#i wasn't aware that's why he'd been gone

[shireduchess]

just watched sam's video and started crying when he did ohmygod

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[sleepyangelkami]

BRO I NEEDDD MORE OF PERVERTED!!!! OMG LIKE YOUR MIND>>>>>

PERVERTED III c.grimes

 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.6K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - after the perverted thoughts consume carl whole, he realises he needs to act on them and soon finds out that you need him to act on them just as badly.

 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, heavy innocence kink, corruption kink, pervert!carl, fingering, dom!carl, sub!reader, size kink, pussy eating, cum eating, aged up characters, thigh riding-ish, manipulative carl, praise kink, petnames, use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

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after that night in your bedroom, carl was downright desperate.

he realised that he needed to act upon his thoughts before it drove him over the edge of insanity. but there you were, prancing around in your little skirts and dresses, ditzy as ever. how was he ever supposed to explain his need to you?

that was just it, he was going to have to show you.

carl had been your best friend for a long time. you could trust him with anything in the world and carl would know if you'd ever done anything. that was the beauty in it. your innocence was bliss.

you were so innocent to the corrupt minds around you, not a single notion of the horrid thoughts of others. not a clue in your mind of just what carl wanted to do to you. no what he needed to do to you.

he knew he was going to have to ease you into it.

the first time carl had let you feel anything was during a rainy night of alexandria. the clouds were dull and full, slapping down on the outside windows. rick and michonne were on yet another supply run, no surprise there, and you and carl had been put in charge of taking care of judith.

it wasn't until she had been laid down asleep in bed that carl began to shift his mind back to you.

the clouds dulled until they were long gone. the night sky had settled in.

the tv displaying pretty images illuminated the room as you sat on carl's lap. when he'd asked if you'd like to sit there, it came as no surprise. you'd sat on carl's lap tonnes of times. whether it was just you two alone, sitting on the bed or perhaps you were in public, choosing to sit on his thigh rather than the bench occupied by the others.

however, what you didn't know was carl had much more in store for you than just watching the stupid movie that was playing.

you were engrossed in the flashing pictures, watching as each changed to another. you were the type of person to pay all your attention to one thing at a time, finding it hard to focus on more than one.

that was when your attention shifted.

it was a mere, 'innocent', bounce of carl's knee.

he did it as some sort of a test. he'd waited until you were so interested in the movie to do it. your two thighs had splayed at either side of his own. he'd waited until your cunt was snug on the jeans of his leg to rub it gently against you.

and by the sudden breath that left your lips, he deemed that you were almost as satisfied as he was.

nevertheless, you shook the feeling. you assumed the boy beneath you was merely trying to get comfortable so you tried to do the same, writhing yourself in the slightest.

that was when the smallest of whimpers left your mouth. with wide eyes, you clamped your mouth shut, hoping carl hadn't heard. "you okay?" he spoke softly in your ear, alerting you that he had heard.

only, you weren't trying to do anything wrong. like i said, you'd sat on carl's lap tonnes of times. but this time seemed... different. you were suddenly hyper aware of your skirt that was riding up ever so slightly and the way that fixing your position on his leg felt... good?

being in an apocalypse and all, you never really got too much education on... down there.

that was what carl was for, you supposed. he was basically your teacher in everything, any question you had went directly to him.

but what you did know was that parts like that were private and not to be shared. which is why you merely let out a small 'mhm' to indicate that you were, in fact, okay.

"alright." he mumbled back, his voice low as if not to disturb the serenity of the room.

you let a breath out, relaxing once more onto his leg.

carl knew he could have stopped there, letting you be all confused for the rest of the evening on just what that feeling you had was. but he didn't know how much you'd taken in, he needed to make sure that the feeling you felt was going to stick.

which was why he waited mere seconds before bouncing his leg again, like a kid in class riddled with ADHD.

you'd seen carl bouncing his leg like a maniac many times before. he'd do it under a table when he was nervous or angry or anything really. he often cracked his knuckles even when there was no air left to crack and shook his legs like there was no tomorrow. carl was always moving.

so how could you tell him to stop?

what would you even say?

did you even want him to stop?

there was an odd feeling in your stomach as he continued to bounce his leg up and down, hitting smoothly against your covered area. your breathing picked up but you did everything in your will to steady it.

some called carl grimes an ADD nightmare, this was a normal thing for him.

why was it suddenly not so normal for you?

perhaps it was the way his chin gently rested on your shoulder, gentle breath hitting against your neck or the way his hands soothed around your waist, his own calloused hands against your gentle skin where your satin dress lay on top.

the skirt of your dress bounced with every bounce of his leg too, exposing more of your thighs with each steady movement.

he was calculating and gentle, as if he knew you were becoming dizzy.

your throat itched too. you couldn't fathom why though you had a feeling it was a noise trying to crawl out.

you couldn't so much as stop yourself before your hands outstretched onto his thigh, stopping his movements.

he did so with the slightest smirk on his lips, knowing he'd gotten you exactly where you wanted. the way your thighs gently shook around him, you wouldn't so much as turn around. oh yes, you'd definitely felt it.

before he could question you in that gentle, condescending tone, the front door could be heard unlocking.

