling in the sheets, barely able to choke out his words through his moans.

“F-Faster, please…”

Faster? You could barely keep up as it was!

“Please…” he whined and you obeyed immediately, faster it was, because you were weak for him, weak for Kim Seokjin and his pleading face, pupils so blown out he seemed intoxicated, drunk on pleasure, and that made you aroused too, seeing your effect of him, tightening ever more and increasing the pace, the wet smacking sounds quickening, echoing in the bedroom with his lustful groans of your name, so sweet and loving that if you weren’t going to pass out from how fast you were going, you were surely going to pass out from the overwhelming adoration in his eyes. It made you push for a little bit more, push your limits a little harder, made you feel like you could do this.

For him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

Seokjin gripped the sheets tight and threw his head back, chest expanding with a low moan, thrusting his hips up and cock jolting, shooting thick streams into your throat, and your eyes widened, forced to stop, feeling his cum pool, creamy and viscous, tasting the delicious saltiness at the base of your tongue, your eyelids fluttering a little at the feeling of the tip rutting against the roof of your mouth and more dribbling out, coating the inside of your mouth.

Oh.

Oooh, fuck, it felt good.

You swallowed, feeling victorious and insanely horny, tongue circling round and round his flinching stiffness, able to sense the pulse and his shudders, descending again because you couldn’t get enough, so good, the feeling of him still in your mouth, him shivering at your persistent licks and light sucks, stroking his hips and moaning at the skin to skin.

The front door banged open downstairs and there was a lot of laughing and shouting.

Your eyes snapped open and Seokjin looked back at you in sheer panic.

The footsteps up the stairs proved they were being taken two at a time.

“Shit.”

Never had Seokjin yanked his cock so fast out of your lips (sad) and snatched his underwear and pajamas, bolting to the bathroom and throwing himself in there in record time the literal second the bedroom door was yanked open by rambunctious strength and a grin whose front teeth were ever-so-slightly too large for his face.

“Hyung, noona!”

You were laying with your head in your hand and your elbow on the bed, which was probably too sexual and weird for Jeon Jungkook, but that was all you got that this moment. He gave you a slightly disturbed and confused look under his big black bucket hat.

“Where’s hyung?”

You coughed and lowered your hand, trying to get in a less awkward position. “B-bathroom…” you rasped. Oh no. Did you go too hard? You sounded a bit like the crypt keeper. Fortunately, you didn’t look like one, so there was that. You rubbed your throat, wincing at the soreness. You definitely went a bit rough. You weren’t no young spring chicken anymore. You were going to feel that in the morning.

Sacrifices had to be made.

Jungkook pouted, bounding up to you and tilting his head. He was a moving black fabric mountain with his long-sleeved shirt and billowy shorts. “Are you really sick, noona? Do you want hot tea or some milk?”

Oh my God, Jungkook, I just sucked some dick and that’s why I sound dead.

Don’t say that.

“I… I’ll be fine, Jungkook. Did you have a nice walk?”

“Oh, yeah! There were fireworks! I think the city was celebrating something, and it was so colorful and pretty…”

You sat there and nodded, trying to listen intently while trying not to think about how Seokjin was in the bathroom rinsing off his saliva and cum-covered dick literal meters from you and oblivious Jungkook.

You saw movement behind Jungkook’s excitedly bouncing head. No straw hat, just black hair flattened against his forehead, covering his cat-like, dark brown eyes.

Yoongi.

He smirked, holding up a box.

Frozen ice lollys, the fizzy soda flavor that was light blue.

A muscle in your eye twitched.

Asshole.

--

masterpost

[bbrokenbback]

"Loyalty is its own reward". His litany, his creed. And everyone seems to believe that it's only about the Imperium. It has to be.

It's about his father, his sire, his Emperor. It's about the war he fights, it's about the warriors he leads into the heat of battle. It's something philosophical, something... sublime. It can't be about unrequited love, right? Such a slogan cannot bear such a simple meaning.

Lion doesn't really try to hide anything about himself, be it his thoughts, plans or feelings. He just makes no effort in showing them off, he doesn't explain things that, in his opinion, do not require understanding. Life is simple to him.

Or it used to be, he's not sure at this moment. He knows that the lovesick condition he falls in each time they meet will pass, sooner or later. It's just this moment, these hours of 'family' gathering that make his quiet loyalty raise its head to reveal the immense love it hides underneath.

He looks at the weird bun of cables on his head — what a strange way to imitate a haircut. Lion has never seen the Lord of Iron's real hair — at the first time they met he had already replaced it with augmetics. He looks at the steel that glisters oily and wonders what Perturabo's hair actually are.

He looks at his eyes. They have something weirdly common about this exact organ — Lion's own eyes are of a deep green colour, unnatural to humans, too grassy, too vibrant, and Perturabo's have quite the same features, except for the main colour. If Lion's eyes may be compared to Caliban forests, Perturabo's are like Olympia's warm oceans, the light surface of a quiet lagoon.

He never understood the comparison to ice on this subject. How can anyone see lifeless blue glass in the eyes of the warm morning sky?

He looks at thin lips and crooked nose, and notices a new scar. It's thin and long, and it crosses pale contours of Perturabo's lips diagonally.

A new small detail added to the picture he'd cherish in his memory.

Lion's got a whole art piece at this point — he'd observed for far too long not to notice each and every little detail. He memorized the scar ornament, he knows that his hands never tremble — a sign of being used to painstaking work.

He noticed things that were supposed to be hidden. Unlike him, Perturabo does make an effort to hide his features, especially those who can be considered as those of a weak one. Lion noticed the pattern at some point of his staring.

He expected to find something... hideous. Perturabo's got quite a reputation among them, so it was only expectable. But instead he found just harmless details, almost too human to belong to a Primarch.

Perturabo's addicted to coffee, the black olympian one, which he drinks with a few drops of olive oil, of all things. It's a good addition to his other aristocratic habits, since he was raised at the Tyrant's court.

He'd also be late to his own funeral, probably. Since it won't be an event related to warfare, he'd make no effort in showing up on time. Especially if the funeral is going to be held in the morning — there's a chance he won't come at all.

Lion studied a lot about Olympia's culture, and, apparently, it's just the national thing. Olympians are always late, it's considered rude to come to events early, especially to informal ones.

And Perturabo's got a sweet tooth. This was the most unexpected discovery. He always makes an effort to refuse any desserts, and tells everyone that he doesn't like sweet stuff. Yet for some reason Magnus always brings his prosperian baklava, and it took Lion quite some time to figure out why one would give their friend something they despise.

Lion looks at them both — by some miracle, Magnus wasn't late today, unlike Perturabo, and held two spots for them at one of the tables. When Perturabo came, he put the remaining two chairs aside.

He hears Magnus' quiet laugh and Perturabo's small smile. They talk about something in prosperian, and, apparently, it's something hilarious for the Red King.

For a moment Lion's eyes meet Perturabo's. It's just a few seconds, but it changes everything.

Lion's heartbeat immediately quickens, his shoulders tense. For a moment he went back to Caliban forests, and he got noticed when he was tracking down his prey. He mistook a predator for a herbivore.

But they are not on Caliban. They are in a great hall, the atmosphere is rather like one of the balls' he'd been at in his youth. He can't just run away.

So he only averts his gaze, staring now into nothingness, alone at his table.

Tell me about a weird ship you got that no one else seem to get.

Mine is Lion El’Johnson/Perturabo.

It just makes so much sense in my head, and it would be such a deliciously angsty thing to read. Lion literally said Perturabo was the only brother he trusted with the forbidden weapons™; I can't stop thinking about it.

Mr. “Loyalty is its own reward” looks at Perturabo, saying, “I wish that were me” when he sees him fighting against the Hrud. Meanwhile, Bo is utterly oblivious because they are both so goddamn autistic and think the Lion info dumping about swords and knightly orders is annoying.

[sallyf4ce]

wolves

chapter I

-> sally face x f!reader

-> enemies to lovers

-> previous | next | character index

cw: drugs, cigarettes, abuse

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: seventeen year old y/n and her bitchfaced mother arrive in nockfell. in her first few minutes at the addison apartments, she’s already made new enemies and escaped her home for a quick stroll.

The poisonous yet familiar smell of smoke filed out the car window as you neared addison apartments.

“This place looks like a shit shack.” you mumbled, clearly displeased with your mother’s housing choice.

“What was that, brat?” Her blond hair whipped around to face you. She was a dirty woman, her hair indefinitely damaged from box dye, eyebags as dark as night, prominent cigar butt scars and heavy wrinkles adorning her discoloured face. Every single piece of clothing she owned was either laced with the smell of cigarettes or was stained, too.

Not that you were much better. You reeked of weed and smoke, but at least you knew how to maintain proper hygiene. God, you were gonna have to shower after this. The stench of the car had already ingrained itself into your skin, but hey, it was worth a try.

“Get the boxes, i’ll be right there.” she huffed and pulled out her phone.

“What, are you not gonna help?”

“Get the fucking boxes!” she snarled at you.

“Alright! Alright.” you slung your black duffel over your left shoulder as you hopped out the car. A few moments later, the trunk popped and you could hear your mom’s annoying laughter coming from the front seat. She was probably on the phone with some scumbag again. Pulling your bluesville zippo lighter out of your jacket pocket, you quickly lit up a smoke before grabbing a box. The keys to your apartment, 404, already hung from your belt loop. They jiggled slightly as you made your way to the front doors.

When you walked in, you were hit with a strong, unpleasant smell. It was like mildew mixed with the smell of peroxide on blood; maybe some heavy chemical cleaner as well. Your eyes traced the sickly green coloured doors as you made your way to the elevator. Quickly remembering the cigarette still in your mouth, you hastily remove it and breath the smoke out. It slowly seeps into the ceiling. Seems like the building was used to this kind of neglect. Heading into the elevator, you heard two muffled voices coming from behind you. One was deep and gruff, the other a more soft, emotionless tune.

“They said there’s gonna be a new album next year.” the softer voice exclaimed. Great, they were probably headed to the elevator too. You tried to speed up and close the doors on them, but alas, your effort was wasted as a pale, thin hand with painted black nails stopped the door from closing. You soon learned that it belonged to a just as pale, electric-blue haired boy. He was around 5’6 and dressed in a simple black sweater and red ripped jeans. The only thing that stood out, apart from his hair, was a white prosthetic. There was a light pink stain in the top right corner, but apart from that, it was plain. There was not a single emotion visible on it either. The only thing that could hint to any sort of feeling was the boy’s ice blue eyes peeking through the eyeholes.

He cleared his throat and you moved over begrudgingly. Following him was another boy, around 6’0 with long brown hair and brown eyes. He noticed you looking at him and shot a wink which you completely disregarded. They both looked at the giant box in your hand. You took your chance and put the cigarette up to your lips again. They looked up at the sound of an inhale.

“That’s not good for you.” the shorter one muttered in his annoyingly quiet voice. You pulled it out and huffed the smoke into his mask.

“Shut it, pigtails.” you growled quietly. God, why was this fucking elevator taking so long?

Larry grimaced at the nickname and began making his way towards you. He thought you looked cool at first, but apparently he was wrong. Sal’s hand made contact with his chest before he could confront you.

“Sal, what-”

“Why not the mask?” sally was amused now. it was usually the mask that people pointed out, that they picked on him for. so why didn’t you?

The elevator dinged and you quickly walked out with your box in hand, cigarette in your mouth. quickly, your free hand slammed against the buttons of the elevator. the metal against metal clanged loudly as you pulled away. You chuckled at their astonished faces. “See ya, fuckers!”

Sal’s face lit up a bit under his mask.

“Larry, she’s like me!”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

By the time you finished sorting your boxes, it was around 11 pm. Your mom was already knocked out on the couch so nothing was stopping you from going out on a stroll. Quickly throwing on your army green windbreaker, you grab your skateboard and slip on your boots. God, you hoped those weirdos weren’t still out there. Making sure to slam the door extra loud, you run out your apartment and quickly make your way down the stairs. Your mom’s faint screaming only earned a giggle from you as you opened the door. A cool, rain-fresh breeze filled your nose and you set down your skateboard. It was a nice change from the tainted apartment air. The sky was navy, fading into a baby blue as it reached the ground. Nockfell was a small town so you’d finally be able to see the stars. A few were already peaking out at you. Turning your attention back to yourself, you pull out a cig and light it as you kick off.

