#i now have TWO hunters named after birds

[machinedramon]

Everyone else is posting their hunters so I shall, too. this is currently who I've made, and he'll probably be moving forward to live with some small adjustments here and there.

current name is Jackdaw, with his palico Maggie (short for Magpie). idk if I want to change it, it's grown on me.

plus a bit of bragging, I beat that flying railgun to death with a saxophone >:3c

[cevansbrat0007]

Cross-Country Christmas

Summary: When Ari is left stranded at the airport on Christmas Eve, you find yourself in need of a little holiday miracle...

Warnings: Light Angst, Mature Themes, Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Holiday Themes, Smut, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec), Spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Full story! Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

2:00pm, Christmas Eve – Bell’s Creek, Texas

You couldn’t believe this was happening. After spending the last several days out of town with his family, Ari had been due to fly back to Bell’s Creek tonight so that the two of you could spend the holiday together. 

Your first Christmas as a couple. 

But that was before the surprise arrival of the severe winter storm that was currently sweeping through the Midwest, resulting in numerous canceled flights that had left thousands stranded across the country – including your handsome Bounty Hunter.

“Are they at least trying to get you on another flight, or are you just shit out of luck?” Putting the phone on speaker, you set it on the counter so that you can go back to rolling out more dough for your next pie.

“Well, the airline is being a little evasive.” Ari admits, blowing out a heavy breath. You can practically hear him raking an agitated hand through his chestnut locks. “But with this storm comin’ in, I’m gettin’ the sense that I’m most likely fucked until tomorrow. Maybe a little longer.” 

“This is exactly why you should’ve just stayed at your sister’s place.” You sniffle, blinking away tears as you wield your rolling pin with a touch more force than necessary. 

“Bird.” You can tell he’s doing his best to keep hold of his patience. 

“Oh, don’t “Bird” me.”  

“Bird.” This time your name is spoken with a slightly more authoritative note. It’s one that your body recognizes almost immediately. “Please don’t start with me, okay? I’m not in the mood.”

Too bad you weren’t neccessarily in the mood to obey today. 

“I’m just saying.” You continue, feeling more pissed at mother nature than anything else. “If you would’ve stayed with Evelyn and the kids at least you would’ve been able to be with your family on Christmas.” You toss the pin in the sink, wincing at the loud clatter it makes. “Now you’ll probably be stuck all alone, sleeping with a bunch of grumpy strangers at the flippin’ airport!”    

“That’s enough of the sass, baby.” Ari grunts. 

“It’s not sass if it’s the truth, Ari.” You hum, peering over at the apples you’ve got soaking in a bowl filled with 7-Up. 

“Sweetheart.” The soft rebuke rolls easily off his tongue. “I made a promise to spend Christmas Day with you – all wrapped up in you – and it’s one I intend to keep. Somehow.” He tacks on the last bit, which unknowingly brings a smile to your lips. 

“At this rate, you’re gonna be spending at least part of the holiday sleeping at your gate.” 

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath. 

“Want me to call the airline, sugar?” You ask as you go to rest your elbows on the counter so you can attempt to stretch the muscles in your lower back. “See if I can fight with ‘em enough so they at least put you up in a nice hotel so that you can get a good night’s rest?”  

“Nah, baby. They got me on standby and all that. I’m trying to get away from this shithole as soon as possible.” While you appreciated his determination, not even your big, bad Bounty Hunter could beat a snowstorm. 

“Hey! Omaha is not a shithole.” You chuckle, feeling a little defensive on behalf of a city you’d never visited. “I looked ‘em up. They’ve got some amazing museums.” You fish an apple slice out of the bowl and pop it into your mouth, chewing slowly. “I could have a good time in a place like that.” 

“Then get your pretty ass down here already and we’ll take every goddamned tour they’ve got.”

“Would if I could, Beast.” You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “I’d give anything to have you back in Bell’s Creek with me. I miss you taking up all the space in my tiny kitchen while you help yourself to my treats.” 

“I know. I promise I’ll get there. Just do me a favor and don’t start looking for my replacement just yet, okay?”

Your stomach dips when you realize he’s about to say goodbye. Which is fine because you also still had a ton of baking to do. And while you still weren’t quite sure if you were going to follow through with your original Christmas Day dinner plans, the last thing you wanted was for Ari to hear you crying at the unfairness of it all over the phone. 

It would only make him feel worse than he already did. 

“I’m not sure if anyone could ever replace you, not that I would ever try.” You tell him honestly. “I love you too much.”

“Damn right you do.” Comes your man’s rich, self-assured reply. “No better feeling in the world than being loved by my Duchess.” The warmth in his tone has butterflies stirring in your belly. 

They were the good kind of butterflies – the ones only Ari could cause.

“Go get some food and then call me in a bit.” You glance at the clock to check the time. At 2:06pm, there was no way that all hope was lost just yet. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll be an update.”

“Sure thing, baby. But the same goes for you. And don’t just snack – eat something real for me.” His bossy tone has your pulse kicking up. 

“You didn’t say please.” Your hand goes to cover your mouth as you tamp down a playful giggle.

“Mmm.” Ari groans as he moves to stretch out the kinks in his back. At least that was what you imagined he was doing. “Could you please do me a kindness and keep feeding those curves? I reckon I’m gonna need a little taste of something sweet when I walk through that front door. You with me?”

“I–I’m with you.” You stammer slightly, your mouth suddenly dry. Another effect that man seemed to have on you. “And I promise I’ll eat. Now hang up with me and go make some friends or something.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. But we’ve been over this, and I’m pretty sure you’re the only friend I need.” He quips rather smugly, his voice deepening ever so slightly. 

“Ari…” This had the makings of one of the older, more ridiculous arguments you’d had written all over it. 

“Because the way I see it, we’re best friends.” He continues almost as if you hadn’t spoken. “What with all of the sleepovers, and the hair braiding, and don’t get me started on how many times you’ve kept me up late so you could make sure I’ve had my fill of all that sweetness you’ve got between –”

“Okay, okay, okay!” You cut him off with a hiss, not missing the way he laughs. “Fine, we can be best friends as long as you work on getting your cute butt home to me before Christmas, alright?” 

“Yes, Duchess.” He finally replies after taking some time to collect himself. “You have my word I’ll keep working on that too. Just hold tight and I’ll be in touch with an update as soon as I have one.”

“Thank you, Beast. I’ll, uh, talk to you soon.”

“You can count on it.” Is all he says before the line goes dead, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

If Ari couldn’t make it back for Christmas, you would be devastated. Here you were, finally feeling safe in a secure and loving relationship, and now there was a strong possibility that you both might be forced to celebrate the holiday hundreds of miles apart from each other. 

“God, I can feel a headache coming on.” You mumble as your fingers go to massage your temples. 

8:30am, Christmas Day - Bell’s Creek, Texas

“I promise I’ll be fine, Beast.” Drying your tears, you crumble up your tissues in your fist before discarding them in favor of taking a sip of your coffee. “Like you just said, there’ll be other holidays. And certainly other Christmases.”

Ari was still stuck in Omaha. And while you had suspected this call was coming, you hadn’t been prepared for how much the disappointment would affect you.

By all accounts, your Bounty Hunter appeared to be in good spirits, albeit a little tired. He was still on standby, even though all flights were still grounded indefinitely. But you’d at least been happy to hear that he’d somehow managed to catch a few hours of sleep. 

Not only that, but he’d also made a new friend in some guy named Clint. They apparently had a number of things in common, with the most important being that they’d both served overseas. Ari had also alluded to his new buddy being in law enforcement as well. 

But if you were being honest, you’d been so focused on trying to sound positive that you hadn’t quite been able to focus on his words as much as you would’ve liked. Thankfully, Ari seemed keen on having a conversation – even if it came across a bit one-sided.

“The airline keeps offering to put us up for the night. Anyone who accepts will be guaranteed a spot on one of the first flights out.” Ari coughs softly before continuing. “However, if you’re willing to wait a little bit there’s talk about them sweetening the deal with some sort of voucher or somethin’, plus miles and all that shit.” 

“Oh?” Is all you can manage, forcing yourself to take another pull of your now lukewarm coffee.

“Yeah. So, Clint and I were thinking…” He trails off, briefly leaning away from the receiver to comment on something you couldn’t see.

“You two were thinking…what?” Your next sip of coffee tastes surprisingly bitter on your tongue. Maybe you should dump out the pot and brew a fresh one. 

“That we should take ‘em up on their offer and just ride this storm out. We take the points, get the voucher, and then maybe in a month or two, we go on a vacation together somewhere nice.” 

“You and Clint?!” You screech, accidentally knocking over your mug in the process. “Shit!” You scramble out of your chair to grab a dish towel and hurriedly mop up the mess. 

“Hate to break it to ya, baby, but Clint’s not really my type.” The Bounty Hunter chuckles into the phone. “I was talking about me and you, Bird. We can pick a destination and have ourselves a holiday do-over.”

A beat goes by before you respond the only way that makes any real, logical sense. Even though it seems to take every last bit of your resolve.  

“Okay.” Your voice comes out small and resigned. 

“Aw now, don’t fret. I’ll be home soon.” Ari does his best to reassure you. “And once I’m back, we will spend every waking minute making up for lost time. You have my word.”

Well, when he put it like that…

“I guess we can hold off for a little while longer.” You sniff, wishing you could just go back to bed and sleep until tomorrow. “But you had better keep your promise, Beast. Otherwise I’m gonna have to track down Santa and ask him for a new man.” 

Your half-hearted attempt at humor elicits a short bark of laughter from Ari which, in turn, makes you smile as well. Sometimes pushing his buttons a little managed to bring joy to your life. 

“Try it, sweet Bird, and I’m telling you right now that I’ll have you in my truck and over my knee before you make it outta the next county.” Comes his gruff response, clearly not enjoying the image of you hanging off another fella’s arm. 

You know without asking that he’s probably not kidding – so you decide to leave it alone. If he wanted to thump his chest a little, then you’d let him. 

“It was a joke.” You amend when the line falls silent. Standing, you pad towards the fridge on bare feet, stopping once you reach the doors. Yanking one open, you survey the contents, silently wondering if you could even be bothered enough to cook today. 

Granted, the spiral cut ham you’d purchased from the butcher wouldn’t take very long in the oven. All you had to do now was throw together the glaze and it would be ready to do its thing. Plus, you’d already baked the pies yesterday, which meant that all that was left for the day was the cake.   

“Joking about my replacement isn’t funny.” Ari growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Especially when I can’t be there in person to plead my case.” 

You blow out a frustrated breath at the same time as you roll your eyes. Couldn’t he understand that you needed to make yourself laugh now and then in order to keep from crying? What was so wrong about that?

“I just said I was kidding. But if you wanna plead your case to someone, plead it to your new friend, Clint. See what he says.” The words tumble out faster than you can stop them. 

Now you could feel your sadness slowly giving way to anger. Not at Ari or his newfound airport buddy, but at the situation as a whole. Which meant it was time to get off the phone before you said something you would later regret.

“And just what’s that supposed to mean, Duchess?”

“It’s – nothing.” You clamp your mouth shut and close the fridge, all the while trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Because if I had my way, I’d be there with you right now so we could have this stupid argument in person. You gotta know that.”

“I know.”  

“Do you, sweetness?”

“Yes, I do.” You respond a touch more firmly, scrubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. “I just hate this. I hate that it’s Christmas, and that you’re stuck all alone in Omaha and I’m here. But I don’t wanna fight with you, Beast. Not really. I just miss you.”

“So then let’s not fight.” His soft plea makes you sniffle. “I’m gonna go figure out how all this hotel bullshit works and get myself settled in. In the meantime, I want you to go take yourself a nice hot shower and just relax. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

For a moment, you allow the gentle warmth of his voice to wash over you. If you closed your eyes it was almost like you could pretend he was with you now. As if he was only seconds away from wrapping his brawny arms your waist and hauling you close. 

A tear rolls down your cheek as you imagine him burying his face in the crook of your neck, planting tiny kisses along your sensitive flesh until he had you giggling and squirming in his grasp. 

“Bird?”

The sound of your nickname jolts you from your reverie, reminding you that it was time to say goodbye. At least for a little while. Good Lord, when had you become so needy for this man? It must’ve happened when you weren’t paying attention. 

“Goodbye, Ari.” You whisper before using your thumb to end the call.

Setting your phone on the counte do a quick spin, silently taking stock of everything you still had to do. If you started cooking relatively soon, you’d be able to occupy yourself until mid-afternoon. And then you would take a shower, and while you were busy doing that you would figure out your next move.

You’re sitting in a chair that isn’t yours with your arms propped up on a desk that doesn’t belong to you while your chin rests on your palm. Instead of spending the afternoon moping, you’d decided to bring a little holiday cheer to your local boys in blue in the form of a home cooked Christmas dinner.  

“Glad you like everything.” You say for what feels like the umpteenth time as you watch Bell’s Creek’s newest Deputy, Milton Foster, happily devour his second helping of macaroni and cheese. 

A few days ago, you would never have imagined that this would be how you would spend your Christmas Day. But, as they say, beggars couldn’t be choosers. So, it was either enjoy a front row seat to watch Milton wolf down his food at an almost alarming speed, or you could go home and maybe watch a Christmas special on TV. 

Alone. By yourself. Yeah, no thanks.  

“Yep.” Milton grunts once he finally comes up for air. He manages a sip of his drink before diving back in for a slice of glazed ham, stabbing it with his fork and shoveling it into his mouth. “Looks like Levinson’s loss is my gain. Sorry buddy.” 

The words are spoken through a mouthful of food, but you understand them just fine. But just because Milton was arguably your favorite member of the town’s police force didn’t mean he was above pricking your temper every now and again. 

And today you were feeling mighty prickly. 

“Another crack like that and no pie for you.” That stops him cold, his sharp gray eyes immediately zeroing-in on the whole cherry pie you’d decided to bring along as dessert. 

“My apologies.” He beats a hasty retreat, using his fist to muffle a burp. “You know I was only kiddin’. I’m just happy I don’t have to subject myself to another year of Ma’s Christmas Tuna Casserole.” He shudders playfully. “I don’t think I coulda’ handled that one.”

“Yikes.” You mutter before pushing away from the desk to stretch your legs.     

“Yeah, it’s a hard-knock life.” He offers you a smile before wiping at his face with a napkin. “You sure you’re not hungry? I know the man’s not here, but I doubt he’d like the idea of me sittin’ here stuffin’ my face while you nurse a Diet Coke.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “He knows how I am. After tasting and smelling everything for hours on end, I’m not typically all that hungry.”

Which was one of the reasons your Beast liked to take it upon himself to help you work up an appetite – usually by stripping down and fucking you senseless. But Deputy Milton didn’t need to know all of that. 

“Hm. More for me I guess.” He hums, snagging another freshly buttered dinner roll.

“Yep.” The word is spoken like an airy sigh. “More for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go find the ladies room.” You rise to your feet and polish off your beverage before tossing it in the trash. “Be back in a jiff.” 

Forty Minutes Later…

The drive from the station back to your place feels surprisingly short. Loneliness weighs on you like a heavy blanket as you pull into the driveway and kill the engine. Groaning, you let your head collide against the steering wheel with a dull thunk.

As much as you didn’t want to go inside, you knew you couldn’t linger out here in your car forever. It was much too cold for an extended outdoor moping session. You’d probably catch frostbite halfway through. 

You briefly debate giving Ari a call. Other than exchanging a few text messages here and there, you hadn’t heard from him since this morning. The thought of him being upset with you on Christmas just didn’t sit right.

Maybe you’d call him later, after you’d put the food away and gotten ready for bed. Perhaps you’d even convince him to FaceTime with you so that you could enjoy teasing him while nibbling on a slice of the red velvet cake you’d baked especially for him. 

Yes, that was the new plan. But first, you had to get out of the car. Grabbing your purse, you duck out the driver’s side door and make a mad dash up your walkway. It’s so cold that your teeth are already chattering by the time you finally fish your keys out of your bag to let yourself in.

First, you had work to do. And then you would check-in with your man just to make sure that all was right with your world. 

8:30pm, Christmas Day – Bell’s Creek, Texas

Glass of wine in hand, you plop down on your living room couch with a defeated huff. You’d just tried Ari a few minutes ago while standing in the kitchen, wearing nothing but your new lacy, red chemise and matching thong you’d purchased just for tonight.

Because you’d known how much Ari would like it. 

Except your Bounty Hunter hadn’t answered. Instead, it had gone straight to voicemail both times. Even if he was still pissed at you, you were confident that he would’ve answered. The only reason he would’ve ignored you was if–

Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a new text message. Reaching into the pocket of your robe, you’re elated when you see Ari’s name flash across the screen. But your hopes are soon dashed the moment you read the words written on the screen.

“Hey. Out with Clint. We’ll talk in a bit.” 

For a second you’re almost too stunned to speak. Were you really playing second fiddle to a man he’d just met? And all because you’d been a little snippy with him this morning? No. That couldn’t be right. 

Your bottom lip begins to tremble as you hastily type out the words: “I miss you.” And it only gets worse when he responds with a simple thumbs up emoji. That fucking bastard!

“Oh fuck you, Ari Levinson. And you too, Clint!” You snarl, snagging your wine and angrily gulping it down. “I’m sure you both will be very happy in Omaha. Where you can fucking stay. Forever!”

Now thoroughly pissed, you stomp your way back into the kitchen to fetch the bottle you’d left behind before returning determined to find something on television. So you could ignore the fact that your heart was breaking. 

On fucking Christmas Day.

After a few minutes, you settle on the live action version of A Muppet Christmas Carol. And then you grab a blanket and snuggle up. You’d deal with all of this later. Preferably after your second glass of wine. 

Hell, you might even need a third to convince yourself that murder was not the acceptable way to handle these kinds of problems in a relationship. Perhaps you’d simply pour a little sugar in the tank of his truck and see how that made you feel. 

Sure, you were probably being petty. But seeing as you’d been on an emotional roller coaster for the better part of two days, you were more than ready to hop the hell off this ride. Ari could stay put for all you cared. 

Anger aside, there was no denying the fact that you were absolutely crushed. With that in mind, you decide that you’re not answering whenever Ari finally found the time and inclination to call you back. If he was busy, then you would be too.

You finish off your vino before snuggling even deeper under your blanket. It was officially time for you to go to bed. And when you woke up tomorrow, hopefully all of this would be nothing more than a bad dream.  

And if it wasn’t, then you might find yourself asking the Lord for forgiveness after you let the air out of one of your man’s precious tires.

10:45pm, Christmas Day – Bell’s Creek, Texas

“Wake up, little Bird.” 

A faint brush of lips along your cheek has your eyes slowly fluttering open as your body fights through the last vestiges of sleep. You weren’t sure what had woken you up. Hell, you didn’t even know what time it was. 

You take a moment to stretch before sitting up to reach for your phone. Squinting, you scroll through the handful of last minute messages you’d received from a couple of friends during your nap. But unfortunately there’s still nothing from the one person you’d been hoping to hear from the most. 

Ari.

Your eyes stray to the TV and you’re confused when you see the black screen staring back at you. Now that was strange. Maybe you drank a little more wine than you thought. 

You curiously examine the still half-full bottle sitting on your coffee table with so much focus that you almost miss the notes of Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song filtering into your living room.

It was your favorite song, but the last time you checked, it had not been set to autoplay. Which meant someone was in your house.

“Hello?” You call as you rise to your feet, stepping over your blanket as it falls to the floor. Your hands come up to rub your arms in an effort to ward off the slight chill in the air. 

The warm scent of spiced cinnamon apples fills your nostrils and delights your senses as you round the corner and scurry into the kitchen. Your legs don’t stop moving until you’re standing mere feet away from the one man who seemed to rent space in your mind from sunup to sundown. 

Ari Levinson. 

He’s standing there in your kitchen wearing a pair of dark blue denim jeans and a slate gray thermal, eagerly helping himself to an impressive slice of red velvet cake. He smiles at you through a mouthful of dessert, and it’s impossible to miss the way his sparkling blue eyes darken once he gets a good look at the red silk robe that matched your holiday lingerie. 

“I don’t believe it. Y–you’re home.” You breathe as one of your hands flies to your chest, seeking to calm your increasingly erratic heartbeat. “But–but how?” Clearly, forming coherent sentences wasn’t your strong suit right now.