"gotta get my jacket." was the mumble that fell from your mouth as you helped yourself off of the boy's leg, grasping the pretty coat that sat on the other couch, where you'd originally been sitting. carl got up too, glancing down to his thigh. it was a wonder that there wasn't a large wet splotch on his jeans.

shortly after, rick and michonne entered the house, looking tired as ever. they asked a couple questions about judith, making sure you'd both been taking care of her right before they found themselves stating that they were heading up to bed.

carl gave somewhat of a disgusted look to the way they were looking at eachother. he din't even want to imagine what they'd be getting up to the minute they stepped into the bedroom.

"you sure you don't wanna stay the night?" he questioned, walking you to the front door of his home. you didn't live too far away which was the only reason he was letting you walk out in the dark alone. with his luck, he'd see you getting settled into your house while he still stood at the door.

you looked up at him with slightly wide eyes, you looked a little dazed. your hands were holding eachother behind your back, ignoring the feeling throbbing through your cunt. how had he done something so simple and left you feeling like this? "mhm." you hummed.

he gave you a look. "and you're positive you're okay?" tilting his head. "you seem a little off." he knew exactly why you were off.

but you weren't going to let anything on. "no, i'm okay." nodding your head, trying to convince both him and yourself.

"you know you can talk to me about anything, right baby?" he stepped forward, his words a little quieter as he spoke to you. his eyes flickered down to your bottom lip between your top teeth. "anything at all..."

you looked like you were contemplating, unsure if it was exactly appropriate to share with anyone even if it was just your best friend.

though your eyes quickly turned back to rick who was now standing in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. "I'm okay." you quickly quipped.

rick turned around, swallowing the water. "you off, y/n?" you nodded, swallowing thickly. "right, night then, and thanks again for watching judith."

"anytime." you mumbled back, eyes flickering up to carl. "g'night, carl."

"night, angel." and so, you left.

the sky rose just as soon as it had gone down. carl hadn't steadied his movements since. hours passed, merging into days and carl was getting braver by the second. he couldn't help it, you were like putty, just so easy to mold.

by the time the saturday sleepover rolled around again, the boy was near ecstatic.

he'd gotten you exactly where he wanted in many ways, with little fluttering touches and words whispered gently, that could have been taken in any way. but he must say, his favourite place to have you was sat atop his thigh, gently bumping against it as he shook it from the ground.

he did it again now, maggie and glenn were long gone on yet another supply run, stocking up on the foods. they wouldn't be home until the next morning, possibly the morning after that.

but there simply wasn't anything else carl could think about other than the girl sat perched on his thigh. your hands were near your stomach, fiddling with themseleves, pulling on your fingers gently, contemplating.

carl didn't stop the bounce of his knee, moving it so accurately that you could feel a pool forming in your panties. you'd never felt like this before. and you were sure that carl knew this too.

this was the longest he'd ever done it, he should have stopped ages ago, knowing he didn't wish to push you too far. however, your little shaky breaths had his head spinning, he couldn't stop, not now.

you were contemplating asking him to stop. something about his shaking leg beneath you had you feeling awfully funny. but you couldn't decipher if it was a good feeling or not. besides, you couldn't understand why it was that his moving leg had your head feeling dizzy.

"carl?" your mouth got the better of you. it was supposed to come out as a steady question, voice stable, however, it came out more breathless than you'd intended, a slight whine to the back of your throat.

carl's hands had gently been resting against your waist. "hm?" he took the hint to stop, though.

beneath you, his leg froze.

your mind went sort of fuzzy then, that was when you realised it had, in fact, been a good feeling. your mind raced back to moments ago when the wet patch was forming on your satin panties. you couldn't even register what was going on before you slid yourself against his leg, not once, not even twice.

"sweetheart?" his voice was soft, calculated. it had you realising what you were doing, but still, your aching cunt dragged across his jeaned leg. "what're you doing? hm?"

a breath fell from your lips. you gently willed yourself to stop your movements before turning your face to the boy. you had pinched brows, lips bitten, desperation written all over your face. "carl, i―" the words left had you frowning.

carl merely rubbed his fingers against your waist. "somethin' wrong?" he questioned softly. "'s just me, you can tell me, baby."

and suddenly, it was your last straw.

but carl had already known that.

he'd moved his hands so gently around you for the past week, bounced you against his thigh every chance he got and whispered meak things to you, calling you such pretty names. he knew sooner or later you were bound to snap.