Across the street from you were larry and sal, hoods on and shivering as they quickly walked back to the apartments. Larry was rambling about todd’s parents and their weed or something, but sal couldnt find it in him to listen. His attention was stuck on you. It was rare to see another kid with a prosthetic here in nockfell. Actually, he was pretty sure he was the only teen with one. Except you, of course. He remembered your metal hand shining in the light of the elevator as you trotted away, unbothered and chuckling to yourself. Him and larry were stuck in there for around five minutes after you spammed the buttons. Larry was pissed, but sal found himself smiling. At your chuckle, at your prosthetic, he didn’t know. Maybe both.

“Anyway, some kid said they were better than san- sally face, you there? Dont tell me you’re still hung up on that chick.'' Larry sighed.

“No!” the tips of his ears turned a little pink at his sudden reply. “I mean, no.”

“Man, i still dont get why you’re not mad. She’s a dick!” The brunette really was confused. She called him names and was just mean in general. She got them stuck in the elevator! Just because she had a metal hand didnt give her special bullying privileges.

“She’s just a little roughed up is all.”

larry looked across the street to the sound of a skateboard.

“Speak of the devil. Wait, isn’t that a sanity’s fall shirt? Man, for a dick, she’s got a good ass music taste! Come on!”

[eirikaanemo]

His Fight

Venti x GN!Reader

1.9 Words

Warnings: Frostbite, assault (not sexual), near death experience

Part 1: His Lyre

His kiss to your cheek was quick but sent a warmth blooming across your face, contrasting with the coolness of his lips.

“Of course,” you mumble, embarrassed. “It was your lyre anyway.”

“It was,” he agreed. “But you believed me. And that really does mean a lot to me. Thank you, really.”

“I’ve always believed you, Venti,” you tell him softly, “both Venti and Barbatos. I believe in you. Even if you didn’t bring the lyre back in one piece, you brought yourself back. And I know you tried your best. You always do, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Venti chuckles out a nervous, “ehe~” and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. He doesn’t try to hide the blush dusting his cheeks at your sincere words. “I’m not sure I deserve that, but thank you anyway.”

The two of you stand in silence for a little while after that. It’s not uncomfortable silence though. There’s a pleasant and kind of tingly feeling warming you from head to toe. Venti’s humming a little song and staring thoughtfully out into the distance; and you’re working up the courage to try and hold his hand.

Then your eyes accidentally meet the Traveler’s. Thankfully they seem to have been busy with Paimon while you and Venti were talking, so things aren’t as awkward as they could have been. They’re still kind of a third wheel though, and you’ve done that enough times to know how awkward it is.

Both of your eyes are caught by movement to the right of Traveler. Venti’s still oblivious, but it was enough of a tell for Traveler to be ready when two fatui pyro agents burst out of the brush. They drew their sword and stood their ground despite being outnumbered. Knife met sword as they exchanged blows.

While the fight attracted Venti’s attention, you took the chance to scan the area. It was uncommon for fatui agents to attack like this. Especially in a public area like the cathedral, and… there!

You push Venti out of the way just in time for the blast of ice to miss him, though it hits you dead on. The strength of it had both knocked you off your feet and frozen you solidly to the ground. Squirming some to test your cryo prison, you found an arm and both your legs to be solidly frozen to the ground. A hiss leaves your mouth as the cold starts to seep through your clothes and all the way down to your bones. Frostbite.

A sultry chuckle escapes your attacker as she approaches the two of you, with two cicin mages at her heels. “How touching,” she coos. “You sacrificed yourself for his sake.” She comes to a stop a couple feet away. Venti has very carefully not tensed up, pretending to not be affected, but you can see the wary look in his eyes.

Glancing over at Traveler, your heart falls. They’re still being held up by the pyro fatui agents. There will be no help from them.

She turns to Venti and smirks. “At last, Mondstadt’s rodent ruler in the flesh.” Step by step she draws nearer. “Scurrying through the streets, looking for leftovers.” She passes you, not giving you a second glance. Tilting her head, she quirks an eyebrow and gestures at Venti. “Mondstadt calls this a god?”

Oh she did not just go there.

You may be stuck in ice, and it may be slowly freezing you, but you’re not helpless. Your anemo vision is a weight against your chest. Most may choose to flaunt their visions, but you choose to wear it like a pendant but under your shirt. It may garner less respect, but it also garners less attention. Which is really helpful in situations like this.

The first thing you have to do is take out those cicin mages. With slight hand movements you slowly steal the air out of their lungs- and keep it there. If you’re careful enough, and you are, you can knock them out without them making a sound.

While waiting for them to drop, you keep an eye on Venti and the lady’s exchange.

“Resident rodent beats invasive vermin,” Venti quips.

The lady’s face darkens with rage. “Don’t you dare speak back to me, insolent bard.” She responds, stretching out her arm and summoning a gust in another attempt to freeze him. Crossing his arms, Venti launches himself into the air to avoid it. In return, he reaches for his lyre, which transforms into a bow, and he lets a volley of anemo arrows fly.

She easily knocks each one aside with a volley of ice crystals. “Look at you, absentee archon of Mondstadt… how impotent you have become.” Another barrage of ice rushes towards him with another gesture from the lady.

Venti easily knocked them off course with a blast of wind. “That smirk of yours looks out of place. Did you steal it from your master’s face?”

At that moment you realized three things. The cicin mages are knocked out so you should probably let them go before you kill them. The lady just got angrier than before. Not good. And you’re losing feeling in your legs. That’s definitely not good.

You let out a quiet sound of pain as the pins and needles reach further up your chest towards your neck. The moment he hears that noise, Venti’s attention snaps to you. He freezes. Your lips are blue and your skin is growing pale. He has to do something, fast.

“Cicin mages, attack!” The lady commands, trying to take advantage of his distraction. When nothing happens she turns around to find them where you left them on the ground. A growl escapes her throat as she turns on you.

“I thought that was enough to keep you down and out of the fight,” she said darkly. “Apparently I was wrong. I suppose I’ll need to put you down permanently.” Grabbing a dagger of ice out of thin air, she went for the throat.

“Hey, keep your eyes on me!” Venti calls. “This is my fight!” A flash of turquoise light lit up the area, blinding her and giving her pause. Immediately Venti was at your side, melting the dagger with the warm west wind and pushing the lady away. He donned whites and golds now instead of greens and browns. Feathery wings stretched out behind him. Before you stood the anemo archon, Barbatos. And he was angry.

“How dare you,” he hissed. “How dare you attack them! Leave now, before I truly lose my temper. I do not delight in bloodshed, but blood will be shed if you continue. Begone. And tell Tsaritsa that she had best watch herself. I may not be as powerful as she thinks I ought to be, but I am powerful enough to protect myself and my city.”

And with that, beaten but spiteful, the lady left. “Vanessa,” he spoke. “Would you make sure she leaves? We wouldn’t want her to get… lost.” A hawks cry echoed through the plains as she accepted his request. After all, this was her land too and Venti is her friend.

With that taken care of, all of Venti’s attention is on you.

Usually this would be a good thing, but this attention is because you’re turning blue and starting to lose feeling in your chest. He melts the ice and sweeps you into an embrace, wrapping his wings around you, partly for comfort and partly for warmth. “Thank celestia you’re okay,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. And I’m so glad I haven’t lost you like I did my friend all those years ago.”

You hum wordlessly in response and huddle closer to the warmth he provided. “I’m glad you’re okay too,” you whisper quietly.

Then Venti looks up. The flash of his transformation drew quite the crowd. But, most importantly, it drew Barbara out of the Cathedral.

“Barbara, I am not able to fully heal them myself. The frostbite has gotten too far. Would you kindly lend your assistance?”

“Of course, Lord Barbatos!” She exclaimed, hurrying forward to help heal you.

“Venti, Barabra,” he gently chastised. “I may be Barbatos, but I far prefer to go by Venti.”

“Venti it is then,” she concluded. “I… I believe we owe both of you an apology,” she admits as she focuses more on healing you. “You were telling the truth the whole time, Venti. And they were the only one to believe you. And we can see how that turned out.” She lets out a sigh as she pulls her hands away. “That should do it. How do you feel?”

“I’m still a little cold, but I’ll be okay,” you inform her. Venti holds you a little closer in response. Your skin is still a shade paler than it should be and you’re shaking with cold. But you can feel even your toes and fingers again. Everything will be okay in time.

Over the next few days as you recover, the news of Barbatos’ reappearance and his true identity spread throughout the town. While Venti’s power and ability grew significantly, the revenant and awed looks he received in public made him uncomfortable. Things did get better but it took a while.

“Do you regret doing it?” You asked him one night.

“Revealing my identity as Barbatos? Kind of,” he confessed. “But saving your life? Never. And there wasn’t another way I could have done it. My form as Venti is not able to wield as much power as I can in my winged form. Without revealing myself, I would not have been able to save you. So no, I don’t really regret it. I never could.”

You snuggle closer to him on the couch and entwine one of your hands with his. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“Anytime,” he responds back, just as quietly. He gently squeezes your hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve just brought such a bright light into my life since I met you. I’m not sure I could handle the dark anymore.”

You feel your face flush with warmth and he laughs a little in response. “Aww, did I fluster you?” He teases, poking at your cheek. You groan and let go of his hand to bury your face in your hands. He frowns a little. “How now, you don’t need to hide.”

When you peak out from your hands he gives you a wide smile. “See? It’s just me. It’s okay!”

As soon as your hands are away from your face he reaches forward to cup the side of your face. “Hey,” he says softly as he looks into your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe back. And just like that, his lips are on yours. It lasts an eternity and is over in a second as he pulls away. Now he’s the one who’s shy, looking away from you with pink dusting his cheeks. “Was that, um- Was that okay?”

“Hmm,” you ponder. “I don’t know. You may need to try again.”

Surprised, his head snaps back to face you. “Really?” He squeaks a little too quickly.

“Really,” you confirm, tugging on his braids to bring him back in for another kiss.

Neither of you are sure how long you spent kissing on the couch, but both of you will remember this moment fondly for the rest of your lives.

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 2. math

Previous | Next

[warnings: cursing, mention of smoking, mention of household abuse of a teenager]

"what a plot twist you were."

—

The next day, you'd wakened with dry lungs and an even drier mouth.

It was true that smoking was bad for you—but it hadn't been as horrible as you'd thought. You'd try it again, but you couldn't see yourself becoming addicted.

Your mother wasn't home, again. You were quick to understand that she worked longer shifts now and you wouldn't see her a whole lot.

Not like you cared. Michelle never really liked you all that well. You'd probably have been dumped on the street a long time ago had your father not legally obligated to pay child support.

You'd never known him. You weren't sure if you wanted to.

She doesn't use child support for your well-being. Probably uses it to continuously feed her crippling gambling addiction and buy more pointless flowers for the apartment.

You were nervous about today. You'd never been the new girl before—and you didn't know what to expect about these kids. You doubted they were as cool as people as Larry and Sal.

You showered and put on your boyfriend jeans—which had holes in the knees, but you couldn't bother to concern yourself whether or not that conflicted with the dress code or not— and your light grey hoodie. You added a flannel on top of that which was a little too big for you. Don't forget the white sneakers which you should probably replace.

You pocketed your flip phone and slung your bag over your shoulder. Stopping in front of the mirror, you passed a hand through your hair, decided it was adequate, and walked into the kitchen. You grabbed an apple—you never really found yourself hungry in the mornings. Besides, it wasn't like your mother was around to make sure you were fed—and left the apartment.

You locked the door behind you and shoved the keys into the front pocket of your bag afterward.

You met with Sal and Larry at the foot of the front steps of the apartments, like you'd agreed the day prior. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you opened the door and walked down the three stairs.

"Hey!" Larry greets you first.

