#i just love him so much i'm so happy to see and hear from him again this feels surreal

[bi-writes]

Thinking about going into labor while your partner is on the way somewhere unimportant, who refuses to come home to help you. And instead of being alone and scared, you hang up and call up one of your childhood friends everyone thought you'd wind up with. Kyle shows up at your door, furious but does his best to hide it, and helps you through it all. Next day the father of your child has the audacity to show up like nothing is wrong to see Kyle holding your baby so you can take a well deserved nap.

he picks up on the third ring. you tremble, gripping the edge of the porcelain tub. when you finally hear his voice, just the sound of him soothes your beating heart, just a little.

"'ello, love."

"kyle?" you sniffle. his background quiets a bit. you hear a door close, and then he's a bit louder.

"hey, love. what's wrong? you sound upset."

"my water broke," you hiccup. "a-and i...i was in the bath...i-i..." you close your eyes. "i can't get out of the tub."

"jesus fucking christ." you whimper, but kyle just hums. "not you, baby. hey, you just relax, alright? you said you were in the bath. just relax, and i'll be there soon."

"kyle--"

"don't be scared," kyle chuckles, and you whine a little. "hey, you're gonna have a baby. you've been waiting for this, yeah? haven't you?"

"y-yeah..."

"aren't you excited? you always tell me how much you can't wait, right?"

"yeah..."

"don't be scared," kyle repeats. "you just relax. be happy. she's coming today!"

you smile, wiping your face a little, and when kyle hears your giggle, he sighs.

"good girl. you sit tight."

so you do. you lean against the side of the tub, and you rest in the warm water as you stare at your phone screen.

he won't answer the phone. he hasn't read your texts. he's not coming.

you hear the front door open and close, and then there's a gentle knock on the bathroom door. when kyle comes in, you try to cover up, moving your hands over your tits, embarrassed, but kyle just goes to look for a clean towel to help you out.

"it's okay, love, i won't look," kyle tells you. he smiles at you, cupping your face gently, and you look into his dark eyes. "you look so pretty. you're glowin', y'know that?" you smile through gentle tears, putting a hand over your belly, and you try to move, but it's no use. kyle drops the towel, kneeling, and you shake your head.

"i-i can't get out--" you gasp, and kyle rolls up his sleeves over his thick forearms, putting the towel over his shoulder before he reaches for you.

"it's alright. i'll get you out. i'll try not to look, okay?"

"i'm so embarrassed...i'm so sorry, kyle..." you sniffle.

"don't apologize, love. i got it. give me your hands, put 'em around me."

you lift up your wet arms, wrapping them around his neck. you press your chest against his, and he picks you up as you stand, helping you to your feet. as you cup your belly, he wraps the towel around you, covering you, and then he holds your hand as you step out of the tub.

"alright. now where's your bag, darling?"

kyle grabs your bag and supplies as you get dressed in your room. as you pull your socks on, kyle comes up behind you, smoothing your hair down your back before he starts to braid it. he used to braid your hair all the time when you were kids--he always said he wanted to practice for his sisters.

"you got the car seat, kyle?" you ask as he holds your hand, and he nods.

"mhm. in the car already."

"a-and the diaper bag?"

"in the boot."

"my extra clothes? and my...my stuff?"

"mhm. i got it, love. and whatever you forgot, i'll get it for you. alright, up, buckle in, that's a girl."

he holds your hand the entire way. you groan softly when a particularly painful contraction hits you, but when you squeeze kyle's hand, all he does is squeeze back. you take deep breaths, leaning your head back, and he hums.

"you're doing so well, love. so well."

"why..." your eyes water. you squeeze his hand again, and when you look down, your vision is blurry from your tears. "why didn't he answer? w-why...why doesn't he...w-why would he..."

"don't worry your pretty head about tha', love," kyle interrupts you gently. "only thing you need to worry about is you and her. i got it."

"o-okay."

she's beautiful. she looks more like you than her father, and kyle counts that blessing. she's got your eyes, your nose, your hair. her cheeks belong to her father, but she might as well be your twin, and when kyle takes her from you later that night, rocking her gently, he can really see up close how much she looks like you.

in the middle of the night, kyle holds your hand as you get up to go to the bathroom. your entire body is tender and sluggish, but kyle keeps you upright as you walk, kissing your head gently as he helps you take a seat on the toilet.

he even gets your underwear set up for you, with the big pad and everything, and he helps you step into it and slips them up and over your hips. you're a tearful mess as he does this, but kyle just presses his forehead against yours.

the look in his eyes, you will never forget it. the intensity. the commitment. the stability. every time you pick up the phone, kyle answers, and sometimes he's thousands of miles away. your own boyfriend can't even have the decency to answer when you're nine months pregnant--what did he fucking think the call was going to be about?

back in your room, kyle fits into the bed with you. he lets your rest your head on his chest, and when you ask him if he's going to go home, he tells you this is close enough.

in the morning, kyle's sitting outside your room with the baby. he's holding her, touching her little nose, letting you sleep in. you had a rough night, and when he found you still with your eyes closed that morning, he figured he would let you keep sleeping, just for an extra hour or so.

you deserve it.

"is that her?"

kyle's head turns with a snap. standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, is your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. not man enough to answer the phone when you most needed him, not strong enough to do the right thing and marry you, and not wise enough to realize all he had to do was take care of you, and the world would be right again. you're not greedy. you don't ask for anything. all you want is to love and be loved, and kyle doesn't think that's too much to ask for, kyle thinks you're one of the most selfless women he's ever known, so why does this fucking bastard of a man get to call himself this girl's father?

kyle looks back down, fixing the blanket over your daughter's neck carefully. he thinks he did pretty good swaddling her this time, but you might have an opinion on it.

"i'm gonna say somethin', mate," kyle says lowly. "'n after i say it, y'r gonna do some thinking, real thinking."

he laughs a little, shaking his head.

"why don't you give me my baby, and get the fuck outta 'ere?"

kyle looks up and snickers, shaking his head. he gets a better grip on your daughter, sitting back, and he fixes your ex with a sinister smile.

"and what if i don't? you gonna take her from me?" kyle chuckles. "i'd love to see you try."

he stands, raising a brow.

"listen here, and listen close." kyle takes a step closer to him. "you're a right pile of shit comin' here thinking that you can just waltz right in and be daddy of the year, alright? what kind of man are you, eh? your girl in need, callin' you, and you don't even have the fuckin' balls to answer her? take a good look at your kid, mate, cause it's the last time you're ever gonna see her."

"no, i have the right--"

"to fuck right off," kyle snaps. "if i see you near her or her daughter ever again, i'll find you, and i'll make it worth your while, mate. make you feel real sorry finally, y'hear me? 'n when i take her back home, all of your junk better be out the flat. otherwise, i'll fucking burn it."

"kyle?"

your voice pulls him away. kyle adjusts the baby in his arm, going back inside, and he shuts the door behind him, finding your eyes. you reach for the baby, arms outstretched, and kyle easily sets her down in them, watching as you cradle the tiny thing into the crook of your neck and stroke the back of her neck.

the nurses come in and drop off a few papers. one stops, looking at kyle, giving him a big smile.

"congratulations," she tells him, and he smiles back at her. she takes a seat next to him, holding out a clipboard. "do you think i could get a few details? i just need to know mum's name, baby's name--"

kyle gives it to her. your birthplace. your birthday. your name. your baby's name. then she flips a paper over, putting her pen down.

"and dad's name?" she asks.

kyle sighs, leaning back in his chair. they don't give out birth certificates right away. you have to request it. you won't find out, not just yet, maybe he'll even pick it up for you. you'll be much too busy being mummy dearest.

"kyle," he tells her, flashing her that big smile. she blushes a little, writing it down. "kyle garrick."

he looks back at where you are, your eyes on him. you smile shyly when your eyes meet, and kyle leaves the nurse to come up to you and drape a hand behind your head. he strokes along your hair gently, thumbing at your temple.

"i heard you outside, kyle."

"did you?"

"and i heard you just now."

"mm."

you blink, reaching for the edge of his shirt, and you pull him down, further, until his face is nearly against yours.

"i guess i shouldn't be surprised," you say softly, reaching up to smooth a a few knuckles down his cheek. he leans into it, licking his lips, and you bite your lip. "you've always had a habit of...taking what doesn't belong to you, huh?"

kyle laughs. always the pretty boy, ever since you were little. one smile from him--kyle could get away with anything. anything at all.

"who says you don't belong to me?"

[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job—a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns—thin, angry welts were already bruising—encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe—his chest seized, ribs locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state. The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head—get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop—that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued—Morgan had handled it efficiently—but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute—that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster—high twenties, maybe—an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it—a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder—but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no—get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey—stop! It's me—it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense—he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of the logic in the world could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then—finally—something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something—anything—to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it—the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often—his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay—but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. But this? This was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details—the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go—because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore—you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse—it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish—a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more—words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

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[woozinhos]

omgg hii can you write a fluffy smut of hoshi surprising his gf by coming home earlier for his break from military 🥹

Notes: You’re gonna wanna read this one just trust me it’s long got smut and fluff and you’ll love it hehe also sorry I put hoshi instead of soonyoung

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Smut below the cut

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You're in your shared apartment, relaxing on the couch and minding your own business when suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. You get up from the couch, a bit curious as to who it could be, and make your way over to the door. As you approach the door, you think to yourself who it could possibly be. Maybe it's one of your friends? Or a delivery person with a package? You're not expecting anyone, so it's a bit unexpected.

You reach the door and take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whoever is on the other side. You turn the handle and slowly open the door, peeking out to see who it is. You see Hoshi standing in front of you, a cheeky grin on his face. He's dressed casually, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, and his hair is slightly messy.

"Surprise," he says, holding his arms out for a hug. You're completely taken aback by his sudden appearance. Your eyes widen in shock and disbelief as you take in his presence. You stand there speechless for a moment, unable to form words as your heart races with excitement. Hoshi notices your shock and chuckles, amused by your reaction.

"Aren't you going to hug me back?" he teases, stepping closer to you.

You snap out of your shock and throw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around him. You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent as you hold onto him like a lifeline. "You're really here," you whisper, your voice slightly muffled by his hoodie. "I can't believe it." Hoshi laughs softly and runs his fingers through your hair, soothing you.

"Yeah, I had a day off," he replies, holding you close to him. "And I wanted to spend it with you." You pull away slightly to look up at him, a mixture of happiness and confusion on your face. "But you didn't tell me," you pout, lightly punching his chest. He grins at your pout and catches your hand, holding it in his own.

"Sorry, baby," he says apologetically. "I wanted to surprise you. I know how much you miss me when I'm gone." You huff in response, but you can't help but smile at his explanation. "You're lucky I love you," you say, intertwining your fingers with his.

He smirks and squeezes your hand.

"Oh, I know I'm lucky," he replies, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your neck. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you as my girlfriend." His breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, and you let out a small gasp. He notices your reaction and starts placing soft kisses along your neck, trailing up to your jawline. He continues to shower you with kisses, his arms wrapped around your waist possessively.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs between kisses, his lips moving to your ear. "You have no idea how much I've thought about you every day." You melt into his embrace, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as he confesses his feelings. You can hear the longing in his voice, and it only makes you crave his touch even more. "I've missed you too," you whisper back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He pulls back slightly to look at you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

"I kept a picture of you in my uniform everyday. It was the only thing that kept me sane," he admits, taking your hand and placing it over his chest. "Your picture was always with me, reminding me of what I was fighting for." You can feel his heart beating rapidly under your palm, and you realize just how much he truly cares for you.

"You're my reason to come back home," he says, his gaze intense as he looks at you. "You're my home." Tears well up in your eyes at his heartfelt words, and you can't help but feel emotional. You throw your arms around him again, holding him tightly as you fight back the tears.

"You're my everything," you whisper, your voice cracking. Hoshi holds you just as tightly, rubbing your back soothingly. "And I'm yours," he whispers back, his voice filled with affection. "Always and forever."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・.・

The sun sets, casting a warm orange glow over the city. You and Hoshi spent the entire day together, catching up on each other's lives and making up for lost time. You went to your favorite restaurant for dinner, laughing and talking over delicious food. After that, you took a walk in the park, enjoying the cool evening breeze and the company of one another.

Now, you're back at the apartment, cuddled up on the couch watching a movie. Hoshi has his arms wrapped around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. You lean against his chest, feeling completely content and relaxed. The movie plays in the background, but you're not really paying attention to it. You're more focused on the sound of Hoshi's heartbeat and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, letting out a soft sigh.

"I could stay like this forever," he murmurs, nuzzling into your hair. As the movie continues, Hoshi's kisses on your neck become more frequent and more intense. He trails his lips down to your shoulder, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. He begins to suck and nibble on your skin, marking you as his own.

"God, I've been craving you so badly," he growls, his hands roaming over your body. "I've been dreaming about this moment for weeks." He pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips. His grip on your waist is firm as he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes.

"It's been too damn long," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips. "It feels like forever since I've had you like this." He pulls you closer, grinding his hips up against you, making his desire for you even more obvious. You let out a gasp as you feel his hardness beneath you, and you can't help but grind back against him in response. "You're driving me crazy," he moans, burying his face in the crook of your neck once again. "I need you, baby."

"You have no idea," you whimper, your breath hitching as he nips at your skin. "I've missed the way you touch me, the way you make me feel. I've missed your hands all over me, claiming me." His growl turns into a low, possessive rumble as he hears your words.

"Mine," he whispers, his hands roaming down to your thighs. "All mine." He lifts you up slightly, and in one swift motion, he lays you down on the couch beneath him. He captures your lips in a rough, passionate kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth and exploring every inch of it. He dominates the kiss, claiming you with every swipe of his tongue and every bite of your bottom lip. Hoshi's hands wander down to the hem of your shirt, tugging at it impatiently. He breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he looks down at you with lustful eyes.

"Take this off," he demands, his voice husky and deep. You immediately comply, lifting your arms up so he can take off your shirt. He practically rips it off of you, throwing it to the side and gazing at your now exposed chest. His eyes roam over your body hungrily, and he licks his lips.

"Perfect," he breathes out, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. Hoshi continues to undress you, his hands moving quickly as he removes each article of clothing. He kisses and nips at your skin as he does so, leaving love bites all over your body. Once you're completely naked beneath him, he sits back on his knees to admire the view.