“I made my woman a promise.” Ari shrugs, setting his now empty plate aside. “And like I told you, I aimed to see it through. That cake is fucking fantastic by the way.”

“You managed to catch a flight?” You’re so convinced that he might disappear again that you’re almost afraid to drink. 

“Nah. Clint and I decided to rent a truck and brave the elements in favor of a little cross-country road trip.” He leans back against the counter, as if bracing himself for your response. And you sure as shit aren’t the type to disappoint. 

“Through a flippin’ blizzard?!” You squeal, gripping your face in your hands. “Jesus H. Christ, Beast! Are you insane?!” 

“Clearly.” His grin quickly fades into a grimace when you let out another scream as you flail your arms wide. 

“I can’t believe you did this!” You tell him as you feel hot tears wet your cheeks. “I can’t believe you–you…you’re here on Christmas.” The words come tumbling out as the dam breaks. 

“Bird…” 

Ari reaches for you then, although you’re quick to bat his hands away in favor of throwing your arms around his neck and hauling him close. At a loss for what else to do, one of his heavy palms comes to rest on your lower back, rubbing in small, soothing circles while you busy yourself with sobbing into his broad chest.

“Breathe, baby. There we go.” He coos softly, waiting patiently for you to pull away long enough for him to get a good look at your tear stained face. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You hiccup, using his thermal to dry your eyes. “But I’m also really mad at you for putting yourself in danger like that. You and Clint.” You quickly amend, offering him a watery smile. “You could’ve died, and then I would’ve had to kill you.”

You weren’t joking. You’d been experiencing a variety of violent thoughts lately. 

“Is that right?” Ari wraps your arms around his neck again as you two begin to sway to the beat of the music playing in the background. “Well, I’ll make sure to pass that on.” 

“Please do.” You murmur as you rest your ear on his chest, content to listen to the sound of his heartbeat. “Was it a long drive?” You allow your eyes to fall closed as you wait for him to respond. Regardless of his answer, you’re determined to keep your calm. 

“Eh, about ten hours or so.” He hums, dipping your bodies in time with the song. “Give or take. But the weather got much better around the middle of Kansas. We took our time. We were careful. In fact, Clint’s still out there.”

“Oh God, why?”

“He’s headed to Louisiana. Something about needing to track down an old friend named Nat.” He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before pushing you away so that he can twirl you around. “But enough about him. I missed you, Bird.” He briefly pauses your dance before bringing your knuckles to his mouth, making you melt.

“Yeah?” You purr, rising on your toes to nip at his jaw. “I missed you too. That’s why I’m wearing one of your Christmas presents. I was gonna show it to you on FaceTime, but you didn’t answer.”

Apparently because he’d been too busy driving across the country at the time. Who would’ve thought?

“This all for me?” His hands go to the belt of your robe, deftly undoing the knot. Once free, you give a little shimmy, content to let the robe pool on the floor at your bare feet. “Oh, yes the fuck it is.” The silky timbre of his voice has you soaking your panties.

As if they weren’t already ruined. 

“Merry Christmas.” Planting your hands on either side of his bearded jaw, you draw him down until your lips meet his. Groaning, your Bounty Hunter wastes almost no time deepening the kiss, his expert tongue sweeping past your defenses to duel with your own. 

God, he tasted so good. Like spearmint and coffee on a cold winter’s night. You honestly had no idea just how much you'd truly needed this man.

“Next time your sexy ass is comin’ with me.” Ari snarls, breaking the kiss to lightly tug at your bottom lip with his teeth. “Was gonna lose my mind if I had to go another day without this.”

“Okay, Beast.” You whimper when he sharply smacks your ass. “Whatever you say.” Right now, this man had no idea just how close you were to giving him whatever he wanted. All he had to do was ask. “Oooh!” You jolt when he delivers another blow. “Yes, baby. More!”

You’re rewarded with yet another delicious spank, which goes straight to your already aching clit. It was taking everything in you not to reach between your thighs and touch your dripping pussy.

But you refuse to give in, knowing that your man would want that privilege all for himself. 

“Mine.” He rasps, his tone taking on an almost feral quality as his calloused palms go to cup your heavy breasts through the thin fabric of your teddy. “Missed these perfect fuckin’ tits.” That’s your only warning before he grips the front of your garment and tearing it in two like it was nothing.

“Ari!” You gasp, arching your back when your man leans down to capture a pouting nipple into his warm, wet mouth. He sucks hard, using his tongue to tease the sensitive flesh. “Ungh!” You squirm in his grasp as long fingers dig into your hips to hold you in place for his sensual assault. 

Eventually, he releases you with a slight pop, just as his hands fall away from your hips. “Hope you’re ready, baby. Cuz’ I ain’t lettin’ you outta bed until New Year’s.” His roguish grin has a fresh tendril of heat unfurling in your belly. “Maybe later.”

“You’re all talk.” You giggle, slowly backing away as Ari continues to stalk towards you, using his muscular body to his advantage. 

“Nah.” He shrugs, his grin growing impossibly wider when your ass connects with your dining room table. “I can’t wait to lose myself between those thick thighs. Want you to fuckin’ suffocate me, baby.” 

Your Bounty Hunter drops to his knees in front you before burying his nose in your panty covered pussy and inhaling deeply. You feel your legs begin to quiver when he does it again, a soft cry escapes your lips when you feel his sharp teeth graze over the outline of your swollen clit.

“Need you to fuckin’ drown me while eat this pretty cunt.” Ari growls, delicately nipping at your inner thigh. “Swear I fuckin' see God every time I get you to sit on my face. That's how divine you taste.” 

“Oh!” You whine as he nuzzles his nose against the swollen bundle of nerves, making your core spasm. 

“But first, I’m gonna fuck you.” He places one last open-mouthed kiss on your mound before standing up and spinning you around in one blended motion. You cry out when your hands slap against the cool wooden surface. “Teach you a lesson for all the sass you fed me earlier today.”

On a growl, Ari makes quick work of his jeans, shoving them down his hair covered thighs along with his boxers almost faster than you can blink. 

“I’m so sorry, Beast…” You moan, offering up your stinging rump for another smack. Thankfully, Ari is more than happy to oblige. “Please…please...” Next thing you know, your thong has joined the rest of your ruined lingerie, putting your weeping cunt on display.

You let out a harsh gasp when you feel his hard, fat cock enter you in one swift thrust. Not wanting to wake the entire neighborhood with your screams, you find yourself biting down on your fist to keep yourself quiet. 

Ari takes a moment to readjust his position, spreading his legs so that he can go deeper, get a  better angle. He loves the way you sob for him, the needy little sounds you make while he fucks the shit out of your greedy little pussy. 

His hips snap in time with the music as your sweat-slick flesh connects again and again – driving you both closer to the brink. Your passion-filled cries fill the room as Ari somehow finds a way to go even deeper, giving it to you so good you know you’re gonna feel him inside you for days. 

Just the way you liked it. 

“Best Christmas ever, Duchess.” Your man grips the front of your throat, holding you in place while he uses you the way he needs to. God, he made you feel so good. Even when he had you ready to pull your hair out, he still had this way about him that made almost everything feel infinitely better.

“Best-oh God! More!” You cry out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he spanks your pussy with a measured flick of his wrist. This man wanted you to see stars, and he was more than up to the challenge. “Oh Jesus - f–fuck yeah!”

“There we go, sweetheart.” Ari purrs as his thrusts become a little more erratic. “Now how ‘bout we see how many times I can fill you up before the clock strikes midnight?”

“I–ooh!” You open your mouth to respond, only to let out a small shriek when he administers another wet smack.

“Huh.” He chuckles, leaving a trail of kisses along the curve of your throat. “Guess I’ll just have to take that as a yes.”

END

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[c0ld0utside]

How about a yandere harpy/naga dad? It’s cool if you don’t wanna do it at that moment but I thought it’d be cool I guess.

Yandere Harpy Dad

Criticism welcome!

We need more Harpy content tbh, Nagas are overrated. Gave this guy a name, too! Guess what bird Micah is and you get bragging rights.

Warnings (Let me know if I missed any!): Murder, Child death, Overprotectiveness, Child murder

Usually, when harpy chicks hatch, they hatch in their nest with their parent(s) present. Clean and eager to meet you. While your parent was present, you weren’t in the nest. He also was anything but clean, covered in blood and eyes wide. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and the tips of his wings were covered in an odd mix of red, yellow, and clear sticky fluid. Looking back on it now, you realize that the two red lumps nearby were human corpses. The crushed pink thing around your size must’ve been your sibling. 

You wonder if things would’ve been different had they not been broken open by hunters. And if your dad’s mate hadn’t been killed while he was away on a morning territory check.

You’re surprised you even remember that. Especially having to watch your dad dig a grave for your dead sibling, sobbing and murmuring apologies. Apologizing for not coming home sooner. Apologizing for not finding you sooner. Apologizing to your sibling for being careless. You remember him gingerly picking up the poor thing and lowering them into the grave before covering it up with dirt and nearby stones. 

You remember him wiping his face with his muck-covered wings and trudging back over to you. “I’m sorry, baby,” He whispered, trying to calm you down. He can’t blame you for crying loudly. You just entered the world at the worst time possible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…it’s okay. I’m Micah- I’m your Dad, it’s okay.” 

Carefully, he gathered you into his talons and rose into the air. The flight home was slow and the cold air made you cry louder. 

…

Being a single Dad was hard. Micah didn’t have his partners to help him raise you. One had died protecting you from another Harpy when you were still an egg. The other had been killed by the hunters that almost got away with you and your sib. Micah wouldn’t pair up with anyone else again. He didn’t need anyone. He could take care of you just fine. That, and other harpies of his breed rarely adopted hatchlings that weren’t their own.  

His main worry when he went out was that he’d come back and you wouldn’t be there. Or you’d be dead. Or he’d return to see another harpy halfway through throwing you out of the nest and taking it for themself. So, unlike the other harpies, he’d bring back whole carcasses and wouldn’t leave your side until it was all gone. Micah made sure you learned how to fly as soon as you could, too, but would never let you go far.

If you did go far, like always, he was right by your side. 

It got to the point where you had to be with him at all times. When he was out scavenging, getting a drink, and checking the borders he set up…he also made sure you were learning while on your outings. 

Out of the many rules he set for you, the #1 was to never go beyond the border. Well- #1 was also “don’t go out flying without me.” 

You remember the first time you broke that rule. You were twelve at the time, and you were curious. You were also tired of having to stay next to your dad 24/7, especially then. His wing had been wrapped around you, tucking you into his side. Somehow, you managed to wriggle out of his embrace and took off. 

It was supposed to just be a peek, you wouldn’t go too far. But you got bored of seeing nothing but grassland and you kept going. When you finally saw a single tree you did an excited loop in the air. More trees followed after that one, and you found yourself gliding over several talon-fulls of trees while the moon fell from the sky. 

Landing on a sturdy branch to rest your wings, you observed the new scenery. Everything was so…hidden. Completely different from the boring gorge you lived at, which was pure grassland, water, and rocks. Some shrubs here and there as well. 

“Hiya,” A voice says. It startled you so badly that you jumped up into the air with a surprised squawk. You look down and see eight bright yellow eyes looking into your own. It looks like a bigger, half-human version of the spider you ate last week. Micah hadn’t been happy about that and made you cough it up. 

“You’re…different. Daddy never told me harpies were bright orange like those flowers I saw the other day!” The stranger observes. You sank back down onto the branch and made your first-ever friend. His name was Beryl, and he called himself a drider. A half-human half-spider monster. He was eleven years old, a few months younger than you. The two of you chatted for a while before another drider appeared from below. He was like Beryl, but twenty times his size and almost as intimidating as your dad. 

After that, you flew back home as fast as you could, tucked yourself back under your dad’s wing, and shut your eyes. A few hours later, he woke you up so you two could go find breakfast together.

He wasn’t aware of your nightly adventures, or the new friend you made. Not until seven months later. To say he was furious was an understatement. To say that he wasn’t in his right state of mind at the time was also an understatement. 

Micah woke up in the middle of the night alone. Wasting no time, he immediately got up and rocketed off of the precipice, rising high into the sky and searching the horizon. Once he spotted your younger frame he followed suit. Micah’s temper grew worse the farther out you went. This was way past the border and by the looks of it, you’ve gone out this far multiple times. 

He panics for a moment when you disappear into the forest below, barreling down after you. What he sees next makes him lose it entirely. 

A young drider creeping up behind you as you rested on a branch.

…

He didn’t stop. No matter how loudly you screamed and begged and pleaded, he wouldn’t stop. Even when Beryl’s once vibrant yellow eyes were dull, he didn’t stop. 

Micah came out of nowhere. First, Beryl was playfully scaring you. The next he was grabbed by the shoulders and violently dropped to the ground. Micah followed him down, talons piercing through his exoskeleton and tearing. Clawing. Pulling. By the time Beryl’s father arrived it was too late and Micah was carrying you back to the nest, the blood on his talons getting all over your skin and feathers.

When you got back he wasn’t done. Micah had ripped out your flight feathers while scolding you. “You could’ve been eaten,” this and, “I told you to stay by my side” that. You didn’t listen, though. You were too busy crying your eyes out.

That was then, though. And this is now. Your flight feathers have grown back and once again, you’re tucked into your Dad’s side. With practiced grace, you slip out from under him and back away to the edge. 

You’re going Northwest this time. You wish you could go back and find Beryl’s dad and apologize for what happened all those years ago, but he’d probably kill you. That’s also the first direction Micah would search. With a deep breath, you turn around and take off.

He had this coming. And he wouldn’t ever find you again.

-

You look good today! Drink water and remember to get plenty of rest.

[puppyplayhouse]

Since my freak can be matched here I'll leave you with this

Let's say the reader has been feeling lonely lately and after thinking it over for awhile decides to adopt a hybrid since after looking online every one says it's helped them so much

Goes through the process of finding the best match and someone does pop up

It's a hybrid and his name is Jisung( I see him as a puppy hybrid especially after all of skz said he loves getting attention) but he ticks all the boxes couldn't have been a more perfect match, scrolling down his page only to find he's a bonded pair with a kitty hybrid called Minho

It says they can't be separated and will only be homed together

So the reader thinks about looking again but they matched so well and they can't just let that go, seeing their picture and them being so cute maybe it's not such a bad idea to adopt the pair so when she's gone to work they can keep each other company while she's away most of the day

Then comes the day of meeting, there brought into a room to get to know each other and Hannie is bouncing he's so excited he can't believe someone is considering the two of them and he talks about how it's a little bit more difficult for them since they can't be separate even tho he wouldn't change a thing

And off to the side is kitty Minho who's just watching because it feels too good to be true, he's thinking of every possible way for this to go wrong as they've gotten their hopes up so many times and he's the logic one as Han gets so caught up in the Idea of a new life

Getting to know Min in these sessions are harder since he's more stand off-ish and the reader is told that's one of the many reasons they can't go there seperate ways Han makes Min more comfortable, relaxed more at ease since he doesn't have to take charge of socializing

After meeting a few times and really thinking it over the reader decides to adopt the pair and the journey of settling in to the new environment begins

As anticipated Hannie has a much easier time, loving the attention and having someone new to talk to, the evening walks he gets to take now, getting praised for simply being too cute

On the other end of things is Minho, for the first few days he rarely left his room, he would only eat if Han was there so he'd be a bit more relaxed and it's making the reader panic maybe she's not the right home for them what if she can't help him settle, she starts to over think does he not like his toys she got him?is his scratching post not up to standard? Maybe it's his room so she let him redecorate it himself, what if she's working too much what if he thinks she's home too much, is it her cooking he doesn't like

After confessing these insecurities to Han hoping to get some help to make Min feel more at home the house begins to change to make him feel more comfortable

Now there is an arm chair facing out the main window where Min can now watch birds and people watch and just be nosey (nobody is allowed on this chair he takes his role as guard very seriously) and this is where his love for cooking is discovered as he's a cat and there's always a standard and it's not that he didn't like the original cooking he just thought that since some days the reader came home empty handed Min thought they were a bad hunter and struggled to bring food back (I love that cats think humans can't hunt properly and I think some of that would still follow over into hybrids)

After a couple of months of this routine comes a new problem, there's a lack of affection on Minho's side

It's not that the reader isn't trying there just worried about making him uncomfortable as getting too close makes him freeze up sometimes he even runs out the room

What if Min thinks they are playing favourites since Hannie is always all over them and is met with the same energy back, some nights Han even spends in bed with them while Min is in his room and there's this feeling of guilt because how do they not seem so over baring with him, they are aware his love language might be different since they aren't the same hybrid

This all comes to a halt when they start going into heat, at first the reader leaves them to themselves and if they need any help to just ask of course Han breaks first don't get him wrong he loves that he can rely on Min at times like these but he's craving something different this time and there's an ich that he just can't get rid of and explained this to the reader and that's when during Hannies heat he goes back and forth between the two of them

During Minho's first heat he wouldn't even let Han near him he just wasn't that comfortable in his new home yet, it takes a bit for him to let Han back in during this time but eventually came back around to it

But during one of Min's heats he just couldn't reach that he was looking so hard for he couldn't shake it no matter what he did, he tried over and over again but nothing and becomes so frustrated

As a good owner the reader steps in to ask Min if there is anything they can do to help but he's so embarrassed how can he ask for help with something like this but theres only so much the kitty can handle before he's knocking on there bedroom door one night desperate for something he's so sensitive that he'd probably cum if a breeze brushed past him

At first they think something is wrong and start asking questions, mid ramble they hear a whimper and everything just goes quiet because there's no way her shy little kitten is at her door blush sitting so pretty over the tops of his cheeks waiting for anything to be done

After getting him to sit on the bed petting the top of his head asking him to explain what he wants and all he can do is moan he's too far gone he can't think for himself and begs for them to do something, make him stop thinking to help with this feeling he just can't get rid of

And it goes the whole night there is such a build up of want and desire after not getting to be near him since they first started living together and Min is desperate he spends most the night mumbling all his wants and needs not believing that there all being met

Wet kisses all over his body being praised and degraded at the time not having to lift a paw since the reader is doing everything they can to make him feel the most pleasure his ever felt and he's having a crisis what was he thinking not going to them sooner

It's so messy and wet Min is covering the reader in scratches and bits marks because it just feels too good, he discovers his oral fixation he LOVES it being between there legs eating pussy for his pleasure to, kneeding at there stomach and thighs even into there ass

The next morning after they both had one of the best sleeps they've had in a long time the reader is worried that now it's all calmed down that Minho is uncomfortable but it's the complete opposite he's so cuddly and affectionate he just can't help himself

Starts the morning licking and grooming the reader to show how thankfully he is because he can finally think straight now that his heat has passed over even goes above and beyond and makes them breakfast in bed, runs into the next room to drag Hannie to bed with them so he's not left out only this starts a whole other round between the tree of them

They spend the next few days stuck to each other's hip and the harmony in the house is so much more relaxed and everyone is so much more comfortable they now gently rub their back as they pass by each other, Min now can't sit unless his legs are thrown over Hans while the reader plays with his hair and he's purring to his hearts content

It went from them all having individual rooms to shopping for a bigger bed so they can sleep together nearly every night and there so integrated in one another's routine and wouldn't have it any other way and they're just so thankful for each other

I apologise for the ramble I got carried away this has been rotten my brain for awhile now also I'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense or if it's not that good I've never written anything before 😅

The audacity of you to come on to MY BLOG and ANONYMOUSLY write the BEST FIC I HAVE EVER READ and then APOLOGISE????? HAND IN MARRIAGE RIGHT NOW. THIS IS ART. I AM ALWAYS ON MY MINSUNG SHIT AND YOU HAVE BROKEN ME. I AM HOWLING.

[honey-beann]

Background Noise

rk boys (Nines, Connor, Sixty) x Reader Smut

Word count: 4,244

It was a beautiful morning, especially for Detroit, and Connor was feeling almost too content, watching the birds fly past the window above the kitchen sink as he sat comfortably at the breakfast bar.

The new house was perfect, notably different from the apartments he had lived in prior, and he found himself feeling so at home within it that he was filled with a joy he had only experienced once before, in an entirely different situation.

He allowed his mind to drift back to that night, your pretty dress, your ecstatic grin, and the calm waters lapping gently against concrete and wood sticking out clearly in his mind, even in memory alone.