"Hey, Larry," you smile weakly, as you're not fully awake yet, but it still means as much as a smile you'd give him when you were awake. You turn your eyes to Sal, waving shortly. You were momentarily startled when you realized he'd already been looking at you. "Hi, Sal."

"Hey," he says your name pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

It was sweet that he was concerned about your well-being. "Alright. My lungs hurt."

He hooked a thumb around the strap of his bag and slid it up and down. His hands were pale and veiny. His nails were painted black and the polish was chipped in a few places. "Yeah. You did a shit-ton of coughing."

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can he meets your eyes. His head is inclined slightly downward, tilted a bit. He peers at you through the shadows of the mask. Lash-fringed, blue angel eyes bore through yours.

His eyes are opalescent. It's almost as if every time you look at them they were a different shade of blue.

You're sure your gazes hadn't connected for more than 3 seconds but the feeling that spawns inside of you from that short contact is slightly jarring. You don't necessarily comprehend what is stirring in your gut and you don't have time to because Larry's speaking breaks through your reverie.

He begins to talk about the chaos the first day of school would be. You quickly forget what had happened before.

But nothing had happened. It was nothing.

When you'd arrived at school after a little bit of walking, you, Larry, and Sal received your schedules together.

"Fuck me," you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you look down at your paper. "Math is first. This always happens to me."

Larry laughs loudly. "Yeah. That does suck. Mrs. Packerton looks like a walking corpse."

Sal jerks his head upward from his schedule. "That's fucked, Larry. She's an old lady."

"I don't care. Pretty sure she's secretly evil anyway."

Sal looks as though he's done reasoning with how harshly true Larry is most of the time. He shakes his head and looks back at you. "Well, if it's any consolation—I've also got math first. So, you know. We could go together," he pauses. "If you want."

You grin. "Yeah. Sure. At least I'll know someone there."

Larry flicks his eyes between the both of you before stopping them on Sal. "Hopefully you won't have Travis again," His eyebrows twitch. "He always has math first."

"Travis?" You echo curiously.

The two boys exchange a glance.

"Just a guy we know who-" Sal starts, hurrying to finish the sentence.

He was rushing so Larry wouldn't cut in and say something but it happened before he even had a chance. "He's a little fucker we know who gives Sal shit. 24/7. He makes my blood boil."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What- why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Sal replies. "Pretty sure he's really troubled. Not unlike the rest of us."

"Doesn't mean he should take it out on other people." Larry scoffs. "I know it bothers you, dude."

Sal doesn't reply—seems as though he's growing uncomfortable speaking about all of it.

"Hey, guys!"

A voice calls, having grown closer halfway through her sentence. You all turn towards it. A girl, leggy and taller than both you and Sal, with long locks and eyes greener than a spring clover. There was something homey in the way her chocolate brown hair brought warmth to her features.

A boy is beside her, with ginger hair with eyes a deep shade of the richest earth. His skin is pale and freckled. He carries himself with an air of bluntness and just a little bit awkwardly—his facial expression is very blank, you note.

"Hey, Ash. Shocked you aren't late," Larry grins.

"Ash" rolls her eyes at him and mirrors his expression. "You know Todd would never let that happen."

"No, I wouldn't." Todd deadpans.

Ash turns toward you after laughing enough to flash the white gleam of her teeth and a slight dimple in her cheek. "Hey!" She then says your name prettily and juts out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ashley."

You don't ask her how she knows your name. Instead, you sincerely smile, take her hand and shake it. "Nice to meet you," you return, and then turn toward Todd. "You, too."

Todd is already an interesting character. He doesn't smile but his expression is cordial. "Welcome to Nockfell."

Your smile widens.

"Have you guys gotten your schedules yet?" Sal speaks up after having been quiet for a moment. He must've been reading over his schedule to himself.

"Oh! Yeah," Ashley opened her other hand, the one she hadn't shaken your hand with, and unfolded a now very crumpled piece of paper. She passed summer green over the list. "I've got biology."

Todd didn't even look at his list. "I have history."

Sal looks at you. His gaze easily levels with yours. "Looks like it's just me and you then."

Your face feels hot. "Haha," you suddenly feel nervous. "You're right. Sit beside me, okay?"

His eyebrows jump—that much you can tell by the way his eyes move. Tucking a strand of loose blue hair behind his ear, he replies: "Will do."

His ears are double pierced.

The bell's shrill ringing floods the halls. You wince, and you and Sal's eye contact is broken. Before that happens, though, you see Larry grinning to himself.

Weirdo, you think lightheartedly.

Everyone parts after that. Larry and Ash walk away together. They must both have biology, you thought. Todd leaves by himself to his respective class and you and Sal head towards math.

For a moment, the silence is unbearable. You've never been alone with a boy. Well, you weren't alone, just not in a group with other people. The noiselessness begins to bother you so you fleetingly think of something to say and blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"The piercings," you say suddenly.

He turns his head toward you. You look up to him before looking straight. "What?"

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, you thought. All I do is make a mockery of myself.

"I like them!" you add, hurriedly. "They're pierced twice. That's really cool. Looks good on you."

He laughs shyly. "Thanks. I like your shoes."

"My shoes?" You look down and laugh. They were so worn. "Why?" You continue to giggle. "They're falling apart at the seams, haha."

"That's the best kind of shoe," he retorts. He jerks his chin towards his sneakers, a muted shade of cornflower blue. "Look at mine. They barely fit and they're- like, super constricting. Also super ratty—but I can't seem to get rid of them."

You laugh with him. "They look better than mine, at least."

You're glad the ice was broken so fast. You liked him.

The class was boring and uninteresting as any math class would be. You do work. You glance over at Sal a few times throughout the class—not to cheat, just to see how he was fairing—and he was writing answers down with a quick response time and humble confidence within the drawl of his handwriting.

Alright, so he was smart. Not much of a surprise there. You could tell just how perceptive of a boy he was.

You stared hopelessly at an answer on your sheet you'd yet to fill out and twirled the pencil around in your fingers.

Suddenly, a pale hand with black nails has nimbly reached over and hastily circled what you assume was the correct answer to the question with his pencil. You look up to Sal in surprise and appreciation, who's already back in his seat as if nothing had happened.

You giggle before you can stop yourself when he raises a hand and raises a finger in front of the prosthetic's mouth, to tell you "shh."

Mrs. Packerton slowly pivots away from the chalkboard and passes her eyes over the class. You and Sal quickly break eye contact and look down on your papers. Sal's shoulders shake in your peripheral vision and you press your knuckles to your lips and force a bored expression on your paper.

Before the bell rang, you noticed a blond boy with tan skin and caramel eyes in front of you and Sal, occasionally shooting your friend bitter looks. It left a sour taste in your mouth, but you didn't mention it.

You find Ash and Larry before your next class. You think you've burst a blood vessel from how hard you'd laughed when you left the classroom.

"I thought I'd cracked a rib," Sal states over your laughter. as you walked up to Larry and Ashley.

Larry and Ashley exchange a look. Larry is the first to state the obvious. "What the hell happened to you two?"

You and Sal look toward each other and make eye contact. That's the last straw. You cover your mouth and try and hold it in.

"I-" Sal inhales. "It doesn't matter," he breathes out, an amused lilt in his tone. "How was class?"

"Bad," Larry and Ashley reply, in synchronization.

"Really?" You ask, surprised. "Biology can be fun."

"This biology isn't," Ashley sighs. "Not when you're just staring at cells and organisms for 20 minutes and then being expected to do work on it and understand what's happening."

"Well, math wasn't any better," you reply. "If it's any consolation—I don't think I got any answers right except for the one Sal did for me."

"I thought math was fine," Sal chimes in.

"That's because you're fucking Albert Einstein reincarnate," Larry squints. "Please have mercy on our mortal souls, Math God."

"Oh my god," Sal looks down. "Please don't make this into another nickname."

"I like it!" Ashley grins.

You know they're teasing but you can't find it in you to join in after he helped you out in class. Instead, you resign into silence and watch as countless students filter through the halls, bumping into each other as they pass and chatting with their peers.

Through the crowd, at the far end of the hall, you see him. The blond boy who'd been eying Sal in class. He was looking at him in the same way he had been then, with threat and resent shadowing his polished amber eyes.

It looks as if he's readying himself to approach.

You glance toward Larry, Sal, and Ashley. They seem occupied well enough, so you slip into the crowd and head towards who you've now pieced together to be: "Travis," you state, as you stand in front of him. "That's you, right?"

He regards you with distaste. "Do I know you?"

You suck your teeth. "No," you tell him your name. "I came to ask you something."

Despite himself and his embitterment, his eyes shine with hesitant curiosity. You take that as your answer. In spite of his stance over you and his general advantage of being bigger, you hold his gaze with blunt intent.

"What were you planning on doing when you walked over?"

"Why do you fucking care what I do?"

You shrug. "I don't know, Travis. I just think you need to learn how to pick your battles."

"Pick my fucking battles.. you know what? I think I will go over there-"

As he takes a step forward, you raise your hand and your palm roughly hits his chest, stopping him in his tracks—not because of strength (he's at an advantage, and he could easily walk right through) but because of the views he had, or rather—the views pushed upon him.

You saw the golden cross swinging off of his neck as soon as you approached. You'd also seen the gnarly black eye he wore on his face.

It was safe to assume he was being beaten at home and by a parent. And, most of the time.. when an adult is religious they will use several methods to further push it upon their child. Like sinner's guilt. And abuse.

If Travis' extremely religious guardian were to ever find out he'd harmed a girl, especially under the eyes of many others—it wouldn't turn out very well for him.

Yes, maybe you were being manipulative. But you were being manipulative for the good of both Sal and Travis.

"Step down," you advised. "This won't go very well."

You steadily meet his eyes. The stare between the two of you lasts for an even amount of time. Finally, he breaks that contact, jerks away with you, huffs, and walks his way around you and down the hall.

After that, you returned with the excuse of exchanging books from your locker, after Larry had asked you where you had wandered off to. No one seemed to have noticed Travis standing ominously at the end of the hall or your altercation with him.

At the end of school, you were beat. You said goodbye to both Ashley and Todd. Afterward, you, Larry, and Sal head for Addison's Apartments.

"You know, we don't have to go home yet," you say.

The boys turn to you curiously, as you kick a pebble as you walk along the side of the road. The beginnings of the sunset blossom in the sky—orange and fruity like tangerine jelly and amaranth pink like homemade strawberry frosting. like home. It fills you up inside and makes you feel so sweet.

"You guys wanna see a movie?"

Larry grins. "We don't have money."

"Who says we need money?"

When you'd arrived at the movie theater, all three of you had circled to the side exit. After a few moments of waiting suspiciously, an older couple exited through the doors. Larry caught the handle before it closed, and you brushed past them and quickly entered the theater. Before the doors closed, you heard them mumbling about "pesky children," or something.

Once you'd gotten in, you scanned each screening room and what movie the doors said it was playing.

You and Sal decided on a scary movie. Larry was not amused. Whatsoever. Apparently, horror is not his thing.

Before you entered, you frowned.

"We have no popcorn.."

In moments, Larry was reaching into a nearby trash can and pulling out an empty bucket that improbably had popcorn inside of it at some point in time. He then walked away, holding this empty popcorn bucket. It was so bizarre and you would have laughed had not been extremely confused.

"What.." Sal murmured, looking to you. "You think he'll come back?"

"I don't know where he would even be coming back from," You admitted.

It wasn't very long until he'd returned, with the empty bucket he'd taken from the trash now full of popcorn.

"Mandatory free refills," He said to your baffled face, pointing toward the poster on the wall above the trash can which read exactly what he'd just said. "You can never forget the hustle, kids."

"Oh my god," Sal mumbled and you barely heard him beneath Larry's laughter.

The movie was horribly made, and it still somehow scared the shit out of Larry. It may as well have been a comedy with how hard you'd laughed. Multiple other people in the theater had told you to shut Larry up but that was impossible when he was screaming every time a shadow would come on screen or the scene would change.

You, being between Larry and Sal, originally thought you'd had the best seat. You were wrong. Not only was Larry cowering into you and screaming directly in your ear, but Sal had simultaneously begun to throw popcorn at Larry's face to shut him up. That only resulted in popcorn. All over.