"you..." you let out a sigh, eyes avoiding the boy. "you can't laugh."

without a second thought, carl's fingers hooked themselves beneath your chin, angling your face up and forcing you to look at him. "'m not gonna laugh at you, angel." and his comforting features looked as though they were telling nothing but the truth. "jus' tell me what's going on."

you sighed, trying to avert your eyes. "everytime you bounce your leg... it feels funny." you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, throat closing and your cheeks heating up. it was hard trying to keep your composure in font of him, especially when talking about such a private thing.

"yeah?" seemingly unfazed by what you'd told him. "where's it feel funny?" again, your cheeks heated up, only this time you were sure that you were as red as a tomato. "baby, i can't help you if you don't tell me."

and you were sure you needed his help. after all, he was the only one that had made you feel so... worked up. instead of uttering a word, you practically whined before pushing your head into his shirt covered chest. you grasped his hand, sucking in as you guided it downwards.

carl couldn't help but smirk as you moved his hand to cup your shorts-covered cunt. you whimpered at the touch of his hand, quickly moving your own away, as if scared you were going to mess something up.

carl placed his palm against the pale shorts, his thumb moving up towards your clit and gently drawing circles. you whined loudly. "here's where it feels funny, huh?" you nodded your head quickly, breaths falling ragged as his gentle, tight circles moved against your clit. "y'gonna answer me?"

"y-yes." coming out as more of a moan rather than an answer. you were suddenly thankful that maggie and glenn were nowhere to be found in the house.

there was a sudden smile splayed on his lips. "good girl." he mumbled, sending electric shocks through your body and right down to your aching pussy. you couldn't understand how two simple words were enough to have you rutting your hips against the boys hands.

though instantly, your face heated again. embarrassment flooded you as you realised what was happening, stinging tears finding it's way to your eyes. "carl." you spluttered out, whimpering as you did so. carl merely shushed you, his free hand coming down to land on the back of your hair, holding your head close to it's place on his chest.

"wh's wrong, baby?" he waited for a response, all you could give him was a second whimper. "want me to stop?"

"no!" was your much too enthusiastic response that had his lips curving upwards. so you did want it as much as he did. "no, please don't stop."

"then tell me what you want." you shied away, cheeks evidently rosy and pink. but you didn't utter a word, much too sheepish.

suddenly, the feeling he was giving to your clit completely stopped. his hand still hung low but they didn't touch you. the whine you let out had your eyes turning glassy. he reminded you that he'd asked you to tell him what you wanted. but you could barely hear his voice now, mind too clouded with the previous pleasure. "f-felt..." your own hand attempted to replace his, rubbing at your covered cunt but it didn't give you the pleasure his had.

you felt his hand reach up and snap your wrist between his fingers, stopping your movements. "you wanna feel good, huh?" you nodded your head, tears stinging. "then the only hands that get to touch you are mine, understood?" you nodded before he squeezed on your wrist, not hard enough to hurt. "understood?"

"yes." was the breathless word as his fingers let go of your wrist.

"now, tell me what you want." almost instantly, his stern voice had disappeared and turned into one of softness again. it was almost scary how quickly he could turn from one demeanour to another. but you were much too hazy now to question anything.

you breathed heavily, cheeks warm. but carl just waited, his eyes looking at you full of admiration, a stark contrast to the stern look he'd had before. "i want..." he waited, not rushing you, patiently. "want you to make me feel good." your voice was so quiet, so small and you were looking anywhere but his face. you thought it was somewhat awkward in a sense, more scary really. he'd shrug it off for your natural shyness that simply never went away.

"see?" his voice gentle and loving. "wasn't hard, was it?" you shook your head no despite it being the hardest thing you'd done all year. "now get onto your back, angel." you did what he said, not wishing to disappoint him. he followed by climbing on top of you, watching your doe eyes slightly widen.

a breath.

he was so close, lips practically brushing against your own. you'd known carl a very long time but you were sure this was the closest he'd ever been. "'m gonna kiss you, okay?" you nodded, slightly unsure. you'd never been kissed before and you had no idea that it related to the feeling that you'd felt earlier. "it'll all make sense in a second, sweetheart." he mumbled, hands on your waist. "just... relax."

and suddenly, his lips were on yours.

his lips were even softer than they looked. and if that was what you thought of his lips, you could only imagine what he thought of yours. he kissed you gently, open mouthed kissing with his tongue slipping past yours.

now you understood.

it definitely related to the feeling.

as he was kissing you, you had the sudden urge to roll your hips upwards, into his own. carl had this way of making you feel so comfortable that you didn't have to worry the outcome. so you did. rolling your hips gently yet desperately.

you felt him let out a harsher breath into your mouth. his lips moved from your mouth. you felt him press a kiss to the corner of your lips, then to your chin and down to your neck. the feeling of him sucking against the supple skin had a whimper falling from your lips, then another and a long stretched whine.

his lips moved away and his tongue soothed down the hurt skin.

you supposed, you knew what sex was. it was an intimate form of love on your partner. was that what you and carl were going to do? sex? carl wasn't your boyfriend but he was the only one in the entire world you'd felt such a connection to. you supposed, if anyone was to have sex with you, it may as well be carl grimes.