"Fucking gorgeous," he says again, his eyes roaming up and down your body with hunger and adoration. As he removes his clothes, you notice how toned and muscular his body is. He's gained a bit of muscle from his time in the military, and it's clear that he's been working out. You can't help but stare at him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his physique. "You look so good," you say, your voice filled with admiration and desire. "You've been working out a lot, haven't you?" Hoshi smirks at your compliment, his chest puffing out slightly with pride.

"I've had to," he replies, flexing his muscles for you. "Need to keep myself in shape for you, sweetheart." He moves closer to you again, hovering over you with a cocky grin on his face. "Do you like what you see?" he teases, his hand tracing a path down your stomach.

"Because I know I like what I see," he adds, his hand moving lower and lower until it's resting on your inner thigh. He gently pushes your legs apart, making room for himself between them. He positions himself comfortably, his eyes never leaving yours as he leans down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more sensual. His hand slides up your thigh, slowly caressing the sensitive skin and making you shiver with anticipation. "I can feel how much you want me," he whispers against your lips, his hand now resting on your hip.

"You're so wet for me, baby." You gasp as he slowly enters you, your body adjusting to his size. He lets out a low moan, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

"So tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds himself still. He gives you a moment to adjust, his body tense with restraint. He wants to move so badly, but he's being patient, wanting to make sure you're comfortable first.

"You're doing so good, love," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Taking me so well." He starts to pepper your neck and jawline with kisses, his hips slowly beginning to move in small circles. You can feel every inch of him as he moves, your walls clenching around him with each rotation. He groans louder, his hips picking up speed as he starts to thrust in and out of you.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he says, his voice strained with pleasure. He continues to kiss and suck on your neck, leaving marks that will surely be there for days. He's possessive, marking you as his own as he increases the pace of his thrusts. He bites down on your skin, muffling his moans against you. "I've been thinking about this nonstop," he growls into your ear, his voice deep and raspy.

"Every day, every night. All I could think about was how I needed to feel you around me, how I needed to hear you moan my name." He thrusts harder, his hips slamming against yours as he says your name like a prayer.

"You're all I want," he confesses, his eyes locking with yours. "No one else can compare to you." You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tensing up with every word he says. He notices this, and he grins, his pace becoming more punishing.

"Are you gonna come for me, baby?" he asks, his voice dripping with lust. "Are you gonna come all over my cock?" You can barely speak, too overwhelmed with pleasure to form words. He knows he has you on the verge of climax, and he's relishing in it.

“Cum for me," he demands again, his hand moving down to rub your clit in circles. "I want to feel you tighten around me." Your body obeys his command, and you arch your back as you reach your climax. You cry out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as waves of pleasure wash over you. He follows soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he reaches his own release. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his moans as he spills inside of you. He slowly continues to thrust, riding out both of your orgasms.

He's panting heavily, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his climax. He lifts his head from your neck, looking down at you with a satisfied expression. He gently pulls out of you, collapsing onto the bed beside you. He immediately pulls you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. He nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion.

"My soldier," You say back to him , his grip on you tightening. He kisses the top of your head, a soft smile on his face.

"You're mine, and I'm yours."

[revelboo]

GUESS WHO CAME IN THE MAIL FROM THE EBAY PEOPLE U RECOMMEND. MY FAVE MY DARLING 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

I love him so much I want him in my pocket and take him everywhere. I want him to see the world. I'm so happy. I think I might be done now. Atleast for a bit so I can see who comes next. Might get some TFone guys or the new defender ones(? The tiny tiny ones) but I'm so happy I found this blog, your amazing works and blokees 💕💕💕💕 thank you !!!

Soundwave! I'm glad you enjoy my stories! They’ve given us so many Megs variants… I need some more Soundwaves and Starscreams now

Pretty much 🤣 Megs was an oops, though to be fair

Everything Is Alright Pt 118

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Servos lightly trembling feeling your stress and anxiety soaking into him to mingle with the almost manic fury radiating from Megatron and Starscream’s own outrage until he’s nearly overwhelmed, Soundwave swallows a growl. “No,” he says, voice calm and unyielding. Wrapping his servos around you, he opens his cassette compartment and gently eases you inside. Shielding you from what he suspects is coming with how volatile Megatron’s thoughts are right now. And it's a comfort to have you tucked safely inside him, helping ease the ragged hurt of that severed bond. It had felt like having his spark ripped out of him. Had known the Seeker wasn't happy that he'd tried to bond you, but hadn't realized the other mech would go that far.

• Did he really just nope and hide you? Sitting down, illuminated by his biolights and surrounded by the thrum of his spark, a part of you is thankful for the respite from the madness. Because your hands are shaking, just overwhelmed and you really want some alone time to try and process. Maybe cry at how ridiculous your life is. And it’s warm and safe inside Soundwave. “Thanks,” you whisper, unsure if he can hear you in here or not. Can still feel that jangling wrongness where Soundwave's bond had been as you press yourself into a corner of his cassette compartment. Letting yourself grieve that loss with no one staring at you.

• “Give me back my mate,” Starscream growls. Optics narrowing, he checks his wing to make sure that big brute didn’t bend it dragging him and to distract himself from the worry clawing at him. Had felt your pain echo through him and hadn't been able to do anything. Had been helpless to save you or himself and that can never happen again. Needs to be able to hold you in his servos, reassure himself that you're really okay. Doesn't even want to think about the fact that Megatron stole his sparkling and bonded you while you were helpless even if it was to save your life. And his. Doesn't want to owe that mech anything. Denta gritting when Soundwave just folds his arms across his chassis and stares him down. And he can pry that stupid cassette door open if he needs to. Starts forward only to hiss when Megatron seizes him by a wing. Again.

• Pulling until the Seeker leans so far one leg kicks out for balance, Megatron smiles down at Starscream. Because all of this is his fault. His selfishness. He’s sparked because the Seeker had severed Soundwave’s bond and hurt you. “Leave our pet alone. I think we need to have a little talk anyway. Just the three of us.” Ignoring Starscream's furious expression, he releases him and sits on Soundwave's berth. Trying to get his temper under control when he just wants to wring the Seeker's neck. Rip his still pulsing spark from his chassis. And he can't. Can't lay a servo on the mech to do any real damage. Killing Starscream might kill you. And because he's fully bonded to you, him as well. Maybe you'd fully bonded to him on purpose as a way to ensure he couldn't hurt your other mate. Wants to be furious, but he hadn't felt any scheming when he'd been tangled in you. "No one is to find out that we can spark a human or that I'm sparked." Not until he can figure this out. Because yes, it's a chance at saving their race slowly declining race, but if it gets out, there's the question of who the sire is and the Pit will freeze over before he lets it get out that he has Starscream's sparkling. Still can't understand humans and their alien weirdness. You're the carrier, you were supposed to stay sparked. Not pass it to him.

• Servos pressed protectively against the door to his cassette compartment, he croons softly to you, trying to soothe away your turmoil. Lulling you like he would a cassette. Aware that they're both staring at him when he lifts his head and he stares them both down defiantly, daring them to say anything. "Hurt our mate instead of protecting," he says, attention fixing on Starscream. Tries so hard to be the one in control, to be calm and rational, but he'd lost it when the Seeker had torn through his bond. And why? Because he was jealous? Didn't want to share you? Just callously lashing out without realizing there would be consequences. "Keep hurting our mate."

• "Our mate," Starscream hisses, angry and upset at the truth in that accusation. Because he had hurt you trying to free you. And even now, he's not sure if he'd done it to protect you or to keep you to himself. Because you were supposed to be only his. To love only him. You're all he'd needed or wanted. So why hadn't he been enough for you? "You're not my Trine. Not my brothers. You seduced my mate." And Megatron had stolen his future. Denta bared, his wings flare out before dropping. "I was happy."

• Servos pressing to his head, Megatron looks from Soundwave to Starscream. "At this point, it doesn't matter who screwed up the worst. You're fully bonded. I'm fully bonded. Soundwave will be, too." Snarling when Starscream opens his mouth to protest, he looms over the Seeker. "Soundwave, too. Primus, knows our poor pet will need a calm voice in all this. Safety." Pointing at Soundwave when Starscream hisses, Megatron thumps him in the chassis with the end of his cannon. "Where is the human right now? Hiding from both of us with Soundwave. And I swear to Primus if I could blast you in the face for getting me involved in this stupidity, I would without hesitation." Thumping him again to make the Seeker stumble back, Megatron's servos curl into fists. "It's divine comedy that I'm now tied to you for the rest of my existence."

• "Or our mate's. Humans don't live that long, Lord Megatron," he blurts, trying to hurt the other mech. And Starscream freezes as Megatron's optics narrow. Because it's something that has occurred to him more than once. Bond mates bond for life. One following the other in death and he'd known how short your life was when he'd claimed you. Willingly made that sacrifice to spend what time you have with you. But Megatron didn't know and a petty part of himself is almost gleeful about the blank expression on the warlord's face up until Megatron grabs him by the jaw, servos squeezing. 'How short?' Megatron snarls.

Previous

I finally gave up and did an inbox cleanse… but I kept quite a few still as drafts. I just discovered the TransArts Tarantulas figure and he's so pretty. And so, so out of my price range lol

[pali-and-proud]

Finale Thoughts

This is a very special thank you to all the Fast Passers. Y'all did amazing, truly, because I actively read anything and everything without any attempt to shield my eyes from spoilers and I still knew nothing. This post is dedicated to you guys.

Alright guys. You know the drill. Get the hot coco and strap in.

Lets start with Deacon:

Deacon acknowledging that Chase is more likely to interact well with Buddy is actually so good to see. It's so nice to see Deacon prioritize Prunella's safety and to be more comfortable with being put in "lesser" positions, like babysitting! (Think back to sick! Chase, and look at how far Deacon's grown)

Deacon and Prunella's talk: Prunella calling out Deacon for always talking about being great instead of just being great. That's so good, genuinely--Prunella shrugging and being self-confident and Deacon finally really hearing it. He needs to just be what he wants.

Deacon's relationship with horses symbolizing his frustrations with his inability to control his life was NOT something I expected and I openly applauded. That's brilliant.

Don't be mistaken: Deacon sacrificed himself. He knew the risks of making the horse play bridge. He watched the horse fall victim to the spread of the pages. The horse was still neighing when it's legs started to turn--Deacon could have yelled, but he didn't, because he was too focused trying to make sure that Chase and Prunella, at least, could escape.

The speech Buddy gave him, which I will reference so many times, about there being a time to be the hero and a time to be the helper, is SO applicable. Deacon "is happy to help." He isn't trying to be the hero, and he isn't trying for glory, and he just wants his cousin and his friend-ish to be safe. And it's specifically when he's not trying to be the hero that he ends up being the hero, by taking control of the reigns and getting Prunella to Chase and risking his life. He follows Bronze and Prunella's advice, and listens to the speech, and listens to himself: He stops asking for permission. He steps up. He becomes the hero.

Cannot wait to see Deacon's reaction when Chase undoubtedly tells him how they escaped. I can't decide if Chase is immediately going to say "Buddy and I kissed" or if he's going to say "I figured out an escape and stop asking questions" but no matter what, Deacon's going to be squinting at his cousin and groaning.

ALSO can't wait to see how this arc impacts his relationship with his parents. Like I'm so excited. A Deacon that's more confident being able to step forward and say "No, I don't want to devote my life to something I'll actively hate. That's ridiculous." might be the end of me ngl, I love him.

Prunella!

Prunella my love

Prunella my LOVE

She has this confidence that we only see falter twice: when she struggles with the other kids, and right now. And in both situations, she didn't know what to do, and she was in over her head, and she reminded us that she's just a KID

Her arc has been the exact opposite of Deacon's, and it's so cool to watch them both experience opposite lessons in the same arc. Deacon learning how to step forward and lead while Prunella learns how to step back and follow.

Prunella hearing, constantly, about how dangerous the books are and finally SEEING the books as dangerous. Prunella finally understanding why Deacon was so strict about the books she could travel in, because most of their worst-case scenarios came true in a single swoop.

Prunella also has not met Buddy yet. She saw him, described him as the mean guy, and then perished. Truly an icon.

I am so convinced that Prunella and Buddy would be friends. Even if it starts rocky, I think they both enjoy humbling the Hollow boys too much to not grow to like the other's presence. I can't believe I have to wait for season 2 to get confirmation of this but I am going to be so smug when I am correct

Chase:

CHASE

CHASE EVERETT HOLLOW i have never in my life ever loved a character like I love Chase. I talk so much about Buddy but that is me being a wing-woman, Chase my love Chase, I love him so much

Fun fact I didn't even like Buddy until the first Cinderella story. I was so convinced I wouldn't like him, but I resigned myself to cheering for Stargoth anyway (I was part of the Canvas/Discover Squad, i had a LOT of hiss hiss Buddy) solely because if Buddy made Chase happy then sure I'll accept it, and now i adore Buddy, Punko is just that good

Every single moment of Chase in this arc stole my attention. every single panel. God I could do a dive longer and deeper than my Buddy analysis but exclusively on Chase during the finale arc. i could do it exclusively on Chase during the finale. I could do it on any singular panel.

Chase being guilty about lying to Buddy alone was heart-wrenching, but Chase literally only got more and more heartbreaking. Him constantly trying to help everyone--the keys, for example, with a resort for them to enjoy--only for things to go wrong--the resort, for example, drowning the book. He just wants to HELP

Buddy was 100% correct in calling out Chase for pinning the blame on Deacon, but what he didn't realize is Chase wasn't trying to do that. Chase truly felt terrible, and he truly wanted to apologize, and him bringing up Deacon was him being honest and factual because he did argue with Deacon about it, but he did end up listening to Deacon. And Buddy gets more frustrated because Chase is misunderstanding the problem--it isn't Chase hiding Prunella, it's Chase refusing to trust Buddy

And when you think about it. Chase absolutely has no reason to. Chase doesn't even know his name WHICH I WILL TALK ABOUT LATER bc kdjfherigh but! In Chase's eyes, yeah why would he. He's literally desperate to have Buddy prove that hes legit and good and kind and Buddy keeps shoving that away (Buddy saving Deacon's life and then pointedly not mentioning that, for example).