Needless to say, you left before the movie ended because of the fear of being escorted out by the employees.

"I'm never seeing a movie with you again," Sal squinted towards Larry. The three of you were now on the way back to the apartments. The night was thick and pearly moonlight bounced off old the white of his prosthetic face. "I think my eardrums are bleeding."

"It's the horror movies! This isn't my fault. Both of you ganged up on me and chose it."

You giggled to yourself.

Sal, beside you, suddenly stopped. "Wait, Y/N."

You stopped, and Larry halted a few feet away, as he'd been walking a bit ahead. Sal leaned forward and reached toward your face. Your body felt as though it had been zapped and you stood still.

He reached into your hair and pulled out a piece of popcorn.

"Huh." You said, dumbly. "How'd that get there?"

Larry's approaching footsteps were fast and leggy. He reached into Sal's hand, plucked the piece of popcorn between his fingers and fucking ate it.

"Jesus Christ, I can't do this anymore," Sal shook his head.

"What? It looked okay."

Recovering quickly from whatever had happened to you, you laughed.

You also inwardly denied what your body was feeling because you knew it was much too soon.

[someonewhowannadielol]

My name is 01001010 01001011 (Alien!Jungkook! x Human!Reader)

Summary: “So you’re a human?” The alien that looked and acted like a human asked. The only difference between him and you was that he had two upside down triangles starting from his jaw going down under his shirt. Also, he was huge. “I’m talking 8 foot tall” huge.

Warning: Daddy kink, Dirty talk, size kink, cunt slapping, Jungkook being rlly big, fingering, nipple sucking (?), Dom/sub themes, and Jungkook being a curious alien.

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

COVID-19 vs Human kind. Human kind was pretty much fucked. In front of your eyes, the world population went from a staggering 8 billion people to an exponentially low 1 million. Within two years. It was in October 2020, when scientist realized that instead of working on a vaccine, they needed to discover a place where those free from this deadly disease could live. Safely and peacefully.

Then, the people of Jubal, stepped in, and it was pure chaos. You still remember the day, 14thof December 2020. Everywhere; social media platforms, billboards, NASA’s speech, everything revolved around the message they sent us. They wanted to help us. Surprisingly, we knew nothing about them, but they knew everything about us. From our appearance to our food, cultures, languages, and what not. It low key creeped you out, not going to lie.

Nonetheless, we began building the transport link through their help and finally, one year later (pretty much the brink of our extinction), we were on our way to a new life.

Honestly, you had imagined them to look like- or well, to not look like how they looked. You’d expected Pokémons, or weird looking octopus, or even insects. But they looked just like you, expect they were way bigger in size.

After half a month or so, you had started to get used to the atmosphere. Almost similar to Earth, there were two sides to this planet, a much hotter plane, where the temperature never went below 104 Fahrenheit. You remember going there when you first arrived here, and oh god, you hated it. The temperature was too high for you; they didn’t know what ice cream was (how can they not know! You thought they knew everything, yet they’re unaware about one of the most popular desserts on Earth), you absolutely hated sweating and no amount of air conditioning could stop it, and the beach just looked out of place. The sand wasn’t the usual pale brown shade, instead it was just the color of the ocean itself – it adapted to the shade of the flowing water into a green-blue hue. Weird. Also, there was one sun in the morning, and three in the evening, gradually coming as the hours passed by.  

You had also noticed that all of them ate food at the same temperature. Nothing was cold like ice, or hot like a fresh pizza. The concept was new to them, and when you asked for the water to be cold at the first restaurant you went to – the waiter just looked lost. The poor soul, he was told to make the humans feel at home, so when he realized he couldn’t do what you asked to, you just felt really bad. Still, it was funny that a seven-foot tall man was scared of you being uncomfortable. It was cute, honestly.

Also, almost similar to Earth, the two places had different types of Jubals living there. The sunny side had more tan skinned people, with bright, blond hair and bright eyes. Whereas, the cold plane Jubals had fairer skin, darker hair and doe eyes. The one similarity being – they were huge as fuck. The average height was around seven foot for men, and around six foot for females. So, standing at a 5 foot 2 inches (almost three inches I swear!), you felt tiny (and intimidated sometimes, but you weren’t going to admit that.

After finalizing that you definitely didn’t want to live in the hotter part of the planet, you moved to Corellia, it was cold there but not in the way you expected it to be. In the morning, it was perfectly fine, the cold breeze was nothing short of comfortable, but as the evening came, it started to get cold to the point where you couldn’t bear to go outside after 6 PM. Sometimes, you think you might have underestimated the cold here at night, because the two beautiful moons brought such intense cold that you wouldn’t dare go out at night. They gifted you a cozy one bed apartment with a really good heating system, which you appreciated. Also, you had never been so glad that you brought the microwave from Earth, without it, you didn’t know what you would do.

Ever since you moved, you had pretty much been lonely, because of the lack of contact with humans. Most of them preferred to live in the hotter state, wanting to get tanned - and to fuck the surfer Jubal hotties. You still remember parting with your sister and her ranting about this Jubal she met who was so “dreamy” and “good at surfing”.

As usual, you were just trying to get used to the food here, thankfully, they had a smaller section of “human,” food that mostly consisted of cup noodles, vegetables, chicken and chocolates. Getting groceries was intimidating at first (honestly, it kind of still is), because everyone and everything was so large, and everyone just kept staring at you. You still haven’t interacted with a Jubal on your own, it’s not like you were scared – you were – but also you didn’t really know how to go up to one. Until now, the only two Jubals you’ve met were the grocery store cashier and the landlord. Sigh.

You were so happy when you saw the new addition of real, organic milk in the grocery aisle! Thank god you got a break from that horrid almond milk. It was just water pretending to be milk honestly, and whenever you poured it in your cereal, it felt like drowning them in water, yuck. But, as much as you could try, you just would not reach the goddamn shelf. Why did these Jubals have to be so tall! Why couldn’t they just make this aisle according to human size!

You heard someone shuffle behind, but paid no heed until you heard laughter burst and immediately looked back to see one of them laughing so hard, his body shook.

“You- you’re so tiny!” He barely managed to get that sentence out of him, since he couldn’t stop his outburst.  

Of course, you were offended.

“I’m actually not! You all are way too big!” You didn’t really know how to respond, because this was just so sudden.

“Hm, I don’t think so, you’re smaller than average earthlings. But it’s okay, because it’s adorable,” so, you were really surprised when you felt him behind you, reach up to the milk shelf and grab a container of it. Of course, being the dumb idiot you were, you suddenly turned around and had to face him again. You hadn’t noticed his physical features before, but now that you did. Holy shit.

He was tall (I know, it’s obvious by now), and had such, clear, fair skin. Two upside down triangles were on each side of his jaw and went down, disappearing under his coat. He looked at you with such doe, curious eyes, almost as if he was entertained by your mere presence.

“Here you go,” he handed you the container of milk – while still being really close (not that you minded it). Despite the irritatingly bright fluorescent store lighting, his hair shined, and looked so soft.

And after that, he just followed you around the store, and you honestly didn’t really know what to do.

“You know, I’ve been trying to find a human since a month now, but I’ve heard most of them moved to the Southern part. You should’ve done that too, because Corellia is too cold for you. You’re a little slow,”

And you’re a little piece of shit.

“But now I found you. You’re really adorable, the books didn’t tell me that. Ever since humankind moved here, I’ve been really studying Earth. Did you guys really had pink leaved trees? And forests? It must be so cool for so many trees to be in one place. I also really want to meet a lion,”

“You can’t just meet a lion,” you chuckled, he was weird, but somehow, it wasn’t awkward around him. He radiated this warm energy that you hadn’t seen in the Jubal people around you, and it was comforting, made you want to stay by his side – even if it meant answering his dumb questions.

“I can, you can’t. It would eat you, because you’re bite sized for it,” he continued to comment on your petite stature, and the worst part is that you couldn’t even defend yourself, especially when he kept towering over you.

“Hey! Stop making fun of me,” you tried to push him but the basket was too heavy for you, so you ended up just… awkwardly not being able to do it. Suddenly his – huge – hand swoops in and carries the heavy grocery basket as if it was nothing.

“You should’ve told me it was too heavy for you,” he sounded almost as if he was scolding you, and coo-ing at you at the same time. His eyebrows bunched up in frustration as he mumbled something along the lines of ‘how can I protect you if you won’t tell me what you need,’ but you couldn’t really make out what he said.

You were just pulled out of your thoughts when you heard him put something in your basket. Something that the Jubals ate, not humans.

Should I ask him to leave? No, that’s way too rude. Then, should I ask him why he’s following me?

“This is delicious, you should try it,” He spoke while continuing to look around the store, and put random items in your basket. There was a variation of their fruits (this one had a gradient of yellow and orange, with huge spikes coming out from the top), cans with God-knows-what inside (the one he put in your basket had cherry colored pentagons on it, and a juice bottle that contained neon green juice. You were not looking forward to drinking that.

“I don’t even know how to make all of this. What if I can’t eat it?” You were scared of most of these food items, you got sick easily, and didn’t know how to cope if you fell sick here. Without the medicines, you’d probably die.

“I’ll cook it for you if you want to,” He looked at you and smiled, “I know humans are fragile, so don’t worry, I made sure to get the ones which would be safe for you,” he said, while petting your hair, and smiling. You instantly fell in love with it, it wasn’t like the way he laughed at you earlier, but somehow, it was far more beautiful. His eyes crunched up into half-moons, cheeks being bunched up, he almost looked like the small bunny you had as a pet when you were younger. So. Cute.

“But I don’t even know your name, why would you do this for me?” You really were curious, why was a Jubal so interested in humans? So far, most of them have just maintained a distance from you.

“Because I want to keep you,” he looked at you, and the duality of his presence made you shiver. The small bunny smile morphed into a more serious face, his already dark brown eyes, turned into a slightly darker shade, giving you the chills.

“You can’t keep me,” you didn’t know how to fight this argument, you almost wanted to laugh and act as if you thought it was a joke, but you weren’t an idiot – and nor was he.

“I know, I can’t find the Earth word for it, I want to be with you, is what I mean,” he mumbled as he tried to find something in the cereal aisle.

The grocery trip was actually not as weird as you’d expect it to be. While you both didn’t know anything about each other, not even names (not that Jubals had actual names, they just talked through their minds?)

And as soon as you reached the cashier, before you could even take out your money, he nod, and paid the bill.

“Hey! I can pay for myself, you don’t have to do this!”  

Honestly, you didn’t really know what to say after he said, “I’m paying, now be a good baby and stand still,” where did he even learn to speak like that?

It was starting to get cold now, and after you exited the heated mall, it was visible that you shivered every time the cold brushed up against your figure. You should’ve worn the third sweater, sigh.

“So you’re really a human?” He said, as he carried your groceries and followed you, on your way to the apartment.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N,”

“How can you be a Y/N? You just said you were a human,” He asked, really confused. Were you pranking him? He learnt in (one of his many books about humans) that humans liked to prank each other for entertainment. He found the idea amusing, but right now he couldn’t decide whether you were pranking or joking.

He didn’t understand the difference between pranking and joking, either.

“I-  What? No, I mean I am a human, but my name is Y/N,” you were definitely amused at his seriousness, yet you couldn’t help but be intimidated by his tall figure. Also, you felt bad that he was holding all the groceries, so you decided to grab one of the bags from him.

“Y/N!” He stopped dead in his tracks after your fingers brushed against his, “I just remembered you can’t bear the cold after 6pm, so you have to wear many clothes to protect yourself. You’re already so cold,” he felt your hand, and his was so warm and felt right, intertwined in your hand. His hand was so huge, that it enveloped yours easily, and you could really notice the size difference now. 

He quickly transferred all the grocery bags into his left hand, and continued to give you his coat, and held your hand again, and it felt… nice. The fact that he smelled so good, helped too, you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it, but it was really comforting. 

You were quite used to the stares you got on the streets from other Jubals, and always thought that they would go away, but it’s been two weeks, yet they still continue to look at you up and down, so you finally asked him. You still didn’t know his name, and didn’t know whether you should ask him or not, was it insulting?