Unbeknownst to the outside world, he examined his calendar internally, his LED briefly blinking yellow before calming back down to blue almost immediately as he checked just how long it had been since that wonderful afternoon.

He startled a bit (though he hoped only internally), at the realization that it had already been two months, and made a mental note to pick up some flowers to commemorate the event.

He had only just begun considering what type of flowers, when he heard his name get called from the speakers of the laptop that sat on the countertop in front of him.

"Do you have anything to add, Connor?"

Connor fixed his eyes on the screen and smiled politely at the speaker as well as the many college students who sat uncomfortably in their cramped desk seats a few hundred miles away at NYU, where he, Markus, Kara, North, and Simon were currently giving a lecture over video call.

"I'm sorry, I must have gotten lost in thought for a second, what was the question?"

Connor could see North cast the section of the screen he was taking up on her end a brief glare, but Kara, who had been the one to ask for his input in the first place, just smiled easily and waved his apology off.

"No problem. It was just about android-human romantic relationships and how the laws surrounding them are believed to change in the next few years. Markus mentioned his plans to have marriage legalized, and North spoke on the amount of negativity that these relationships face outside of the legal system, but I thought you might be able to provide some extra insight, if you felt comfortable."

Connor gave a slight nod, his smile returning to his face as he turned his attention back towards the large crowd of students, who, despite having been required to attend for credit, all seemed rather invested, though that was hardly any surprise given the speakers present.

Ever since the revolution, Connor and Markus in particular had gained a significant deal of notoriety due to both the rolls that they played, and the romantic relationships they had.

Markus had now been in his relationship with another android for a few years now, and Connor had been in his with a human for around the same amount of time, and people found that to be immensely interesting.

Here was Connor, the deviant hunter, a former prototype android designed for detective work, dating a human as if that were the most natural thing he could possibly do, and honestly, the media ate that up.

There were photos of you in the tabloids, articles about you posted online, and you were both criticized and adored by androids and humans alike for your relationship with Connor, even after all these years.

Of course, there were many other juicy aspects of your romantic life that the media loved to fixate on, but Connor hardly thought those were worth bringing up now, unless he wanted to complicate things extensively.

So instead, he chose to give the simplest answer he could without making it seem as if he were against the idea of speaking on his personal relationship (because he most certainly was not, in fact, he thoroughly enjoyed talking about you whenever an opportunity presented itself).

"Well, in my experience, android-human relationships are very similar to those shared between only humans and only androids. There are a lot of stereotypes, like that android lovers are superior, or that human partners can connect easier, but truthfully, I think most of these concepts are contrived by those who don't accept these relationships as legitimate and seek to weaken them because of that."

Just as he finished up his statement, a student raised their hand, and Kara, as the moderator, was more than happy to call upon them.

"Yes, you in the front row?"

The girl seemed nervous as she spoke up, but even so, Connor was able to make out her question easily.

"So if these stereotypes that Connor mentioned can be eliminated or lessened to a certain degree, can we anticipate the legalization of android-human marriage to occur shortly thereafter?"

Markus was quick to respond,

"Well, the legal system doesn't necessarily depend on these stereotypes being less prevalent, but it would definitely help our cause. That being said, I believe it won't be long now until android-human marriage is legalized, and that seems to be the consensus among many in the U.S. There has been a significant increase in the number of android-human betrothals within the past year, and I think that points to a general agreement that non-regulated marriages will definitely be legalized in the near future, it just depends on how long it takes for the government to recognize that from a legal standpoint."

Connor nodded in agreement,

"The data trends towards a general air of acceptance at the idea of legalizing these marriages. I myself proposed to my fiancee just two months ago with the expectation that in a slightly lengthened wedding planning time frame, the legalization process will be completed."

Soft murmurs echoed out among the crowd at this, as very few people were aware of your engagement (though the media had spoken frequently on the sudden addition of a rather expensive looking ring to your every day outfits).

Connor fought back a slight grin of amusement at the surprise that his words had caused, choosing instead to turn his attention towards the class's professor as the older man asked a question about android unions in the workplace, something that was much more in Simon's wheelhouse than Connor's.

He listened intently as his friend and colleague spoke in depth on the issue,

So intently in fact, that he neglected to notice the bedroom door opening until it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Out you walked, donning only an oversized dress shirt, slippers, and underwear, your hair mussed up, and your expression still rather drowsy as you made your way across the living room and into the bathroom, fully in frame of the camera you were all too unaware of for the majority of your trek.

Connor bit back a chuckle, his cheeks tinted a slight blue color as he admired via his screen how lovely you looked in your pajamas despite your immense lack of effort.

Of course though, he wasn't the only one to notice, and when you walked back through towards your bedroom after using the bathroom, there was a strong silence present from both the speakers as well as the audience, all of whom were rather distracted by the intrusion. Finally, clearly hoping to move on for the sake of time, the professor cleared his throat and spoke up through the newly awkward atmosphere.

"Excuse me, Mr. Anderson, but I believe there is someone in the backgrou-"

He cut himself off suddenly when an arm reached over from just out of frame and pulled you in toward it, shock clearly written across your face as you were yanked straight from view, yelping at the unexpected tug.

"Er, is everything alright?"

The professor spoke quietly now, his brow furrowed in confusion as Connor offered him a polite smile and nod,

"All is well, I believe my partner simply forgot about our professional arrangement this morning and neglected to use the other bathroom upon waking up."

"But who was-"

"As for the individual that removed her from the camera's view, I'm unsure if that was the rk800 or rk900, but I can assure you that our fiancee is entirely safe."

The crowd remained silent for a few moments as a great deal of the students took in what was for them, new information.

Of course, some larger fans and smart speculators had been able to piece together the relationship you shared with Sixty and Nines, but most people chose to ignore the complicated question of your romantic life beyond you and Connor.

After all, in the eyes of the media, Connor was a big sweetheart, while you were his equally innocent and adorable life partner, and how could they ever push that image out if they speculated that you were also engaged to both the rk800 model that had tried to kill Connor and Hank prior to deviation, and the rk900 model who had been strictly designed for military use when it came to hunting down deviants?

The short answer was that they couldn't, and as a result, the already rarely posted images of you and either of your partners who weren't Connor struggled to gain much traction, meaning that not many people believed, or even knew the rumor about your romantic relationship with all three men.

Except recently, you'd all sat down and had a conversation about this topic, which had ended with one strict viewpoint shared by all four of you:

Your relationship was not a secret, nor was it something to be ashamed of, and there would be no more comments leaving that up for interpretation.

The silence continued for multiple additional seconds beyond what Connor himself would consider awkward, until a student loudly cleared their own throat before slowly raising their hand, to which Kara responded by calling upon them in a manner that was almost hesitant.

"So uh, have android related marriage benefits been considered yet?"

North was quick to jump on answering that question, but even still, Connor couldn't help but feel his attention drift towards the situation just outside the range of his camera.

He couldn't quite make you out without making it obvious that he was looking in your direction, but he could clearly see Sixty's back as he caged you in against the wall, arms on either side of you while he leaned down to capture your lips in his in a manner that was no doubt ravenous.

He and Nines had both been out of town until just before Connor had began setting up for his prior arrangements earlier that morning, and if the android had meant what he'd said over the phone the night before last, you were likely in for one hell of a two month engagement celebration.

Connor attempted to turn his attention back towards the lecture, ignoring the growing pressure between his legs as he turned up the volume slightly, eyes fixated almost too intently on the screen.

Suddenly though, he was forced to hold back a wince as you stumbled back into the view of the audience, cheeks pink, lips bruised, and hair even messier than before as you struggled to avoid Sixty's attempts at grabbing you again with a laugh that was distant to the mic, but sharp in Connor's ears, igniting a spark of adoration in him at the sound.

He watched via the screen in front of him as you backed further into clear view with Sixty following confidently, a predatory grin at his lips that immediately let Connor know that the android couldn't care less whether or not those on the video call saw him.

Now more than a little bit enthralled by the chase as well as the sparkle of excitement he could see in your eyes, Connor kept his gaze trained on the scene playing out on the screen, a slight smirk fighting to show itself as he watched you start to lose your balance after being forced to raise a leg to stop your feral fiance from grabbing at it.

You shrieked as you fell back, catching yourself on your palms as you tried desperately to scoot away from Sixty's grip, though your efforts proved futile when he wrapped a nimble hand around one of your ankles, tugging you towards him and eventually just out of frame once more.

Soon afterward Connor heard the familiar sound of your feigned pleas for freedom being muffled against Sixty's hungry lips as they claimed your own for the second time that morning.

It proved to be very distracting.

Though, not nearly as distracting as you backing your way into frame once again moments later, palms flat against the floor behind you as you kicked playfully at Sixty, still doing your best to win the game of chase he'd started despite your obvious enjoyment.

You were fighting a grin as you continued to move backward, using your hands as leverage to pull yourself along faster even as Sixty followed on foot, which gave him a very clear advantage.

Repressing the urge to calculate how long on average Sixty tended to play with you before choosing to halt his typically lengthy games of cat and mouse, Connor shifted his gaze back towards the audience, hoping that the scene in the background wasn't the reason their gaze was so affixed to the projector screen in front of them.

Unfortunately though, the android's attempt at placing his regard on something that wasn't his fiancee's rather amusing struggle was squashed by the notable visual of a new figure entering the frame.

This definitely didn't help his cause, and he was almost certain that the crowd couldn't have possibly gone without noticing it either, as Nines made for an incredibly imposing figure under any and all circumstances.

That being said, you had clearly gotten very comfortable with his presence throughout the years, because you didn't even notice that he was there until you'd accidentally backed into his legs.

And by then, it was far too late.

Connor watched, artificial breathing paused as you slowly looked up to see Nines standing behind you, eyes slightly widened as you took in the sight of him. The android cast a brief glance over to the video call that his predecessor was on before shifting his gaze toward Sixty, who had his hands in his pockets as he smirked down at your helpless position between him and the rk900.

You were laying with your back pressed against Nines' body, one leg extended outward while the other was bent at the knee, as if you had been mid struggle when you'd finally stopped.

You let out a tiny squeak of fear, one that Connor barely managed to make out above the sound of North's voice, as without warning, Sixty knelt down to run a hand slowly up your leg before wrapping it loosely around your calf, his gaze hungry in a way that Connor was certain you were all too familiar with.

Nines, on the other hand, crouched behind you, his torso unyielding against your back as he ran a hand up from your straightened leg to your throat, where it briefly curled and squeezed before loosening, though it notably did not move away as he lowered his mouth to your ear.

Connor attempted to make out what he was saying, but in the end, it was your reaction that held his attention more than anything else.

He watched your muscles tense and your throat bob as you leaned into Nines' touch, nodding softly as the android in question smirked against your neck before he slowly stood, guiding you up with him and walking you backwards and out of frame once more, Sixty following eagerly.

There was a distant clamor that Connor was almost certain came from the counter of the bathroom sink, and then suddenly, his LED was flashing yellow with an incoming call from a familiar rk800 model android.

Connor swallowed thickly, briefly ensuring that the attention of those participating in the lecture wasn't on him before he answered hesitantly, the sound of your muffled whimpers instantly filling his ears and forcing him to hold back a shiver as he shifted in his seat, suddenly very uncomfortable thanks to the increasing strain within his pants.

"Shit."

He murmured under his breath, inhaling sharply as Sixty chuckled in response, a teasing lilt to his tone as he spoke,

"You hear that pretty girl? Connors decided to say hello in spite of his little arrangement, isn't that sweet?"

Connor tensed at the sound of you gasping on the other end of the line, a keening whine slipping past your lips at Sixty's taunting words, which he continued to utilize mercilessly.

"What was that, Princess?"

He pressed,

"I don't think he can hear you."

From Sixty's end, Connor was able to make out an oh so familiar squelching sound followed by a sharp cry that he knew for a fact belonged to you, your head falling back to what he imagined was the mirror behind you with a dull thud.

Connor flinched slightly at the sound, but assuaged his own worries with the knowledge that neither Nines nor Sixty would ever allow you to get hurt in their presence.

And clearly the injury wasn't anything severe, because mere moments afterward, Nines spoke up,

"Why don't you tell Connor how good it feels, hmm? We don't want him to feel excluded sitting all alone out there."

You whimpered at Nines' cruel tone, but opened your mouth to speak regardless, your breaths so hurried that Connor could hear them easily.

"C-Con..."

You whined out, and the sound of his name leaving your lips immediately had the android in question holding back a groan, his LED flickering briefly as he sent Sixty a message.

After doing this, Connor waited patiently, until finally, the receiving android let out an audible chuckle, humming softly as he spoke,

"Well isn't this interesting, Connor here is asking me to narrate your little... Predicament for him."

Sixty paused for a moment, allowing his predecessor to better make out your soft pleas before he continued, voice full of a mocking amusement that he had mastered the use of ages ago.

"Does that sound nice, Sweetheart? You want me to tell him how hot you look all spread out for Nines' fingers? How fucked out your expression is when we haven't even taken you properly yet?"

There was a brief silence for a moment or two, but Connor was quick to deduce that you must have nodded, because Sixty gave a short chuckle before he spoke up again,

"That's right, Baby, you look so fucking pretty when you take what we give you. Does it feel nice?"

You gave a shrill cry of bliss in response, and the next time that Sixty spoke, it was to Connor directly, his voice barely above a growl,

"Fuck, you really should see her, I don't know if she's ever been this wet before."

The loud squelching sounds in the background only served to cement Sixty's statement as truthful, and Connor had to mute himself so no one would hear the heady groan that was pulled from deep within him as a result.

"And she's desperate too, already begged Nines to fuck her before you could even answer the phone."

Connor heard his successor chuckle softly in the background before the squelching increased in intensity, followed shortly thereafter by your rushed pleas for more, which fell from your lips like a waterfall.

Connor then heard Nines give a sigh that was a bit too close to a growl for him to ignore, before suddenly, the squelching stopped entirely, replaced immediately afterward by the sounds of zippers being tugged down and clothing hitting the floor.

To Connor's surprise though, the next thing he heard wasn't some sharp cry or plea from you, but rather Nines' harsh tone as he spoke up for the second time that morning,

"Since you just can't seem keep your mouth shut on your own, you don't mind if Sixty helps you, do you, Sweetling?"

You whimpered shakily, but spoke up nonetheless, no doubt knowing the punishment that awaited if you didn't,

"N-no sir."

You whispered out, and Connor could all but hear Nines grin as he hummed softly before finally replying,

"Good girl."

And the next thing that Connor heard was a loud curse from Sixty, who let out a strained laugh immediately afterward, as if surprised by his own exclamation.

"That's it, Princess, open that pretty mouth just a little more for me,"

And a second later, he groaned heavily again, hissing through his teeth before he spoke up,

"Shit, that's it, Baby, just like that."

Connor held back a moan as he imagined how desperate you must have looked in that moment, spread out for Nines with Sixty's dick stuffed down your throat as you took them both eagerly,

It was almost enough to make him whimper at the thought alone, suddenly all too ready to end this video call once and for all.

Distantly, he could make out a new voice asking a question, but all that he could do was pray that it wasn't for him, because there was no way he could muster up the strength to say anything coherent knowing that his beautiful fiancee was being absolutely ravaged in the next room over.

Connor tensed slightly at the sound of your muffled groans, stifled by Sixty's length as you took everything that both he and Nines gave you, which was apparently about to be increased according to the latter individual.

"Did you want me to fuck you, Little Dove? Is that what you were begging for so shamelessly?"

Connor inhaled sharpy at the sound of your replying whines despite the rather large obstacle that was keeping you from speaking properly, which, judging by the noises that Sixty was making, likely wouldn't be an obstacle for very much longer.

The android in question was growling out your name, fucking your mouth with so much force that you would occasionally gag around his thickness, which only served to bring him closer and closer to orgasm.

"C'mon Baby, take me, just a little more and I'll come right down that pretty little throat of yours."

You whimpered weakly around Sixty's cock, and something about that sound must have struck the android as particularly ruinous, because mere moments afterward he was fulfilling his previous promise, hand in your hair as he rode out his orgasm with a harsh groan of pure bliss.

Connor, recognizing the familiar sounds of Sixty reaching his end, was more than a little bit eager to hear what would come next, and was not let down by what followed, because immediately after Sixty had backed away and leaned against the wall to get a better look at your fucked out expression, Nines took the opportunity to push into you, having removed anything that might get in the way of that a long time ago

You gasped immediately at the unexpected fullness that followed, and Connor could hardly restrain himself as Nines began thrusting in and out of you, hands on your ass as he set an absolutely brutal pace right from the get go.

"N-Nines!"

You cried out loud enough that Connor could hear you both through the call and through the bathroom door, making him immensely relieved to note that he was still muted, because he really wasn't sure how he could ever explain away the sound of his future wife getting fucked by her two other partners in the next room.

Nines chuckled darkly at your exclamation, and unbeknownst to Connor, pressed his thumb against your clit as he continued to take you fast and rough, quickly building you up to your orgasm with practiced skill, all while pushing himself straight to the edge as well.

"Fuck"

He hissed out between clenched teeth, hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises as he drove into you, savoring every little sound you made for him as he did so.

And then, he said something that nearly made Connor snap.

"Do you want me to come inside of you, little one? Fill you up the way that Connor always begs to? Would you like to feel it drip out of your aching cunt and down your thighs for hours to come?"

His voice was like gravel as he spoke, strained and broken up by the occasional grunt or curse, but even still, it provided Nines with the reaction he so desired.

You gave a sharp cry upon hearing those words leave his mouth, and immediately, Connor knew that you were coming, voice haggard and body quaking as Nines dragged your orgasm out of you ruthlessly, until finally, he too came with a groan, filling you with his artificial seed just as he'd promised he would.

And that imagined visual, of you dripping with Nines' come after he had said such filthy things to you, things that Connor had long since made clear he desired, had him sending Markus a brief message about some contrived emergency before he all but slammed his laptop shut, stalking towards the bathroom with a clear purpose in mind.

This was indeed going to be a very long 2 month engagement celebration for you, and Connor would make sure of that far beyond anything you'd ever experienced before.

masterlist

AO3

[silentsamlikesham]

Happy Birthday Zoro!!

I was meant to write several short fics today and instead I accidentally wrote this...enjoy!!

N.B: In Japan a birthday is generally spent with a significant other and you meet your friends/family on a day close to it (according to the Internet, I'm not Japanese). I used that idea in this fic for some miss communication! So yeah keep that idea in mind!

.........

A seagull flies tiredly towards the sight of land. It had taken weeks to fly this far into the Grand Line, its important letter pressed safely to it’s chest. It’d been paid handsomely for the journey. The two buffoon humans had given it very clear instructions to deliver the letter on this date exactly.

The bird’s sharp eyes scan the docks as the bird approaches closer to a large portside town. It spots the Jolly Rodger it’s been looking for and swoops to the deck, delighted to have a moment to rest its wings.

The deck is empty, much to the bird’s annoyance. It spots an open barrel of clear water though, and flaps over to it, drinking hungrily from it.

“Oi, bird.” Its eyes flick to a blonde-haired human stalking towards it. It pulls its beak from the barrel, happily sighing after hours of seeing only the seawater beneath it. “That’s for us, is it?”

It presses its chest forward, letting the human unclasp the string on the pouch and pull out the letter tucked inside.

“Eh? This isn’t the paper.” The curly eyebrows on the human’s face furrow as he inspects the envelope. 

Sanji does his best to read the smudged name on the front, but the characters have bled together too much to discern it.

“This definitely for us?” The bird stares at him before pointing its beak at the Jolly Rodger above them. Before Sanji could ask how much they owe the bird, it takes off, clearly satisfied with its job.

“Weird.” The cook mutters to himself as he returns to the galley. He’d been enjoying the peace of organising the pantry after they’d restocked it yesterday. Everyone was off the ship except for Franky who was up in the crow’s nest on watch. He must be tinkering with something though, seeing as he didn’t notice the messenger bird himself.

The rest of the crew had disembarked to explore the island. Last Sanji had seen them most of the crew had been heading to the centre of the town to explore. Except for the mosshead that Sanji had watched head the opposite direction, inevitably in the middle of getting lost.

Sanji grabs a small knife from one of galley’s drawers and neatly cuts the top of the envelope open. A small piece of paper rests inside along with some berri. Sanji lets the money tumble onto the counter, now even more confused. 