It's also the fact that Chase is trying so hard to stay optimistic despite such extreme levels of guilt. It's the fact that he stays clutching to that persona of optimism even after seeing paper! Deacon and Prunella, and it's only when he's staring at a bleeding Buddy that the full situation sinks in

Chase finally breaking. Oh my God you dont know how long I was waiting to see Chase splinter apart. This is a kid trying to do the impossible, and every single time something goes wrong, he feels like it's his fault. The book got destroyed? Buddy got betrayed? Admitting that he doesn't trust Buddy? Getting way less narratonin than Deacon or Prunella? He blames himself for all of it, first and foremost, and it's finally on full display

Chase even trying to send Buddy away? Pushing and pushing because he is so desperate to save someone, anyone, even though that's literally a death sentence for him. And he doesn't hesitate, either--it's practically instinct, even though Chase would never agree to leave if the roles had been reversed.

And like...augh Buddy hugging Chase, and Chase hugging him back? That was painful enough, but you add in Chase admitting that he doesn't want Buddy to leave?

This is not the post for me to point at Chase and accuse him of abandonment issues, but know that I am pointing at Chase and I am accusing him of abandonment issues. I am looking at him feeling hurt that Deacon left him in the Toffee arc, I am looking at him constantly repeating that he's not going anywhere, I am looking at him running to apologize to Buddy after spending so much time bitter about Buddy avoiding him, I am looking at his avoidance of talking about his mom in situations where "My mom is dying and this is important to me" would be really helpful, and I am thinking accusations

But anyway

Chase and his abandonment issues: literally all he wants is for someone to stay, safely and securely. His mom, Deacon, Silver, Buddy, even his dance partner. He's always at risk of losing someone, and he's about to lose everything, and all he can do is admit that he just wants Buddy to stay, because he's scared

Chase you are my sun you are my stars you are my whole solar system I will give you the world

Also, I absolutely knew the repeated comments about Chase being an idiot would get to him. Chase is SMART, guys. He's perceptive. He knows when he messes up, and he tries to look past the mistake and into how to rectify it, but that doesn't mean he isn't aware that he did something wrong. And people (Buddy) kept snapping that he was stupid, or an idiot, or ridiculous, bc Chase would make a mistake (or stick by a decision), and he would NOTICE that people thought it was ridiculous. He just didn't care, because he was either sticking with it, or trying to fix it.

And he DOES. He notices the words in the sky, realizes the solution, figures out the entire thread behind the stories (they want to be enjoyable and they want to have a good ending), and explains it all to Buddy. Chase figured it out, because he's so much smarter than everyone assumes.

Anyway Buddy hugging Chase and telling him he can stay a while longer (this is a scene burned into my heart) (more on that later) and telling him he's not stupid and that he's trying his best is SO important. This might be the first time in the entire story that someone finally sees Chase. Someone finally prioritizing Chase and putting Chase's wellbeing first and telling Chase yeah sure maybe you messed up but you're doing the impossible every single day and you're TRYING.

And for it to be Buddy? Like ignore the romance entirely--if someone who always insults you and is notoriously difficult to please tells you "No, you're not stupid. You're trying your best" while hugging you? thats the most sincere thing in the world. that's tears immediately.

Chase suggesting kissing is also askdjns because (again, ignore the romance part of it)--he always skips the kissing scenes. We know thats because he wanted to save his first kiss, and he's the one who offered. Yeah, okay, sure, it was life or death, but Chase didn't hesitate, and didn't weigh his options, and didn't even consider saying "a kiss on the forehead would probably suffice." guy went straight for "i need the mouth to mouth"

the grin. The bright eyes. the pressing fingers to his lips. He's so happy, so genuinely happy.

I truly, truly, TRULY cannot wait to see what this means for our idiots. I can't wait for someone to try to have a conversation and for someone else to not want a conversation, or for them to be so awkward with each other, or for Deacon to want to skin them both, or for WHATEVER turn this takes. And im SO happy for Chase.

Buddy:

I wrote this whole thing and it just deleted. i am furious

NOX

NOX I LOVE THAT NAME NOX NOX NOX

Punko i cant believe you were worried we wouldnt like it. nox nox nox nox nox i love that

okay first: the two theories for key Nox, as they are rn, are 1) that Nox has always been the villain key, or 2) that Nox was tricked/manipulated/experimented into becoming the villain key.

1) If he'd always been the villain key, it makes sense why he never told Chase his name. Chase would have immediately told Silver and company, who would have had to stare at Chase and ask them if he had a crush on their brother

1) if he'd always been the villain key, his distrust of Chase could be explained by him distrusting all humans. This would follow course with him also being frustrated by Deacon, which yes was partly because of jealousy but also partly because Deacon was a new key holder.

1) ALSO of course he was a nightmare about Chase with the key--he had no reason to believe Chase would treat the keys well. it's also possible that he knew Silver had a crack, and thats why he helped Chase in the first cinderella book--so that Chase could meet Silver.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, it makes sense why he never asked Chase details about his key. Why he never asked about Silver or Bronze, or if they were okay, or how they were settling, despite routinely trying to get details about other factors of Chase's life. He assumes Chase is selfish, true, but he doesn't ever accuse Chase of being cruel with them.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, the line of "Don't you want to be human again" holds a lot of power. Yes, it's possible that the keys were once people and Nox wants to go back to that, but its been CENTURIES.

2) if he was always the villain key, the line of "Don't you want to be human again" would be applicable to all the keys, bc it would assume they were all human once (obligatory Keys are People Too mention, it's an amazing ao3 fic by incomple shoo go read it). Silver, Bronze, AND Goldie never mentioned that, and Punko likely would have foreshadowed it earlier.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, it makes sense why he wasn't included in the dream Silver had! Where she dreamt about her family!

2) if he BECAME the villain key, his constant reference of Silver as "the key" or as "it" also makes sense. Earlier, like episode three or so, he mentions needing to get Silver back before the old man returns. It's Silver specifically, without mentioning trying to track down anyone else.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, his name being objectively different from the other keys makes sense. Silver, Bronze, and Goldie were all named after the metal they were made from! Violet is purple! Yes, Nox means night, and yes, Nox has a moon on his back, but if Goldie isn't called Sunny, then I would argue Nox's name should count as way more subtle than everyone else's.

anyway theres a lot of points on either aspect

I could do into the character growth of Buddy, but I'm actually going to focus on the hug. Not the kiss, even though it's nice to see the fixation on Chase's hair stays strong, but Buddy immediately recognizing a hug is needed and immediately giving him one.

Buddy love language is touch, or something

Chase says "I think we need to kiss" and there's not a single arguement from Nox's lips. He literally stares at the sky, turns slowly, and goes "Not a problem"

actually the whole "I've never been the hero. Not even in my own story" goes so strong when you remember the speech he gave Deacon about needing to act as the hero, the helper, and whatever other role when need be. Nox was given the chance to be the hero, and he took it. "I'd like to be your hero" isn't just a romantic one-liner to preface a kiss--it's Nox genuinely saying that he wants the happy ending that Chase always skips. And Chase, this time, doesn't skip it.

Nox, returning back to his space with Violet, immediately says he doesn't think he can keep doing this. But he wants to be a human, more than ever, which implies that "keep doing this" isn't just travelling into the stories, but doing something additional. Something that, we can infer, is hurting Chase.

i am wrapping this up its snowing outside and i cant feel my fingers, how do you snow people do this

if you read all of this! grab a treat <3 hope you enjoyed and love you all

[mushgloomz]

Modern Love

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

• A/N: you asked and i shall provide. presenting my new magnum opus, dbf!Joel x reader slow burn realness - i want this shit to last, so it will be a series (apologies if you were hoping for a one-off, i can't bring myself to do it). also probs good to mention that this is a shameless self-insert fic bc us british girlies need some JM love okay? title and chapters inspired by 80s songs bc i'm insatiable.

• Warnings: no outbreak au, language, alcohol consumption, pet names, reader is afab, british and has hair - no other physical descriptions (and the british thing is only mentioned in passing dw).

• Word Count: approx 2.5k

1: Let’s Hear It for the Boy

You pottered around the kitchen, the countertops left messy in your wake; you weren’t a baker by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d tasked yourself off with making a birthday cake. If it came out edible, you’d gladly consider it a successful endeavor.

It wasn’t your birthday, nor your father’s - ever since your parents’ divorce and your father’s subsequent mid-life crisis move to the States, you’d lived with your dad in Austin, Texas. Both of you had been there for the best part of six years. You’d visit your mother back in the UK periodically, usually over the summer, and return just in time for the neighbourhood’s favourite celebration: Joel Miller’s birthday BBQ.

Joel and your father had become fast friends; meeting at a trader’s warehouse by chance, and bonding over their appreciation for a cold one in front of the TV. Both men were reserved by nature and were single fathers to their kids - that being yourself and Sarah, Joel’s daughter.

You ducked your head, peeking into the oven to check on the progress of your passion project. Nothing looked burnt as far as you could see and, much to your surprise, a pleasant smell was emanating from the cake tins and wafting around the kitchen.

When your father had asked why you were so insistent on making a cake for his best friend, you fell short of an answer. The reality was that, since you’d known him, Joel had been at the centre of near enough every fantasy you’d had. He was hot, funny, and surprisingly kind given his reputation for being a bit of a grouch.

You’d almost developed a sort of secondary friendship with Joel, branching off from that of him and your father. He’d ask for you to ‘babysit’ Sarah for him, even though she was sixteen and arguably more capable at taking care of herself than you were. A fledgling friendship grew between her and yourself each time you visited; letting her talk about the drama at her highschool.

Another ten minutes passed before you finally conceded and opened the oven door, a waft of steam hitting your face as you did so. From what you could see and smell, the labour of love had been successful. You pulled the tins from the rack, and set them on the side to cool. You’d deal with them later - now, it was time for you to get yourself sorted.

You hopped into the shower, rinsing batter from the ends of your hair, scrubbing at every inch of your body. Despite the painfully obvious fact that Joel Miller was not the kind of man to date someone half his age, you preened and polished yourself until you were silky smooth and quite literally glowing - you opted to live in hope, after all.

After your shower you traipsed into your room, slumping onto your bed, still wrapped in a towel. You scrolled through your phone aimlessly, reading through messages that you'd been sent whilst you'd been distracted by your newfound baking talent.

tell the DILF I say happy birthday ;)

The message from your best friend back in the UK elicited a small laugh. There was something pleasantly nostalgic about tittering over someone entirely unattainable; it reminded you of being back at school, taking it in turns to gush over whatever boyband member took your fancy at the time.

Enjoy the party today, don't make a tit of yourself xx

Your mother knew you all too well. In all fairness, she had dealt with the consequences of your drunken teenage years most of the time, so it made sense. You scrolled through a few more generic messages; the work group-chat, a discount code from some mailing list, and...

Excited to see you kid :)

Oh. Oh. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Joel was excited to see you. He probably sent the same message to several other people, but you relished in the attention nonetheless. If anything, it spurred you on to finally get dressed and get back to the cake downstairs.

You slipped on a summer dress; it was light and airy, perfect for the brutally hot weather. It was ankle length, a soft pink and white paisley-style print over the soft cotton, and a split to the thigh over the right leg. It hugged where it needed to, and honestly? You looked fucking fantastic.

Trotting down the stairs and back into the kitchen, you groaned under your breath. The mess that you'd made whilst baking was worse when you saw it with fresh eyes. The cakes were cooled now on the wire rack that you had left them on; your dad would just have to dodge the splodges of batter and eggshell scattered across the countertops.

After a futile attempt at decorating, you gazed down at the cake. How you'd managed to cock up the icing this much was beyond you, but it would have to do. Your dad was waiting impatiently by the front door, grumbling under his breath, a six pack of beers and a card tucked under his arm. You grabbed the cake, wrapped it in tinfoil, and headed out, balancing it on a platter as you and your father made the short walk to the Miller household.

It was only a few minutes before you'd arrived, stepping up onto the porch behind your father, allowing him to knock whilst your hands were full. A moment passed, and then the door opened. A wide grin and sparkling brown eyes revealed themselves; a charcoal grey t-shirt clung to tan arms. It took all of your self-restraint to not gawp every time you saw Joel - he just got better and better.

Joel clapped a hand on your father's shoulder, mumbling something and essentially shoving him through the threshold of the door. Then his eyes turned to yours, glancing quickly down at the tinfoil wrapped cake in your hands, before speaking with a chuckle.

"Run outta wrapping paper, huh kid?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "Bold of you to assume this is for you, huh Joel?", you quipped teasingly. Much to your delight, your retort elicited another gravelly chuckle from the man. He leant against the doorframe, and you raised an eyebrow, trying not to stare at his bicep. "Well, are you gonna invite me in?", you questioned with a smirk. Joel stood upright, shrugging playfully as he did so.

"'Spose I'd better. Go on, get your ass inside kid."

The giggle that escaped your mouth was entirely involuntary as you ducked under Joel's arm and into the house. A fair few people were milling around indoors, but a majority of the guests were situated in the backyard. You made your way through the back door after perching the cake on the kitchen table.

A few people turned and gave polite waves when you stepped outside, others started their beeline toward you to exchange mundane pleasantries - ‘you’re looking very well!’, and ‘how’s that job of yours?’, and the dreaded ‘have you found a nice boy yet?’. You rinsed and repeated your answers for each person, smiling politely.

Sarah was sat on the grass with a friend; your father was swigging from a bottle of beer and laughing animatedly amongst a group of middle-aged men. Your heart nearly leapt of your chest when someone tapped you on the shoulder, causing you to spin around quickly, eyes wide. Tommy Miller, Joel’s younger brother, stood with a smug grin plastered over his face.

“Well ain’t this a surprise? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a drink in your hand at these get-togethers.”

You scoffed, feigning offence at the all too real accusation. “Big talk for a man that isn’t offering to get me a drink”, you retorted, smirking. Tommy threw his hands up, palms toward you in mock defense, laughing.

“Whoa now! I’m a fine southern gentleman, ‘course I’ll get you a drink. All you had to do was ask, doll.”