“Why does everyone keep staring at me?”

“Because you’re so cute,”

What. It was almost like you forgot how to breathe. How could he say that all of a sudden, out of the blue? Also, you actually could not breathe, because while he had long legs that lasted for days, you had much smaller legs and it was starting to get hard to keep up.

“Hey! Could you walk-” you took in a breath, wow, your stamina was really, uh, shitty, “could you walk a little slow?”

He looked back at you, and tilted his head almost as to ask ‘why?’, but understood quickly. Then, he flashed one of his cute smiles, again, the smile that did things to your heart that you hadn’t felt before.

“Do you want me to carry you?” He also had read previously that humans can get really tired, and sometimes not even have the strength to move on. Especially females, they were more fragile, and he could physically see that too, because you were just so small. The average height was supposed to be 5’4 or even 5’6 for human females around your age, but you seemed smaller than that. But you also didn’t seem to be a child because those under the age 18 were always with their parents right? He had almost started to doubt those textbooks he bought on humans.

“No, I can walk myself,” You tried to defend yourself, and started to mentally curse as to why you asked him to slow down.

You finally reached your apartment door. Honestly, you had thought that he would stop following you after you reached the apartment building… but he just continued to bring the groceries in.

Should you invite him in? Did you even clean your living space? You probably had your underwear lying all over the place, since now you lived alone and had no fear of someone else coming in your private space.

“Can I come in?”

Well, you didn’t want to say no to him, he’s been really nice so far, and you had to admit, picking up groceries was really hard to do, and you weren’t exactly physically active enough to carry all those bags that he easily carried in one hand.

He then walked himself to the door after putting the groceries in the kitchen. What really surprised you was how he looked back at you, not how he looked before. Before, he looked with warmth, and now. Now, he almost towered at you, reminding how much power he really has over you. He looked at your lips, and then back at your eyes and tilted his head.

“W-well, it was really nice to meet you,” you said trying to break the tension and to distract yourself from the obviously gorgeous man.

“I hope to see your cute face again soon,” he smiled one of his bunny smiles again, and kissed you on the cheek before disappearing under the stairs.

You curled yourself up in your blanket, and tried to sleep, but that Jubal kept intruding your thoughts. 

Would you get to see him again?

The next time you saw the cute Jubal from the grocery store was next week Saturday. On Earth, entertainment was in the form of movies, arcades and concerts. Similarly, here too, people had a theatre – instead of a movie on a projector, it was shown in 3D form, almost like a live performance, expect there were holographic figures.

You looked around, and by now you had taken into account that Jubal people weren’t afraid to show off their skin – even though it was crazy cold here, their bigger bodies could compensate by giving them more body heat. Unfortunately, your smaller stature couldn’t provide you with the same amount of heat and you always had to bundle up in three or even four layers to keep yourself from freezing or catching a cold.

You were watching a really heated up scene, and it was getting kind of… uncomfortable. While others were simply watching casually, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, you kept shuffling in your seat – so it was a pleasant surprise when you felt someone cover your eyes from behind you.

“Wha-” instinctively, you looked behind, and it was the same boy (or man?), from the grocery store.

“Hey,” again, you waved at him, almost as a form of habit, and he looked at you as if you did something quite weird. Without any questions, he tried to imitate you, but he was really stiff so you couldn’t help but let you a laugh.

“I know I didn’t introduce myself much better last time, but we don’t really have names. Still, I decided to get one for myself, because once I get a human, she should be able to call me something,”

Did he… did he mean that you were his human?

“Well, what did you settle for?”

“My name is 01001010 01001011. I thought it was really similar to the ones that humans have. Do you like it?” He asked with a proud grin, as his face lit up.

You tried to keep your laughter in, you really did but you when it did come out, you felt like wanting to die. His face crumpled up almost as if he was ashamed of his name as he increased the distance between the two of you.

Nice one, Y/N, you made the only person who cared enough for you sad.

“Hey, look, it’s a nice name, it’s just not very human-like,” you explained to him.

“It’s the binary code for a human name,”

Because of the constant conversation you both were immersed in, the Jubals beside you were starting to get annoyed – and while they didn’t say anything, probably because they didn’t want you to feel bad (you still did, for trying to ruin their experience for this live-movie thing), you decided to head out with him.

As you both walked in one of the main parks situated in the middle of Corellia state, he settled on a spot in the corner of the massive area.

“Would you like to give me a name?” he looked at your face with such intensity, that you couldn’t help but feel insecure and want to cover your face.

“Well, what did those binary numbers represent?” you really did want to help his get a name, after all, he was your first friend here.

“I want to be called JK, but my friends told me it was a ridiculous human name, because no one was named JK before. So I settled for its binary number. They approved of that,” his eyes shone of much when he talked about it, his long lashes were uprightly curved and you couldn’t help but swoon.

You fiddled with your sweater as you gave him suggestions, but none seemed to suit him.

“Jake? No,” you were starting to get frustrated at this, “Hm, maybe Jacob?” you shook your head again, unsatisfied.

He just simply continued to laugh at you being so serious, occasionally playing with hair and pressing a finger to your soft cheeks. When he commented on you being soft, you couldn’t help but blush (and when he compared you to one their red fruits, you couldn’t help but blush harder (you denied it, obviously)).

“Jungkook!” you remember reading that word in one of the books you had in high school literature.

“Jungkook? Do you like it, baby?” He played with your cheeks with happiness, he was happy that you were no longer frustrated or angry. Finally satisfied and happy. Of course, you blushed at the word of endearment, but didn’t tell him to not say it.

Oh. Well, after that, he just continued to ask you about humans, and more specifically about you. You were amused by most of his questions,

“What is sarcasm?”

“Why do you like pizza so much, when it’s detrimental for your health? You shouldn’t eat it, I’ll make good food for you,”

“How do you make stereotypes?”

“Why do people get cosmetic surgery?”

And each one of them seemed normal for a Jubal to ask until,

“Why do humans like cuddling?”  

At this point, you were quite tired, but still thought it would rude to ask him out, because he seemed really curious, every question coming right after you answer the last one.

“I guess, we just like to be touchy and close,” you said and you tried to suppress a yawn, but it just slipped.

“What was that? Was that a sigh? Or a yawn? Are you tired? That was so cute, do it again,”

“Just a little tired,” you said as you rested you head on his shoulder without realizing to do so. It was also getting really cold; the second moon had started to show up.

You both got up, and the walk back home was really pleasant. He kept cracking jokes and dancing on the pavement. You tried to imitate his dance, but your flow wasn’t as steady as his. How could someone dance so good like this, yet not be able to wave correctly? Your fingers intertwined again, and you leaned more into his body this time. You could barely reach his mid chest, that’s how tall he was. But somehow, you didn’t mind it because you both fit so perfectly – as if two parts of one puzzle.

As you reached the door of your apartment door again, you felt Deja-vu. He looked at your face, studying it carefully and looking back at your eyes, however instead of just looking at your lips this time, he leaned closer and looked back at you – almost as if asking for permission to kiss you. You nodded, and wow.

As his lips drew closer to yours, you could feel him cupping your face with both hands, one of them gradually descending to the back of your head as it found its place in your hair. They were incredibly soft, and almost overpowered you, because you didn’t expect this. As he slid his tongue and slowed himself, you found yourself wanting more, leaning towards him.

Before realizing that you needed to breathe, you started to choke, as he pulled himself back, and chuckled before saying, “Baby girl, take it slow, I’m all yours.”

“Want more,” is all you can say before leaning towards him, wanting to kiss him again. But unlucky for you, he just moved back before laughing again, and this time you pouted and slightly punched his chest.

“Now, you’re just being a brat, baby, you’ll get what I’ll give you, understand?” You could feel his breath fanning your face, and his eyes were no longer twinkling like they did, but instead were full of lust and an animalistic hunger.

‘’Jungkook, please,” you had never really been serious with boys in your high school, and so, this was the first time you had actually felt something down there. It was almost like someone – or Jungkook – lit a fire in your core, and you couldn’t help but just want more.

Fumbling hands opened the door to the apartment and you both tumbled in, messily but both of you didn’t care as you headed to your bedroom. On the way, he messily kissed your neck that made your knees buckle in a way that even walking was difficult.

He tossed you gently on your bed, that was way too big for the apartment, and ran his fingers through your hair, to you neck, and to your chest. He attacked your neck again, and started to form a pattern with his tongue as he pressed harder on some areas and trailed lighter on others.

You couldn’t help but let a whine escape your mouth when he left your neck unattended to take off your sweaters and cardigans till you were only in your undergarments and a see-through white dress.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he attacked your lips again, this time being harsher with his movements, as his tongue slipped in your mouth, doing wonders to his body.

“J-Jungkook, please,” you felt so much, so sudden, and even in this cold, the heat was too much for you – the heat inside you wanted to escape, but you didn’t know how to ask him.

“Yes, baby? Tell me what you want,” his amused voice made it obvious as to what you wanted, but still he continued to tease you, torment you, put you on the edge, “Tell daddy what you want,”

You took in a gasp as he unbuckled your bra strap from behind, free-ing your breasts, and the very next second, tore your fragile dress.

“Hm, tell me baby girl,” he asked you once again, as he took in one of you nipples in his mouth, his tongue encircling your bud, as one of his hands pinched the other one.

“Jungkook I-” you gasped as you felt a slap on your clit, it wasn’t that harsh because he was being careful, and you were still in your panties – but it just turned you on more.

“Baby, you have to call me Daddy, do you understand?” he said as his free wrist kept putting pressure on the top of you panties, making you want to rip them off, so you could finally feel him where you wanted to.

“Yes,” you said, and whined after he took off his mouth from your nipple to look at you, and after a second you understood what you had to say, “Yes Daddy, I understand,”

“Such a good girl for me, so pretty,” he said as he kissed your cheek, and you just couldn’t stop blushing. He was so harsh, yet so gentle at the same time – and it made your head spin.

“Now, be a good baby, and tell Daddy what you want him to do to you,” he said as he neared your ear, “does baby want daddy to wreck her pussy?”

You couldn’t help but shiver before speaking, “I want Daddy to make me feel good,”

His fingers slowly trailed your body, making you moan and buckle your body up towards him. You looked at him, his ears tinged red, and his eyes were darker than before, he almost looked like a fallen angel. He chuckled, looking at you seem so helpless, so fragile.

You were so soft, so ethereal, like an angel from the sky and he was there to taint you, to make you his.

He teased you by playing with the band of your underwear, he put two fingers in your mouth and you instantly slicked them with your saliva, making obscene noises that blended in with your moans. Then he trailed those two fingers right above your covered clit, and you couldn’t help but buckle up again, wanting those two fingers inside of you.

“Be patient, princess,” and it felt like an eternity as he circled his tongue in your belly button and it so, so, so slowly trailed down and down, and he finally took off your panties with his teeth.

“So wet, baby, you’re making a mess,” he commented as he rubbed you with one finger, and using the other one to encircle your hole. He pushed it a little inside, easily as your slick helped him, before looking back at you to see if you were comfortable, and when he got the green light, he continued to push it entirely in, “Such a good baby for me, think you can handle Daddy’s cock?”

You nodded in exasperation, his finger was long and hit all the right spots, but you needed more. He added another finger, while rubbing your clit with more pressure and making circle patterns with his tongue below your belly button. You were so near, so so near, you just needed that one push off the edge.

“Well, you’re going to have to work for Daddy’s cock, baby, think you can take this monster?” He took out his finger with a pop, as soon as he felt you clench down on his finger.

“Daddy, f-fuck me, please,” you moaned, missing his touch. He looked just as a mess as you were, panting and taking off his shirt. You continued to admire his body, he didn’t look buff like gym rats, but instead he had a lean, slightly muscular body.

He continued to tease you by biting his lip and taking off his boxers extremely slowly. You whimpered when his cock was free against his stomach, and it was bigger than any you’ve been before while watching porn. It was even bigger than the dildo your friend bought as a joke for your birthday present, and you had started to doubt if he would fit inside of you.

“Suck Daddy if you want to cum, princess,” he groaned as he pumped himself a couple of times before you put your mouth on his head.