"sweetheart." he breathed against your neck. "keep making sounds like that 'n i won't be able to last." to last? for what?

you didn't even care what he was saying, just the sound of his voice was enough to have you reeling. "carl, please just..."

"shh." he hushed you, practically cooing. "s'needy." before his hands moved back down towards your shorts. "can i take this off?" though he wasn't just grasping the band of your shorts but of your panties too. however, you couldn't seem to care. nodding enthusiastically before helping him guide the material off your body.

carl's breath hitched in his throat. he'd seen you before, he'd seen you when you were sleeping and he plunged a finger inside you, tasted you even. even so, it was like seeing you for the first time all over again.

he could see you red as a tomato above him, covering your face. you'd known carl forever, but something about being nude with him over you on your couch seemed like something a best friend shouldn't do. carl didn't allow the shyness to continue, peppering gentle kisses across the skin of your face. "hey, hey." gently removing your hands. "you're beautiful."

your hands suddenly pawed at the end of his shirt. if you were going to be bare, he should too, right? "can you..?"

"wan't me to take of my shirt, baby?" you only nodded, pressing your lips together. he nodded himself before placing his hands at the end of his shirt, bringing it up and above his head, tossing it off the couch. "your turn." he mumbled, pressing kisses to your neck before grasping the bottom of your own shirt. you allowed him to pull it over your own head.

it was no surprise that there was no bra found underneath, your perky tits bouncing gently. he moved his lips downwards, sucking on one and grasping the other between his fingers, flicking over your pretty nipple. you whined, back arching off the couch and hands finding his hair, tugging at the strands.

his lips popped over your nipple, letting go with a string of spit attatching the two of you. he pushed his large hand onto your chest, thumb at one end of your tits and other fingers at the other, pushing them together. you were so small compared to him, it had his own mind reeling. "so fucking pretty."

"carl." there was desperation in his eyes. the amount of times you had uttered his name would have made anyone think you were reciting it as if he were god himself. "need you." you didn't even know what you meant yourself. all you did know was that you needed him, in whatever way possible.

"i know, pretty girl." his fingers traced your cheek, cupping it ever so softly. "'m gonna touch you, okay?"

nervously, you found yourself nodding. you knew by him touching you, the ache would go away. how you knew that, you were unsure. perhaps it was because you put so much trust in carl to do what was right.

you expected the soft flutter of his long fingers, the gentle tracing of the pads against your skin. what you hadn't been expecting was the mouth that suddenly landed on your core.

as if on cue, your back arched against the couch once more. a moan of both surprise and pleasure fell from your lips. you felt the vibrations of a chuckle throughout your body, from him. he'd been waiting for this moment for too long to let it slip from his fingers.

the foreign feeling of a face between your thighs had you writhing. you allowed his tongue to explore your cunt, whining and whimpering while your hands clung to his hair, overcome with a foreign pleasure.

never, had you felt this good in your entire life.

an eerie sense was embedded right in your stomach, telling you that this was all wrong. the feelings you felt and the way his hands moved against your body, it had to be wrong. but the pleasure of his tongue lapping against your cunt told you that no matter how hard he tried, nothing carl could do would ever be wrong.

you felt him insert a finger into your hole and you were sure you'd lost it.

"carl!" you moaned out, unsure what words to use. "carl―nughhh!" no words could grasp your tongue signifying how good it felt.

your wetness seeped onto his tongue, decorating it with your pretty juices, and his finger had a rim of white surrounding it, belonging to you. his face moved up from your pussy, glancing to your own face. your head was thrown back, eyes shut and reflection twisted. "i know, baby." pumping his finger in and out of you in quick motions. "feels good, huh?"

you nodded your head, babbling incoherently despite the fact that carl couldn't make out a single word you said. he nodded with a smirk, anyway.

this was so much better now that you were awake.