The conversations you had with Tommy consisted of little more than playful flirting; sometimes you wondered if he was actually flirting with you, but seeing how he acted around women he was actively trying to pick up resolved any doubts. Any fire and sass was quelled, and he would become almost meek and reserved - the embodiment of flushed cheeks and a coy smile. It was nice being able to know where you stood with him, especially since you didn’t have a fucking clue when it came to Joel.

~~~~

As the hours passed and alcohol swilled around the mouths of every adult in sight, the polite affair that was once a celebratory BBQ had devolved into a raucous cacophony of laughter as a very drunk Joel lured everyone inside the house, stumbling as he went. You were drunk, but not to the same degree; with everyone settled inside, you decided it was the ideal moment to bring out the cake.

You peeled the tinfoil from the confection, grimacing slightly as you looked at it once more - even with beer goggles, it still looked akin to a toddler’s cooking class attempt rather than a 50 year old man’s birthday cake. You stuck a single candle in the centre and used the lighter you had stolen from Tommy earlier that afternoon to light it, before lifting it carefully and carrying it toward the lounge.

As you entered you nodded once at your dad, who was just sober enough to understand your signal, and started to lead the group into a pitchy chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. You grinned as you walked over to where Joel was sat, setting the cake down on the coffee table in front of him before backing up, snapping a photo of the birthday boy as he held a hand to his chest, a soft smile on his face. He looked at you as he leant down to blow out his candle, mouthing ‘thank you’ before blowing out the flame.

“Y’all sure know how to make a man feel like one lucky son of a bitch. Thanks for comin’ everyone.”

Joel chuckled, smiling widely as he spoke. You glanced at the faces around you; the single women of the neighbourhood doting on his every word, a couple of the married ones too. Your dad held up his beer, calling for a cheers. Picking up your own bottle, you held it up in Joel’s direction, beaming at him as others held up their own drinks.

People began to engage in their own conversations again, shifting and mingling amongst themselves as more drinks were poured. Joel sidled up beside you, standing over you as you cut slices of cake.

“You make this yourself, sweetheart? Just for me?”

Heart thumping in your chest, cheeks burning, you nodded with a shy smile. Before you could raise the knife again, a thick finger swept up some of the icing on the cake’s border. You turned around and watched as Joel put the same finger in his mouth, shooting you a wink as he pulled the digit out with a satisfying pop. He leant in close, so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath melding with his cologne.

“Mm. Tastes as good as you look in that pretty lil’ dress.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth dropped open ever so slightly and you inhaled sharply. Before you could even comprehend what had just happened, Joel had turned away, shouting out to someone setting up karaoke by the television. Did that really just happen? You must have been hearing things, surely? You considered pouring the rest of your drink away, but fuck it; if you were hearing things like that, it would be worth the hangover.

Karaoke was a shambles, as expected. This wasn't the first birthday BBQ that Joel had relished in the karaoke machine being dragged out - despite his usually very collected exterior, he loved to sing, especially once he had a few drinks in him. It was never the song choice you'd expect someone like him to go for either - the man had a soft spot for 80s music and always requested a power ballad.

Perched on the arm of the sofa, you had a front row seat to Joel's latest performance; in fact, you were one of the few people actually paying any attention. It felt like he was singing to you, the way he crooned the words to 'Don't Dream It's Over', his eyes glancing over your form every once in a while. God, he was gorgeous.

The song concluded and you couldn't resist snapping another photo of the man as he took a swig from his bottle in front of you. It was one of the few occasions that you could get away with it, under the guise of taking them for memory's sake. Joel caught you, and smirked as he lowered his bottle.

Your dress had slipped from one of your shoulders a tad, and before you could lift it once more, Joel had stepped forward. He took the soft cotton between his fingers, letting the tips of them graze your shoulder ever so gently as he slowly shifted it back into place. Your eyes were wide, gazing up at him, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip just so. Joel hummed, low and rumbling, barely audible.

"Sweet girl... better keep that tongue in your mouth 'fore I forget who I am."

Swallowing hard, mouth running dry... did he actually just say that? Did he mean to say it in such a sultry tone? "I-I, uh...", your response was unintelligible at best as you stumbled over the flurry of thoughts in your head. The lounge had since cleared out; Joel chuckled softly under his breath. With a tender touch, he raised a hand to your cheek; a calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

Your lips parted slightly as your breath caught in your throat. Every beat of your heart reverberated in your head. Joel leaned down, still smirking, as he pressed his lips against yours. A breathy gasp left your lips as his moved firmly against yours for just a few moments. He pulled away sooner than you had wanted, leaving you sat there with your chest rising and falling heavily.

Joel's jaw clenched and he scrunched his eyes shut as he stood in front of you, dragging a hand down his face with a sigh. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like an apology, shaking his head ever so slightly, before he turned to leave. You watched as he left the room, stomach turning all the while. Nausea rose up inside you, and as you made a sprint for the bathroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was your fault he had responded in such a way. Shit.

[miss-nandini]

hey, can you make me a Mirage x fluff reader please mostly cuddling minor cussing please

A/N: I love Mirage. Hope you like it! It got a bit sad in the middle.

Little Things (Mirage x Reader)

It was one of those rides with him where he would be having the time of his life and your head would be spinning.

"Mirage, please stop! I think I'm going to throw up!"

"Hey! Don't you dare throw up inside me!"

Whether out of fear or sheer annoyance, he finds a spot soon enough and lets you stumble out of his alt mode. 

"Sometimes you are no fun, you know that?"

You look around, rolling your eyes as he accuses you of being boring. "It's not my fault that you decide to be a little shit."

You look around again. It seemed like he had brought you far away from the town area. You couldn't see anything other than grassy fields that seemed to stretch on forever.

"Mirage, where are we?"

"How would I know, (Y/N)?"

"Excuse me? Do you even know the way back?" You huffed. He really was something, wasn't he?

"Hey! Don't you trust me? I'm so hurt."

You heard him changing back to his original form behind you. 

"No need to be so dramatic."

"You are soooo mean, (Y/N)"

You could almost feel his pout even though you weren't looking at him. "Well, guess it wouldn't hurt to just sit around for a while."

You found a spot and sat down. Soon, you could hear him walking towards you to join you. You looked up at the sky. The night was still young and there were stars so bright that you couldn't help but admire them. 

"They are so beautiful."

"Yeah..."

You looked at Mirage. He was looking at the sky. But, for some reason, he looked... sad. It worried you. He usually looked  so happy-go-lucky. The sudden change in his demeanor was... startling.

"Mirage?"

"You know... the stars looked just as beautiful from Cybertron... The sky in Cybertron was... stunning."

The tender look in his eyes took your breath away. Sometimes you forget that he has lost his home. It is only natural that little things remind him of the home he was forced to leave.

"Hey, Mirage...? I know this is not Cybertron and I can not give you what you lost. But... you can think of Earth as another home, yeah? Things will never be the same again, but I promise that you will always have a home to return to. You have the others and of course... you have me..."

"Y/N..."

He picked you up in his servos and cradled you to his chassis. "Thank you..."

You placed your palms on top of his servos, your warmth bringing a smile to his face. "You are not so bad for a human, you know?"

"And you are absolutely annoying for a bot." 

"I will get back at you for that."

You yelped as he lay himself down on the grass with you on his chassis. "Hey! Don't do that!"

"Nopeee, I will keep doing this." He tried to ruffle your hair.

"Mirage!"

"Right, sorry sorry. But seriously, thank you for everything, (Y/N)"

"You are welcome buddy, you are welcome."

As you stayed curled up on his chassis, the night out with him didn't feel too bad anymore. It made you realize how much you still didn't know about Mirage. You have grown attached to him. Maybe, the next ride with him wouldn't be so bad after all.

[gardenladysworld]

Starbound Hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer

Part 13

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Part 14: To sneak

The lab was alive with the hum of machines, the glow of datapads, and the occasional chatter of the xenobotany team. But amidst the usual commotion, all eyes seemed to drift now and then toward the far corner of the room, where Neteyam crouched next to her. His large frame seemed out of place in the compact, human-scaled lab, but the way he leaned in close to her, his attention entirely focused, made it look as though he belonged there.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright with some explanation about the latest plant sample they were analyzing. He didn’t say much, but the slight tilt of his head, the way his tail lazily swayed behind him, and the soft smile tugging at his lips spoke volumes. It was as if they were having an entire conversation in their own language, one that didn’t require words.

Kate, seated a few feet away, nudged Norm with her elbow. “Look at them. I mean, seriously. You’d think they’d been mated for twenty years already.”

Norm chuckled, his gaze following hers. “And yet, somehow, it’s still kind of sweet.”

Kate smirked. “You’re just saying that because you saw their first kiss on the CCTV footage last week.”

“Okay, first of all,” Norm said, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I didn’t mean to see it. The cameras are for lab security, not spying.”

“Sure, Norm,” Kate teased, her grin widening. “And I didn’t hear you gush about how romantic it was. She’s a goner,” Kate remarked quietly, glancing at Max. “But who wouldn’t be? I mean, look at him.”

Max chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched the pair. “It’s not just her, though. He looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.”

Max leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You know Jake’s been piling work on him lately, right? Testing him like crazy. And yet, somehow, Neteyam still makes time to come here. Every day.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Norm nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Without fail. Even if he’s exhausted, he shows up. I don’t know how he does it.”

Kate glanced over again, catching the moment when she stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Neteyam’s cheek. His tail flicked playfully in response, brushing against her legs and making her giggle. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” Kate said with a laugh. “They’re disgustingly cute.”

The others chuckled, though none of them looked away. There was something mesmerizing about the way they moved together. If she shifted, he shifted too, his body naturally adjusting to hers as though they were two parts of a single whole. And when she laughed—soft, unguarded, and full of joy—it was clear to everyone in the room that she wasn’t just happy. She was in love.

And Neteyam? The way his golden eyes softened every time he looked at her, the way his tail flicked lazily behind him, and the way his entire frame seemed to relax in her presence said everything that needed to be said.

Kate rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. “It’s disgustingly sweet. But good for her. I mean, she got herself the literal Omaticaya prince. That’s like winning the intergalactic lottery.”

Brian leaned on his station, adding in a mock whisper, “But you can tell his title doesn’t mean anything to her. She’s so in love with him, it’s ridiculous.”

At that moment, she giggled, her laughter light and musical, as Neteyam’s tail playfully swiped against her side. She swatted at him halfheartedly, her cheeks dimpling with amusement. “Neteyam!” she scolded, her voice laced with affection.

Kate snickered. “Yup. Ridiculous.”

Norm, always the quieter observer, tilted his head as he watched Neteyam lean closer, speaking to her in a low, rumbling tone that none of them could hear. Neteyam turned slightly, crouched tightly beside her, his golden eyes never leaving her face. She tilted her head up, standing on her tiptoes again to press a quick kiss to his flat nose. He chuckled, low and deep, his hand brushing against her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Kate sighed dramatically, waving a hand in the air. “All right, I’m officially done. Someone get me an insulin shot.”

Norm smirked. “Jealous, Kate?”

“Of her? Nah.” Kate’s grin widened. “But I’ll admit, it’s kind of awesome seeing them like this. She deserves it. They both do.”

Kate raised an eyebrow and turned to Max. “If this doesn’t make you believe in soulmates, I don’t know what will.”

Max grinned but stayed quiet, watching as Neteyam’s hand lingered at the side of her face. She leaned into his touch instinctively, her eyes sparkling as she gazed up at him. There was no denying it—they moved together as if tied by an invisible thread, perfectly attuned to each other in a way that felt almost otherworldly.

“She’s completely gone for him,” Norm observed quietly, his voice tinged with genuine happiness. “And you can see it’s mutual. She’s not even guarded around him anymore.”

“Yeah,” Kate agreed, her tone softer now as she watched them. “It’s nice to see her like this. I mean, we all knew she was head over heels for him, but now she’s just... glowing. She’s happy.”

“And he’s different, too,” Max added thoughtfully. “Not just the dutiful warrior anymore. He looks... at peace when he’s with her.”

As the group went back to their tasks, their teasing subsiding into fond smiles, the pair remained lost in their own little world. Neteyam reached for her hand, her much smaller fingers slotting between his effortlessly. For a moment, the noise and chaos of the lab faded, leaving only the quiet warmth they shared. And for everyone watching, it was impossible not to feel a little lighter, a little brighter, in the glow of their happiness.

*

The lab was hushed as the last of the team headed off to their bunks, leaving only the faint hum of machinery and the soft glow of the bioluminescent samples. Neteyam stayed close, his presence a steady warmth beside you as you focused on your datapad, scrolling through the day’s results. It was late—too late, really—but you were used to long nights.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly, his voice soft but insistent.

You blinked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

Neteyam crouched beside your chair, his golden eyes gleaming in the faint light. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Neteyam, it’s the middle of the night. Do you know what Norm would do to me if I left the outpost? He’d lose his mind. Not to mention the forest is... well, you know, dangerous. Especially for me.”

His ears twitched, the faintest flick that betrayed his amusement. “Norm won’t know.”

“Because I’d be dead before I could tell him,” you shot back, your tone dry. You set the datapad aside and crossed your arms, giving him a pointed look.

He crouched beside you, his face level with yours, and the intensity of his expression made you falter. “You’ll be safe with me,” he assured you, his voice low but filled with conviction. “I promise.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “The golden child himself, encouraging reckless behavior? What would Jake say?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, but he didn’t back down. “He doesn’t have to know.”

You gave him a pointed look, your tone light but tinged with concern. “Neteyam, you should be sleeping. You’ve been running yourself ragged, and I don’t care how much you try to hide it—I see it.”

Your words softened his smile, but he didn’t waver. Instead, he tilted his head, his ears flicking slightly downward, and his wide, pleading eyes met yours with a look that made your chest tighten. “Please,” he murmured. “It’s important.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “You’re a monster,” you muttered, but the warmth in your voice betrayed your affection. “Fine. Let me grab my mask.”

His face lit up, and the flick of his tail behind him made you laugh despite yourself. You followed him out of the lab toward the airgate, muttering under your breath about how you must have lost your mind, but there was no real resistance in your steps. You grabbed your exo-mask from the wall and secure it on your head. The hissing of the compressed air relaed you slightly before you waited the airgate to open. You found yourself drawn to his excitement, even if you couldn’t fully understand what had him so eager.