Not having any experience before, you didn’t really know how to start, but you gave little kitten licks at his head, and then took it in your heated mouth. He didn’t taste how you had imagined, instead it was more like a salted caramel toffee you had, it was delicious and you wanted more. You continued to take more, and more of him and suddenly gagged because you couldn’t take anymore – only to realize you had only taken half his dick in your mouth.

“Can’t handle more? I guess you’re too small for Daddy’s big cock, huh?”

The thought of his not fucking you was almost terrifying at this point and you continued to let your throat loose and tale more of him, until you felt his cock twitch, which made you moan. Tears spilled out as he fucked your throat, fast and hard. 

“Such a good, pretty baby for daddy, taking my cock so good, princess,” he groaned before pushing in it a couple of times and taking it out.

“Such a naughty baby, making Daddy almost cum,” he kissed you again, tasting his own cum, before dipping down again, “you need to be punished, huh?”

“Daddy, please t-touch me,” you whined, grabbing his hand and putting it in between your thighs, and surprisingly he slapped your inner thigh.

“Being such a bratty baby now, I guess I do need to punish you, you don’t deserve Daddy’s fingers,” he said trailing again lightly all over body, but stopping as soon as he neared where you needed him the most, “touch yourself,”

You were dumbfounded, but when you saw his serious look, you shyly dipped your finger into your heat, and circled them around, but even after two fingers, it just wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Daddy, please, I c-can’t, I need you,” you cried out while rubbing yourself between your legs, filled with your slick.

“Such a needy princess, always demanded Daddy,” he tsked before adding two fingers inside you, and as you gasped, “but Daddy adores you, so he’ll help his pretty little baby,”

You moaned, not holding back, as he pumped those fingers, and let his tongue work magic on your clit. He continuously pumped his fingers back and forth, while torturing your bud and the heat inside of you kept growing and before you realized it, “Jungkook, I’m going to cum!”

“Cum on my fingers, baby, go on,” his movements became more faster and you trembled under gaze, and unconsciously arched your back before letting yourself loose. It felt like heaven.

Even after this, you had been surprised to see that he didn’t stop and the stimulation was too much for you, as you tried to get away from him, but he held you in place, his wrist holding your pelvic in place.

Despite your whimpering and moans, he took his mouth to your perked up nipple again, and scissored his fingers, to prepare you for his cock. Then, he looked at you, cupped you face and kissed you again, this time more soft, as if you were a china doll, going to break at any given moment.

After letting his dick sit on your bud, he slowly let the head of his cock find your entrance and pushed it slightly. You let out a cry, he was too big for you, but he shushed you and pressed against your lips again before letting it enter little by little. You quickly grab his upper arm and clench it, the pain and pleasure were starting to combine again and you nodded, letting him know that it was okay to continue.

The raw emotion in his eyes was enough to let you go on, and when you were finally full, you looked down only to find you could only take half of him, he was just too big for you.

“Baby, fuck, you’re too tiny, can’t even take all of me,” he groaned before moving slowly, and then finally setting a pace that was safe, but unsatisfactory for you.

“J-Jungkook, f-fas-ter please,” you whined as he started becoming harsher, and his finger started abusing your bud again, and you couldn’t help but realize you were close again. This time, it felt more intense, more powerful.

He was so big, that you could feel him everywhere, it almost felt like he was ripping you apart, but the pleasure was almost overwhelming and the way his cock filled you up made you insatiable – you just wanted more, and more. You could feel your walls being pushed everything he buckled inside you, but he just did it so right.

“Baby, you’re so cute, gonna cum for Daddy?” he kissed your nipple and trailed up to your lips before diving a tongue into your moaning mouth. You nodded, and felt your second release come near.

“J-Jungkook, you feel so good,” you moaned as your walls clenched around his cock, and finally you gushed out, and trembled as you rode your orgasm. Simultaneously, he too, slammed his hips a couple times before cumming deep into you. As he took himself out, cum poured out of you, and he chuckled before taking it and spreading it over your face. Globs of cum covered your red cheeks and entered your mouth.

“You look so pretty with my cum on you face, keep it there until tomorrow morning,” he kissed your nose and coo-ed when you squirmed in embarrassment.

You could feel tugging and pulling when you felt someone wake you up and instinctively, you said, “Just five more minutes.”

“But you said that the last time,” Jungkook looked at you, his breathe fanning your face.

Too close, too close, too close. You looked at other way and tried to close your eyes.

“You’re so cute, like a small puppy,” he coo-ed at you, making your stomach feel things you’ve never felt before.

“I- I’m not like a puppy!” You tried to fight back in your sleep, but couldn’t help the blush forming on your cheeks and ears.

You could feel the dried up cum on your face, and wanted to wash it off, but feeling too sore to move.

“Can’t move, princess? Was Daddy’s cock too much for you, last night?” he coo-ed at you, mumbling about how cute you were, and how he wanted to baby you and make you his.

“I’m too sore, Kookie,” you whined into the pillow and were taken by surprise when he lifted you and carried you to the tub.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of my little human baby girl,” he said as he laid you in the lukewarm water and washed your body softly.

CLICK HERE FOR PART TWO

You were starting to feel more at home, even more than when you were at Earth.

A/N: That’s a wrap! Hope you like it. Go to master link for more!

[ginwhitlock]

summary: human!JASPER/ human!BELLA. Bella is called to deliver day supplies to a very tired and mostly lost 1st Regiment Calvary, headed by no other than Major Jasper Whitlock. What will the two do once left alone to go over maps of the Tennessee hills?

fic type: oneshot, SMUT 18+

warnings: is set in the civil war, which means Jasper is a soldier in the confederacy literally only because he’s from Texas I promise, it would’ve been weird to make him union and apart of the Texas Calvary as that wasnt a union regiment, I do not support the confederacy or any of its beliefs, its just part of his backstory and this fic is centered directly in his human life (the confederacy itself is not mentioned in detail, it is just alluded to the fact). This is a smut fic but not hardcore in anyway so be warned. Oh also I made Bella and Emmett siblings. Of course. 

She almost broke his nose kissing him.

She almost shattered bone and cartilage clicking their teeth together, enamel scraping enamel.

She almost caved in the center of his face so she could lick the insides of his molars, separate his jaws to find the pit of his throat, dangle her self righteousness by his uvula.

And to think she almost didn’t go out that morning.

Isabella Marie was the kind of pretty you didn’t see right away. The layers of fine muscle and fragile skin hiding the richness of her blood-red cheeks, crisp even in the horrible heat of August. And with that heat came hot headed Calvary men with unlined coat pockets and a hunger for pretty little girls.

She met Major Whitlock three miles outside of town, the local preacher sending her out to their camp with as many baskets as her daddy’s two mules could hold on their hips. She was flushed, the slot of her breastbone slick with afternoon sweat— her riding boots did nothing but slosh around with her pale feet inside, leather no match for Tennessee mountain hidin weather.

Maybe she should’ve dropped ice down her shift. Maybe she should’ve played dead and waited for God to put her on her ass.

The thin brunette was graced with the presence of an even skinner red head the moment Stubborn Ass’s (as she affectionally called her steed in private) hooves entered the temporary camp. The mans hair fell limply in front of his eyes which were slightly sunken, the blue of his irises molting into a starved shade of dust. His lips were worse. Once pink and slightly plump, now skinny and cracked with the less than dusty air.

“Is this the 1st Regiment Calvary? From Texas?” Her voice was strained and feverish, salt dripping off her Cupid’s bow.

The man nodded and offered a hand, “Names Sargent Henry Arquette. Nice to see you Miss, the boys haven’t been able to get any supplies up here for days,” Bella grasped his hand tightly, afraid her unskilled balance would come into play, and forced her weight down to the ground ungracefully, “you’re the sheriffs daughter, right miss?” His smile seemed correct handing off his skinny face, his teeth crooked and off centered, but sweet. She quirked her lip in return.

“Yes Sargent, I seem to be your supply wagon today. There’s more back in town but I was told you wouldn’t be in for a day or so.” Flushed and overdressed, that’s how she felt. Every second.

Henry took in the view of the well fed half breeds and gestured off handedly, something she would come to learn was an action he didn’t even notice he performed. “Day. Days. Who knows until we ration it. These trails are less trails and more raccoon paths. I’m just waiting to see why the hell we’ve been sent so far east to begin with.” He had no recognition what was proper to say in front of the young lady at his side, the year had been sucked dry of any feminine… life, to say lightly. A piece of his brain nudged him for speaking so plainly, but Bella never once looked offended and twitched her head in both sympathy and understanding. She had been raised in these hills. She knew their damnation like the back of her hand. Maybe even the back of her skull.

“I’ve heard about raids up in McMinnville. Bases and such lining up and down the mountain. My brother’s part of the 16th Regiment Calvary up there actually, you know. Things are heating up in our little slice of the world.” The little thing spoke like a sparrow, her nose pointed and soft, the bottom of her front teeth pillowing into her bottom lip. At the age of seventeen she seemed somehow both grounded and unsure.

The south was ripping itself apart. And she— and the Sargent, knew it.

Bella could see the redhead start to comment on her brothers hand me down gossip when a giant of a man— boy? Man? Definitely man, by the looks of his muscled shoulders and high jaw, the darkened cast shifting just under the skin of his cheeks, the low dip of a scar just below his brow— a brow which furrowed, twisted, and arched back up into his tanned forehead when he noticed the mules waiting restlessly, tails swinging behind a girl in a kinder man's idea of a dress and interrupted the lower soldiers train of thought.

“You must be Miss Isabella McCarty. I spoke to your father when we arrived last night.” Clipped and forward were his words, his hand outstretched in front of him, decorated in mis-matched freckles and calluses she could feel pressing into the column of her throat as she placed her small palm in his. “Major Jasper Whitlock, at your assistance.”

No smile graced his face but by God she would witness his lips stretch over his teeth if it was the last thing she ever did.

Still with her hand in his she whispered “You can call me Bella. Or Bella Marie. Or Isabella Marie oh or my mother calls me Belle or sometimes when my father is upset with me he calls me Marie McCarty like my grandmother used to and um..” her tongue had to have swelled to the size of a watermelon in the three seconds it took to look him in the eyes— the swamp green eyes in fact. Eyes the color of duckweed and marigold stems and whatever leaves would stick to the blackberries in the spring.

He laughed. And it sounded like a white flag waving in her insides. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Maybe the preacher was a righteous man after all.

“I like Isabella Marie. Miss Isabella Marie.” Like rain drops on a tin ceiling.

The Arquette boy looked between the two before edging towards the black mules “Any orders where to put these, Major?” Skinny lips. Skinny spine.

Jasper had finally looked up from the strawberry cheeked girl in front of him, released their hands, and knocked his head backwards, towards the other soldiers checking tents and cleaning their own horses.

“Just take em back to the storage tent. Not like it’ll be competing for space.” The Major looked back at his men “Calhoun, Jennings, help Arquette move these rations will you? Make yourself useful for once.” His voice didn’t have to boom and condense like a rung out air horn, the cool of his vocal cords carried and personally plucked the not yet men from their activities and dragged them towards the group of three. Like some sort of magic act.

Bella was far from resigned. “So Major Whitlock, what would you like me to do?” Hopeful eyes, always searching to please. Or to piss off— as Emmett always scorned.

An upturn of lips flashed through Jaspers face and he looked to the sky for a mere moment “Mind helping me sort out some of my maps back in camp? My backwoods knowledge ain’t as sharp as my Houston kind and you seem like an expert in this area, getting yourself up to us all alone.” Bella’s feet started to move on instinct towards the felted wool tent covering a hundred or so feet behind the large man, but his hand stopped her at the shoulder, “And, if you don’t mind, would you be my guide back to town this evening? I’ve got to scout the path for the boys to pull through by the end of this week.”

She should’ve thought longer about it, linger over his words, the way his tongue flicked over his canines and brushed noticeably at the edge of his front teeth. But she didn’t. Not now. Not when the time it would’ve taken could pick at the carefully constructed wall built specifically for boys with serpent tongues. And lion hands. And bear teeth and… he still waiting for her response.