The slip of parchment is in much better shape than the envelope, but the handwriting is almost just as bad. The writer clearly didn’t have much experience in writing, but Sanji manages to read through it. His eyebrows raise as he takes in the words, slowly realising it’s meant for a certain green-headed idiot. It’s signed off by the two bounty hunters Sanji had met at Arlong Park, old friends of the Marimo. 

They’re wishing him a happy birthday, the date on the letter matching perfectly with the day itself. They must have sent it some time in advance for a seagull to get all the way here to them. 

It was the idiots birthday? He hadn’t said a damn word about it to them. He knew Sanji always cooked the crewmate’s favourite dish and dessert for the day. Nami probably would have given him extra money for a nice drink too, knowing how kind and wonderful the woman is. 

Sanji lights the cigarette hanging from his lips. Unless the moron didn’t want them to know. It’d be just like him to see something like a birthday as unimportant or being embarrassed by the attention. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as he takes a few drags, reading the warm message sent by the bounty hunters, telling him to buy a drink on them with the berri enclosed. Clearly, he had told them about the day, had celebrated it at least once before with them.

Sanji slams his fist angrily on the counter, not quite sure where the emotion comes from, but screw the Marimo. He isn’t getting out of celebrating his birthday just because he thinks it’s above him. He’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he’ll avoid Sanji’s wrath when it comes to making a birthday dinner. 

With his resolve solidified, Sanji begins piecing the ingredients together. He doesn’t realise it until he’s an hour into crafting the food, but he’s only making enough for two people. Well, he must go find the idiot. There’s no way Sanji will get the crew altogether at this point, and Zoro doesn’t have a chance of being back before midnight if he’s gone off on his own. As it stands, Sanji will be lucky to find him before nightfall. 

He packs the meal into a basket when it’s ready, carefully packing it so nothing will be smushed or ruined. He briefly thinks of bringing two glasses with him but decides to just pack a bottle of sake and wine, the oaf will happily swig from the bottles anyways.

He calls up to Franky when he finally disembarks, the sky is coloured pink behind the crow’s nest, and Sanji feels a tension inside him to hurry up. The engineer hollers a goodbye as he leaves, making his way down the same route the swordsman had gone hours before. There’s deep sand on most of the route, and Sanji can make out the fake indent of the only pair of footsteps that have taken the path today.

----------------------------------------------

He finds the swordsman just as it’s getting dark enough that Sanji’s cigarette is becoming a guide of sorts, helping him from tripping over rocks and roots. The Marimo is swinging his swords around, cutting lightly into the bark of trees as his body twists and his legs seem to float beneath him.

For everything that Sanji hates about the other, he’s a beautiful fighter. There’s a grace to his power, a purpose to his strength and an elegance to his footwork. Sanji watches him for a moment, almost forgetting about his reason for showing up. 

He’s soon brought back to the moment as Zoro catches sight of him in the corner of his vision. Of course, the idiot turns in his surprise and lunges forward, expecting the worst. Sanji easily kicks him out of his course to skewer the blonde. The mosshead isn’t expecting the kick and the darkness briefly confuses him as he stops his motion against a tree, coughing as the impact of the kick rattles his ribcage.

“Oi, what the fuck dart-brows?” He’s glaring at Sanji now, his pupils holding a glint from the flame of the cigarette. “Only way to land a hit is to sneak up on me?”

Sanji bites clean through his filter, letting his cigarette fall to the ground. 

“Maybe if your reactions weren’t as slow as a door, then you could have blocked it.”

“Eh? You want to say that to me again?” Zoro’s voice is dangerous as he marches forwards. 

He’s been training for hours, trying to work on quicker footwork rather than brute force. He’s tired, but also itching for a proper fight. He lunges at the cook, only being stopped as the blunt side of his katanas are blocked by a leg catching them in an X. 

Sanji barely moves an itch at the impact, one of his hands in his pocket, his body somehow almost perfectly upright despite the angle of the kick. Zoro will never understand how a man can be so flexible. 

“Watch it, idiot. If any of this goes to waste, I’ll kill you.” Zoro’s eye flick down to where Sanji briefly looks, only now noticing the basket handle he’s clutching. 

“What is it?” Zoro leans back, his swords falling by his side as he studies the woven basket. It’s one the cook usually brings onto an island for lunch when they eat out on the sand. Maybe he’s doing the rounds on the crew.

“Food, so put your swords away and wash your hands over there.” Sanji motions to a nearby stream, his nose wrinkling at the sight of how sweat covered Zoro is. The swordsman listens for once, rolling his eyes as he heads over to it. He’d argue more but suddenly his rumbling stomach is reminding him that he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He can always beat the cook’s face into the ground afterwards.

He uses the jumper he’d thrown off earlier to dry his face and hands after washing in the stream, and by the time he returns he’s met with quite the surprise. Sanji has sat himself down on a picnic blanket, he’s fussing over the layout of some rice balls on a plate. Rice balls, Zoro’s favourite thing to eat. Beside them is several plates of Zoro’s favourites food, most of them dishes he’d grown up eating. A nice bottle of Sake rests beside the empty side of the blanket, Sanji having a bottle of wine resting against his hip. Zoro feels like he’s accidentally walked into an alternative universe, maybe the forest is haunted, or this is some devil users influence.

“What the fuck, cook?” He stands over Sanji, his arms crossed as he deliberates unsheathing a sword or not. 

“What?” Sanji growls, staring up at him with his one uncovered eye. “You got a problem, Mosshead?”

Zoro squats down, getting close to Sanji’s face, studying the familiar bump of his nose, the curve of his brows, the sweep of his hair. Sanji freezes, finally looking as confused as Zoro. 

“You look like, Curley. Did you bang your head or something?” Zoro leans back on his heels.

Sanji is reeling, his lips still tingling from the tickle of breath that had ghosted over them when Zoro had spoken so close to him. He’s used to feeling breathless when they get that close, used to feeling a flush on his neck and a tightening in his gut, but usually it’s because he’s pissed off and about to unleash his best attacks. This isn’t that.

“Wha-What are you talking about?” Sanji shakes his head, trying to clear it.

“This.” Zoro waves at the blanket. “Why the fuck did you make all this? This is- well this is all stuff I like. You make this for the whole crew?”

Sanji breathes out a sigh of relief. Of course, the idiot is confused.

“I do this for everyone’s birthday, moron. Even yours.” He lights himself another cigarette, so he doesn’t have to look at Zoro’s reaction. 

Zoro stares at Sanji for a long uncomfortable silence. The cook made all this for him? He came out here with it prepared for just the two of them to enjoy together? Not the whole crew, not like usual, not really. This is different. He’s treating Zoro differently. He’s planned this for just the two of them…on Zoro’s birthday…

Zoro sits the other side of the plates, grabbing a rice ball and taking a bite out of it. As always, it tastes annoyingly good. Every flavour and texture exactly how Zoro likes it, the weirdo having studied him for the months they’ve been travelling together. Hold on-

“How did you know it was my birthday?” 

Sanji can feel the tick of annoyance on the back of his head. Of course, instead of giving any sign of enjoying the food or a compliment, the brute has to be suspicious. Instead of replying, Sanji grabs the slip of paper out of the inner pocket of his blazer and passes it over to Zoro, grabbing a rice ball for himself as his hand passes back over the picnic. He’s hungry too.

Zoro reads it while loudly chewing on another mouthful of food. Sanji tries to ignore how disgusting it is by studying the expression on Zoro’s face. The mosshead must feel him watching because he keeps his expression schooled, although his lips still perk up in the corners. He laughs a bit as he tucks it into his pocket. 

Zoro doesn’t say anything more about it. The two eat in silence for a while, Zoro making his way through the sake at a scary pace, before pawing at Sanji for some of his wine too. The cook allows him, for once, given it is his birthday. But when the sound of eating starts to die down, he can’t help but ask the question that’s been eating at him ever since he opened the letter.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone it’s your birthday?” 

Zoro wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the dribble of red wine from his lips. He’s messy about it though and his bottom lip still glistens a bit, the shine only lit by the moonlight that was breaking through the trees above them, and the one candle Sanji had lit so they could see what they were grabbing.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Zoro shrugs, eating the last of the fish to clean the final dish. “Plus, I didn’t want one of your shitty cakes.”

“Excuse me?” Sanji is genuinely floored by the comment. How dare the green haired idiot-

“They’re too sweet.” Zoro complains, playing with the hilt of his sword instead of saying it to Sanji’s face.

“No, you just hate sweet things.” Sanji huffs, putting some plates away in case he needs to lunge at the green-haired idiot to strangle him.

“And I wouldn’t make one for your birthday anyways, Marimo. I wouldn’t be the future pirate king’s cook if I was that bad at reading my crewmates tastes.”

Sanji feels his cheeks heat up as Zoro turns to him with a studying look, suddenly intrigued, or maybe impressed. 

“Although now I don’t think you deserve the dessert I did make.” Sanji folds his arms, not quite over the earlier insult. 

Zoro ignores the pout and reaches into the basket instead, Sanji watches him out of the corner of his eye. He can’t explain to himself why he’s suddenly so nervous about what Zoro will think of his choice of Birthday dessert. 

The swordsman pulls out a small tub of one of the few desserts he genuinely enjoys, one that he remembers eating every summer at the dojo, passing them out between his classmates. He picks up one of the warabi mochi like it’s delicate, like he might crush it before it makes it to his mouth. Sanji had only made the dessert once, and Zoro had complained about some aspects of it. He thought the cook would never bother to try it again.

This time, it’s perfect. An honest moan leaves Zoro’s mouth as he swallows, his tongue licking at some of the filling that was left on his lips. Sanji feels his whole face flush red at the sight. His heart is drumming in his chest now, his eyes flicking between Zoro’s eyes and his lips. He watches his Adam’s apple as he swallows the first piece. 

Sanji’s mouth dries up, his palms suddenly clammy. Zoro has never reacted so openly to anything Sanji has made for him. It unsettles him, it leaves him feeling warm and clumsy. He throws the bud of his smoked cigarette away and finds his fingers are shaking. 

“You made this today, just for my birthday?” Zoro’s voice is soft, a foreign tone to Sanji’s ears.

“Obviously, idiot.” Sanji looks away then, he can’t look weak. He can’t let the mosshead realise how sick he suddenly feels. He wants to run away, to forget that Zoro can be soft, that the two of them can sit like this.

He hears Zoro moving, can feel him getting closer on the blanket. But he doesn’t say a word. When Sanji turns his head to see what the fuck is going on, he feels Zoro’s hand as it grasps the back of his head. He stares at Zoro’s closed eyes as their lips meet. 

Sanji is pretty sure his heart stops. He feels winded as rough lips kiss him softly, as Zoro’s grip on the back of his neck is light, nothing like the way they usually grab one another. His lips taste like the syrup drizzled on the mochi and Sanji’s chef brain registers how it interacts with the dessert wine he’d brought with him, unintentionally matching the two so they form the perfect taste between their lips.

Sanji is breathless, his stomach now feeling like its own oven as a fire ignites. He can feel blood rushing south, his body reacting in a split second to something he hasn’t had since he left the Baratie, something he hasn’t had time to have. 

He’s enjoying it, getting lost in the other body that draws itself closer to him. It’s only when Sanji’s eyes flutter closed, when his lips match the rhythm of the ones against them, that his brain catches up to body.

This is Roronoa Zoro he’s kissing.

Sanji pushes against the Marimo’s chest, Zoro falling back on his hands as he stares confused at the reaction. As though Sanji is the crazy one. Sanji places two fingers to his lips, his expression horrified.

“What the fuck was that?” He screams, waving his hands around, not sure if he should be kicking the oaf or running as quick as he can back to the ship.

“What?” Zoro huffs, not moving away from the blonde but glaring down at the sand in front of them. He looks confused too, like he wasn’t expecting Sanji to question him.

“What? What? You just kissed me, Mosshead. What the fuck is that about?” Sanji realises he’s panting between his words. He’s pretty sure he’s going into shock from how quick his blood pressure has risen.

Zoro’s gaze whips to the blonde, feeling hurt that Sanji is making a big deal about this, as though the cook didn’t start it.

“People kiss on dates!” He throws back, defensive as he realises, he’s just been rejected.

Sanji can’t even process the words Zoro has just spoken.

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” Zoro goes to get up then, beyond embarrassed as he realises he’s spent the last half an hour misreading the situation entirely. Might as well make the rest of this as painless as possible to hopefully save face. 

“Wait, you stupid fucking moss for brains.” Sanji grapples at Zoro’s wrist, pulling him back onto the blanket before he can straighten up. The cook is panicking now, thinking back to everything he’d said since arriving, unsure where Zoro’s logic had jumped to thinking it was a date.

I mean, the situation was very date like, Sanji muses. But it’s Zoro and Sanji, having a picnic beneath the moon and stars isn’t a date, it’s a truce. 

Zoro looks furious now, his whole body is tense like a spring coiled to bounce. Sanji is starting to piece together the blush on the other’s face is genuine. Zoro thought it was a date. He kissed Sanji because he wanted to. He likes him.

The earth tilts beneath Sanji as he realises he’s not instantly disgusted. He stares at his own hand, anchoring Zoro in place. He clearly doesn’t want the swordsman to leave. Sanji doesn’t want this to be over. 

“Why did you think it’s a date?” He almost whispers the words, afraid he’s hallucinating. That Zoro is going to turn and ask him what the fuck he’s on about. 

“You- You made me a picnic for just the two of us…on my birthday.”

The sentence still doesn’t make the most sense to Sanji. He supposes, if he’d done it for a woman, maybe Sanji would see it as a possible first date. But the term first date and Zoro has no connection in his brain. It feels impossible that the two could be linked.

“I- I get that, baka. But- Well I- that doesn’t automatically mean it’s a date.” Sanji protests, letting Zoro slip his wrist away when he realises he’s not going to bolt. 

“Well, that’s what people do on their birthday.” Zoro grumbles, looking anywhere but at Sanji. “They spend it with someone they like.” 

He says the last word with a heavy emphasis so that it can’t be misunderstood. 

Sanji is at a loss. He’s never heard of such a thing.

“Marimo, I have no idea what you mean. Most people spend it with family and friends.”

Zoro looks at him then, with genuine surprise.

“Not where I come from.” He splutters, showing his embarrassment now as his face flushes bright red, even worse than before. “Couples spend it together, and then- then you spend it with friends on a different day.”

Zoro wants the ground to swallow him up. He can handle rejection, he can handle being wrong, but he hates that he didn’t realise what he was doing. He though Sanji had been the one to be vulnerable, to offer up a date the way he did. He’d been surprised by the blonde’s bravery about it, had accepted the silent confession and responded to it as confidently as he could muster.

He’s an idiot.

Sanji takes in the unfamiliar expression of regret on the other man’s face, and feels his chest tighten. He doesn’t want Zoro to regret this. Sanji doesn’t regret it. As the confusion lifts, Sanji properly accepts his own reaction. It’s…unexpected…but then again, everything is on the Grand Line. 

“Look Cook, just forget-”

It’s Zoro’s turn to be surprised by a hand grabbing his chin, by lips pressing onto his own and by the blonde that leans forward so close, Zoro could swear he was sitting on the swordsman’s lap.

“I was surprised, idiot. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” 

Zoro stares into Sanji’s eyes, their foreheads resting against one another as Sanji separates from the kiss long enough to speak.

“Well, you seemed fucking pissed off.” Zoro defends, muttering the words almost against Sanji’s lips.

Sanji sighs, Zoro scrunching up his nose at the sensation across his skin.

“That’s…fair.” Sanji feels Zoro’s arm wrap around his waist, he relaxes against the other man’s chest, a hand reaching up to caresses the side of Zoro’s face and run itself through his hair. 

Sanji lets out a chuckle.

“This feels like a dream.” He admits, suddenly wondering how much wine he drank. Maybe, this is a dream.

“I know.” Zoro agrees, his arm tightening it’s hold on Sanji. His other arm wraps under Sanji’s ass and tugs him up onto Zoro’s thighs. The position a lot more comfortable than sitting side by side.

Sanji laughs as he’s manhandled, not used to someone as strong as Zoro holding him in his arms. Strangely, it’s the least intimidated Sanji has ever felt in the presence of the other man.

“I don’t want to wake up.” Sanji confesses, his heart fluttering as he comes to terms with what’s happening. The brute can love, the brute can be soft and gentle and hold Sanji like he’s both diamond and glass. 

“You’re such a fucking sap.” Zoro groans, his cheeks pink from the words. “Just don’t say another fucking thing and kiss me already.”

Sanji laughs as he tightens his grip on Zoro’s head, pulling at the tufts of hair hard enough that Zoro lets out a hiss of pain. That the moss-head looks at him with the same eyes he uses before they fight. The electricity is there, static between them, as fiery as ever.

“Anything for the birthday boy.”

Sanji is right about his earlier prediction. Zoro doesn’t make it back to the ship before midnight. Although, it’s not for a reason he could ever have predicted. 

Instead, when midnight rolls around the pair of them lie on the picnic blanket, everything else packed away. They stare at the stars as they lie side by side, Sanji’s head resting on Zoro’s arm as they hold each other. 

Zoro stares at the blonde as Sanji points out constellations and tries to explain to Zoro how he can use them to not get so lost all the time. But the swordsman is not paying attention. Only one thought remains in his head now.

He has one hell of a thank you letter to write to his bounty hunter friends. 

[mint-yooxgi]

{1} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Yes, all 8 of them. Though, there’s a focus on two in particular rn)

Words: 4,238

Warnings: OC gets called a bitch once. Minor Violence. Minor blood and injuries mentioned. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is!! Chapter one to the start of that dragon series I was talking about a while ago!! I just got so inspired to start it tonight that I couldn’t contain my excitement. I have a lot planned for this series, but I’m not entirely sure when updates will be for this series, or how frequent they will be. Also, a friendly reminder that I do not do tag lists. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Mini Masterlist

The light of the setting sun casts warm hues of orange and red across the sky, darkness beginning to creep along the edges. A gentle breeze flits through, cooling the air as the leaves rustle all around, the mountains standing ominously in the distance. Faintly, the buzzing of beetles can be heard all around, birds chirping as they begin to sing their evening lullabies to their young, flitting between the branches above.

You let out a soft sigh, adjusting the basket held against your one hip.

Collecting herbs from the forest is no easy feat, especially when the marketplace isn’t as kind to trading items with you as of late. Everyone is tense, given the rise in sightings of the eight Hala dragons in the area. Sightings of which seem to be getting more frequent every day.

It’s only a matter of time before one or more of them finally raid your own village, plundering whatever they can in their quest for the crown. A crown of which is being fought for by the two main dragon clans of the realm. One of which being the Hala dragons, and the other being the Wolf Gang.

A puff of laughter escapes you as you think about the Wolf Gang now. How ironic for dragons to be named after wolves. They certainly act worse than them at times. At least, from what you’ve heard. They definitely give the hunters a hell of a time every encounter they have.

What a joke those hunters are. The ones in your village couldn’t hit the wide side of a lake with their horrible aim, let alone spot a dragon hiding amongst their midst. Though, you suppose they’re more for show at this point than anything.

So much for your protection.

There’s also been rumours floating around lately about a cloaked figure spotted around town. You’ve heard whispers of this supposed Shadow Demon lurking in the dark, but they don’t worry you so much. 

You’ve been on your own long enough to know how to take care of yourself. Besides, your father would kill you if you let anything bad happen to yourself, especially after everything he’s done to ensure your protection. You just need to be on the lookout for golden eyes staring at you through the dark. At least, that’s what the townsfolk have been warning you about.

Approaching the edge of the village, you let out another sigh. The side of the basket you have pressed against your hip digs into your skin, and you honestly cannot wait to get home for the evening. Tonight will be the first night in a week where you can just finally relax. No interruptions, just you and the final chapters of that book you’ve been attempting to finish.

Rounding the corner of one of the buildings, you notice most of the vendors packing up their stalls for the evening. The light from the setting sun is fading quickly, and most people know not to stay out passed dark. Not now, especially with the Hala dragons so close to home.

At least you can count on one person to always exchange goods with you, no matter how late it gets.

“Find anything good today?” Renjun quirks a brow as he lifts his head to meet your gaze. He had just been packing up the last bits of his supplies into his small wagon to take back home when he saw you approaching out of the corner of his eyes.