“If I die, Norm is going to kill you. We are understaffed.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Neteyam teased, his tail swishing behind him as he led the way through the dimly lit outpost.

You reached the edge of the clearing where his ikran waited, its sleek, powerful form glowing faintly in the bioluminescent light of the forest. The sky above was thick with clouds, the faint rumble of distant thunder hinting at rain later. You paused, looking up at the looming sky with an uneasy expression.

“This feels like the setup to a bad horror movie,” you said, glancing at him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Neteyam chuckled, his voice warm and reassuring. “You worry too much.”

He extended his hand to you, his smile softening as he added, “Trust me.”

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the outstretched hand, then at his ikran, and finally back at his face. His earnest expression, the way his golden eyes searched yours with quiet confidence, was impossible to resist. With a sigh, you placed your hand in his.

“I must be insane,” you muttered as he helped you onto his ikran, his steady hands guiding you with care.

“You’ll see,” he said as he climbed up behind you, his arms securing you safely in place pulling you closer to his chest. “It’ll be worth it.”

You paused, glancing up at the dark sky. “You’re aware it’s probably going to rain, right? This feels less like a romantic adventure and more like a guaranteed soaking.”

Neteyam laughed softly, his hand resting on Tawkami’s neck as he reached behind himself to grab his kuru. “A little rain won’t hurt,” he said, his voice light with amusement as he made the bond with his ikran. “Besides, you trust me, don’t you?”

You sighed dramatically, though your smile lingered. “Unfortunately for my better judgment, I do.”

As you took off into the night, the wind rushing past you and the forest stretching out below, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and unease. Whatever he wanted to show you, you hoped it was as important as he seemed to think it was.

*

The cool wind would whipped against your face harshly if you wouldn’t wear the mask as the ikran soared through the darkened sky, its wings slicing through the clouds with a quiet power that left you in awe. You clung to Neteyam, your arms wrapped tightly around his arm, your heart thundering as the dense forest below blurred into an endless expanse of glowing greens and blues. The faint rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, a reminder of the coming storm.

You had no idea where he was taking you, and despite the comfort of his warmth against your back, unease prickled at the edges of your thoughts. Why did I agree to this? The forest was dangerous enough during the day, let alone at night, and the storm on the horizon didn’t help ease your nerves. But then you’d think of the way his eyes had silently begged you to follow him, the quiet desperation in his voice when he’d asked you to trust him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

His ikran let out a soft screech, tilting slightly as Neteyam adjusted its path. The wind grew colder, and you glanced overthe ikran’s shoulder, your breath catching as you spotted the faint glow of something ahead. As the ikran descended, the sight became clearer, and your unease melted into awe.

The Tree of Voice.

Even in your studies, you’d heard of this place—one of the most sacred site of the Omaticaya, the heart of Eywa’s connection to Pandora. Few humans had ever seen it, their stories now no more than whispered memories. But here it was, glowing softly against the darkness like a beacon, its long pink tendrils swaying gently in the breeze.

The ikran landed smoothly, its talons gripping the soft earth near the base of one of the smaller trees. Neteyam dismounted first, his movements fluid and precise as always, before turning to help you down. His hands were strong and steady as they guided you to the ground, your boots sinking slightly into the mossy soil. The air here was electric, charged not only by the approaching storm but by something deeper, something alive.

You turned in a slow circle, taking in the sight around you. The remains of the larger trees, destroyed long ago by the RDA, still stood as solemn reminders of that dark time, their trunks hollowed and charred. The war was 20 years ago. But nature had fought back. Around those lifeless husks, smaller trees had sprung up, their glowing tendrils dancing in the wind, pulsing softly with life. It was as if Eywa herself had ensured this sacred place was reborn, stronger than ever.

“It’s... incredible,” you murmured, unable to find words that did justice to what you were seeing. “Neteyam,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the wind. “I shouldn’t—”

He cut you off with a gentle look and reached for one of the glowing tendrils, his fingers brushing it with reverence. The tendril responded to his touch, its movement graceful and alive. He glanced back at you, his golden eyes soft and thoughtful. “It is said to be a place for prayers to be heard,” he said, his voice quieter now, as if speaking louder would disturb the sacredness of the moment. “And sometimes... answered.”

You watched, transfixed, as he brought his neural queue forward. The strands of his kuru intertwined with the tendril, the connection seamless and natural. His eyes fluttered closed, his expression softening as if he were listening to a song only he could hear.

“They live within Eywa,” he murmured, the words carrying a depth of meaning that made your chest tighten.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The way the soft light of the tree illuminated his features, the serenity in his expression—it was like you were seeing a part of him you hadn’t fully known before. When he opened his eyes and looked at you again, a small smile tugged at your lips.

This is sacred to him. And he’s sharing it with me.

Without thinking, you reached out to one of the tendrils, your hand trembling slightly. Can I? Should I? The glowing pink strand seemed to move on its own, its gentle sway aligning with your hesitant motion. When your palm made contact, a jolt of warmth pulsed through you, startling but not unpleasant. The tendril pulsed faintly under your hand, alive and vibrant, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe.

“It’s alive,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe. You smiled, unable to help yourself, as you watched the tendril respond to your touch. No, you couldn’t connect with the ancestors like the Na’vi, but you could feel the vitality of this place, its sacredness. You glanced back at Neteyam, who was watching you now, his golden eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

Neteyam opened his eyes, his gaze immediately finding you. The warmth in his expression made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but feel that this moment was something rare, something you would never forget.

Neteyam’s heart swelled as he watched you standing beneath the glowing tendrils of the Tree of Voices. The bioluminescent light bathed you in soft pink hues, reflecting in your eyes as you gazed in awe at the sacred place. He’d dreamt of this moment, of sharing this part of himself with you, and now that it was happening, it felt more profound than he’d imagined.

Bringing you here wasn’t a decision he had made lightly. This place was the heart of his people, the connection to their ancestors and Eywa herself. It was sacred, almost untouchable, and to bring a human here was unthinkable to many—including his own mother. But to him, you weren’t just a human. You were his. His heart, his balance, his anchor in a life that sometimes felt overwhelming.

As he stood there, the wind tugging at his braids, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and gratitude that you were here with him.

“You’re beautiful in this light,” he said softly, breaking the silence between you. His voice carried easily in the stillness, and he saw the way your cheeks flushed faintly at his words.

You smiled, glancing at him. “I think you’re the one who fits here, Neteyam. Not me. This place feels... too sacred for someone like me.”

He looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

“Neteyam,” you said softly, breaking the silence. The wind played with your hair, carrying your voice to him. “Why did you bring me here? Really?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze shifted to the glowing tendrils swaying in the breeze, and his jaw tightened as if he were searching for the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady, laced with something that sounded almost like reverence.

“I heard you,” he said, his gaze flicking back to you. “A few days ago. With Kate.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you tilted your head slightly. “You heard me?” you repeated, unsure of where this was going.

He nodded, his ears flicking slightly downward in a gesture of vulnerability. “You said... you said you would never truly be a part of Pandora. That you could never fully understand this place. That no matter how long you lived here, it wouldn’t matter.”

Oh. The memory rushed back to you, unbidden. You and Kate had been joking—lighthearted banter about how Pandora seemed to resist human understanding when someone doing their job, how even the most advanced research couldn’t capture the soul of the planet. But the weight in Neteyam’s voice told you he hadn’t taken it as a joke.

You opened your mouth to explain, but he held up a hand, stopping you. His expression was calm, but there was a fire in his eyes that made your heart race.

“You’re wrong,” he said, his voice firmer now. “Pandora isn’t about understanding. It’s about feeling. About connection. And you—” He paused, his jaw tightening briefly before he continued. “You are a part of this place. Whether you see it or not.”

Realization dawned on you, and your chest tightened with a mix of guilt and defensiveness. “Neteyam, that was just... I didn’t mean it seriously. We were joking.”

But his expression didn’t change. His ears twitched slightly, and his tail flicked once behind him—a sign, you’d learned, of quiet determination. “You may have been joking,” he said softly, “but I don’t think you believed it was entirely untrue.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. He was right, in a way. There was a part of you that had always felt out of place here, like you were borrowing space in a world that didn’t belong to you. A world that, no matter how much you learned or loved it, might never fully accept you.

“I brought you here because I want you to see something,” he continued, his voice quiet but steady. “This place... it is the heart of my people. It is where we come to pray, to ask for guidance, to feel Eywa’s presence. And it is where I came before I met you. I prayed to Eywa to show me my path, to help me become the leader my father expects me to be.”

You tilted your head, your mask glinted in the light of the bioluminescent tendrils, curiosity replacing some of your unease. “Before you met me?”

Neteyam nodded, his gaze distant for a moment as if he were looking back on a memory. “It was a time when I was lost, unsure of the path ahead. I came here to ask Eywa for guidance—for a sign of what my life was meant to be. And then... I met you.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, and your breath hitched. “Neteyam...” you whispered, but he shook his head gently, urging you to let him finish.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours. “Why Eywa would place someone like you—someone so different, so human—on my path. But the more I came to know you, the more I realized that it was not a mistake. It was her will.”

You blinked up at him, your heart racing as he continued. “From the moment I met you, you have been a part of this world. Not because of where you were born or what body you were given, but because of what’s here.” He crouched down before your, reached out and pressing a big hand gently over your heart. “Because of the way you see things. The way you care, the way you listen.”

His hand lingered, warm and steady, before he let it fall back to his side. “Eywa does not make mistakes,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a reverence that sent a shiver down your spine. “She brought you here. To me. That is all the proof I need.”

You stared at him, your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words, the raw honesty in his gaze, left you speechless. He truly believed it—that Eywa, the great life force of Pandora, had guided you into his life. That you were meant to be here, with him. The thought was overwhelming, humbling, and impossibly beautiful.

The depth of his words, the raw vulnerability in his gaze, left you speechless. You searched his face, looking for any hint of doubt, but there was none. He truly believed every word he had said.

“I never thought...” you began, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, trying to find the right words. “I never thought someone like you—someone so deeply connected to this world—could see me as anything more than... an intruder.”

“You are not an intruder,” he said firmly, his hand tightening slightly on your cheek. “You are a gift. I didn’t bring you here just to show you this place,” he continued, his voice softening. “I brought you here because this is where everything began for me. This is where I asked for guidance, and this is where I realized that you... you are my answer.”

His movements slow and deliberate, as though he were afraid of breaking the moment. His large hands found your arms gently, his touch grounding you as he brought his forehead to your mask. Overwhelmed by the closeness, the intimacy of the gesture, you closed your eyes.

“You are my prayer answered,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You are the peace I didn’t know I was searching for.”

Your hands trembled as they rose to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as though to anchor yourself. Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. The wind whipped around you, the storm drawing closer, but in that moment, the world felt still, as though it were holding its breath for the two of you.

“Neteyam,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “Just stay here, with me.”

*

The wind stirred gently around you, carrying with it the faint hum of life emanating from the Tree of Voices. Your masked head remained pressed against Neteyam’s, his warmth grounding - even through the thin glass-  you as his words echoed in your mind, a profound declaration that left your heart aching in the best way. His hands rested lightly on your arms, his thumbs brushing soothing circles against your skin.

Your eyes remained closed, tears drying against your cheeks as you let yourself be present in the moment, his presence filling you with a sense of peace you’d never known.

When Neteyam opened his eyes, intending to take in your face, his breath caught. His golden gaze widened in shock, his entire frame stiffening as his focus shifted over your head.

“Eywa,” he whispered, the word reverent and filled with awe.

“What?” you murmured, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of his voice. You pulled back slightly, confused by the look of utter wonder on his face.

Neteyam didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the small, glowing spirit drifting gracefully through the air toward you. An atokirina—one of Eywa’s seeds, a sign of the Great Mother’s favor. The luminous tendrils of the seed pulsed faintly as it floated closer, glowing softly against the darkened backdrop of the sacred grove.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the atokirina descended. It hovered for a moment before settling lightly against your head, its tendrils brushing your hair with a gentle, otherworldly touch.

Neteyam’s lips parted, his ears twitching as his tail gave a subtle flick of astonishment. “I knew it,” he murmured, his voice a blend of awe and quiet conviction. His golden eyes burned with emotion as they met yours, his expression a mixture of pride, reverence, and love. “I knew Eywa brought you to me.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, overwhelmed by the weight of his words and the sight of the sacred seed resting against you. You lifted a trembling hand toward the atokirina, though you didn’t dare touch it, afraid to disturb the delicate moment. It lingered for a few heartbeats longer before floating upward, its tendrils swaying in the breeze as it rejoined the others dancing around the Tree of Voices.

“Neteyam,” you began, your voice trembling with disbelief. “What... what does this mean?”

He cupped your head gently, his touch firm yet tender as his thumbs brushed your temples just right behind the mask. “It means,” he said softly, his golden eyes boring into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, “that you are not just mine by chance. You are mine because Eywa willed it. She brought you to me for a reason.”

You couldn’t speak, the weight of his words and the sacredness of the moment rendering you silent.

“I’ve always believed it,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “But now I know, without a doubt, that you are meant to be with me. Eywa has seen your heart, your spirit... and she accepts you.”

Your hands clutched his arms, seeking stability as your knees threatened to give out. “Neteyam,” you managed, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how to... I’m just—”