A shake to her head “Of course Major. If you’ll help me bring the mules back home, you’d be more help to me than I think I’d ever be to you.”

He could taste her self doubt. And he didn’t like it.

A jut of his brow led them through the ragged campsite, broken down cinders coating the bottom of her unusually worn boots, the lace of her dress clashing horribly with the scent of charred flesh and resting wounds. If only she knew a doctor. If only the town still had one.

His tent was one of the stronger ones, every inch placated with the spine of a book or a map binder or a drape of letters. He needed a desk and a real bed and maybe someone to make sure he stayed warm during the mountain nights.

Jaspers hands found a tiny stack of drawn maps and laid them over his now folded lap on the ground. Bella swiftly found her place at his bended knee and ran a finger over the torn edge. “These look older than my father. It doesn’t even mark the trail you follow to town.” The squishy flesh of her thumb traced an invisible oil line through the mountain and deposited itself in a town with seemingly no name, according to the parchment. “That’s home. If you’re following these maps I don’t quite understand how you ever got here.” Her eyes were full, engorged on road markers and faded city names.

Jasper softly nodded, their heads just inches from each other as she leaned in to scour the map. He had barely gotten to the camp they were in, his right hand Henry doing nearly all of the sight work. He’d be a hell of a tracker if he was a bloodhound. The blond almost chucked at the thought of Henry with big floppy mutt ears, yelping at the pretty girl almost in Jasper’s lap.

Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall. The good chocolate that mama got sent to her from her sister up north, the kind that was broken off continuously, piece after piece fed to him and his sisters until nothing was left.

Part of him wanted to see if she tasted as sweet.

He’d blame it on how damn long it’s been since he’s smelled anything other than soured sores and gunpowder. Even if Miss Isabella Marie smelled good enough to eat. Good enough to take like a man starved. And God— Jasper hungered like no other.

“There’s a river through the valley here, if you can find yourself through the woods.” Bella had found a piece of graphite and drawn in the harsh line of a hidden waterway just a mile or so from camp. She looked up at him as she spoke, her eyes warmly whiskey colored through her lashes.

His mouth clenched. “How old are you Miss McCarty?”

She blinked rapidly, like coming out of a daze. “Seventeen.”

Her hand dropped the instrument to the paper and draw up to his knee, the covered bone sharp under her knuckles.

“Do you have a boy at home waiting for you, Miss McCarty?” Hot air blew from his mouth to hers like a heatwave. Like a curse.

Bella’s lips formed a small “No” as she slid her small hand up the Major’s thigh, her singular ring gliding like margarine inch my inch as the seconds ticked by, each breath marking the two closer.

“Do you have a wife, Major?” Only whisper escaped her rosebud mouth, his face turning downwards, noses only separated by spirit.

“I was too busy waiting for you, it seems, Miss Bella.”

Her heart thumped her chest hard enough to make her ears ring.

Bella’s fist jumped from Jasper’s thigh to his army issued button up and crushed his chest to her own, her lips finding purchase slotted against his, the force clinking their front teeth together without care. His hands were gripping the roots of her soft waves, their skulls as close as their skin would let them. She wanted more, more, the heat suffocating the tent from more than the August sun. Her thin fingers slipped easily through the button gaps as his tongue invaded the privacy of her mouth. A horrible demented part of her brain screamed ‘Take, Take, Take. Mark me down and climb into the spaces that were meant to fit just us.’ Her brother had always called her too much of a dreamer. Too much of a poet and a believer and an artist. But God. This man was in her hands and she felt like a masterpiece.

A man she hardly knew.

But somehow, the scrape of his knuckles against her soon to be bare thighs felt like they had known each other at birth. Like Texas and Tennessee were just minutes from each other. As if they were the only bodies in the whole entire war.

Jasper’s hands were of no gentleman’s when he unfastened the ribbons holding her skirt to her waist, the under coat used for riding coming off like silk in his calloused palms. She was moaning into his mouth, the world outside the tent becoming buttery soft and not to be worried about. All there was was Jasper and his fucking mouth moving to her neck and his teeth toying around her jaw.

“Jesus, Major” He chuckled at her swear and rid her completely of every layer but her shift and the wool of her stockings, the small corset she wore becoming just cannon fodder for the mouth and hands of the Cavalryman.

“I love when you call me that, darlin. Wanna hear you scream it.” She had barely gotten open a single button on his shirt before he brushed the maps out of the way and flipped her on her back underneath him, the sway of his curled mane teasing her, the golden wheat just barely out of the reach of her teeth or fingers.

She wanted to use it like reins.

She’d especially like calling him by his rank then.

“You know I—“ her breathing caught the better of her as he lifted her by her thighs and dragged her ass to his kneeled position, his fingers running up her stockings with particular care, each inch another layer to her growing wetness. She didn’t let go of her breath until he had reached the skirting of her underdress, the white cotton nearly see through with the sweat sticking to every inch of her skin. His watery eyes devoured the sight with an indescribable hunger. Like a wolf hanging over a bleeding lamb.

What a happy sacrifice she’d be.

“Are you a good little southern girl, Isabella?” His fingertips brushed just under the fabric, his intent not easily hidden behind his hardened brow.

She came out trembling, she couldn’t tell over excitement or fear. “Yes Sir. No ones ever…” even her mother would blush saying those words.

Jasper finally smiled, sharp and soul quenching, like a mist of rain before a hurricane.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He couldn’t tell her about the wedding playing out behind his eyes or the static electric resonance he felt thinking about how another man would never get to lay a hand on his pretty Isabella.

His fingers slipped over her cunt, the soft curling hair tickling his fingertips. The moist warmth wet his fingers before skirting over her lips. He almost groaned. She was soaked. He had to see what his little Belle looked like in the light.

Jasper’s eyes met Bella’s giant blown out doe ones, her elbows holding up her upper body, trying to anticipate his very next move.

If they were playing chess, he was going to win. And she had always been a sore loser.

The skirt of the shift creased with the heat of his palms against her stomach, the slightly cooler air blowing across her pussy, making Bella suck in a breath through her teeth, her bottom lip becoming stuck under them with practiced strength.

Her knees knocked against Jasper’s hips as he watched the pink of her pussy clench around nothing, her wet little hole puckering and buzzing with the want of something under his trousers. He licked his lips as he had a gathered two fingers at her slit and traced upwards, her breath coming out in pants as he reached her clit, the engorged nub nearly ringing in her ears. A small circle over it make her moan from her throat. Bella had never felt someone else’s touch, she had never realized how much she wanted for it. She never knew how much she wanted Jasper to touch her.

The solider took his time as he brought the pads of his fingers back down to her achingly small hole and gathered some of her slick, the smell of sweat and Bella nearly driving him half insane as he brought a finger to his mouth, his tongue licking her clean off.

If Bella could speak to God directly and have him reply, she’d thank him for the creation of Major Jasper Whitlock.

But all she could do was cry out for more. And more he silently promised to give.

Maybe too much.

He had to stretch her out, the head of his cock wouldn’t fit into her without an orgasm in her, not now at least. Jasper slowly brought his hand back a third time and entered a single finger, her hips nearly bucking against his wrist as he slowly sat himself. A bead of sweat ran off his brow. A second finger partnered with the first after a few pumps, in and out, in and out. The near wetness coated on those fingers alone could bring him to release in his cot. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Isabella I have to—“ “Please Major I need—“

The two looked at each other, their mouths in sync as they sat, their souls intertwining and bundling up into a bramble of wonderful thorns, coy smiles gracing both their faces.

Bella sat up slowly and draped a hand over Jasper’s belt buckle. “May I, Major?” The shorty craftsmanship of the iron buckle became putty under her unskilled hands as he nodded, now without words for the angel in front of him. The belt was off before the two noticed and Jasper brought his issued pants down to his ankles and off with his shoes to rest with the scraps of her dress he had taken off so quickly.

“Do you… always go bare?” The squeak of Bella’s voice made Jasper snicker like the teenage boy he technically still was, the nineteen year old clicking his teeth together and grinning. “Miss McCarty, sometimes underpinnings only get in the way of an army man.” A deep blush settled into her cheeks as she slapped at his chest, his shirt hanging open just slightly as he pushed her back to the floor.

“Shush, Whitlock.”

His smile turned feral as the head of his cock graced the hood of her clit, bouncing just slightly with the breath of their bodies. Jasper marked in his head that this should be a sight to see on their wedding night, not their first night together, but by God was it a beautiful one.

He looked at her as he grasped one of her hips with his right hand and the base of his cock with his left. “Breathe, Belle. Breathe with me, alright?” She nodded her head slowly and brought her own hand to the tent floor, grasping tightly.

Jasper’s hand guided the head carefully over her lips and to her quivering entrance. One buck and he’d tear her to badly to bear. No matter how long it had been… he’d never rush with his Isabella. Not now.

He slowly pushed in, the stretch a burn like no other, Bella’s voice turning from a quick steal of breath to a long sigh, the air being pushed out as he took her in. Inch by inch she devoured him, the heat marking his cock in emotional third degree burns. The sky burned brighter, the colors in his eyes turned clearer. Her hips and her fragile skin and the slip of her cunt was the end of the world and the birth of something entirely new. She grasped his shoulders as he mumbled a slew of impressive praise as he allowed her to adjust and seated himself at the very base of her cervix. Her throat screamed out to him as her nails dug in his back.

A wonderful, wonderful burn.

Bella slipped a hand to Jasper’s hip to push him back, to set any and all pace so that the fire would keep burning. He quickly slotted his face in the clench of her neck and began to move his pale hips, beginning to push and pull within her very tight walls.

The tent was full of grunts and moans and breathy screams he was sure the entirely camp heard. But Jesus Christ he didn’t give a single damn at that very moment. His boys knew to stay out of his shit and they be proven that every second until his angel’s orgasm.

God he wanted to fill her up. Wanted to take all of his cum and bury it deep where the lord intended, leave her leaking and exhausted and full of everything he had. He’d empty his balls in her again and again if it meant the Tennessee flower in his arms would keep him forever.

He wanted her forever.

“Major, deeper, please God please yes YES.” Jasper’s hips were snapping at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against her ass as he drove her into the hard ground. He could feel her tighten up the way he felt the air change around him before a fight broke out, the way a horse steps on a snake without jumping. There was an electricity in the air and the moment Bella tore his head out from her and pulled him into a jaw crushing kiss, he was crumbling at her feet, her pussy clenching and spasming around his cock with enough force to take out a grizzly bear.

She locked her legs around his hips as he all but collapsed into her, his hair sweaty between her fingers as she combed through it as his dick twitched it’s last time inside her belly. Jasper’s own hands found repentance under her ass and stayed there, too tired to remove himself from her heat.

“That ride home is gonna be sweaty, isn’t it?” Her whisper made her snort and bite into the side of her neck as she giggled.

[ambermondy]

Title: Doki Doki Connection

Pairing: Male!Monika x Fem!Reader

Wc: 1170

Art by: MisterZei

Doki Doki Connection Masterlist: 🖋

Main Masterlist: 🍫

Chapter 4

You were uttery confused. If your memory serves you right, Monika—or in this case, Moniko—followed the script until the day of the festival where he's supposed to make a joke, which you did not appreciate, about Satori's death.

"Come sit down, Y/N! We made room for you at the table, so you can sit next to me or Moniko," said Satori with a huge smile on hs face. "I'll get the cupcakes," Satori stated in a sing-song voice.

Naruki quickly stood up from his chair. "Hey! I made them, I'll get them!" He ran to the corner of the room.

Satori laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I got a little too excited."

Yuri then decided to spoke up. "Then, how about I make some tea as well?" He stood up and walked towards the closet.

I smiled as I watched the three. It feels so different seeing them performing the actions other than reading it from MC's perspective, and just seeing their sprites different emotions, and actions inside a screen.

You turned your head to both Satori and Moniko. Unlike what the original protagonist did, you decided to take the seat next to Moniko.

"It's surprising that you took the seat next to me," he suddenly spoke up.

You quickly turned to him. "H-huh?" You were taken aback by his statement.

He chuckled and leaned closer to you. "I said, it's surprising that you chose me."