“Would you believe that the bloodroot I had found the other day is nearly all gone?” You place your basket on top of the wooden slab he has set up as a table across two wooden barrels. “I swear, someone else has been foraging in my backyard.”

His eyes flash in understanding as he walks over to the other side of the table. “Or it’s the wildlife taking over again.”

“Could be,” you hum, watching as he picks up a few stems from your basket. 

Renjun runs his fingers over the herbs delicately before nodding to himself. “You always manage to pick the finest ones.”

“It’s a gift.” You acknowledge knowingly, watching as he places the herbs back into your basket. “So, what have you got for me today.”

“Well, Harold swore he heard growling coming from the opposite side of the fjord last night. Claimed it to be the Hala’s and Wolves fighting again.” Renjun remarks casually. “A storm is supposed to roll in overnight and into the morning, Mark says he can sense it in his bones.”

“Did he say what kind of storm?” Your eyes follow Renjun as he pulls a separate basket back off of his cart, full of fruits and vegetables.

The heavy sound of the basket hitting the table greets your ears. “A big one. That’s all.”

You nod. “I see.”

“I would be careful, if I were you,” he continues, pushing the basket towards you. “Get home quickly before dark, lest you want another incident to occur.”

The knowing look he sends you has you chuckling lightly.

“Whatever do you mean, Junnie?” The smile you send him is nothing short of innocent as you trade off baskets for the evening.

“Information is never free, Jewel,” his eyes flash. “You know this.”

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, your demeanour changing in an instant before that calm smile is back on your face. “Well, like you said, I better get home. It is getting late.”

Renjun’s lips tighten into a thin line, silently dragging the basket with the herbs you’ve collected towards himself. “Be safe.”

“I always am,” the words fall almost like second nature from your lips as you begin to trek away from his stand for the evening. 

The basket of produce takes the place of the basket of herbs, your one arm wrapped securely around the wicker as you walk down the dirt path, and down the familiar road towards your little cottage on the side of town. Before you get home, however, you make sure to stop by the little fountain at the centre of town, leaving some apples for the children that gather there and ushering them home. The smiles you receive are worth it every time.

You still have one more stop to make before you can settle in for the evening, and you curse yourself for it nearly slipping your mind. Already, darkness blankets the sky, the stars beginning to twinkle above your head as the chill of the night settles over the land.

A shiver caresses your spine, and you know that you must hurry. Something is not quite right, and you do not want to be out when the inevitable happens.

That’s when you hear it. The unmistakable boom of the flapping of heavy wings.

A roar sounds in the distance, the first of the terrified screams reaching your ears as the alarm bells are rung. The constant clanging of the hammers on metal ring through your ears as you enter into the closest building that you can, which just so happens to be one of the many mess halls. A building you had been attempting to reach before this chaos started.

Nothing but darkness surrounds you, the lamps that usually illuminate the area already burnt or blown out.

Odd, considering you know Amy should have been the only one here during this time. She never misses your deliveries, especially not when she knows you’re trading with Renjun for the day. Then again, she did say her sister was supposed to be taking over for a few days. Who knows what Angela has done to the place.

“Amy?” You whisper, hoping she may be just hiding somewhere amongst the commotion happening outside. You can faintly hear the screams of the villagers, the roars becoming louder and more frequent as shouts of the hunters reach your ears. “Angela, are you there?”

You take a step forward, blinking despite the darkness surrounding you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you swear you see a shadow move.

“Is anyone here?” Your voice is small, so as not to alert anyone to attack you in case they think you are an enemy of some sort.

A floorboard creaks behind you.

“Hello?” You whip around, sure you’ll be coming face to face with one of the girls behind you.

Only, when you turn around, no one is there.

That’s when you feel it. The unmistakable press of claws at your throat.

You drop your basket of produce.

The moment your lips part and a choked gasp is escaping you, the claws at your throat begin to dig into your flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to serve as a warning.

“Scream, and I’ll tear your throat out in an instant,” the voice is low, and unmistakably male as his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You begin to shake, whole body trembling as you feel his body heat beginning to radiate against your back.

“Please,” you keep your own tone steady, reasoning with the dragon in human form who stands behind you at this very moment. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” He chuckles, clearly amused by your choice of words. “And why wouldn’t I want to do this?”

“Because,” you exhale a low breath, closing your eyes only briefly before they’re flashing open, glinting in the dark. In the next second, you’ve pulled out your hidden dagger, flipping your positions so that you’re now pinning the dragon to the wall, blade pressing into his throat. His skin begins to hiss beneath where the knife makes contact. “Touch me again, and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

The arm you have pressed against his chest is firm, and the shock is clear on his face. Those dark brown eyes flash a golden amber in the dark, a snarl tugging at his lips as he scowls at you.

“Ah-ah,” you tut, pressing the blade firmer into his skin as you see his fingers twitching, claws still on full display at his sides. “One small nick from this, and you’ll be dead in minutes.”

A growl is all you receive in response.

You tut, shaking your head. “And you made me drop all of my produce, too.”

“I think you have more important things to be worrying about,” he replies, swallowing a bit thickly as his skin burns beneath the blade you still have pressed against his throat.

“Do I, now?” You quirk a brow. “You overgrown reptiles usually travel in packs, yet you seem to be all alone. Why?”

“I don’t have to answer to you.” He spits, pressing himself further against the wall you have him pinned to.

“No,” you hum. “I suppose not.”

“You stupid hunters and your stupid-“

Your nostrils flare, “don’t you ever dare compare me to the likes of them again.”

“What? Don’t like being called out for the scum you are?” He nearly scoffs. “You’re the worst of the worst, huntress.”

“Still good enough to pin you,” you counter.

Fine. If this bastard wants to believe you’re one of those good for nothing hunters, let him. You’re in control here, anyways.

In a flash, he’s swatted your dagger away, switching your positions so you’re now the one pinned to the wall with his claws back at you’re throat.

“Who’s pinning who now, huntress?” He grins maniacally, digging his nails that much firmer into your neck.

This time, it’s your turn to scowl, gritting your teeth in frustration as a smug look washes over his features.

“You know, I would have believed you more if you had started pleading for your life the moment you got caught,” he tilts his head almost mockingly at you. “I might have let you go, then.”

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes, grabbing his wrist in your one hand as you move to knee him in the groin.

The moment he hunches over in pain, you’re swiping his feet out from under him. A second later, and you’ve rolled across the floor. Grabbing your dagger once more in your hand, you have him pinned beneath you with your blade at his throat yet again.

“I thought you’d kill me if I touched you again?” His voice comes out a bit strained, chest heaving as his skin hisses beneath your dagger.

“Answer my original question and I might let you live.” You turn his own words back on him.

His brow twitches slightly in amusement. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you? Taking on a Hala dragon like this?”

“A Hala dragon? Where?” This time, it’s your turn to tilt your head almost mockingly at him in response. “All I see is a little boy meddling in affairs he has no business getting into.”

The snarl he releases is nothing short of feral as his eyes flash at you once more, pupils narrowing into slits as he absolutely glares at you.

“Real charmer, aren’t you, huntress?” He manages to get out through gritted teeth, his jaw twitching in tandem.

“Overgrown lizards that talk a big talk are more often than not compensating for something, sweetheart,” you hum mockingly, a malicious grin tugging at your lips.

“You’re fucking annoying, you know that?” He hisses, wiggling slightly beneath your hold as he attempts to free himself to no avail.

“I’ve been called worse,” you shrug, nonchalantly. “Now, answer my question.”

The man remains quiet only for a moment longer as he seems to be contemplating whether or not he actually wants to respond to you. At the way he lets out a long exhale through his nose, you believe he’s chosen wisely.

“I’m not alone, we just each took a different corner of town,” he responds. “Our youngest was adamant about retrieving someone by himself while we gathered supplies.”

“Why our village?” You press.

“It was the next on our stop.” He replies. “Plus, the only town that our youngest seemed to care about.”

Your mind begins reeling. “He imprint or something?”

“You seem to know a lot about us for someone who’s not a hunter.” He counters.

“Just answer the damn question, you overgrown lizard.” You shift the blade slightly over his neck, noticing how his eyes dart down towards it nervously in the next second.

“You could say that.” He mumbles.

“Who?” You seethe, your need to protect the town and its inhabitants skyrocketing as his words settle over you.

“What’s it to you?” His eyes narrow.

“Watch it, or my hand might just slip,” you threaten, tightening your hold over him as your body rests over his own for the time being.

Again, his eyes dart down to the blade pressed against his throat, skin bright red and irritated beneath the metal.

“I don’t know her name.” He voices lowly.

Your brow quirks, tilting your head at him in disbelief.

“I swear I don’t!” He’s quick to add. “I don’t even know what she looks like. He’s been adamant on us not interfering with her since they met. I don’t even think she knows who he is, or what he is. He’s the only one of us that can actually hide it well.”

“Oh?” The corner of your lips twitch upwards. “Thanks for the information, you sure have a lot to give.”

He scowls briefly, before he manages to steel his features. “You sure are confident I’m not feeding you false information.”

“You sure do like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?” You huff out a dry laugh.

“You sure have a lot of confidence for a human.” He counters, fangs glinting beneath the light of the moon.

“Human, huh?” You smirk, nodding subtly along with his words. Then, your gaze is sharpening, eyes narrowing as you lean in as close as you dare to his face to whisper lowly in his ear. “Get the hell out of my village and never come back. Take your little friends with you, too.”

In the blink of an eye, you’ve stood off of him, fixing your cloak which had gotten dishevelled in your tussle with him on the floor. A second later, and your back is to him as you walk towards the door, stepping over your discarded produce without another thought.

“If I ever see you here again,” you spare a glance at him from over your shoulder as you watch him stand back to his feet. “I won’t be so kind.”

Just as you go to reach for the door handle, you sense him moving behind you. You manage to duck just in time to avoid the swipe of his claws aimed at your head, hearing the scraping of them against the wood of the door as splinters rains down above you.

Your body moves instantly, the steps almost second nature as you spin around, brandishing your dagger on the offensive. Two moves later, and you’ve sliced a deep gash across the side of his ribs, hearing how his breathing immediately becomes laboured as he drops to his knees.

“You bitch,” he seethes, glaring up at you as he desperately holds onto his bleeding side, attempting to stunt the flow of blood in any way he can.

“I warned you,” you sheathe your dagger, backing away from him slowly. “You’ve got minutes little boy. I hope your friends are close by.”

Without another word, you’re escaping into the night, blending into the chaos that greets you outside of the door.

A scowl rests on his features as he collapses to the floor, voice desperately calling out to his brothers in his mind for aid. The last thing he sees before his vision begins going black at the edges is the flow of your cloak as you fade into the crowd.

Not even five minutes later, and you’re bursting through the front door to your little cottage, slamming the wood shut behind you. Your breathing comes in jagged pants as you attempt to catch your breath, eyes darting around the area to make sure no one has broken in in the panic still occurring outside of your house.

That’s when you sense another presence with you.

Slowly, you begin creeping towards the back of your house, pulling out your dagger once more.

“Hello?” You call out, voice shaking as your eyes dart around the room, attempting to find the presence lingering at the edge of your senses. “Who’s there?”

Reaching your kitchen, you notice the backdoor has been left wide open. Carefully, you creep over and close the door, blocking off the exit for whoever decided to invade your home during this time. They’re not leaving here alive, that’s for sure.

A thud coming from behind you catches your attention, a low curse escaping whoever it is in the next second.

Your brow furrows. “Jongho? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he replies, though his voice sounds a bit strained.

A minute later, and after hiding your dagger once more, you’ve managed to light an oil lamp. The light allows you to now see him rubbing the side of his hip as his face is contorted in a grimace of pain.

“What are you doing here?” Your brow furrows, walking over to check on him almost immediately.

“I came to check on you.” His reply is instant, almost forgetting about his injury as you come to stand before him. His hands find purchase on your arms as his worried filled gaze flits over every inch of your torso. “As soon as I heard the alarm sound, I came running.”

The way his nostrils flare as he pulls you the slightest bit closer does not go unnoticed by you. If you didn’t know any better, he almost looks annoyed for a second before that concern is taking over his features once more.

“I’m fine.” You reply, shrugging his grip off of you and taking a step away from him. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be better once we get out of here,” he says, reaching for you again. Only, the way you avoid his grip has his brow furrowing. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Why?” You tilt your head almost innocently at him. “You know I’m safe here. It already sounds like the worst of it is over.”

“You don’t know that.” He grimaces slightly.

“And you do?” You raise a brow questioningly at him. “I get you’re worried for me, but really, I can take care of myself. I have been for a long time. Even before I met you.”

You swear you hear a low growl on the wind.

He takes a step closer, managing to grab your hand lightly in his own this time.

“If you let me, you wouldn’t have to be alone anymore,” Jongho’s voice is low, nothing more than a mere rumble as he brushes his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand.

“Jongho, you sure are acting strange tonight.” You reply, somewhat warily. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I-“

Before you have time to react, you sense three more presences rushing towards your back door. Instantly, Jongho has pulled you into his arms as the wood flies off its hinges, three males rushing into your kitchen. One of whom you recognize.

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t wait any longer.” The gruff voice of a male with bright yellow hair, the tips a vibrant red, reaches your ears as he supports another familiar male between himself and another male with chestnut hair that’s shorter in the front, but longer in the back.

“I told you not to interrupt.” Jongho seethes, pressing you firmer into his side as he holds you to him protectively.

Two more males follow behind, one holding bloodroot in his hands while the other carries some honeysuckle. Each wear worried expressions on their faces, watching as the first two males lift the one held between them onto your counter.

The flapping of wings can be heard outside before two more males are rushing into your house a moment later.

Thunder booms overheard, rain beginning to dance across your rooftop.

Your heart pounds within your chest as your eyes widen at the eight males now having invaded your home. In an instant, you elbow Jongho in the chest, slipping out of his arms as you draw your dagger in front of you for protection once more.

“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?” Your eyes dart between each male, making sure to now keep your distance from Jongho all the while.

“Did you not tell her yet?” One of the males with sharp eyes, and what appears to be a birthmark beside his left eye, turns his gaze towards Jongho, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I didn’t get a chance to before you all came bursting in.” Jongho’s eyes narrow in response, jaw clenched in annoyance. “I told you to wait.”

“We can’t get the bleeding to stop.” The one holding the honeysuckle says, placing some in his mouth to begin chewing the plant into a paste to apply to the wound.

“He’d fading,” the other holding the bloodroot adds. “Fast.”

“We remembered you saying something about her being good with herbs and tonics.” The one with the longer chestnut hair says, eyes briefly darting towards you.

A strained cough is heard from the male on top of your counter. “Oh, she’s good alright.”

All heads are turning towards the male as his chest heaves with every breath. A sheen of sweat lines every free inch of his skin, his flesh getting paler and paler with each passing second.

“Hello, huntress.” The male grins, gaze meeting yours for only a second before he becomes too weak to continue holding his head up.

All heads now turn towards you.

“You did this to him?” The tallest one standing off to the side says this, voice both a little incredulous and accusatory.

“So, that’s why you smelt like him,” Jongho mumbles, a furrow to his brow.

Your eyes widen with an unrivalled fury as you round on Jongho, the injured male’s words from earlier about their youngest ringing through your ears.

“You’ve been lying to me.” You keep your tone low, grip tightening on the blade still held in your hand.

Lightning flashes, thunder crashing above.

“I know you’re probably scared right now-“

“Scared?” You cut Jongho off. “Oh, no. I’m furious.”

“Listen, you can have your little lovers spat later,” the one with the bright locks akin to a flame cuts in. “Seonghwa is dying and we need you to heal him.”

“Who said I was going to help you?” You huff out a breath, straightening slightly in your spot.

Seven low growls reach your ears, and you almost let a threatening one of your own slip passed your lips.

“Who said you had a choice?” The one with the birthmark quirks a brow, turning his piercing gaze towards you.

This time, you cannot contain the way your eyes flash at all of them in response, the golden hue lighting up the room along with the next spark of lighting.

A sharp inhale is heard from all of them, shoulders tensing as you mentally curse yourself for losing control, even if only for a brief moment.

Jongho’s lips curl over his teeth. “Looks like I’m not the only one who has been keeping secrets.”

[lalune9x]

SCTIR Translation - Chapter 400: Sunset (4)

"Your other self said the world would be better off if Sung Hyunje disappeared. What do you think about that?" "What do you think, Han Yoojin-gun?"

Chapter translation under the cut.

Story context: Yoojin met the dungeon version of Sung Hyunje in the preceding chapters and received a prophecy from the Star-Counting Bird about Sung Hyunje's fate.

---

[1:04:55 until sunset]

Three more attacks occurred within about twenty minutes. Almost all the nearby hunters had gathered, but there was still no sign of Noah or Song Taewon. I was starting to get worried. Both of them were experienced S-rank hunters, but there were also SS-rank hunters and monsters here. Although they couldn’t leave their designated areas, making escape easier, there was still a chance that something could have gone wrong.

However, with so little time left before sunset, I couldn’t afford to go searching for them.

"Leave it to us," Yerim insisted.

"Yeah, yeah! We’re really good at running away!" Yoon Yoon chimed in. The Newbie had mentioned in a message that those with teleportation or spatial movement abilities should be fine after sunset, but still...

"Make sure you’re back before sunset. If you’re not, I’ll come looking for you."

"You, Ajussi? That’s too dangerous!" Yerim protested.

"That’s why you need to come back on time. Promise me. Don’t go too far, and stick together. Don’t hesitate to use long-range teleportation if necessary."

The only reason I could send them off was because they had the benefit of long-range teleportation. I’m counting on you, Yoon Yoon.

"I promise. You should go back to the hotel and rest, Ajussi. Make sure you eat something for dinner too," Yerim urged.

"We’ll be back, Captain Kim! Little Kim, let’s check if there are any hamburgers left."

"They’re probably cold by now," Yerim commented as she and Yoon Yoon disappeared into thin air. The two of them seemed to get along quite well. Surely the "great person" Yerim mentioned earlier wasn’t Yoon Yoon from the future, right? Although Yoon Yoon did save countless people, I couldn’t picture him advising Yerim to study hard.

In case Noah or Song Taewon showed up late, I decided to leave a note at the Gangnam Station Exit 1. Of course, it wasn’t going to be in Korean.

"Do you know how to write in French, Sung Hyunje-ssi? I think we should leave a note for Noah in French."

How many hunters out there even knew French? Just writing down the hotel name and some directions should be enough.

"As for Song Taewon, well..."

"There’s a code we use," Sung Hyunje said.

"You have a code?"

Did that mean Sung Hyunje had dragged Director Song through enough trouble that they needed one? Anyway, we left notes in places both of them could find.

"Alright, let’s head to the hotel..." I said.

But the roads were in terrible condition. The motorcycle wasn’t an option.

"Yoohyun, you carry that guy," I said.

"I have two arms," Yoohyun argued.

"I know, but it’d be inconvenient for you. There might still be some hunters lurking around."

Reluctantly, Yoohyun picked up my pre-regression self. My other self, not used to being carried, awkwardly lowered his head in embarrassment. Seeing that made me feel a twinge of self-consciousness. I had gotten way too comfortable with being carried around. Maybe I should start feeling a little embarrassed too.

Although my other self had higher stats, he didn’t have any damage-nullifying items, so Yoohyun took the lead in front of us. Even an S-rank hunter was more vulnerable to attacks from behind. It also helped that Sung Hyunje had combat foresight.

But I wondered, would Grace recognize my other self as a contractor too? It seemed to recognize Yoohyun and Sung Hyunje as the same people.

"Unfortunately, I don’t have many answers," Sung Hyunje, who was holding me, spoke as he picked up on my thoughts.

"It’s been a while since we entered the dungeon. What have you been doing in that time? Where did you end up?"

"As I assumed," Sung Hyunje said with a hint of displeasure. "It seems I was unconscious for quite a while."

"What? But why...?" I began, then stopped as a thought struck me. The dungeon version of Sung Hyunje... That version of him was likely linked to this Sung Hyunje, just like how me and my other self were strongly connected. However, unlike me, the pre-regression Sung Hyunje wasn’t in a normal state.

Bound by the chains of the Crescent Moon, possessing a power so overwhelming that even Young Chaos had been taken aback. Could the current Sung Hyunje have lost consciousness under the weight of that other self? If two identical people existed, and one was vastly stronger... could one end up absorbing or merging with the other?