“You are enough,” he interrupted gently, his tone firm yet soothing. “You have always been enough.”

The wind shifted again, stronger this time as the impending storm drew nearer, but neither of you moved. The sacred grove seemed to pulse with life around you, as though the forest itself was acknowledging the connection between you.

And in that moment, standing in the heart of Eywa’s blessing, you felt it too—you belonged here, with him.

*

The first drops of rain fell like tiny cold pinpricks, pattering against the leaves and the glowing tendrils of the Tree of Souls. You tilted your head upward, squinting at the darkened sky as the rain intensified into a steady downpour. Within moments, the world blurred around you, the heavy rain making everything seem like a hazy dream.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a soft, breathless sound that bubbled out despite the chill settling in. “I told you so,” you teased, brushing wet strands of hair out of your mask’s glass. The rain plastered your clothes to your body, the chill seeping into your skin, but the exhilaration of the moment kept you from caring too much.

Neteyam, soaked and unbothered, stood beside you, his hair clinging to his face, droplets catching on his bioluminescent freckles. He looked at you with a mix of amusement and exasperation before glancing at his restless ikran. The storm, with its rolling thunder and flashing lightning, made the creature uneasy, its wings flexing as it let out a low, nervous chirp.

“We can’t fly in this,” Neteyam said, his voice steady despite the weather. “It’s too dangerous.”

You nodded, glancing at the dark sky and the flashes of lightning in the distance. The wind whipped around you, pulling at your damp clothes and making you shiver. “So, what’s the plan?” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth.

Neteyam tilted his head, his golden eyes scanning the forest as the rain poured down harder. “There’s a hunter’s hut nearby,” he said after a moment. “We’ll wait out the storm there.”

Before you could protest, he was already helping you onto his ikran. The creature’s discomfort was evident as it shifted and chirped uneasily, but it took off smoothly under Neteyam’s guidance after the bond, its powerful wings cutting through the rain-soaked air.

The flight was short but tense, the storm intensifying around you. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the forest below in sharp flashes. The rain stung your skin, and you clung to Neteyam’s arm, trusting him to guide you through the chaos. Finally, the ikran swooped down toward a sturdy tree where a small hut was built high above the ground. It was simple but well-constructed, designed to offer shelter for hunters caught in bad weather.

Once you were safely inside, you collapsed onto the woven floor, panting and dripping wet. The rain hammered against the roof, the sound a constant, soothing rhythm despite the storm raging outside. Neteyam secured the hut’s door and knelt by the small fire pit in the center, quickly lighting it to bring some warmth to the chilly air.

You turned to him, your clothes dripping water onto the wooden floor as you crossed your arms and gave him a pointed look but after a few moment you rached up just to wipe the glass of your mask. “I hope you’re happy,” you said, a teasing edge to your tone. “This is officially my last night alive, and I’m spending it with you.”

Neteyam arched a brow, clearly amused despite the storm raging outside. “Your last night alive?” he repeated, his voice warm and soft with mock offense.

“Yes,” you said with dramatic flair, stepping closer to him as you wrung water from your sleeves. “Because when I get back to the outpost, Norm is going to skin me alive for being out here in the middle of the night. He’ll probably hang my remains in the lab as a warning to others.”

Neteyam chuckled, his tail flicking slightly as he reached out to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Then I’ll just have to make sure you don’t regret spending your last night with me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. The storm continued to howl outside, but in the quiet safety of the hut, his presence made it feel like nothing else mattered.

*

The fire crackled softly in the center of the small hunter’s hut, casting flickering shadows on the woven walls as rain lashed against the roof. You sat close to it, trembling slightly, your soaked clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The chill had seeped into your bones, making it impossible to stop shivering.

Without much thought, you reached for the hem of your shirt and tugged it over your head, tossing the wet fabric aside. Your pants followed, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

You didn’t realize what you’d done until you looked up and caught Neteyam’s gaze. He was staring at you, his golden eyes wide and unblinking, his expression unreadable. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and suddenly, you felt unbearably self-conscious. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you grabbed the crumpled woven blanket from the floor and quickly draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around your body like a shield.

“How do you not freeze?” you asked, squinting at him through the dim firelight, your voice more accusatory than you intended. He was still soaking wet, his inky braids dripping onto his broad shoulders, and yet he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Like most Na’vi, he only wore a loincloth, his blue skin slick with rainwater, but he looked completely unaffected by the chill.

Neteyam tilted his head, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Our bodies are different,” he said simply, his voice low and calm, though there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes that made your cheeks burn even more. “We’re used to this.”

You huffed, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself. “Well, I’m not,” you muttered, shivering despite the fire’s heat.

Neteyam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand, his long fingers curling slightly in a beckoning gesture. “Come here,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of warmth and invitation.

You hesitated, your grip on the blanket tightening. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your chattering teeth betrayed you.

“Come here,” he repeated, more firmly this time, his golden eyes steady and patient as they held yours. There was no judgment in his gaze, no teasing—just quiet concern and an unspoken promise of warmth. “You’ll be warmer.”

Reluctantly, you shuffled closer to him, dragging the blanket with you. As you reached him, he uncrossed his legs slightly, creating space for you to sit between them. You settled hesitantly, tucking the blanket around yourself as you leaned against him.

The moment your back pressed against his chest, you felt his warmth envelop you like a cocoon. He was like a furnace, his body radiating heat that seeped into your chilled skin almost immediately. You let out a soft, involuntary sigh as the tension in your muscles began to melt away, your shivering subsiding. His arms came around you instinctively, his large hands resting lightly on your hips as he pulled you closer, and you felt his chin rest gently against the top of your still wet head.

“Better?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself relax against him. “You’re not just warm,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against the blanket. “You’re unfairly warm. It’s not natural.”

Neteyam chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. “Unnatural?” he teased, his hands smoothing over the blanket covering you. “Or just lucky for you?”

You smiled despite yourself, nuzzling closer to him. “Lucky, I guess,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The storm continued to rage outside, the rain lashing against the hut and the wind howling through the trees, but it all felt distant now. All you could focus on was the steady rise and fall of Neteyam’s chest behind you, the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and the way his arms held you so securely, as though he never wanted to let you go.

*

"Even when I won’t see the sunset anymore,” you said dramatically, your voice muffled as you nuzzled into his chest. “Because Norm will make me so dead.”

Neteyam tilted his head to look down at you, his golden eyes shimmering with amusement. “Norm wouldn’t dare,” he said, a playful edge to his tone. “I’d stop him.”

You laughed, the sound light and sweet, filling the small space of the hunter’s hut. “Oh, sure. But I bet Jake will lecture you into the next week. So, even just for a tiny bit, we’ll be even. Perfectly balanced,” you added with a smirk, “as all things should be.”

His smile widened, and he shook his head slightly, his braids shifting with the movement. “I’d take a thousand lectures from my father if it means spending a night like this with you.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, your teasing expression softened. You reached up, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw, tracing the strong line of it before letting your hand rest on his shoulder.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” you said with a small, shy smile. But your tone was soft now, lacking its usual teasing bite, and your gaze lingered on his face for a moment longer than usual.

Neteyam’s eyes flicked to yours, his expression tender, and he leaned down to press his forehead gently against your mask. “I mean it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Every moment with you is worth it.”

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you broke eye contact, nuzzling into his chest to hide your flustered expression. Absentmindedly, you reached for the blanket draped over you and pulled it up higher, tucking it around his broad shoulders as well as your own.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, your voice wavering. “Completely unfair.”

Neteyam’s arms tightened around you, his tail giving a lazy flick behind him. “Unfair?” he echoed, a smile tugging at his lips. “And yet, you’re the one making my heart race like this.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Stop being so smooth,” you said lightly, though the warmth in your voice betrayed the affection behind the words. You tilted your head up slightly, your mask brushing against his collarbone as you glanced up at him with a soft, playful smile.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your hair, and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Never,” he whispered, holding you close as the storm raged on outside, the world beyond the hut feeling far, far away.

As you rested your head against his chest once more, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over the blanket, you couldn’t help but think that, no matter how angry Norm might be—or how long Jake’s inevitable lecture might last—this moment was worth it. Every second of it.

Part 15: (Soon)

[wellpeckyoutoo]

NEXT UP ON THE DANGANRONPA TALENT SWAP THINGY THAT I STILL HAVEN'T COME UP WITH A NAME FOR YET: CHIAKI AND HAJIME!

I know, I know, the last characters I did were Makoto and Kyoko, so why did I move to Danganronpa 2? Well, I wanted to draw them :)

So basically I'm just gonna post whichever characters from whichever game I want at random lol

Most likely next characters are gonna be Ibuki and either Mikan or Hiyoko. (Or Shuichi & Kaede) We'll see though.

Character info for these two (and Makoto and Kyoko cuz I didn't bring it up in their post) under the cut! (I hope I'm using this term right, I'm still pretty new to Tumblr haha)

Hajime- Anxiety personified. He feels like his talent isn't grand or important enough, which is why he tries (and fails) to learn other talents. However, he still loves video games (Pac-Man especially), which leads to him getting a lack of sleep, which leads to his overall sleepy demeanor. Not protag btw, that's gonna be the Ultimate ??? in DR2.

Chiaki- The Ultimate Lucky student, and the antagonist of the DR2 talent swap. Instead of an obsession with hope, Chiaki believes that nobody in the world truly trusts anybody, and that belief isn't real. To prove that, she acts very sweet and gentle during the beginning of the killing game, only to attempt murder in the first case. (I won't say who dies first yet though~) When people begin to doubt her, she shows her true colors, and I won't go much further into it than that~ Oh, and she also has an obsession a cute lil' crush on Hajime.

Now onto Makoto and Kyoko.

Makoto- An incredible young detective with an unrivaled sense of justice and hope. He constantly gets into scuffles with criminals, almost always coming out of a case with some type of injury. He always takes on the most dangerous cases so that no one else has to. He knew Kyoko from before the Killing Game started, and was VERY happy to hear she got in as well, as he does have a huge crush on her. Oh, and he's not the protag. That goes to Ultimate Lucky Student of THH, who you'll see later!

Kyoko- Kyoko is the Ultimate "Fashionista", but... She doesn't really get why. She was encouraged by Makoto to go to a photo shoot for a random magazine, and her popularity skyrocketed. She was immediately put in hundreds of magazines and was ultimately invited into Hope's Peak. ...Or at least... That's her cover story. (Yes, she is the Mastermind. More on her later~!)

[chilling-seavey]

Hiii im sorry to bother, but something I'd love to see is maybe like (sorry if this seems odd) but george is finally home after a triple header, and he left after they had a disagreement and have been off with each other since then, it's late, it's raining outside, and they are getting touchy - eventually it led to some good comforting adult time.

Silly, anon, no apologies necessary!!! I'm always happy to hear from you and hear your thoughts and ideas and concepts...sometimes even the ones you think are the 'most odd' create the best and most enjoyable pieces of writing :) and the TWIG universe loves realism and your idea here feels very realistic. Hope I did it justice for you x

You didn’t pick him up from the airport like you usually would. Perhaps he should have expected that.

His fault for leaving at the most unideal time, really. You had just had some disagreement about something he now couldn’t even remember but it was enough to have him slamming the car door when you dropped him off at the airport three weeks earlier. Clearly it wasn’t all that important since he couldn’t even remember what the damn argument was about but it’s remanence lingered between the both of you for the entire time he was gone: texts were limited and dry and post-race routine calls were filled with awkward silence of neither of you really knowing what to say. 

It’s just that normally after a triple header you would drop the kids off at his parents’ so you could pick him up from the airport and have a quiet night with just the two of you. It wasn’t like he often had triple headers so really he wasn’t sure why you hadn’t bothered to come out to get him. It really wasn’t asking for much. Was the stupid meaningless forgettable argument from almost a month ago still pissing you off that much that you couldn’t be assed to come get him?

George’s mind offered a plethora of unhelpful silent rants in the back of the taxi on his way home. The darkened streets of suburban England were being doused by an unsurprising amount of rain that night and in his already frustrated state, his mind also added some unhelpful commentary about ‘fucking British weather…no wonder I moved…now I’m back in the pissing rain all the time and—’

The call of the taxi cab driver tore George from his thoughts. His eyes shifted to the front seat and out the windshield to see your house in front of him. At least you left the porch light on for him. How bloody kind. 

George paid the driver and wished him a nice night before getting out of the cab into the cold rain and he retrieved his bags from the trunk. He hurried up the steps with a hunch of his shoulders as if to shield himself from the rain without any sort of cover and he tried the door. Locked.

It wasn’t even 11:00 and you had already locked him out. Grumbling under his breath, George reached into his shoulder bag to find his keys, wet fingers rifling through papers and the like before wrapping around them. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside the silent but comfortably warm house.

Despite his frustration and exhaustion, George couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief at the familiarity of home. He quietly closed the door behind him. Toeing off his waterlogged sneakers, he noticed a light on in the living room across the hall, the warm light spilling across the wood floorboards. He walked towards it, leaving his bags by the stairs. 

You were in the living room, curled up on the armchair with a book in hand and a mug of tea cooling on the table beside you. When he appeared in the doorway, your eyes drifted from your page up to him. 

The two of you were quiet for a moment, as if gauging each other’s mood to decide how you were going to approach this. George cleared his throat and took a step into the room. You slipped your bookmark into your book and closed it. 

“Welcome home,” you greeted plainly.

“Thanks,” he replied, matching your unsure tone, “The kids are asleep?”

“They’re at your parents’,” you answered. 

George’s neutral expression melted into disbelief and then frustration, allowing his voice to rise just a smidge with the awareness that you were alone, “Are you kidding me? So you could have picked me up from the airport after all?”