"uh huh?" he was practically testing you, your moans coming out strangled and harsh. "yeah, told you i'd fix it, huh?"

and boy, did he fix it.

the sensation grew and you began to get a sudden knotted feeling in your stomach. it was foreign, new and strange. but despite that, you were sure you'd felt it before. perhaps in a dream? one of which carl had remembered all too well.

a sudden panicked state came over you. "carl" you babbled out, a hint of worry in your voice.

carl placed his free hand on your thigh, gently rubbing against it and shushing you. "shh, shh, you can take it." his mouth travelling back to where you needed him the most.

you couldn't even give him a warning.

the orgasm fell over you before you could even register what was happening. your back practically lept from the couch, good thing carl's hand had been keeping your stomach steady against the material. mewls fell from your lips, shameful mewls that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

your legs shook from around his head, his name falling from your red and swollen lips like a prayer, fingers tight around his little curls.

finally, his head reappeared from it's place between your thighs, a grin on his face.

your eyes were low, sort of red. and he swore it was the prettiest sight he'd ever seen.

"feel good, huh?" pride on his smug face. he came up to meet your own by the arm of the couch, hand moving your hair past your ear.

you had this sinking, gnawing feeling as you glanced up at him. "but... what about you?" thinking that surely couldn't have made him feel good. you'd never experienced pleasure like that before, you were sure everyone in the world should get to experience it at least once.

"don't worry about me, sweet girl." peppering gentle kisses to the nape of your neck. "next time." he spoke despite his hand moving against his dick, straightening it out after his own cum leaked through his jeans.

he came in his pants because of you. again.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[mariasont]

Semantics - A.H

a/n: guysssss i had so much fun writing this one let me know what you think :)

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you flirt with an officer that has been driving hotch mad all day

warnings: slight suggestive stuff, hotch looks at r's tits, mad!hotch, reader flirting with someone other than hotch! JAIL!

wc: 1.2k

Stationed precariously on your toes, you had on shoes that did not seem dependable for today's work. Hotch was sure that they weren't standard issue for on the job. Did he have the heart to tell you this? Absolutely not.

His grip on the bullpen's bar tightened, his knuckles bleaching to the color of bone. There you were, talking with an officer with a chirpiness that seemed excessive. The volume of your laughter seemed to breach the boundaries of appropriacy, your fingers decorated with glossy paint twirled in your hair, and your proximity to him was decidedly intimate.

He felt a little sick.

The officer's ineptitude was exacerbating the situation. Perhaps calling him an idiot was a bit severe, but Hotch couldn't help but consider it. He was this close to charging the officer was obstruction of justice, and it wasn't only because he was too close to you. The man boy had been nothing but a nuisance all day, holding back information, delaying necessary search warrants, and incessantly bitching about the FBI's involvement.

And you, his assistant, were well aware of the situation as Hotch had talked about it ad nauseam. Yet, there you were, flirting with the officer. He couldn't fathom why. All Hotch was aware of was the involuntary twitch in his hand, hovering perilously near his firearm. That was dramatic, he knew this. He was fine.

What Hotch was also aware of was how the team was watching, no, dissecting his every move. This led him to extract himself from the viewpoint, throwing himself into his office, and not particularly caring about the door's loud bang behind him.

He wasn't sure how long he was in there, wading through reports and forms, each one a small fortification against the temptation to check on you, before there was a knock on the door. It was so faint that it would have gone unnoticed had he not been so acutely attuned to every aspect of this morning.

He tried to convince himself that his keen sensitivity had nothing to do with you.

He raised his head just enough to see you and your pink slacks standing in the doorway. You had the biggest smile, and it took every ounce of discipline not to shovel you in the room, close the door, and kiss you senseless. That wouldn't be appropriate. He was your boss, and more importantly, not your boyfriend.

"Yes?"

His words were blunt and clipped, too stern by half, and he immediately wanted to kick himself as he noted the minuscule wobble in your smile before you could hide it.

You stepped forward, licking your lips in a nervous habit that he caught all too clearly. The door closed with a definitive thud, and a heavy knot twisted in his belly as he motioned for you to sit.

Your effort to reconstruct that trademark smile of yours was apparent, but to his penetrating eyes, it fell short of its customary sparkle. Obediently, you took your place in the seat before him, one leg over the other.

The soft tapping of your sparkly pen against your notepad echoed through the hushed room, another nervous habit of yours. He wanted to kick himself again.

"Sorry I know you're busy," you began, your head's slight tilt dislodging a strand of hair to obscure your eyes. "I'm just about to make a coffee run for the officers. Do you want your usual?"

The officers. If he had the influence over you that he secretly wanted, he'd have you spit in their drinks. Again, a dramatic thought, but one that felt warranted in his mind.

He repositioned himself, settling more firmly into the chair as his hands came together in front of him on the desk. "That's fine."

Your inched forward, and with it, a breath of your shampoo crossed the divide. He found himself mirroring your movement.

"What's wrong?"

"Why do you assume something is wrong?"

"You've got that frown on your face that makes you look constipated." Your smile was growing as you spoke, teasing him. A relief to see. He couldn't help but respond with a reluctant half-smile, almost against his will.