"Does my partner know something?" Sung Hyunje asked.

"Well, uh… kind of."

"I saw Song Taewon’s grave.”

So, he was there. Sung Hyunje leaped gracefully over a collapsed building. Moving as if gravity didn’t apply to him, he weaved us effortlessly through the rubble.

"The guild building was a wreck, too," he remarked.

"...Did you go inside?" I asked.

"The area was sealed off, wasn’t it?" he replied, his golden eyes looking down at me. The way he looked at me made it clear he already had a pretty good idea of what had happened.

"You must’ve met me there," he said.

"You were pretty insufferable."

Sung Hyunje laughed. "Should I apologize?"

"Your hospitality was terrible, but I’ll let it slide this time."

"To make up for it, I’ll extend you an invitation. You’ll be my first guest, Han Yoojin-gun."

"At your new house? Did the move go well? Not that you had much to bring over."

Since everything had been destroyed… poor fish.

"You probably already figured it out, but this is what I wanted to tell you. All of this," I said.

"I don’t know what you mean," Sung Hyunje replied shamelessly. "As I’m still waiting."

As if he didn’t already know. But maybe this was his way of being considerate. 

I called out to Yoohyun, who was up ahead. "We’ll stop by the supermarket! You go ahead and make sure it’s safe at the hotel!"

"But, hyung..."

"Anything else you need besides ingredients for the seaweed soup?"

My other self in Yoohyun’s arms shook his head, still looking embarrassed. He kept acting like that, so now I was starting to feel embarrassed too. This situation would probably look hilarious to anyone watching.

With Yoohyun and my past self heading to the hotel first, I entered the nearest supermarket with Sung Hyunje. We smashed the locked glass door and stepped into the empty store.

"You’ve never pushed a shopping cart before, have you? Careful, you might get information overload again."

"You think I’ve never bought groceries before?"

Sung Hyunje took the shopping cart I pulled out and pushed it forward. He looked out of place yet somehow also like he was filming a commercial.

"If you’ve ever done groceries, it was probably at a department store, with a VVIP attendant pushing the cart. I can imagine that."

"This might be my first time," he admitted.

"In any world," I added.

He didn’t even have friends or a lover... I should probably be a bit nicer to him. Honestly, who wouldn’t develop a bad personality after being dragged around like that? Even a saint would have their limits.

"Seaweed soup is best with beef. I also like the kind with rice cakes. There was a lady who ran a side dish shop that made amazing beef and rice cake seaweed soup. Do you think she might be the same one who works at the Breaker Guild?"

I grabbed an umbrella to use as a walking stick and headed for the butcher section first. The lights were out, so I was worried the meat might’ve spoiled, but the chill was still seeping out from the coolers. After all, this dungeon hadn’t formed that long ago. Even without power, the fridge would stay cold for a while as long as the door hadn’t been opened.

I picked out the best Korean beef for soup, since it was all free. Maybe I should grab some for grilling too.

"Since it’s all free, even Director Song will eat it, right? Though raw beef might be pushing it."

With so many mouths to feed, all with big appetites, I loaded up the cart with top-grade beef cuts. I wondered if the gas and electricity were still working at the hotel. With Yoohyun and Sung Hyunje there, cooking it shouldn’t be a problem. I also grabbed some lettuce for wraps, garlic since Yerim likes it, mushrooms, and… is there no kimchi here? Also cola—actually no, every hotel room has drinks. While they’re usually not free, right now they would be.

I also grabbed a small bag of rice. Red bean rice would be nice, but it takes too long to soak the beans. At least seaweed soaks quickly. I picked the most expensive one and grabbed some seasonings, just in case the hotel didn’t have any.

"The seafood tank’s still working. Putting abalone in beef soup might be overkill, though. Should I grill it instead? How about a lobster? Director Song likes sashimi, right? But slicing fish for sashimi might be too hard."

"I can easily handle the sashimi."

"Seriously, is there anything you can’t do? Anyway, it’s all free!"

When else would I have the chance to feed Director Song such expensive food? I took out a fresh lobster, then another one. Yerim liked things like this too, though she preferred meat. Noah also liked sashimi, surprisingly. I grabbed some abalone, shrimp, and fish—wait, never mind the fish. I took some vinegar, soy sauce, and wasabi too.

The hotel probably had plenty of fruit for dessert. They likely had meat too, but you never knew the quality. Might as well feed them the best Korean beef while I had the chance. Do they label it properly here?

There was a sudden shout. 

"Thieves in the supermarket! Wait, Han Yoojin? Have you resorted to theft now—"

Bang! A bullet whizzed by, narrowly missing the head of a babbling hunter. Not because I missed, but because he dodged well. Guess he’s of a higher rank.

"You little—"

The hunter who had been cursing stopped in his tracks when he saw the man pushing the shopping cart. The guild leader of Sesung casually pulled a pair of kitchen scissors from a display rack and tossed it at the hunter. Thunk. Thud. Correction, must be a low-rank hunter. Even if an S-Rank throws it, those are still just kitchen scissors.

"My reputation was pretty bad," I said, rifling through the snack aisle. "As you probably guessed, I regressed to the past. I used to be thirty years old!"

"So it’s true," he mused.

"What do you mean, ‘so it’s true’? And you, Sung Hyunje-ssi, you disappeared before the regression. Claimed you were raising sheep in the Alps."

"And Song Taewon-ssi died."

"Yes. You said you saw his grave? It was something you forced into place."

"Was it because of me?" he asked.

"No idea. There must be a connection, but your other self wouldn’t tell me the details. And as for you, you were apparently just waiting for the day the Crescent Moon would take you."

"I see," he said, as if we were talking about someone else entirely. I tossed a snack bag into the cart and looked at him.

"Your other self said the world would be better off if Sung Hyunje disappeared. What do you think about that?"

"What do you think, Han Yoojin-gun?"

"Well..."

No matter who asked, my answer would always be the same. Whether it was Sung Hyunje or anyone else.

"I’m tired of losing people, and I’m not the type to give up easily. ‘Oh, I guess I can’t help it. Let’s part ways here. See you in the afterlife~?’ I don’t think I can say that."

"Even if I say I’m giving up?"

"Then I’d curse at you. What about your S-Rank dignity? Even an F-Rank is fighting hard, so who do you think you are, giving up? If you’re going to do that, hand over your rank to me. Now that I think about it, I’m getting angry. If I collapse first, then you can give up!"

If you’re living well, bragging about being high-rank, then live up to it. I can't stand to see you giving up before I do, if only because it pisses me off.

"Besides, you made me a promise. That you would stay as you are. Your pre-regression self didn’t promise me that, so whatever. But you did. Since we’ve already gotten to this point, you have to see it through with me to the end."

"I wouldn’t dare throw the first stone, out of fear of Han Yoojin-gun."

What stones—oh, does he mean Baduk? The more I looked at his relaxed smile, the more I was reminded of the Sung Hyunje in the collapsed building. I really didn’t want to see him like that again. Tangled up like he’d been caught in a spiderweb… It didn’t suit him at all.

But how could we stop the Crescent Moon? It made sense why the pre-regression Seong Hyunje had lost hope after losing Song Taewon. Was there any escape other than death?

"Was my situation really that pitiful?" Sung Hyunje asked.

"The only person who can kill Sung Hyunje is Director Song Taewon," I replied. I didn’t bring up what had been said about me. It was too vague a prophecy, and I honestly couldn’t see how I could play a part in it. "That’s why you once said you would treat him well. An older version of you from some other world."

"I am treating him well," he said.

Sure you are. We pushed the cart through the checkout without bothering to bag anything. There was too much stuff, so we just wheeled the cart out of the market. The sound of the wheels rolling was oddly cheerful.

"Stop trying to mess around with me. I’ve already been hurt enough," I said.

I gave Sung Hyunje a filtered version of what had happened before the regression.

"I was sincere, you know," he said.

"And I said I don’t need it."

"Even so, it’s not good for the two of you to stay close."

Chains clinked as they lashed out, skewering a hunter who had been sneaking up on us. I thought we’d wiped out most of them, but there were still a few trickling in. I guess it would take a while for mid-rank hunters to reach us on foot.

"Aren’t you already pushing your pre-regression self away, insisting that he’s different from you?" he continued.

"What? No, I’m not."

"It’s instinctual. If you’re the same person, you feel like your place is being threatened. There’s only room for one Han Yoojin."

Two can’t fit in the same spot. If they try, they’ll have to split that spot—either evenly or unevenly. That’s what Sung Hyunje meant.

"To protect Han Yoojin, you need to create a completely new place for one of you. Even if you can live on your own, it’s better to keep your places separate."

"…You’re not just making excuses to take me away, are you? Actually, earlier, you seemed awfully eager to take the other me with you. Are you saying one is enough for you, no matter which it is? You might end up with another business partner."

"I only have one partner," he said.

You sure talk smoothly.

"But I’ll admit, I do want to nurture him. It’s no longer possible with my current partner, so I confess I’m a little excited."

He really does have a hobby of raising people, doesn’t he? Considering Sung Hyunje’s personality, my pre-regression self would definitely spark his curiosity. It’s not every day you get the chance to nurture the same person in a completely different way. Especially someone who already rejected him. Though my other self had turned him down too.

"Oh, the lights are on at the hotel," I observed.

In the increasingly dark street, I could see the lights shining through the lobby’s glass doors. Maybe the Newbie had managed to get the power on. If the others returned safely, it looked like we could spend the night comfortably.

[writing-positivelyexisting]

Giving The Bad Batch Nicknames

The Bad Batch/Reader. Headcanons. | writing-positivelyexisting🫧

Hunter

“Hunter-bear”

The obscurity of ‘bear’ throws him off and he’s definitely going to ask why you said it.

“It rhymes, it’s fitting, and it’s cute. Better than ‘babe’, yeah?”

Despite not knowing where that nickname came from, Hunter eventually grows to love it. It’s so endearing to him that you came up with a nickname just for him.

The little name had grown on him so much that one time you didn’t say it, you just said his name, his heart sank and his eyes looked at you with so much concern and guilt. He thought he had wronged you in some way and didn’t think twice to make it up to you.

Flowers, a night out on the town, a cute dinner, a full body massage, anything you even LOOKED AT with interest he bought for you.

When you asked why the sudden flash of romance, he said, “You didn’t say ‘bear’ after my name and I thought you were upset with me. You always call me ‘Hunter-bear’.” He had the saddest puppy eyes and little frown you seriously thought he would shed a tear or two.

You got a good laugh in that day, realizing this nickname really stuck with him. You explained that you weren’t mad and it was an accident. “But, I might keep making the same mistake if this is what it gets me,” you joked.

Echo

“Echo-bird”

The funny look you got from the man almost took the breath out of you. He seemed so confused and a little annoyed, asking why ‘bird’ was necessary.

“Your name is Echo and some birds are known to repeat back phrases and words. It’s fitting,” you laughed softly.

Echo rolled his eyes and huffed. He thought he was through with the echo-jokes. “Oh great.”Then again … it reminded him of his old team.

The first few times you said it, Echo would look at you with a stern gaze. Kind of like when a mother looks at her child, silently saying “watch it”. However, the more you called him Echo-bird the more he felt his body relax.

Your nickname had become one of the most precious things to him. You always seemed to know when to use it, too. When the mission was stressful, causing his mind to cloud with doubt you’d say his nickname in such a calm, sweet, and soft whisper. Your hands would always touch him when you said it, getting his full attention.

More often, now, each time you’d call him by his nickname he would hug you so close to him. It always put a smile on your face when he’d bury his in your hair or in the little nook of your neck.

What you couldn’t see when he did that is the biggest smile with tears threatening to fall behind his lashes. While it hurt to remember his old squad, it felt so much better to know they never really went away.

Wrecker

“Dear”

It’s simple. It’s sweet. And he absolutely loves it.

Wrecker doesn’t question it. He was all smiles and laughs when you first said it.

He picked you up in a hug, telling you to use that all the time. And you did.

“Wrecker, dear, can you help me for a second?”

“My dear, could you grab that for me?”

It fills the guy with so many butterflies and completely melts his heart. Anytime you called him “dear” he would stop what he was doing to help you.

When you can, you kiss his cheek and say “Thank you, dear.” This is the one that gets you lucky.

“Come here, you!” It would be a very short chase full of laughs and squeals.

Sometimes the other guys will joke around, mimicking your voice and calling him by his nickname when you’re not around just to see him lose his cool for a little. (Even Tech would chime in with a logical jest sometimes).

You only caught them poking fun once and it was the last time you heard the jokes.

“You boys better watch yourselves. Just because you don’t have someone to make you feel all warm and good inside doesn’t mean you gotta poke fun at the one who does.”

Wrecker stood behind you, arms crossed, with the biggest “what she said” look on his face.

The men looked everywhere but you two in shame, muttering apologies.

Tech

“Boyfriend” / “Husband”

This man is IN LOVE with the title.

You said it first when you introduced him to a friend. “This is my boyfriend/husband, Tech.”

It sent a tingle through his body and scratched an itch he didn’t even realize he had. It cracked a smile on his lips and it stayed for the whole day.

He requested that you called him by his title regularly and he would call you by your title, too. It made you giggle but of course you agreed with Tech, who wouldn’t?

“Oh, boyfriend/husband!” “Yes, girlfriend/wife?”

“Boyfriend/Husband, what do you think about this for the Marauder?” “Absolutely brilliant, girlfriend/wife.”

Being called boyfriend/husband made this man feel so important and loved. It was definitely an ego boost for him, but you didn’t mind it.

When you two were alone, doing whatever or nothing, you would touch his face so lovingly and say, “My handsome boyfriend/husband.”

Tech would lean into your touch with the softest of smiles, mimicking your actions. “My beautiful girlfriend/wife.”

Crosshair

“Darling”

A classical nickname. Sleek and dark. It suited him well.

It sent a dangerous shiver down his back when you first said it. Crosshair was quick to whip back around to you, a stern pointer finger in your face.

“Don’t say that.”

You swallowed, feeling maybe he didn’t enjoy being called that but you searched his eyes and found skittish curiosity.

It just wasn’t his normal, but you got him to accept it. Through rigorous perseverance of calling him “darling”.

“Crosshair, darling, could you come here?”

“Stop cleaning your rifle and come to bed, darling.”

The nickname soon became a beaconing and Crosshair would come to your side and assist you with whatever you needed.

At some point, he started using it for you as well. It was always subtle, too. Never using a loud voice, always sounding like a grumble.

“Focus, darling.”

“Here you go, darling.”

And of course, once he was comfortable with it, he started using it as a form of teasing in the bedroom.

I had this thought while on a road trip this past weekend and it’s probably the cutest thing I’ll ever write.

[litfeathers]

Before Hunter's Palisman Observations... Before Lilith's Letter... Before Luz's Diary Entry...

A witch's quill scratches on paper, her eyebrows furrowing in thought as she fills a well-worn book with her thoughts and desires and fears.

She smiles at the yellow bird who is fast asleep on her extra pillow, and with a snap of her fingers extinguishes the light spells that had been illuminating her cozy bedroom.

She sleeps.

She dreams…

She dreams of a strange world. A world without magic. A harsh world of rules, and penance, and fear.

A man stands in front of a bonfire, the glow of the firelight dancing on his wild blond hair. He is surrounded by a screaming crowd, torches and pitchforks and fists waving in the air.

"No," she begs. "No, no, no, no."

She calls his name over the cacophony of violent chanting, her voice muffled by the roar of the growing conflagration.

He turns.

She screams.

Blood. Smoke. Fire. The flash of a knife. It all happens too fast.

He is gone.

...and she wakes up.

Welcome to Evelyn's Journal.

Credits: -The phenomenal cover art was drawn by the absolute legend @bananadramaaa. Thank you so much for your help! -The script and Evelyn's voice were written and recorded by Birdie (that's me!) -It's probably pretty obvious, but this project was directly inspired by the audio recordings a few of TOH's VAs did for one of Dana's charity livestreams. Look them up if you have never heard them. They are fantastic!

The audio and script will also be available at AO3 on (or some time after) Sunday, March 26th. You may find it at litfeathers if you would like to give this project some love over there too!

The complete script can be found under the read more, so you may follow along if you wish.

Grab a snack and get comfy. We have an almost 15 minute runtime! Enjoy! 🔥🪶

Scaburary 10th

I had to cover for Bileadona at work. She never showed up for her shift, and so Goldie and I were forced to make an unexpected trip to Bonesborough.

Extra disappointing, since I was planning to spend the afternoon in the garden with my sketchbook. I wanted to redo my blue jay drawing, as I am not quite satisfied with it.

Ah, well. I’ll draw in the garden tomorrow.

Scaburary 11th

UUUGHHH DAMN RAIN!

Goldie has been moping and staring out the window at the sizzling forest all morning, desperately wishing she could have her early morning flight through the trees. I have given her a handful of seeds to help her feel better. She seems pouty still, but has cheered up slightly. She is currently ordering the seeds from most to least appealing. Heh. This should take her a while.

Only two days are left!

Scaburary 13th

Work, work, work. I couldn’t stop watching the sunlight and shadows slowly move across the library floor and sighing impatiently. Bileadona happened by my cart as I was shelving books, and asked why the calendar at my desk is so strange. I told her it was an old-fashioned solar calendar from the bloodievil period. She didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t push the subject.

I also made a quick…detour before I went home. Just to say hello to some dear friends. Some very special friends who are going to severely regret their actions from last week.

*evil witch cackle*

As an added bonus, I finally managed to nab one of their…creative drawings of me. It is now proudly displayed on my living room wall, just above the couch. Truly, it is a work of art, and I am humbled by their kindness.

I just hope they find my return offering just as humbling ehehehehe.

I have been getting more and more excited for every visit to the Human Realm. Not that I have been there recently. I most definitely have not. Don’t be absurd.

But anyway. This week has dragged endlessly! I cannot wait for tomorrow.

It’s nice to have a friend.

Scaburary 14th, Human Realm year 1623

Today was nice.

It was a Friday in Human reckoning, so Caleb and I enjoyed the usual supper on a blanket in the snowy woods. I made sure to include dragon bacon sandwiches and deviled griffin stew in the spread, as they are his favorites. And of course, a thermos of hot apple blood to warm us up. It was a marvelous feast!

He looks a bit better lately. His skin is less pale, and the shadows under his eyes are less prominent.

The moment I landed at at our spot, Caleb immediately asked me if I had anything to do with the recent vandalism of the Gravesfield meetinghouse. I plead innocent. He grimly informed me that someone had scribbled all over the siding, and that one of the drawings bore a striking resemblance to Goldie. I expressed my deepest sympathies for the poor soul who would have to clean it up. He further informed me that the words “Evie was here” were scrawled over the front door. I told him that since my given name isn’t Evie, it’s Evelyn, he was clearly looking for another culprit. He grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me dead in the eye, and told me, in the most fed-up of tones, that the drawings could move.

“Huh,” I said. “In that case, it sounds like you might have a witch on your hands. I hear they are pretty tricky to deal with, but seeing as you are such an expert witch hunter, you surely won’t have a problem rooting her out!”

At that he made such a ridiculously frustrated face, I could no longer hold in my laughter. It was the look he gets where his cheeks flush and his nose flares. The red even reached his ears this time! Fantastic.

He gave up at that point. He just sighed deeply and shook his head. But I could tell he was desperately trying to hold back a smile.

While we enjoyed our meal, we got on the topic of weather. After my previous deception, he didn’t quite believe me when I told him that rain boils in the Demon Realm. When I cast an illusion to show him a typical Boiling Isles thunderstorm, his eyes lit up brighter than the sun. As fun as it is to tease and banter with him, I think I vastly prefer those quiet moments between us. When the storm clouds lift from his eyes.

*trails off*

I can tell he’s lonely.

Last week, while we were on our owl watch, he mentioned offhandedly that he hasn’t received a proper hug in years.

I was about to feign ignorance and pretend to not know what a hug is, until I realized that…err. Well, we are two galdorpeas in a pod in that regard, aren’t we?

And no, I did not offer myself up. Because some walls are built for a reason.

Caleb is surrounded by pitchforks and torches and prying eyes.

His village is dangerous.

His brother has been asking more and more…questions.