You faked a cough and regained your composure. "I didn't know that the club president likes to flirt."

He chuckled and leaned back to his chair. "I'm not flirting," he gave you a smile. "I'm only taking back what's mine." He winked.

Your eyes widened. "What-"

"Okaaay, are you ready?" Naruki cuts your statement off while holding a tray in hand. "Ta-daa!" He cheered.

"Woah!" Satori cheered.

Naruki lifts the foil off the tray to reveal a dozen of blue, fluffy cupcakes decorated to look like little cats. The whiskers are drawn with icing, and little pieces of chocolate were used to make ears.

"So cute!" Satori reached out to get his own cupcakes.

You raised your hand and reached out to Moniko, wanting to ask more about his statement but he quickly stood up, too fast for your own taste, and stated a familiar line from the script.

"I had no idea you were so good at baking, Naruki!" He commented.

He let out a proud laugh. "Well, you know." He motioned to the cupcakes. "Just hurry and take one!"

Satori grabs one first, then Moniko followed.

"It's delicious!" A huge smile is plastered across Satori's face as he took a huge bite off his cupcake.

You stared at Moniko as his eyes lightened up when he took the first bite of his treat. You guessed that he probably knew how it tastes like the back of his hand—considering how the game loops over and over again.

"Hey." You turned your head to Naruki who has his arms crossed out, a frown visible on his lips.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to eat? Don't tell me that I baked all of this for nothing?" He pointed out.

"Oh, right!" You let out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, something's been bugging my mind since this morning. I'd love to try your cupcakes, Naruki."

He grabbed one cupcake from the tray and handed it to you. "Then go and eat it!"

You mentally rolled your eyes. "Geez, okay." Not wanting to start an early fight with the tsundere, you reached out to take one cupcake and took a bite.

And oh, gods, your mind ran out of words to describe how delicious is it. The way the game's mc describe it can't even do justice on how amazing this cupcake taste!

"I'm not gonna lie, Naruki. This is probably the best desert I've ever tasted in my entire life!" You complimented. "Thank you!"

His cheeks turned red but a proud smile is visible on his face. "W-Why are you thanking me? It's not like I-"

"Made it for me or anything?" you cut off his famous tsundere line. "Yeah, I know!" You chuckled. "It's not like you can predict who's Satori's going to bring, right?"

Naruki's face turned a darker shade of red. "I-I-" he fumbled with his words. "I'm gonna go check on Satori! Hmp!" He pouted and turned away.

You heard a snort next to you and saw Moniko looking at you with pure enthusiasm in his eyes.

"Really?" He mouthed.

You shrugged. "What? I'm only telling the truth."

"Not actually the best thing you can say," he commented.

"But still... it was a good one." You winked.

He chuckled again and pinched your nose. "Uh-huh, but you have got to say, Naruki's cupcakes are amazing."

"Yeah! He probably should join a baking show or something."

"Competition, not show," he corrected.

You rolled your eyes. "Nah, same thing."

He flicked his finger on your forehead. "They're not."

"Hey!" You caressed your forehead that was assaulted by Moniko. "I'm going to report this to the principal, you meanie!"

He laughed hard, his hand holding his stomach. You pouted at the sight of him not taking your threat into consideration.

Suddenly, a thought in your head reminded you of something. "Hey, you're still not spared of your words earlier!"

He stopped laughing, wiping a fake tear on his eyes but his huge grin is still there. "H-huh?"

"The whole-" you copied his voice. "'I'm only taking back what's mine.' thing!" you changed back to your voice and held out a finger.

"First, that was really clichè, no kidding. I practically almost always read that line from every romance novels! If you want to win my heart, then do something original! Second, what's up with that line? There's really something going on with you..." you deducted.

You don't know why, but talking to Moniko felt so normal and comfortable that you just have the urge to open your mouth and say something. It felt so normal to the point that it became a familiar feeling the moment the two of you teased one another.

And looking from an outsider perspective... It's pretty unnerving.

Something just doesn't seemed to add up right... and it scared you.

Moniko gave you a sweet smile. "Original? You want original?" He then leaned down and whispered to your ear.

"Surely hanging out with Sayori really is original, don't you think?"

Your body ran cold at his sentence.

Sayori...

He said Sayori, not Satori!

Your face went pale as the both of you stared at each other, his emerald green eyes held different kind of emotions to the point that you were unable to figure out which is which.

"Y-you-" you were unable to finish you sentence when he turned around to face the rest of the club members.

"Alright, everyone! I have an idea for our club activity!" He then turned to you and winked. "But first, let's get to know our new member more."

You are so doomed.

- - -

A/N: Okay... I honestly don't know if I'm doing this right but I would like to thank everyone who keeps reading this story! If you have any concerns, opinions, or request, feel free to send a message!

Things might seemed be confusing but it'll all make sense as every chapters proceed, I've honestly already planned it out. And if you ever guessed what the plot is, then great! It's not like I'm really trying to hide this or something... Ahahaha. I honestly just wrote this story out of craving for more DDLC Boys content.

[spaceprincessem]

Hale Appreciation Week Prompt: Hale Headcanons @haleweek​

Okay, so just a few lil headcanons for Derek and Peter. See if you can figure out what they are :) (featuring sterek cause of course it does) 

Cause you're a hard soul to save {With an ocean in my way}

“Isaac,” Malia growled, finger’s digging into the wood of the table sitting between them, “you need to vote.”

“No,” Isaac snarled in return, arms across his chest, “I’m not taking part in any of this.”

Malia’s biting retort died on her lips as Derek flashed her a warning look. She swallowed hard, jaw clenching as she rocked back on her heels, still glaring at the curly headed boy. 

“Since Isaac is abstaining,” Lydia cut through the tension, “that leaves Peter and Derek.”

“Why does Peter get a vote?” Scott asked, wearily looking at the older man who was casually sitting on the spiral staircase looking rather at ease.

“Like it or not,” Peter grinned, all teeth, “I am part of this pack.”

“Barely,” Isaac murmured, before immediately going quiet as Malia fixed him with a murderous glare.

“So,” Lydia clicked her tongue impatiently, “what do you think, Peter?”

“The bite is a gift,” Peter shrugged nonchalantly, “and apparently our last hope.”

Kira ran a soothing hand over Scott’s back as he deflated, while Cora and Malia exchanged a small look of triumph. Lydia’s jaw was clenched, but she quickly rolled her shoulders, gaze moving towards Derek. The rest of the pack’s eyes followed. The steely silence made it feel like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Derek’s palms were pressed against the table, leaning his weight forward, head dipped down as his claws embedded themselves into the wood. They could all hear it. The rapid pounding of his heart. The stench of doubt and fear was so heavy it felt like they were drowning in it. 

“No,” Derek finally said, the answer hanging in the air like a death sentence, “I’m not giving Stiles the bite.”

A beat of silence. A sigh of relief and a disbelieving uproar.

“Get out,” Derek growled, stopping the buzzing arguments flying across the room like venom. When no one moved he pinned them with a commanding, crimson look, “I said get out.”

The pack slowly dispersed around him. Scott was the only one brave enough to reach out, a hand on Derek’s shoulder, a small, but sad smile curling against his lips, “Thank you, I know it’s the right decision.”

Derek gave a curt nod in return. He was surprised to see Peter still sitting on the staircase long after the others had gone. The look of disappointment etched in his uncle’s face made him feel inexplicably angry. Peter always had a knack for reducing him to a fifteen year old boy who didn’t know how to control his shift during the full moon.

“What?” He chewed out when Peter remained quiet.

“I didn’t say anything,” Peter replied, but he could hear the bitter bite beneath his uncle's words, the desire to start a fight.

“I’m not giving Stiles the bite,” Derek said again. He suddenly felt the need to defend himself as his uncle chuckled darkly.

“I heard you the first time, nephew,” Peter sneered.

“You don’t agree with my decision,” Derek pointed out flatly.

“Well, clearly,” Peter said as he got to his feet, “as I voted yes.” He sighed, brushing past Derek to head into the kitchen, “But you are the alpha, so I don’t think it matters what the rest of us wanted.” 

Derek could hear the older man clinking through the glasses, the sound of liquid sloshing against emptiness before a bottle was carefully placed on the counter. Derek allowed his gaze to find his uncle leaning against the counter, slowly sipping from his nearly full glass.

“It was cute to let them think this was a democracy, though.” Peter added after a moment, swirling a few ice cubes into his drink.

“Stiles doesn’t want the bite,” Derek explained, that primal urge for someone to understand, “he never has.”

“You think your decision is about Stiles?” Peter asked, smiling meanly, “Here I thought it was about you.”

“Of course it’s about Stiles,” Derek huffed furiously, “you think he would be grateful if he woke up and was su—”

“Well,” Peter cut in, “it’s better than never waking up at all, isn’t it?”

Derek remained silent. But his face said it all.

“He’s been in this coma for what, two weeks now?” Peter asked as he sat his glass down, moving towards Derek with calculated steps, “You still think he’s going to magically wake up by some divine intervention?”

“I am not taking that choice away from him.” Derek argued, his chest heaving as he worked to keep himself calm.

“Are you scared he’s going to hate you if you do?” Peter asked, inching closer. “Or scared he won’t survive like Paige?”

“Why do you care so much?” Derek asked, feeling like he’d been thrown off balance.

“I’m just trying to understand why you wouldn’t do everything to save the person you love,” Peter replied simply, but there was an undercurrent of harshness to his tone.

“I am doing everything to save him!” Derek snapped, teeth bared and eyes flashing dangerously. “You and I both know Stiles wouldn’t want the bite to save him.”

There was heated silence between the Hales. Ice blue boring into grey-green. 

“Stop making excuses, Derek.” Peter said, breathing out harshly through his nose, “It’s the only way to—”

“My answer is final,” Derek growled before turning on his heel to head back to the hospital.

“So,” Peter called at his retreating back, voice trembling with anger and saturated in sorrow, “you’re just going to let the last piece of Claudia Stilinski die in this god forsaken town?”

Derek froze. The stench of love lost burned hotly in his lungs. He swallowed down the sour taste of bile as he turned to face his uncle again. “Is that what this is about?” He asked quietly, “Preserving the only thing left of Claudia Stilinski?”

“You know it’s more than that,” Peter bit back.

“Is that why you offered Stiles the bite all those years ago?” Derek felt exhausted, like the revelation took more out of him than he could ever care to admit. “Because you took one look at him and saw someone that was never yours?”

“Talia could have saved her,” Peter’s voice was small now, his eyes far off in the distance, “but we can’t always get what we want.” His eyes were hard on Derek’s face now, a sneer pulling his lips up cruelly, “So, yeah, I looked into those amber eyes and saw the one person I would have done anything for.” He exhaled deeply, “Stiles is all that’s left of Claudia.”

“Stiles is his own person,” Derek replied softly, “and he should get to choose. You wanted to save Claudia by giving her the bite, but I’m going to save Stiles by keeping him human.”

“I wonder which version of losing him is going to hurt more,” Peter said with a vindictive smile, but Derek could see that his eyes were sad. 

Derek didn’t say anything as he turned to leave Peter alone in the loft.

-

“Miss me, Sourwolf?” Stiles slurred, his half lidded eyes peeking up at the exhausted wolf with a mix of fondness and concern.

“More than you know,” Derek replied, threading his fingers through the cold, pale ones, before bringing them to his lips to gently kiss.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Stiles hummed, closing his eyes, until Derek’s too tight grip made him blink them open again.

“Sorry,” Derek replied sheepishly, “I just missed the color of your eyes.”

Stiles smiled, “You mean the most boring shade of brown?”

Derek shook his head, not knowing how he could explain that Stiles’ eyes reminded him of bottle honey. Warm and sticky sweet. Of coffee with too much cream or tiger’s eye gleaming in the sunlight. How could Derek describe that Stiles’ eyes were the shade of the earth beneath his feet when he ran through the preserve under the light of the full moon? When he catches Peter watching them from the doorway, face soft and shoulders sagging in relief he wonders if he could ever tell Stiles that the beautiful shade of amber was a window to a future that was stolen much too soon.

“Not to me,” Derek just says instead, leaning up to kiss him, “not to me.”