But then he thought about you offering the same teasing banter to the officer, undoubtedly in a more flirtatious manner, and the frown returned.

"There it is again," you noted, arms folding across your chest in a way that pushed the slopes of your breasts to the sky.

He adjusted his pants under the desk.

"I'm fine," he asserted, but the words felt hollow even to his own ears. 

His training as a profiler should have equipped him with a better poker face, but in your presence, those skills were rendered ineffective.

You pursed your lips. Those perfect lips. "I don't believe you."

It sounded more like you were singing rather than speaking, and again, he wanted to smile, but he repressed the urge.

"I don't need you to believe me," he started, narrowing his eyes just enough to be noticeable. "I'm the boss."

You let out an overstated gasp, hand dramatically to your chest. "That was mean."

He found himself laughing--a genuine, unguarded reaction that surprised him just as much as it surprised you. He shook his head, an attempt to regain his composure and the frustration he felt was due. But it was challenging when faced with your innate sweetness, a quality too precious for someone like him.

"I'm sorry," he said, still grinning. It's not often that he apologizes, but he seemed to be making exceptions for you more than anyone else. 

But that could mean nothing.

"Much better," you stated, leaning forward with your elbows on the desk, your smile striking him with an unexpected force. "Now, will you please tell your favorite assistant what's wrong?"

"You're my only assistant."

"Semantics," you scoffed, hand cutting through the air. "Spill."

You had learned that word from Reid and had not stopped saying it since. He gave you a look before giving in.

"Some of the officers are complicating my job more than necessary."

It wasn't really a lie.

You bobbed your head. "I know, right? They're being very unprofessional."

He bit back the comment ready to leap out. You weren't unprofessional--that would be an unfair assessment--but the way you acted earlier could hardly be filed under the professional conduct.

"But did you see me earlier? I totally had that one guy, I can't remember his name, but you know the one--kind of short, bad breath? Anyway, he was wrapped around my finger," you said, proudly at that, as you rummaged through your purse. "And it was worth it because I got you a little something!"

The tension that had been coiling within him unraveled in the form of a couple documents you handed over--witness statements--the very documents the local PD had been stingy with sharing. There was a heartbeat where he thought he might just kiss you for it. That thought might have turned into action, if you hadn't already been on your way out.

"You can thank me later, boss man," you tossed out with a wink. "With a bit of luck and coffee, they'll speed up that warrant thing. I'll be back before you start missing me--promise!"

He wasn't sure if that would be true. He was quick to miss you. He made a promise to himself that he would show his appreciation when you got back. Maybe in an unorthodox way, but as you said--semantics.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[moonlight-prose]

For the touched starved scenarios maybe Logan with "hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters ^^ the other notices so they pull them into a hug, smiling as they just watch them melt"?? I think it would be so cute with logan finally breaking his own barriers, reaching out to the one he adores (or*cough* is very much in love with *cough*) bc HE doesnt realize how touch starved he is and becomes slightly nervous at initiating contact at first😫

how it lingers

a/n: have i shoved this into the small world i made with the previous ask from this list? probably. but they're just so cute and i'm in love. plus just the fact that reader is also probably really timid to initiate contact with him physically. but logan finally reaching out for touch (cause he's so starved for it), and getting a response such. just let this man be happy and in love.

summary: when affection is coupled with pain logan learns it's not worth asking for. what does he need with it? but a difficult mission has him seeking the warmth of a lover in the arms of a friend.

word count: 0.7k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: fluff, blooming romances, the start of a relationship, soft logan.

It happens after a mission gone wrong. Tension hung thick in the air when the X-Men entered the front entrance, their suits charred and ripped, faces lined in pinched frowns that said far more than they wished. Logan hung back on the porch, smoking the cigar to appease the growing anxiety building in his chest. He'd never been a fan of the crowd this group accumulated—especially not when kids were involved.

But somewhere in the throng of people stood you, waiting with hope in your chest and a light in your eyes that beckoned him closer. Charles held your attention for a moment, Jean meandering over to explain in grave detail what exactly happened. You did your best to cling to every word. Even as your mind wandered to the man still stuck outside—his hands curled into fists and eyes shut to the rest of the world.

"We aren't sure what happened," Jean mumbled, a dazed expression glossing over her eyes. "If it wasn't for Logan well…Scott and I wouldn't be standing here."

The echo of his name shot through your heart—his pain bleeding into your veins the longer you stood there listening to Jean explain what happened. He saved them. He was the hero. So why was did he remain outside? Entirely separated by the people who would happily welcome him in—the ones he silently considered family.

"Is he hurt?" you asked hesitantly, entirely aware of his healing capabilities.

Nothing could hurt the Wolverine.

Not physically anyways.