I know I shouldn’t keep doing this. I know I can’t keep doing this. There is a line, and I am terrified that I am gleefully dancing towards it, and one day I am going to be unable to stop myself from crossing into something…

*deep sigh*

…something I cannot come back from.

I am unwilling to admit this anywhere but here. And this is difficult to write, even if my eyes are the only ones that will ever read it. But…

He scares me.

Hah! How silly is that? We’re the closest of friends. I am a powerful adult witch. And I am scared of him?

It makes no sense. Witch hunter my butt! I trust him completely. He is kind. Sweet, even. No matter how much sass and grumpiness he sprinkles into his words, it is abundantly clear that his heart is made of pure gold. His smile could melt snow. His soft words could tame the wildest slitherbeast. His laugh is pure music.

*embarrassed cough*

So, then. Why the fear? Why have I been finding myself so on edge around him lately? It’s incredibly frustrating.

Words are difficult to get out. My pulse quickens when he sits too close. I can no longer look him in the eye without my face heating up. What else could cause this but fear? It is clearly my body warning me that what I am doing is incredibly foolish.

Or perhaps it’s just the apple blood.

*sighs in frustration, then there is a long moment of silence*

No. I’m not that naive. I know it’s not the apple blood. It’s just that…I’m…

I’m not ready.

I don’t have much more I would like to say on this topic, so I suppose I shall end this entry and tuck myself into bed with a good book. Perhaps Goldie would like for me to read her another story.

Here’s hoping for some nice dreams. Titan willing.

Goodnight.

Scaburary 15th

I had the day off from work. I tried to draw in the garden, but my redo of the blue jay sketch came out even worse than the original. I ended up spending most of my day on the couch, half paying attention to a book I could barely focus on enough to read.

I had dreams last night. Dreams I absolutely refuse to relive by writing them down.

Please. Please, please, please let tonight be better.

Scaburary 16th

Oh, Titan. I hate this.

I have made a decision. A decision I am absolutely miserable to be making.

It’s something I can absolutely not back out on. Something I should have done ages ago.

Something I should have done before I got…attached.

No matter what, this will end in pain. But it must end. Before he is harmed. Or worse. I know what I must do. But it hurts. I have to protect him. This week will be rough. Please wish me luck and courage.

Scaburary 17th My chest hurts. My eyes are sore. Everyone has been giving me space at work. I am sure they can tell something is very wrong, but no one has pried. At least I managed to keep it together until I was halfway home. Be proud of my fortitude.

After I was done being sorry for myself, I got an idea. I am unsure if I will be able to follow through with my plan. But if I can find my courage, perhaps I can at least try.

When we say our goodbyes, I can at least ensure Caleb still has a friend.

I haven’t carved a palisman in years. Not since I made Goldie with Mother and Father. And not since they…

*chokes up for a second*

I don’t even know if I remember how. But there is a grove of healthy palistrom trees in the backyard. And I still have my knife.

I even know what he would want.

Fine. Tomorrow I will start carving.

Scaburary 18th I opened my journal to write, but I have nothing substantial to say. This week has been miserable. I wish it were Friday so I could get this over with. Goldie keeps offering me seeds to cheer me up. I’m sorry, Goldie. I appreciate the gesture, but not everything can be fixed with a tasty seed.

Scaburary 19th I sent Goldie to deliver my final rebus message. I got such an excited response back, I nearly lost it again. He has heard a saw-whet owl in the woods by the fields. He wants to take me out there to listen for it. Sounds lovely. I suppose it’s nice to look forward to one last owl watch. What should I do with the remaining Titan’s blood? Dispose of it? Donate it to a researcher? All I know is that I cannot keep the vials. Lest I be…tempted. I’ll miss the birds. Caleb’s gift is drying on the kitchen table. I wonder what wish he will make.

Scaburary 20th I am surprisingly calm. There is something to be said for allowing yourself to…feel. To let your emotions exist, acknowledge them, let them out. That isn’t typically how I operate, but perhaps it can be advantageous to…sometimes…occasionally…not bury everything? As much as I hate to admit it. I was even able to laugh at Goldie’s antics. She brought home a rattle worm and pretended to feed it to our new scarlet friend. She even feigned offense when he refused her gift by remaining silent and wooden. Silly bird! I don’t know what I would ever do without her. I think I will be fine. Once the dust settles. We will all be fine.

Scaburary 22nd I do not know where to start. It is late evening. I am sitting here in bed, journal in lap, as usual. But Goldie is perched on my shoulder instead of her usual spot on my extra pillow. Because my extra pillow is occupied. It is occupied by a blond human and a small red bird. Oh. He just reached out in his sleep to hug my waist. I suppose I’m trapped now. I’ve never been so happy. I’ve never been so happy, and yet so anxious? I can’t stop smiling. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling or swooning or giggling since last night! How embarrassing. How completely and utterly embarrassing! ...Goldie, I know you are reading this. I can hear you laughing! Quit it! I think I’m still in a bit of shock-GOLDIE THIS IS PRIVATE. I haven’t quite processed any of this-I KNOW YOU CAN FEEL MY EMOTIONS AND HEAR MY THOUGHTS! I DON’T CARE! YOU’RE STILL BEING NOSY. WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE WERE BOTH SO OBVIOUS? I SAID STOP LAUGHING!!! Fine. You were right. Is that what you wished to hear? Are you happy now, you smug little feather brain? Good. Anyway. Where was I? Everything happened so…fast. The last 24 hours have been absolutely wild. And terrifying. And…intense. But I think I can finally admit something important, even if it’s only here for now. Let’s see if I can manage to actually write it. Goodness, my hand is shaking. Alright. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Here goes… *swoons a little* I’m in love. Goodnight, everyone. Sweet dreams. *snaps fingers, and light spells are extinguished* Sung: You are not alone No matter how far you have flown Together we feel we’re at home In darkness light shines in your bones *As she hums the song fades out*

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part I

>> hhau masterpost here << [cw besides the usual mess and violence: animal death mention]

It’s been months since the latest hermit got saved, and over a year since Hermitcraft imploded. There’s only two people to go: Scar and Grian. And they can’t seem to locate them at all. But they can’t stop looking. They can’t, they won’t. 

The rescue party is comprised of X (voidwalker), Doc (creeper), Ren (wolf), Impulse (partially demon), Cub (vex), Gem (deer), and Pearl (moth). Thanks to X knowing how to navigate and survive the void, they are able to get a void vessel (a sort of ship) to base in as they go around scanning different worlds and scouring for information. 

Until they come across a world that reads as permadeath, and somewhere in the world files, X flags Grian’s and Scar’s name. Not as players; there’s no list available here. What comes up is the wanted poster. It doesn’t have a date stamp. It could be months old, and they know Scar's track record with dying.

Still, they have to try.

They search for a place that seems to have good resources and Cub, Gem, and Pearl get dropped down. They’re equipped with bracelets that they can activate to send X a signal to teleport them back, and two extra for Grian and Scar, if they do find them, but they have to gather any other kind of equipment, including armour and weapons, on their own.

They quickly realise comms don’t work on this world, and as the player list is also non-existent or corrupted, they are going in blind.

Well… almost.

They use Cub’s vex bond with Scar to pick a direction to head in.

--

Grian and Scar, in the meanwhile, are not having a Good Time. 

Some awful things have happened prior to this, namely the ending of the Summer house arc. To quickly sum it up, Grian and Scar went up north, for as long as they could. Away, away, away from everyone. Until it felt like maybe they’re far away enough, and they tentatively set up a house. Which turned into a nest. Which turned into a semblance of permanence.

A lot of things went on here. Days turned into peaceful weeks and, tentatively, they started thinking that maybe they can start planning some kind of future here. They planted crops. Scar re-learned to glide with his torn wings. Grian unfurled his wings and re-learned the feeling of flying through the sky. And they found a bird friend! (A real, living bird in this world!)

The reality caught up to them eventually. 

Nobody’s really seen Scar or Grian for a while, but the avians in this world have dull wing patters, for survival reasons, and so Grian is really special. And the hunters don’t want to give that up. The reward on the wanted poster gets upped, and now the fever pitch to get this avian rises. The hunters go further. In bigger groups. Greedy and determined.

They find the nest house, empty at the time, and they burn it down. 

Scar and Grian come back to find it in flames, and to find themselves unsafe and hunted once again. All of a sudden, they have nothing again. The fire licks high, turning everything to ash, to a distant cheering and hollering of a party of hunters. There’s no sign of their bird friend.

(Grian finds him later. Dead, with wings cut off. The only creature that resembled him; the bird he befriended, the proof that a winged creature could exist here and survive. Ripped to pieces. Echoing the only fate that is bound to await Grian as well.) (It was a sun conure parrot, bright and beautiful.) 

The hunters are on their tail once they realise that Scar and Grian are here; that it wasn’t just some temporary base that’s now abandoned. With no remorse and still too much cheer, bloodthirsty and unstoppable, they go after them. 

Scar’s blood is absolutely boiling and he expects Grian to ground him. To talk him down. But Grian’s mind buzzes, looking at that bird, and— He’s as down to fight as Scar is. Because anger is easier than grief right now.

He’s so tired of grief. 

So instead, Grian goes angry and feral. (The other option is to fall apart, and he can’t.) 

They tear this particular hunting group apart, and it’s meant to make them feel better, but it doesn’t. It feels like a necessity; like just one more step towards survival. They loot what they can, and they continue moving, realising that stopping anywhere to do more than just survive is a moot point. They’re not going to outrun this. They'll never be allowed to stop. They’ll be hunted forever.

(Grian will be hunted forever—)

The word gets out, and more and more hunters arrive, wanting the trophy of violet wings and the wanted reward for themselves. It’s a sport to them. A way to get rich. Like a gold fever, they continue tracking Grian and Scar, relentlessly hounding them down.

There are times when things go worse in these encounters. Grian gets his wings grabbed and attacked, and it sends him spiraling back to never allowing anyone—including himself—to touch his feathers. (He was doing better and now it’s all gone.)

They internalise many horrible thoughts, during their run. It’s been a year-worth of culmination of awful events, a year worth of pain and fear and loss. 

For Scar, as a vex, he’s been expected to be a monster from the start. And all he wanted here was some peace. To be with Grian. He wasn’t allowed it, but now he finally got a glimpse at it—at what could’ve been; at who he wanted to be from the beginning (who he’s always been)—and it’s violently taken from him. So yeah, fuck it. If they want a monster, he’ll be a monster. 

(This leads him to thinking that he shouldn’t be trusted with soft things anymore, Grian’s feathers included, especially as Grian gets ground-bound again and starts pulling his wings tightly against his back and flinching at the mere implication of touch.) (It hurts to witness, after what Scar’s seen: Grian, freely gliding through the sky, violet feathers catching sunlight.) (He was allowed to preen them, tentatively, slowly, gradually, a couple of times.) (Not anymore. Not anymore.)

 Grian keeps thinking about the bird, and how they’re the same. He’s seen the brutal display, the way the wings were taken. He can’t quite stop thinking about it. 

But it’s more than that. He’s also thinking about [redacted]. About anything winged being doomed. About what happened with the vexes. It all spins and spins and spins until he can’t see himself as anything but harbinger of death.

The hunters wouldn’t care to go this far for one vex. They only go because of his goddamn feathers.

Naturally, this topples into him thinking that Scar will be safer and better off without him. They’ve been running on sleepless nights and exhaustion, trying to get away to no avail. They’re tired, and things are looking dire, and— Grian wants it to stop. He needs Scar to be taken out of this equation, separated from this fate. He needs him to be safe. (He can’t bring death to Scar.)

Grian can lead the hunters the other way. They only really care about him. ([redacted] already proved that point, after all.) 

So one night, Grian sneaks away.

He presses a soft kiss to Scar before he goes. (It’s a farewell kiss.) Scar is asleep, only kind of waking up to it—just that groggy, sleepy “mm?” Grian kisses his forehead again, oh so gently, and murmurs the quietest “Love you. Stay safe for me.” To Scar, it just feels like a dream, and he dozes off again, none the wiser.

The next morning, Scar wakes up to Grian gone.

For a while, he doesn’t even remember that hazy interaction from the night, but then he does remember, all of a sudden. An absolute vertigo slams into him, panic flooding his veins as he stares down the empty, quiet forest.

And this is when the Hermit Rescue Party finds him.

They only find Scar.

They only find Scar, and they instantly try to take him off world.

-- part II here

[cevansbrat0007]

Bad Days

Summary: Ari helps you get through a particularly bad day...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Insecure Reader, Ari Being A Menace, Discussions of Poor Body Image, Body Insecurities, Name Calling, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Oral Sex (Fem Rec Implied), Ass Slapping, Spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I don’t think I wanna do this.” You grumble as you walk into the living room. You lean down to hand your companion a glass of scotch, offering him a half smile when he gently takes it and places it on a nearby coffee table. “Seriously.”

Instead of responding, he simply pats his lap and waits. 

“Okay. How about we don’t need to do this?” You try again, hating how relaxed his big body seems while taking up way too much space on your couch. 

Ari shrugs then, catching his plump bottom lip between his perfect teeth and waits. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t demand. Doesn’t boss. He just waits.

For you.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice comes out softer now, more delicate. “And it’s not like it's gonna change anything.” 

Your Bounty Hunter cocks his head to the side, one tawny brow raised as he patiently waits for you to continue cycling through your list of objections. 

“I just have bad days sometimes.” Hot tears prick the backs of your eyes. But even though you’re quick to blink them away, you’re not quite fast enough. 

Ari studies you for a moment, his piercing blue eyes making your nipples pebble beneath the thin material of your silk robe. It made it hard to remember that you were technically in trouble. Which meant that was was about to happen could technically be construed as a punishment. 

“Then why don’t you be my good little Bird and have a seat, hm?” Your man’s deep voice comes out thick and rough. And while you have a feeling that he wants to make you obey, you know he also wants you to come to him on your own.

“Can the robe stay on, maybe?” You ask, your freshly polished toes digging into the short, plush carpet. “What if I get cold? Or–”

“You won’t.” He softly interjects, widening his jean-covered thighs just a little. Because although you didn’t know this, he’d already made a couple quick adjustments to the thermostat just in case. The last thing your man wanted to do was make you uncomfortable – at least not like that.

And then he holds out his hand for your robe. You stand there glaring at him, the two of you engaged in a silent battle of wills. He wins, of course. But only because you have nothing to throw at him. 

Except for your goddamned robe, which the smug bastard manages to catch midair. 

Ari tosses it to the other side of the couch before returning his attention to you. He’s pleased when you take a tentative step toward him, followed by another. And then another. The next thing you know, you’re slowly easing your nude body onto his lap…

And into his waiting arms. 

Immediately he wraps them around you, drawing you closer to his hard, muscled body. It never fails to make you feel soft and feminine – even when your mind was busy screaming at you that you were anything but. 

Today you felt dumpy, fat, and unattractive. 

But then here was this handsome man, holding onto you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. It was enough to make you start crying all over again. Just like you had this earlier morning.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat as you work to speak.

“I gotta be honest with you, baby.” Ari murmurs after a few minutes, his warm lips skimming over your brow. “I didn’t like what I heard come outta that pretty mouth this morning. Especially didn’t like it when you called yourself a pig.”

“Why?” You choke out a wet laugh. “Would you rather I have compared myself to some other barnyard animal?”

You’re rewarded for your snark with a sharp slap to your left flank, which suddenly has you burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

Oops. Guess that wasn’t the response he was looking for.

“No.” He grunts as you feel his fingers dig into the tender flesh of your thighs. You had no doubt that you’d be sporting a delicious set of fresh bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Oh.” Whimpering softly, you wrap your arms around his neck as you try to ignore the way his possessive, proprietary touch makes your body flare to life.    

“I wanna know why you felt the need to make the comment at all. Regardless of whether you knew I was listening or not.”

And there was the rub. You hadn’t expected him to come during your meltdown, let alone actually hear you berating yourself to the degree that you had been. Had you known you’d had an audience you would’ve at least had the sense to lock yourself in the bathroom or something, but instead you’d just had to cry your heart out in the middle of your bedroom floor. 

You must’ve looked so pathetic to him in that moment.

“Stop.” Ari commands, the single word spoken like a heated caress against your ear. “Whatever mean thought you’re thinkin’, I’m tellin’ you to knock it off right now.”

“H–how?” Your question comes out muffled thanks to the fact that your face is still hidden in his neck. 

“You have a tendency to tense up whenever you’re being unkind to yourself, sweet girl.” He replies with a shrug before forcing you to pull away from him so that he can look into your eyes. 

“I–I do?” No one had ever thought to share that with you before.

“Yep. Sure do.” He pinches your nipple as his gaze briefly drops to your bare cunt. “As your man, it’s my job to notice these things. Even when all I wanna do is bury my fingers knuckle-deep inside that tight little pussy until you’re drippin' and speaking in tongues, this shit comes first.”

Your hips jerk of their own volition when Ari reaches down to tenderly cup your sensitive core, massaging your damp flesh. Instantly you feel your slick honey coating his palm, making your cheeks heat. 

It didn’t help that you always seemed to end up naked around this man while he stayed fully clothed. In the past you’d only read about that kind of power dynamic. But these days you were beginning to enjoy it. 

“So tell me what has my woman being so hard on herself today? Be honest, now.” He presses as his fingers go trail their way along your belly, an action that has you immediately sucking in your stomach.

“Can we please turn off the lights?” You ask, feeling somehow both shy and stubborn at the same time. “At least some of them?”

“No.” He hisses back, not to be outdone. “You’re too beautiful not to look at, Bird. I might as well be a moth drawn to your flame, that’s how much hope there is for me these days.” 

“But I hate my belly. It’s so…soft.” You tell him, finally willing to admit defeat. “And I pulled all these sweaters out of storage today – from my thinspiration pile – and they fit even worse than they did then when I first bought them.”   

Your Bounty Hunter stares down at you for a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Thinspiration?” 

“Yeah.” You hiccup, appreciating when he offers you a sip of his scotch, even when it makes you cough. “It’s like when you buy a shirt or a dress – or in my case a bunch of sweaters – that are too small for you so you can use them as inspiration to…you know…finally drop the weight.”

“Oh, Jesus H. Fucking Christ.” He snarls under his breath before taking a deep pull of his drink. “That’s what all this was about?”

Sheepishly you nod, as if finally realizing just how ridiculous you sounded. But at the time all of it had made perfect sense. “I figured it might help keep me from eating…too much.”

“Sweetheart…” His deep voice rumbles low in his chest as he polishes off what’s left of his scotch. “Fuck those sweaters, fuck the jeans, and whatever the fuck else is in that stupid fucking thinspiration box, or bag, or whatever. I mean it.”

One of Ari’s big hands reaches out to take hold of your chin, making it damn near impossible to look away from him. 

“You and me are gonna get rid of that box.”

“But, Beast –” 

“No.” His grip tightens ever so slightly. “That’s not good for you, baby. It never was. And I don’t ever want to hear you disrespecting yourself like that again. I really don’t. Broke my fucking heart.” Ari leans in to brush his mouth over yours, his free hand taking every advantage to stroke and caress its way along your body. “And it really pissed me the fuck off.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as fresh tears spill over onto your cheeks. “I–I’ll try to work on it.”

“These curves of yours are a gift from God, you hear me?” He muses as kisses away a tear. “Or the Devil himself. Depends on who you’re asking I suppose. There’s nothing I love more than watching those hips sway in one of your pretty sundresses, or seeing that luscious ass bounce every time I spank it.”

“You do seem to have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself, Sir.” You respond playfully through a watery grin. 

“Mmhm. The only thing better is when you’re busy holdin’ me hostage.” Ari flips your positions so that he’s on top of you know, effectively pinning you against the couch so that he can grind his denim-covered erection against your damp folds. “Keepin’ me trapped as your love slave while I work my ass off to satisfy that greedy pussy long until we both pass out”

“Hey…” You pout, shivering when he nips at your bottom lip. He tugs it into his mouth, sucking hard before releasing it with a soft pop. “I thought you liked the job.” You press your hands against either side of his bearded face, pulling him down for a proper kiss. 

“Oh, I love the job. Gorgeous girl. Great pay, benefits.” He nuzzles a path of hot, wet kisses along the column of your throat, loving how it makes you giggle. “All the pussy I can eat.”

“Wow.” You breathe, torn somewhere between lust and humor. 