“No,” you answered plainly.

“Jesus fucking—” George laughed humorlessly with a shake of his head as he set his hands on his hips. He paused. Then continued, “I’ve been gone nearly a month and you couldn’t even have the kindness in your heart to pick me up from the airport in the pissing rain? All because, what? Some stupid argument we had before I left?”

“You’re a grown man, George, you can make it home on your own,” you retorted firmly. 

“Yeah, I can, but it would be nice for my wife to pick me up,” he argued.

“Why?” you shrugged, your tone cold, “I still haven't received a thank you for dropping you off three weeks ago. I’m not your personal chauffeur. A little appreciation wouldn’t kill you.”

George sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face before dropping them at his sides, “Okay, this is ridiculous. We haven’t even been able to have a proper conversation in weeks. Can we just…figure out what the hell is wrong so we can put this behind us?”

You tapped your fingers on the cover of your book. 

“Thank you for driving me to the airport,” George started, “Genuinely. You took time out of your day and…I know it’s always hard for you to say goodbye and to be left alone with the kids, especially for so long so…thank you.”

You chewed at your bottom lip for a moment before nodding faintly in acknowledgment and letting out a small, “You’re welcome.”

George took a half step closer, “Seriously, love, I don’t even remember what we were arguing about but…I hate being so off with you.”

“Me too,” you agreed in a breath.

“Okay, so…can we just call this a truce?” he compromised, “Please?”

You nodded and held your arms out.

A small smile grazed George’s face and he moved over to you in the armchair, bending down with his damp clothes and damp hair from the rain and he pressed a kiss to your cheek as you embraced him. He sighed dreamily against your shoulder, hugging you awkwardly as he bent down to reach you in the chair. His hand rubbed your shoulder. 

“I missed you,” he breathed, “I missed you so much…and I love you.”

“I missed you and love you more,” you retorted. 

George pulled away to stand up properly and he sighed with a faint smile, holding your face in his hands, “I’m sorry if whatever I said in our argument I don’t remember was the cause of all this.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrists tenderly as he held your face, “I’m sorry too. I can’t remember it either but…I wish I gave you a proper nice goodbye before you left.”

George stroked his thumbs across your cheeks with a cheeky, “You could give me a proper hello, if you want.”

You peaked a brow with a playful smirk, “Oh, really? After a long flight and suffering through taking a taxi in the rain?”

“Mhm,” George leaned down to press a tiny, barely there kiss to your lips, “And since there are no kids to be disturbed…”

You laughed breathily, brushing your nose against his with a, “That wasn’t what I was intending by sending them off.”

“Oh, my darling love, I know you in and out,” George tutted playfully, “I know exactly what you were planning when you sent the kids to my parents’ for tonight.”

“Or,” you teased, “are you just horny because you’ve gone three weeks with only the company of your hand?”

“Okay, listen,” he chuckled shyly as he took a step back, his hands falling into your absentmindedly. 

You stared up at him from the armchair with a fond grin at the hint of a blush that crossed his cheeks and you laced your fingers in his, not letting him stray too far. You had missed just staring at him like that; even with his hair mussed from the rain and his lazy flight-friendly clothes hanging off him. Oh, you just missed him and everything about him. More so with the emotional distance that had been between you the entire time as well. 

Before he could make up some half-assed excuse, you followed your own inquiry up with a, “Because I know I sure am.”

George’s eyes met yours and for a moment you saw the way his jaw tightened at your admission before his face broke into a dazzling grin. His head dropped back with a low, warm laugh that was laced in so prettily with a groan.

“Okay,” he gave your hands a tug to get you out of the chair, his voice laced with unmissable desire, “get on the floor. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it upstairs.”

The better half of thirty minutes later, the two of you were cuddled up on the living room rug like a couple in some Netflix romance film. The living room fireplace was still on, keeping your naked bodies warm amidst the simmering out of your bliss and bathed in the warm flickering light. Outside, the rain poured on, creating the most idyllic setting as you laid there in each other’s arms, the throw blanket ungracefully wrapped around the both of you for some shred of dignity and an attempt at making the floor more comfortable. 

George had his arm around your shoulders as you snuggled against his chest, your hands together in the air between your, fingers tracing fingers and lines of palms. You lingered in that moment of peaceful silence for who knew how long. Finally, he turned to kiss your forehead. 

“Love you,” he whispered against your temple. 

You tilted your face up to look at him, sharing a soft, “Love you,” in return. 

He sealed the declaration with a kiss. 

“We should get off the floor,” he breathed. 

“Mhm…probably,” you agreed. 

You let him untangle himself from around you and you watched as he stood up from the living room floor, the throw blanket slipping off his body to leave him beautifully bare. His back cracked as he straightened himself up. 

“Ooh, fuck,” he grunted faintly, “Yeah, I’m certainly not in my 20s anymore.”

You giggled from the floor and stretched your limbs before tucking your hands behind your head, “You still look just as sexy though as you did back then.”

George shot you a playful wink and reached down to pull the blanket off of your body, “Come on, flirt, up you get. You’re going to be feeling this floor tomorrow too.”

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[yanphighting]

Omgomgomg yandere phighting blog!!!

Is it possible for me to request Yandere Dom or Valk headcanons? Or both? If not then Yandere Medkit headcanons if you don't mind?

Sorry if im coming off strong I'm just really excited to see a yandere phighting blog!!

(Is it possible for me to be 🥞 Anon? ^^)

╰┈❥ YANDERE VALK AND DOM

AN: I LOVED DOING THIS REQ,,, Hope you enjoy this! Had a lotta fun writing this!

♡ Valk always takes photos of you whenever you two hang out, cute photos of you two hugging, sharing a coffee together, you wearing the brand-new outfit he had bought you for your spawnday. He never lets you see the photos though for some reason always being so secretive about them, saying he's just keeping them on his phone. Later on, he'll post them to every platform he can get his claws on, captioning the photos about how he was so glad to be with his spouse.

♡ Valk as a draconic like demon definitely has the traits of one. He's can't help that he has the need to grab everything and anything you own and have it all to himself. Your clothes are definitely things he'll take most often, sweaters, shirts and scarves that still smell exactly like you. He keeps everything he had hoarded from you in a drawer in his room, cuddling with the items whenever he thinks it misses you.

♡ Even if Firebrand is gone currently I'd think Valk would still have a lot of status as he is the grandson of the deity. He would find demons from all around the Crossroads to find your favorite thing, limited edition doesn't matter to him he'll find everything you would ever wish for, that'll definitely get you to like him! If you ask questions about how he found whatever you wanted he'd just chuckle saying that he has his ways.

♡ Valk would message you an alarming amount of times. It doesn't matter if you're busy, you will come back to see five or more missed messages with even more coming in about how he misses you, how he wishes you could hang out like right now or just him spamming you with stupid messages. Even if you'd block his number or change yours, he'd find a way to text you again.

♡ Valk absolutely swears to himself that he has to end up with you! You're the perfect demon for him, you two just NEED to be together. He'll vaguely talk about you as ' this cute demon he's been fawning over' everyone in the general vicinity WILL hear about you. Valk thinks and dreams about you every second he can. It's gotten to the point where he's most likely messed up announcements or some sort of choreography due to daydreaming about you.

♡ Dom, similar to his brother, definitely has the draconic hoarding habit however he's more discreet about it. Instead of taking clothing items he's more likely to take smaller trinkets and items from you, hair ties, small plushies that once littered your bed and even a bottle of your favorite perfume! He keeps smaller items with him so it's like he's carrying around a small piece of you whoever he's going.

♡ Instead of gushing about you online like a certain someone he keeps his thoughts to himself. Dom writes about you as he thinks about you, he'll write about how happy the two of you'll be once you start dating or even marry! He'll also just aimlessly jot down the things he noticed about you throughout the week,how you smiled at his joke, how you seemed much more at ease with him! It just makes his wing flutter with excitement as he swoons over you like a teenage girl.

♡ On a similar note he'd write songs about you! Songs about how much he loves you and how every bit of you is so CUTE! He'd wouldn't show you the songs if you saw him writing them out going with the excuse that it was 'unreleased' material that you weren't allowed to see. Maybe one day he'd show you them.

♡ Dom would have a stalking habit, he doesn't entirely mean for it to happen, he just wants to make sure you're safe! You may not see him but he's seeing you whenever you end up going. You start feeling a bit uneasy after a trip to a mall in Crossroads, swearing that you'd seen Dom watching you from the corner of your eye yet when you turn to look ... he's gone. You're not even safe when you're home. Maybe it's just late-night paranoia getting to you, but you swear there's someone at your window watching you sleep.

[elicypher]

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

SYNOPSIS: GOING TO AN AMUSEMENT PARK WITH YOU? OH, HE'S GIDDY ALRIGHT. OF COURSE IT'S NOT A DATE. WHAT MAKES YOU SAY THAT?

TAGS: DATE WITH GOJO, AMUSEMENT PARK, BANTER, FLUFF, GOJO REALLY LIKES YOU, FLUFF, ASPECTS OF ROMANCE SLOWLY BUILDING UP.

series masterlist : next chapter

SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR EYES — 𝐈𝐈

Late calls were the norm now. The clock on your desk blinked 4:30 AM in angry, red digits. "Don't you ever sleep, Gojo?" Your eyes were bleary, voice groggy and sleep was catching up.

On the other hand, Satoru Gojo chuckled from his end of the phone—his voice as annoyingly bright as you'd expect from someone who treated four in the morning as prime socializing time. "What? Tired of talking to me already?"

You couldn't help but scoff in amusement, rubbing your eyes. "Tired in general." You muttered. "But you can say that as well."

"Oh come on," He said. And you could hear his pout. "Tomorrow's the weekend anyway. You'll have time to rest."

"Go to sleep already."

"Nah, sleep is for the weak."

A sigh escaped you. And Gojo, upon hearing it, felt a little guilty.

"Hey," His voice dropped lower, becoming softer. "You know you don't have to keep me company staying up, right? You don't have to ruin your sleep just because I can't have mine."

"Which is pretty romantic, if you ask me." Gojo added, looking up at the ceiling of his room. "And they say chivalry is dead."

"Mmm," You hummed, letting out a breathy laugh. "It's fine, y'know. I actually enjoy talking to you. And like you mentioned, there's the weekend too. Plenty of rest for me to take."

Gojo hesitated. "Actually..."

"You're planning by yourself again, aren't you?"

He flipped over in bed, lying on his stomach. The pad of his index finger drew lazy patterns on his pillow. "You know me so well, don't ya?" He said in a sing-song voice, smiling to himself.

"Like the back of my god damn hand." You grinned.

Gojo and you had been talking for months now. Conversation between the two of you was always easy—and it was as if you never ran out of topics whilst talking with one another. The chemistry between the two of you was great. Even perfect.

"Anyway," Gojo started, focusing on tracing patterns, hoping it'd somehow calm his nerves. "Got any plans for tomorrow?"

"Other than being busy sleeping after this?"

That made him laugh. "You won't be sleeping all day, c'mon."

"Try me." You said, and Gojo hummed lightheartedly. He loved talking to you. After a brief silence, you spoke. "No, I won't."

"That's great!" Gojo exclaimed. You could hear the excitement in his voice—how enthusiastic he was at the notion, his voice tinged with a hint of relief. "So.. would you want to meet up?"

"I don't know," You chewed on your lower lip, turning to lie on your stomach as well and observing your cuticles. "Where to?"

"How does the amusement park sound?" Gojo prayed you wouldn't hear the nervousness in his voice. He wasn't one to nitpick between what words to use and what sentences to say—but with you, it was different. With you, he wanted it to be perfect. "I won't bore you, I promise." He winced.

Did that sound desperate? Too much? He stressed too much about stupid things with you—his voice, his words, the way he carried himself. You had a way of making him self-conscious.

"I'm just playing with you." You swang your legs absentmindedly, chewing on a nail. "I'd absolutely love to go with you."

And oh—how happy that made Gojo Satoru.

"What should I wear?"

"Anything." His cheeks hurt from smiling, but it was as if he couldn't make it stop. "You'd look good in anything."

"That's not helping, y'know." You grinned.

"But I mean it."

You sighed, a little amused. "Alrighty, then. I'll wear whatever."

"Alright." He repeated. The call was coming to an end, it made him a little sad. But he knew he'd see you tomorrow. To say he was happy was an understatement to how he really felt.

"Goodnight, Satoru."

Gojo opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. A long silence ensued. His heart thumped in his chest. "What?"

"Hm?"

"You.." His voice sounded weird. "You said 'Satoru', didn't you?"

You giggled. "I have no idea what you're talking about." You feigned ignorance. "Now goodnight for real."

"..." He bit his cheek, suppressing his laugh. "Goodnight (Name)."

Click. The call ended. But Satoru Gojo stayed like that for a while, in the darkness—simply staring at nothing. Then, he buried his face into his pillow, sighing. You left him a giddy mess—a legion of butterflies taking flight at the pit of his stomach.

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

Gojo found himself second-guessing his choice of clothes. Sure, he'd gone on dates before, but it didn't mean his nerves were any less frayed. What if he was trying too hard—or not enough?

It's not even a date, he thought—trying to convince himself to calm down, even if just a little. He just wanted to impress you.

Gojo wore a white Stüssy graphic tee, a vintage black leather jacket with racing stripes, and gray cargo pants. Black Converse and chunky silver jewelry add style, while wraparound sunglasses to complete the look. He hesitated for a moment, then took off the glasses. Too much. He checked his hair one final time in his phone's camera—and seemed fairly satisfied.

Just as he was about to look at the time, wondering if he'd come too early—you called out his name. "Satoru!"

His heart jumped a little. He turned around—and broke into a smile when he watched you wave at him. He waved back.

"Hey."

You smiled up at him. "Hi."

His eyes flickered down for a moment, taking in your outfit for the day—and god, you looked so... "Gorgeous."

"Hm?" You tilted your head. "What's up?"

"You look gorgeous." He cleared his throat. "Really pretty. I like the..." His words left him. Because how could he pick just one, when every aspect of you was beautiful? "...hmm. Everything."

You raised a brow, feigning suspicion. "Uh-huh."

"What?" Gojo grinned, smiling down at you. "Don't believe me? But I'm being serious, I promise. You look really nice."

"You look great too." You linked your arm with his, causing his pulse to quicken. The two of you were in closer proximity—more than you'd ever been before. "Hurry—I'm excited."

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

"Need me to hold your hand?" Satoru shouted over the clatter of the track. "I wouldn't want you to feel scared or anything."

You snickered, rolling your eyes. But you decided to play along. "You're the one who'll be begging for my hand halfway through."

"Yeah, right." He gave you a toothy smile. "We'll see about that."

As the rollercoaster climbed to it's peak—anticipation built up with bated breath. "Ready?" He looked over with excitement.

"Always!" You shout back, laughing—right before the coaster descended speedily. The ride was full of twists and turns, and by the end of it, the both of you were laughing so hard your sides hurt. Gojo wiped a tear of laughter away, smiling widely down at you. "Told ya I could handle it. How about you? Need a break?"

It took you a while to regain your composure. "Not a chance," You grinned up at him—grabbing his hand. "..What's next?"