Jean shrugged, fatigue settling over her face in a darkened cloud that might take days to pass. "He's…Logan."

Which meant he was taking this time to shove away emotions he didn't want to feel—things that would wreak havoc on his mind. He pushed down things he didn't want to feel; the parts of himself that left him with the bitter taste of fear on the back of his tongue. So he smoked to distract himself and left everything else up to the rest of the team.

He found it was easier to mull over his actions alone. Safer.

You tuned out the remainder of the conversation, eyes catching on the subtle shift of the crowd as Logan finally made his way inside. He clung to the wall in the hopes of going unnoticed. A familiar act of self preservation he often grew fond of at times like this. He never liked being the center of attention—why would that change solely because of one mission?

“I’ll meet you guys later.” Their responses went directly over your head, your body drawn to the man who attempted to vanish into the corner beside a plant desperate for more water.

“Bub,” he greeted, arms crossed at his chest—face turned away from your welcoming smile, from the warmth you tried offering to keep the darkness at bay.

“They said you saved them.”

He grunted, eyes flicking back to see your shoulder slump forward an inch. Barely noticeable to others in the area, but Logan clung to every slight shift of your body. Each look and half hearted smile. He tucked them into his chest in the hopes of one day wiping them away. All the stress of being a professor, of choosing to get to know a man who barely spoke more than a few words at a time.

His hand tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan softly. Barely a brush against your arm, but the grin you gave in return lit a fuse he didn’t know resided at the back of his heart. Over the years he understood what connection meant. How to form them, why he should. But staying in solitude favored him best; he couldn’t hurt anyone if he avoided them.

Until you offered him a smile bleeding enough warmth to soothe his aching heart.

A silent agreement passed between your eyes, loud enough to echo in the back of his mind as your arms curled around his neck. And with a blissful sigh filled with contentment, he melted into your touch, hands clasping around your back—arms tight and strong across your waist. Logan hugged you with his whole body, a swathing blanket of heat that poured out of him and enveloped you in love.

“Thanks bub,” he mumbled into your shoulder, head ducked as he shifted back to the corner—still tightly wound around your body.

You smiled, burrowing your face in the soft leather of his jacket. “Anytime Logan.”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

edited version can be read on ao3 HERE

.

“Need a hand with that?”

Derek didn't drop the tire he was carrying, but it was a close thing. He'd recognise that voice anywhere—would know it in a sea of a thousand others.

He slowly turned on his heel to find its owner sat in Derek's favourite tree.

Stiles.

“You're here,” he breathed, not bothering to hide the mix of shock and relief that coloured his own voice and features.

Stilesʼ lips twitched. “I'm here,” he confirmed, just in case Derek needed to hear it.

“Hey,” Derek said, eloquent as ever.

“Hey yourself,” Stiles grinned back.

Shifting his weight on the tree branch, Stiles then pulled himself up to standing. He wiped his hands on the ass of his jeans before proffering one towards Derek.

“I'm Mieczysław Stilinski. It's really nice to meet you, dude.”

Stilesʼcheeks flushed an overwhelmingly pretty shade of pink, and Derek wanted to eat him.

Reaching out to take the hand in one of his own, the pads of his fingertips brushed the familiar Jack rabbit pulse at Stiles's wrist, for just a second, and it was both a calling card and like a huge sigh of relief.

He turned the name around in his mind.

Mieczysław. Mieczysław Stilinski.

It was unexpected, and very Polish, and Derek sort of adored it.

Looking a little antsy, Stiles said, “It, uh, means 'sword' in Polish. If you go in for that sort of thing.” He blushed some more and then snorted at himself. “But yeah, I know it's kinda... ʼSʼobviously why I go by Stiles—which was my Grandfather's nickname too, by the way.”

Derek's heart swelled in his chest.

This was what they could've had if things had gone differently for them.

He cleared his throat, took a deep intake of woodsmoke-laced air into his lungs, then said, “Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, third son of Talia and Seth Hale of the Hale Pack of Beacon Hills county, North California, and I'm very pleased to meet you're acquaintance. Oh, and do not call me dude, by the way.”

“Broderick? Are you shitting me right now?!” Stiles blurted, trying and failing to not laugh.

Derek rolled his eyes and it felt like breathing. “Seriously? I think you'll find you don't have even half a leg to stand on, Mieczysław.”

“Actually, I have two, Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, and I diligently used the both of them to come out here to Bumfuck nowhere to find you.”

He shot Derek with ridiculous finger guns then blew away imaginary gunpowder smoke, and if it wasn't for the kid's beard it could've easily been thirteen-years ago.

Not a kid anymore.