“But in all seriousness, Bird, the only thing I ever want is to see you happy. Keeping that box, holding on to whatever the fuck that was supposed be…” You press a finger to his lips, pausing him mid-sentence.   

“I don’t want to just throw them away. I mean, they’ve still got the tags on them and everything. But there is a women’s shelter in the next county. Do you think maybe we could..?”

Ari nods once, giving you a warm smile as he does. Knowing that you’d managed to please him has a fresh wave of slickness coating your already slippery thighs.

“As long as you agree to let me keep you naked and stuffed full of my cock for the rest of the weekend, we can do whatever the fuck you want.” He hitches one of your legs over his shoulder, dragging his tongue along the soft skin of your calf. “And since you seemed to listen so well, I suggest you lay back and relax, because, baby…”

“We both just earned ourselves a treat.”

END

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[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince: The Watcher, ‘Civilians’, and Hunters.

To celebrate this au being one of my most favorite things to work on, I’ve made designs for the Solidarity brothers, Big B, and redesigned the trio!

Closeups and introductions under the cut :> here they are!

Now that’s character design! I’m super proud of how they turned out, and they form a rainbow by pure coincidence. Let’s talk about them!

Starting off with the duos!

‘Nosy Neighbors’ & ‘Mean Gills’

Big B is a new one so I’ll talk about him first. I’ll talk about the other three as characters :)

‘Big B.’

Big B is a Watcher; an organization that studies and hunts sea monsters. He used to be a famous vagabond hunter, but due to some mysterious circumstances, he retired early. You’ll meet him much later on in the story, but he’s quite an interesting character! He keeps his secrets. He knows yours. Who knows if he's trustworthy or not.

He seems to have a connection to Grian.

‘Pearl Moone.’

She’s a cocky, energetic person to be around. She doesn’t seem too trusting with strangers, especially hunters. Her accessories are golden, and she has a scar over her left eye so she definitely stands out.

She has a red shell bracelet similar to Scott’s necklace. Are they friends?

‘Scott Major.’

A pleasant, sassy, and entertaining server in the port town the Red Canaries visit. He often flirts with Martyn, leaving the hunter speechless with promises of something more. He’s hiding something. Maybe he’ll tell Martyn his secrets one day?

He swears a couple of necklaces, but one is hidden under his shirt.

‘Martyn Woods.’

The second mate to the Red Canaries. Loyal to a fault, he prioritizes everyone before himself, even neglecting his needs. He believes that his isolated life is worth it, but his feelings change the more Scott talks his way into his life. Is he ready to love again, even after what happened to Ren?

He has a couple of scars, some big ones on his chest. He has a locket and tattoo of a crown and a necklace trinket of the first monster he killed as a boy.

‘Bad Boys’, the Solidarity brothers.

A bunch of new designs here! I referenced their bad boy skins so they have similar ‘leather jackets’. I’m excited for you all to learn about them and their history.

‘Grian Solidarity.’

The youngest adopted brother of the trio. He’s chaotic, but he’s shifty. His birth parents were from the Watchers, but after their death, he was entrusted to the Solidarity family to care for him. They died when he was young, so he doesn’t remember them. He loves his brothers to death and does what he can to protect them and his crew.

He, like his other brothers, keeps a locket with their family photo. He wears a yellow bandana with his name crudely stitched on it. Strangely, he has some similarities to Pearl…

‘Joel Solidarity.’

The awkward, funny middle child. He has the most muscle out of the brothers but he masks it with his pleasant behavior. He quickly accepted Grian into the family and shared his interest in starting the hunter crew. When they were younger, the two would sneak away from their older brother to meet Martyn and Impulse by the docks. Currently, he’s engaged to Lizzie Shadow and is waiting for winter so they can finally tie the knot.

He keeps a falcon feather in his hat as his parents were falconers. He wears his red bandana, also with crude stitches of his name, on his head.

‘Jimmy Solidarity.’

The oldest and most emotional of the brothers. He wasn’t particularly interested in becoming a hunter, preferring to spend time with the birds and become a falconer, but he loved his brothers so he went with it. He’s impulsive, stubborn, but a wonderful and simple person all around.

He keeps his red bandana on his belt, with neat stitches of his name. He has a braided bracelet and a tattoo on his neck.

...and he’s dead.

...or is he?

There’s a LOT going on with these designs, a lot of spoilers in them so what I’ve said could or could not be hints to what’s to come! Not sure when the next design dump would be, but I think my upcoming post would be fun, particularly for those who want to read the story ;) all in due time.

oh, also new life Scott is partially ginger. I predicted that HA- /j I’ll probably whip up art of those two bc. That’s incredibly funny-

Which one of these characters/ designs is your favorite? Let me know! :D

[howthebestwaslost-blog]

I think I did it again

I made you believe we're more than just friends

Oh baby

It might seem like a crush

But it doesn’t mean that I’m serious

Sooooo here are my other thoughts about who Rogue is because I think about him a normal amount. Again, I haven’t read a lot of theories, it’s probably nothing new, just want to get it out of my head. I had this on my very popular three follower ig account before, but overworked it a bit. [Warning: even more meandering, I can’t keep up a straight thought to save my life, I’m sorry]

I know we all love our honest baby blue eyes not a lying bone in his body Rogue, but:

He is a bounty hunter after all, and kind of ruthless (using an incinerator when he has a big cool dangerous gun? Really?) and he could be much older than he looks to a human, and I don’t think you can have a long life of that kind if you don’t lie and cheat and use all kinds of tricks. I do think he’s generally honest (saves him the trouble of remembering lies anyway), and he’s emotionally open, but that’s not all he is. He kills people. If he was serious about pushing the button on his ship, maybe even with a smile. He’s not - that - innocent.

It’s been bugging me that the Doctor's saving throw of the psychic paper wasn't that convincing actually. So he had a proud little Timelord speech and scanned a few faces more, but Rogue was already dealing with cosplayers who went through several faces in one evening. Why does it still work?

The "new boss" Rogue mentions is for sure the same one the Meep was talking about. The Meep already said they were going to be interested in a two-hearted individual, so by now there's a bounty out for the Doctor, and it would be a big one. Which is of course what Rogue keeps an eye out for.

But Rogue doesn’t know that the man he trapped has two hearts, and the Doctor has got a brand new face (the same one the deep scan showed despite him being shapeshifter, but without the wig - shouldn’t it show a bird? Does Rogue already know that whatever he is, at least he’s not a Chuldur? Does he just enjoy making him scramble for something to save himself after the stunt with Kylie? Does he want to see if the Doctor has another cute little note for him? In any case, he has a certain glee… which is on the other hand pretty dark if he still thought he had a Chuldur and fully intended to incinerate him alive). So what makes him take the finger off the trigger?

David Tennant's face, of course.

Which is the face the Meep knew, and therefore the face every bounty hunter is looking for. And if there's one thing the Doctor can't do, then it's to stop talking, so he keeps confirming: Lord of Time. Gallifrey. Rogue remembers that name correctly later, maybe that’s a thing people with a working brain do, maybe he already knew it. In any case, instead of a lame old Chuldur, Rogue accidentally caught the biggest price of his professional life.

“Wow.”

Of course he immediately goes along with the Doctor. He's not happy about letting the Chuldur live, but he's got something bigger in front of him, so he lets it slide.

The connection they have over their loss is real for sure, I don’t think he’s pretending here. The Doctor did his best to stir up the pain earlier. Rogue isn't opposed to a kiss, but it's also hard to believe he's completely smitten already just like that. Yes, I know it’s Ncuti I’m talking about. He would also realise that the TARDIS is the perfect vessel to have a quick escape with. So what does he give the Doctor at the next opportune moment? A tracking device.

[that part is maybe a bit weak, because him wearing the ring on his right ring finger seems like a sentimental thing, which could mean he either improvised drama in the ballroom with whatever he had, or he was honestly showing his feelings. But if you give someone a tracker hidden in plain sight, your target might feel more of an obligation to wear it if you romantically pulled it off your own finger, and it’s the obvious place to keep it until useful? Third possibility, it’s a tracker and sentimental, because he and his partner used those to be able to find each other in a crisis…]

It just doesn’t look much like an ornamental ring to me. Sure it has a caduceus sort of shape, but it looks so technical. More like the kind of thing a bounty hunter creates while tinkering in his messy spaceship to help him catch his targets.

I also think he gets caught up in the adventure and he’s genuinely excited to have someone again to do all the planning and running and hiding with. He’s grinning like a kid when they both storm out of the house, and he doesn’t seem to worry too much about the trap holding only one. That would be the kind of improvising he loves and he’s got someone clever to do it with him. He’s enjoying himself. That and the dance must be tugging on him in favour of the Doctor.

All in all though he hasn't fully decided what to do. He could run away with the Doctor, have a new person to travel with, a new life, go on adventures, and have fun. Or he could convince the Doctor to get back into his ship later. Because he likes what he does: delivering targets and collecting the money. He’s suspiciously good at using a passionate kiss to steal a trigger, why should we believe he didn’t use flirting as a strategy before?

He's got the tracker on the Doctor, they are about to catch the Chuldur too, but now the gut punch happens, and the Doctor loses another friend - or is about to, at least.

I think it’s only then, when he sees that the Doctor will rather put the whole world in danger than sacrifice his friend (as Rogue might do too, if he had the chance again) that he makes his decision - that the Doctor is worth it, that the brave friend he travels with is worth it (and he already confessed to the Doctor earlier that he does not see much sense in his own life, I need to hug him). That's the deciding factor he's looking for when he asks the Doctor, because it's ultimately the Doctor deciding for him (look at the intensity in his face when he waits for the answer). Maybe he used kissing as a trick before, but he’s tearing up here for a moment. He can relate completely to the Doctor’s pain. And he keeps looking at the Doctor’s lips for two seconds before he holds up the stolen trigger. That connection is real even though he was tricking the Doctor, and nothing will change my mind.

And maybe there's a chance this madman in his ‘dimensionally transcendental’ machine can still save him after all. I’m certain Rogue got that line very intentionally, to show he understands that the TARDIS is perfectly capable of picking him up in a different dimension, as long as she knows where to look. The ring will end up being the solution. So it’s not a complete sacrifice, but a high stakes gamble whether the Doctor is clever enough to figure it out, whether he can really move the TARDIS to his dimension, and whether he cares enough to try [getting emotional thinking that he might not have seen it as gambling on something of high value, somebody hug him please].

In short: Rogue was attaching himself to the Doctor because there’s a lot of money to be made, but gets freight trained by the full force of Ncuti’s charisma and reconsiders important life choices. Would happen to any of us.

“But I thought the bounty hunter dropped into the void in the end”

“Well baby, I went down and got him for you”

[katyahina]

Burial Blade and Blade of Mercy are made out of meteorite, but WHY? Inspiration and context behind them (+ the source of snake infestation)

This one is a reply on ask from @bobbyzombiegg that I decided to put here because I really keep forgetting to use THIS blog for lore and not my personal/shitposts one...

I know, and this is such a good observation! I am glad that you've noticed what else connects Burial Blade and Blade of Mercy! Even better - whereas Burial Blade severs the ties of a person with the Dream, Blade of Mercy, in a way, helps to create it!

The interesting thing about these blades is that, of course, they must have been created before the conception of the Hunter's Dream! It makes it oddly coincidental that both weapons are useful for the cycle of Dream and Hunt, doesn't it? Blade of Mercy is at least believed to contribute to this as of now; the more we hunt the more messengers get added in the Hunter's Dream, so, perhaps, Blade of Mercy is not necessary! My personal interpretation of this is as Paleblood Hunter, our character has the privilege otherwise special for these weapons! Regardless of which weapon they use, they can send those they killed to be messengers (or add them in the cycle of the hunt, like how Henryk or Yamamura will become summonable after we kill them)!

Still, it starts to look like too much was planned ahead? Blade of Mercy said to be made in an old workshop would imply Old Hunters, likely created by Gehrman himself, from the same material as his own weapon! But I think the answer here is that Messengers, something akin to Hunter's Dream and similar weapons existed since Pthumerian times!

Starting with the weapons observation here! Pthumerian Descendant, interestingly, displays the similar style of transforming their blade into two same as how Blade of Mercy does it! Meanwhile, Gehrman's blade is fashioned similarly to Mergo's Wet Nurse's blades! In isolation, I would not think this means anything.. but crows, according to Hunters of Hunters lore, ARE connected with taking the souls and passing them into Dream realm, which is also Nightmare realm!

(Link to my other post explaining why Vilebloods descend from Pthumerians ( x ) in case someone who doesn't know already finds this post)

Wet Nurse herself is very bird-like (crow-like, specifically), and very coincidentally, Baneful Chanters pray to those who "have no blood" as those who'd have enough power to curse the hunters (which is to ensure they go in the Nightmare realm). Wet Nurse not only coincidentally fuels at least one section of Nightmare by nurturing Mergo, the center of it, but also, Nightmare realm has Winter Lanterns whose heads are made of Messengers!

So we have: Wet Nurse already being quite Pthumerian with her accessories and fighting style, Pthumerians and their descendants (down to Cainhurst!) honoring symbolism of crows, Yharnam (a city named after Queen Yharnam, after all) having depiction of BIRD-like Messenger in its oldest part, superstition about crows taking souls of the murdered in Hunter's Dream, people praying to "bloodless ones" to take the souls into Nightmare instead + evidence of it happening with Winter Lanterns.. In my opinion it is fair to assume that the weapons Gehrman created had a pre-existing inspiration and their similarity to pre-existing Pthumerian weapons is not coincidental!

Alright, first - I want a Bloodborne prequel where I could make a Pthumerian Paleblood Hunter. Second, as you can see, concept of the Messengers, the "Hunter" symbol/rune (depiction of the hanged man of course), and even the MOONLIGHT Sword were a thing since Pthumerian times! (It is safe to assume Ludwig found this sword somewhere in the Dungeons, as obtaining Radiant Sword Hunter badge is what lets you buy Tomb Prospector set!)

^ The note already mentioning Laurence associating with Moon Presence, THE Great One of the Hunt and the Dream, is found in Byrgenwerth already! Basically? Without maybe predicting that he would be trapped in the Hunter's Dream one day, Gehrman already knew what he was doing with the weapons.

Conclusion: there was the clear idea in mind! Blade of Mercy, intended to kill people from the start, immortalises the hunters as the HUNTERS and brings them in "Heaven" of Moon Presence, before they turned into beasts, whereas Burial Blade, initially intended for hunting everyone that was no longer human (for example, poor Fish People), ensures they, on the contrary, never go to "Heaven". What later serves to sever a Hunter from the Hunter's Dream initially intended to sever non-humans from it, in a way sentensing them to "Hell". :) Gehrman is a fun person.

+ Also some bonus observations regarding the topic of Yharnamites still continuing Pthumerian traditions, likely brought back because of Byrgenwerth, and then Healing Church, diving into dungeons:

(Context for those that didn't play Bloodborne because Sony hates you and you in particular: both this trap in the dungeons and this bath in Yahar'gul warp you in another area, connected by the circle of candles)

Forbidden Woods, surrounding Byrgenwerth, are full of formations that resemble the Tonsil Stone very much! However, when you examine the woods, you will see that sometimes there are body parts near these "heads"! This could be another case of petrification upon strong arcane impact, similarly to petrified body of Rom near Ebrietas, to petrified bodies of other Kin in Upper Cathedrals covered by fabric, bodies of victims in Yahar'gul, all that!

Were they people living in the woods that started to turn into Kin (like Garden of Eyes that are also found in Byrgenwerth) but didn't live until petrification, or were they baby Great Ones born only to instantly die? I am not sure. Both can work.

But, snakes are an interesting clue here. Besides Forbidden Woods, they are only also found in Hintertombs - a dumping ground for corpses of Pthumeru Ihyll that became venomous! Forgotten Madman, who is a former Choir member as he uses A Call Beyond, is found in these dungeons + getting Cosmic Watcher Badge is what lets you buy Poisonous Knife. Doesn't it look strange for Choir members to pick so much interest in this? Snake infestation might be a strange result of burying cosmic Kin in the ground, a corruption of what would normally be a process of multiple parasites/phantasms settling in a corpse of a cosmic being, OR someone affiliated with one! We do have precedents:

Cosmic creatures, "downgraded" and "filthied", becoming something eartly instead, such as snakes! One of them was able to raise human children (Madaras twins), so sure they are unusual!

So, what I am trying to say is, it is possible that Tonsil Stone is a result of burial of a dead (and rapidly petrifying) cosmic Kin, one that was yet not rotted like what we see in Forbidden Woods! Maybe even more directly so, it is a petrified skull of a cosmic Kin, most likely of Amygdala's kind, and a "meteorite" in the sense of them coming from space! So, creating weapons both of which are connected with burial ritual from the buried Kin is appropriate! This or similar technology maybe also was discovered by Pthumerians long ago, so examining Hintertombs was a great help with figuring what material to use for Burial Blade and Blade of Mercy!

^ These disturbing dead cosmic Kin fetuses are found in Byrgenwerth in two forms: one depicts a petrified corpse, something we already knows happens with Kin, such as Rom and eldrich creatures in Upper Cathedral. Another is dead, rotting, showing horns, and has multiple tiny skulls on its head! The latter one gets my point about corpses of Kin, or maybe anyone touched by Kin, sprouting smaller life forms from within. People infected by snake virus sprout several snakes from their heads, rather than turning into a snake or something!

It is entirely possible that Byrgenwerth used to bury creatures like this in the grounds around the college, and that those gigantic graves in Forbidden Woods were for much larger Great Ones: "Hunt the Great Ones. Hunt the Great Ones." note is found in Byrgenwerth as well! They might have been able to resist the full rotting that results into snakes due to their size and development, hence their graves still show sluggish phantasms. Burying other ones, on the other hand, was a big mistake. Or, should I say.... a GRAVE mista- *gets sniped*

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These are my thoughts on the topic! You kinda got two theories at the price of one here, but snake infestation was somewhat relevant in the context of burial and my idea of what IS this "meteorite"! Thank you so much for prompting me to tie this theory together at last!!

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Omg yesss to supernatural content!!! Maybe you could do caregiver Dean I don't have any ideas for a plot ATM but yeah

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the best ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| dean winchester x little!reader

summary: after a long drive some comforts in order

a/n: wow I’m writing spn now!! and yes dean would be called dada it’s just a fact

warnings: dean being referred to as ‘dada’, mentions of hunting & reader being a hunter, pet names

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“How you doing baby?” Dean swivels in his seat to turn towards where you sit in the back of the Impala. He only lets you sit in the back since you’ve shared your regression with him, he stresses that it’s safer, Sam agrees with him much to your annoyance.

“We almost there?” It’s been hours by now and you’re anxious to get out of this car to stretch your legs, even just for a minute.

“Almost, I know it’s been a long day hun, I’ll make it up to you.” Dean assures as he stops at a stop light, at least you seem to be close to whatever motel your caregiver has decided you’ll be staying at.

Sam’s over at Bobby’s helping him run a few cases near his house so Dean decided to take you on a hunt, just the two of you, something easy, a salt and burn that should only take a day or two. It’s to ease you into the lifestyle, you already know a lot but Dean insists you have to take it slow since you’re still a kid.

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Eventually the Impala slows to a stop, Dean switching the music down before he turns in his seat to reach for the makeshift seat belt him and Sam have put together, it’s a little uncomfortable at times but you like how Dean smiles brightly when he buckles you in or helps you out so you mange it for his sake.

“Where are we?” You tip your head when the back door opens and Dean offers up his hand, it’s quiet wherever he’s stopped. The only sounds are birds chirping and some leaves rustling in the wind.

“I figured we could stop for a bit, relax.” He grins down to you, nodding his head toward the open land in front of you. Green grass leads out to a blue lake glistening in the light, a few ducks swim idly around near the shore and there’s a small trail that leads to a wooden bench out-looking the water.

“It’s pretty…” Your voice trails off as you look around but you’re quickly snapped back to Dean when his arms wrap around you and you’re hoisted up to his waist, a giggle escaping you when he tickles at your side a moment.

“I don’t have anything to feed the ducks with but we can still watch them.” Dean says lowly, trying not to startle the ducks only a few feet from where you’re sat on the bench.

“You’re the best Dada.” You snuggle up into Deans chest, sinking into the safety of his arms draped over you and his chin hooked atop your head.

“Love you so much baby.”

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