As the evening progressed, the pace slowed down. Satoru Gojo insisted on winning you something at the carnival games, but after three entire tries at the ring toss—all disastrous—things didn't seem to be looking too good for him. You stifled a laugh.

"Stop laughing at me," Gojo pouted, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. "This is sabotage. The rings are cursed."

"Maybe you're just bad at this." You teased.

"Me? Bad?" He feigned offence. "Impossible. Watch this."

Another fail. But Gojo kept on trying anyway—he kept trying until he finally, finally succeeded (after umpteenth tries), and the over-the-top celebration had you in stitches.

"See?" Gojo stated proudly. Man, was he sweating. He really thought he wouldn't be able to acquire you anything, and thus making a fool of himself. "All skill." He gave you, what probably was his brightest smile yet—one that stretched from ear to ear. "For you. But we can call it a joint effort."

"Right." You grinned, hugging the large stuffed panda close.

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

The Ferris wheel was the perfect way to end the day. Gojo leaned back against the seat, his long legs stretched out casually—but his gaze was locked entirely upon you and you only. He watched you silently as you looked outside, small 'ooh's and 'wow's leaving you at the view outside and below.

"You've been smiling all day." His tone was softer. Quieter. A departure from his usual tone. It's as if his eyes wouldn't leave you; they were so gentle and relaxed. As if his eyes had found their place and respite—as if all his eyes were meant to do was be on you, admiring every inch. "I like seeing you like this."

You glanced at him, a little caught off guard by his sincerity. "It's been a really good day." You settled back into your seat from your kneeling-on-the-bench position. "All thanks to you."

"Good." He murmured, leaning in closer. He laced his fingers with yours. "That's all I wanted. To make you happy."

The Ferris wheel stopped at the top, leaving you both suspended in the air. The scene was breathtaking—but all either of you could do was focus on each other. Gojo leaned in further to push back a few strands of hair behind your ear. "Let's make this a regular thing." He whispered. "Just you and me."

You couldn't help but smile. "I'd like that."

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

The walk home with Gojo was quiet, the dull chitter chatter filling the space between you. He was uncharacteristically mellow. Every now and then, he sneaked a glance at you, his lips quirking into a small smile when your eyes met.

When the two of you finally reached your house, he turned to you—eyes gentle as he looked down at you. "Well.. this is your stop, (Name)." He teased. "Back to your boring, Satoru-less life."

You giggled, rolling your eyes "It’s not boring." You paused, then silently admitted: "But it might be a little quieter—yes."

Gojo's eyes lit up at your confession, something akin to childlike happiness in him. "See? You’re already admitting you’ll miss me." He teased, smiling down at you with a soft expression.

For a moment, you just looked at him—the playful glint in his eyes, and the soft smile tugging at his lips. It was a rare, quiet moment. You couldn't help but feel something stir in your chest.

And before you could overthink it—you stood on the tips of your toes—and then you pressed a small, soft kiss to his cheek.

The playful grin on his face vanished in an instant. His mouth parted slightly and a faint, pink blush spread across his cheeks— creeping up to the tips of his ears. He was stunned.

"Goodnight, Satoru." you say softly, pulling back and walking up to the stairs before he could say anything. "Get back safe."

"I..." Gojo was stunned. "Hey— Wait—" His voice cracked slightly, and you stifled a little laugh, turning around to wave.

"I had fun." You called, disappearing into your house.

Gojo stood there for a moment—utterly baffled, his hand slowly coming up to touch his cheek where your lips had just been.

"..." A soft laugh escaped him. He didn't move an inch for a while — too busy grinning like an idiot and replaying the moment in his head over and over "Well…" He sighs. "That wasn’t fair."

@ELICYPHER — do not plagiarize, repost or retranslate.

[okonogikonomi]

sand.

what's worse, being wanted but not loved, or loved but not wanted?

Kn8 + unrequited feelings. :)

Kafka Hibino has never had unrequited feelings before you. He's happy that you're happy with your boyfriend, Haruichi, but would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of the guy. I mean, Kafka always feels inadequate, but compared to Haruichi it's a different story. He's smart, he's strong, he's attractive, he's rich as hell. It doesn't get more intimidating than that, but to top it all off, he's dating you. It's like a kick in the face. But Kafka's a pretty good sport. He'd honestly just try to become more impressive so you might notice him.

Mina Ashiro is a subdued person in all respects, including and especially when it comes to romantic feelings. So when she finds out that the girl of her dreams is not only Not Gay but is dating Gen Narumi, she hides her anguish well. After finding out, she'd largely avoid you so as not to slip up and say anything or act out of character. She becomes more aloof and tries to kill her feelings. She drowns her sorrows in work, becomes more aggressive on the battlefield and towards her cadets. She's also more hostile towards Gen, which strikes everyone as odd since she usually can't be caught dead behaving in such an unprofessional manner.

Reno Ichikawa is the worst at pretending not to be hurt. So when he finds out your chose Iharu over him, he has to actually leave the room and punch a wall. Pretty much everyone sees what he's going through, but for some reason, you don't seem to notice. Too enamored with your new boyfriend, he thinks resentfully. I'm picturing the scene in Legally Blonde where Elle throws a box of chocolates at the TV, screaming "LIAR" at a romantic soap opera. He's not exactly that dramatic, but that's how he feels on the inside. Love is dead to him and so is Iharu. He never considered the guy a rival before, but now he considers him a full on enemy. Wouldn't try to break you up for fear of you hating him, but would kinda put his hope in Iharu fucking up.

Soshiro Hoshina is seething when he finds out his brother got to you first. Of all people, you chose that jackass?! He's livid. At Soichiro, of course. He could never stay mad at you; he's got to assume his idiot brother lied to you about his nature or something, although deep down he knows you wouldn't fall for it if he did. He gets really intense in sparring and on the battlefield, and punishes cadets extra hard. Every time he sees you with that fucker, he has to physically remove himself from the situation. Would blow up if Soichiro teased you in front of him. Might try to seduce you anyway, despite your being "taken." Fully believes his brother will ditch you eventually which makes him even more angry. Vents to Okonogi.

Iharu Furuhashi actually does cry a little when he finds out you're dating Kafka. How could he ever compete?! Kafka is kind, wise, and strong. Even with all that Kafka himself perceives as shortcomings, everyone else idolize him. And Iharu? He's just some guy to you. Maybe a friend. It breaks him. He becomes really sluggish and distractable. Consistently loses sparring matches to Reno, who is like "dude wtf." Won't tell anyone he's upset, or why, but it's visible.

Gen Narumi probably screams when he hears you've started dating Soshiro. Not only does the guy have that stupid smug attitude, and more fans than Narumi himself, but now he has you too. He wants to rip Hoshina to shreds, but Hasegawa says no lol. Instead, he coops himself up in his room and games for a few weeks. Any kaiju that shows up during this time is toast, because he just pictures his now romantic rival's face on it and goes wild. Insults Hoshina in front of you hoping to sway your opinion, but you just get mad at him which makes him angrier. Might possibly ask you "what's he got that I don't?" Isn't a huge jerk to you but is to everyone else.

Rin Shinonome kinda figured you were dating Narumi. As usual, he's a step ahead of her. She's bitter, but takes it in stride. She uses your unavailability as motivation to better herself. After all, she enjoys adversity. She's the most likely to have fun chasing you, so she's the least upset of the group.

[thewisedoge]

Jimmy from Mouthwashing and Judge Claude Frollo from Hunchback Of Notre Dame are the same character but in a different font. (A short analysis)

Okay. I only recently played and finished Mouthwashing. (Masterpiece btw)

I could not shake this off after I had a long ass time to process it, but I'm gonna say it.

Jimmy and Judge Claude Frollo are VERY similar... And I don't mean with how they look. (Even though they do have an identical face shape and hairline.)

Let's get the obvious similarity they share out of the way.

They're both manipulative pieces of shit.

They always want to feel bigger, or more important than everyone around them and the people they know. How Anya treats Jimmy post... the incident, is pretty reminiscent of how Quasimodo acts around Frollo. They both don't want to set them off, or to anger them in fear of what they might do.

They also try to play themselves up as a "savior" or a "misunderstood hero" as a way to deflect blame or to excuse their actions. Whether that be with Frollo proclaiming himself using the good old "holier than thou" technique, using his own status as Judge to excuse his horrid actions under the guise of "justice".

(They weren't subtle with Frollo doing this in the movie either. This is a lyric in Hellfire.)

Or with Jimmy trying to be the self appointed "captain" after the crash, trying to assert his authority and make the others feel like they're being unreasonable, while also being outright RESPONSIBLE for the injuries or torment of others, excusing it as him "doing his job" in his head.

One of their biggest similarities however is how their lust and fear of consequences (or taking responsibility lmao) blinded them. Jimmy lusted over Anya, Frollo lusted over Esmeralda. Their depravity led them to their own downfalls.

Frollo was very creepy towards Esmeralda and didn't actually do anything to her on the same level as Jimmy did to Anya. But this also explains another similarity.

How they both saw their female victim as an object.

In the hallucinations, Jimmy encounters that giant slit mouthed monster with bulging eyes that birthed that creepy baby centipede thing. That's how he saw Anya, just a literal sentient BIRTH CANAL with eyes that was going to bring upon consequences to his own actions.

Frollo also saw Esmeralda as nothing more than an object, he quite literally offers that if she gave herself up to him he would spare her from her "rightful punishment" and not burn her at the stake. He didn't LOVE her, he wanted to OWN her.

It's even said outright in the stage adaptation by Quasimodo, when Frollo stands with him as he mourns Esmeralda when she passes from her injuries and says that he "even loved her". When this happens, Quasimodo yells in pure anguish and hated...

"What do you know of love?.. WHO HAVE YOU EVER LOVED?!"

I adore this game and how it was written. I adore The Hunchback Of Notre Dame despite my sheer hatred for corporate Disney's bigoted and overall stupid practices nowadays. I love complex villains!!!!

... Anyway why did I make this post?

Oh yeah.

Someone should draw or make an animatic of Jimmy singing Hellfire it would be perfect.

Please.

(Edit: I added some more images to the post to covey my points a bit more, but I am so happy with the reception and attention this post has been getting. It means a lot that there's a group of people here that will listen to my interpretations or analyses on my favorite pieces of media. It made me so happy to see this post rack up this many likes despite it not being much. Tysm. <3)

(Edit 2: In case anyone who sees or likes this post, I want to let you know that I have written scripts for media analysis videos and I'm in the process of finishing and recording it! Feel free to follow to hear any updates or what media I will cover in my videos. :3)

[l0relaii]

Hi! I saw requests were/are open, and I was hoping you could do a Josh Washington imagine where reader has been in an abusive relationship and she is still scared with whats happened in the past and Josh is helping her through her emotions and just being an amazing boyfriend?? Speaking from personal experiences, this would just mean a lot to me, I feel like Josh would be great in a situation like this. Would also love it if it ended with them making love and he's just so sweet and reassuring during! Thank you so much!

i'm so sorry to hear you went through an abusive relationship darling, i hope you're okay now!! i won't pry and ask you about the extent of the abuse so i'll just throw in some scenarios i found fitting

josh noticed you sometimes flinched when he made a sudden move

he thought it was a bit odd but maybe it was just your reflex 🤷‍♀️

or you'd close your eyes and your breathing would become a bit shaky if his voice got a bit louder, not necessarily is an argument

i think he's pretty much a loud guy in any setting, it's just the way he speaks

then you tell him everything you went through and it all clicks

all the times he saw your eyes filled with tears, or red and puffy after lying to him that you didn't cry, all the times you flinched and winced

it's all making sense now

he suffered alongside you. seeing you like that hurt him too.

knowing the person he loved was in pain was taking a toll on him, he felt so helpless sometimes

all the times you'd turn away his touch he got so sad. why wouldn't you let him hold you? kiss you? make you feel better?

it takes him a bit to understand your reactions and responses

of course he doesn't blame you for any of it, how could he?

that fucker. he'd kill your ex if he could. he's so angry, not at you, but at him for making you feel like this

you didn't deserve that, no one does

he explains to you that nothing that ever happened to you or that any past lover did to you was your fault

when you do get closer to him and let him in he's so happy with your progress.

he's always holding you and praising you for how good you are doing

if you ever have any nightmares he holds you throughout the night caressing your back, bringing you water talking to you about it if you want, even humming you soft tunes so you'll fall back asleep

and the love making is the best. he's so gentle and soft always giving and giving and giving never expecting anything in return

he's kissing every inch of your skin while holding you close to his chest, to his heart, so you'll feel it beat and know that he's there, he's real and he'll stay

he'll always be there for you no matter what

[evilwriter37]

first, i'm really happy to hear about your insurance!! im wishing you alllll the best!🫶

second, im nervous about the state of the world right now, so i'm bringing a little distraction in the form of a rtte time-travel au i've been thinking of👀

so, i don't know from what point Hiccup would travel back in time, i'm doubting between the end of rtte or from httyd 2, but something goes BIG wrong and he dies, and then wakes up back in his body at the start of rtte. he doesn't understand what happened until the twins bust in with Johann between them, who tells him Dagur escaped—the gods have basically given him a second chance! (and for my own joy, Toothless traveled with him<3).

he makes his inventions early, upgrades the tail to the newer model, and plans out his steps with the knowledge of the future he has. he struggles with it at first, seeing Dagur like his old self again instead of the friend he became, knowing of the war that comes. but he's older now, and even if he doesn't want to think about it, Viggo did teach him a lot, and he's using that to his favor. first of all: he makes sure Dagur never finds out about the Dragon Eye. he hides it in his saddlebag before they come out of the Reaper. it's a big part of why the hunters and the riders fought, after all, it's better if everyone thinks it's still gone (im torn between Hiccup keeping it a secret from his friends too, for extra angst, or if he, because he's older, knows they work best as a team).

also, speaking of Viggo, Hiccup would 100% take the chance to rile Viggo up, to cut into his operations, stalking hunter ships before they even know he exists. but he wants to do it differently, this time. he knows that Viggo can be changed, so he needs to build this relation carefully. he frees dragons, of course, but he tries to keep damage to a minimum, and, for the kicker: he leaves the maces and talons "dragon" piece in the empty cells after raiding them. gotta make sure Viggo knows he plays!

anyway, yeah, i have a ton of ideas but i just wanted to share them and see what you think! (i just love time travel aus hihi)

Oh my gosh, that’s such a cool idea!!! Do Hiccup’s friends ever find out about this?

And omg, just… waking up in his younger body must be a shock. There are probably scars that he had that are no longer there! (That would be so angsty.)

This whole concept is so awesome! I love the idea of him taunting Viggo while also wanting to try to make peace with him.

Hiccup has so much more knowledge of the world now and how things turn out, that I wonder if he ever feels overwhelmed, like he has to fix everything that went wrong in his eyes.

Love this! Thank you for sending! And yes, the insurance approval is a huge fucking relief, oh my god. (Also anxious and scared about the world right now. We gotta hang onto each other.)