Stiles looked amazing. A little broader, and a little fuller in the face, and the beard really, really suited him. At once, Derek had the desperate urge to sink his claws into it and paw at the pale skin beneath. He wanted to back Stiles into the bark of the tree and bury his nose in that long, mole-peppered neck he still had dreams about, to breathe in pure unadulterated Stiles.

He swallowed thickly, licking at his dry lips and wishing they were Stilesʼ. Had to force himself to unclench the fist not currently grasping Stiles's hand.

Derek had to try his best to pretend that he wasn't very aware of the fact that they were still very much holding onto each other.

“Broderick means 'brother' in Old Norse, if you go in for that sort of thing,” he offered, borrowing Stiles's banter.

Stiles's smile was easy, albeit tainted with a hint of sadness for that piece of information. He was sort of—looser. More relaxed, and definitely less agitated than he used to be. Though he smelled exactly the same as he always had: Of strong coffee and Bath & Body Oak shower gel and wild cinnamon and lemon sherbet dip, and that particular warm smack of something that Derek had always struggled to place—the very essence of Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski.

The familiar tang zinged over his taste buds like popping candy, and his wolf took up its routinely impatient pacing at his core as if they had seen Stiles only yesterday.

“I'm—uh, I don't—you look good, Stiles. Really good.”

This human was the only creature on planet earth that had Derek Hale fumbling his words.

Stiles was smirking his signature smirk—only there was something new pulling at the curve of that life-ruining mouth of his.

Unerring confidence.

Derek sniffed at the air and licked at his lips again so he could taste that, too.

“You're look pretty fine yourself there, Sourwolf,” Stiles divulged, mirroring Derek again by licking his own lips. He shamelessly looked Derek up and down and said, “Your edges aren't quite so sharp, and you're little softer ʼround the eyes, like maybe you're���I dunno. Something closer to being happy?” His eyes shone like the full moon in the dark when he told Derek, “And, dare I say it, maybe not even all that sour anymore?”

Derek huffed a breath out through his nostrils that was in the proximity of a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Looks good on you, man. Really good.”

Stiles was borrowing Derek's words, and if he kept saying things like that to Derek while looking at Derek the way that he was, Derek would have to restrain himself from picking the guy up by the scruff of his very nice sweater and kissing the words right out of his mouth.

Then everything sort of stilled, somehow, including the wind, and the birds, and them, as if the whole world had just halted for something incredibly important.

They stood there, just gazing at each other. Like there wasn't anything else they could or would possibly be doing right now.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

It was obvious to even the blades of grass on the ground that they both still felt it.

Slowly, slowly, they caught back up to reality.

Derek took a breath and found his voice again.

“Might've taken a few pointers from a kid I used to know,” he smiled, eyes never leaving Stilesʼ.

Then he thought in for a penny and admitted, “I hoped you'd come looking for me—and I want you to know that I'm really, really glad that you did.”

Stiles squinted at him through the sun's afternoon rays that broke through the Colorado cloud cover like the heavens had suddenly appeared. In that moment, he reminded Derek of the beautiful golden Aztec Sanvitalia shrub that grew down by the little stream behind his cabin. He wondered briefly if that was the missing base note in Stiles's scent, and felt a little insane with it all.

“Well, I knew I'd find you,” Stiles shrugged, “because one: I'm like a dog with a bone, and two: You left a trail of breadcrumbs so fucking vague only a genius like yours truly would be able to follow.”

He then shielded those big brown doe eyes of his from a particularly bright sunbeam with a still-bony hand, and the squinted look on his face was so fond Derek had to sink his canines into his lip to hold in the pitiful whine that threatened to climb up and out of his chest and escape him.

He stepped closer to the tree; closer to the boy who runs with wolves, who was definitely not a boy any longer.

“You make it sound as if we're in some sort of fairytale, Stiles,” Derek said as he attempted to blink Stiles's beauty from his eyes, knowing it would be a fruitless endeavour.

Finally, Stiles reached out to pull Derek down and into his lap, and Derek went like a force of nature.

He dropped the tire this time.

Stiles smelled like love when he said, “Weren't we always, Der?” right into Derek's mouth.

And Derek knew.

As Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly, and he kissed Stiles softly right back, he knew they both understood that although they had to travel far from Beacon Hills to find it, they had both—at long last—made it home.

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to leave me a comment <3

i saw the new dob shoot and my brain remembered the hoech one and went ping! this is for @wulfnerd seeing as they came up with the wonderful Broderick as Derek's full first name in the tags of a post of mine who knows how long ago...

unedited, please be forgiving <3

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe taking care of sick reader

warnings: none! fluff hi lovelies! i just got this idea while i was sleep-deprived and really just felt like writing fluff since it seems i haven't been writing it much lately ,,, and also because what i have planned next for bsf!rafe is ... well, let's just say he's gonna be in the trenches.

you were certain this was the worst you'd ever felt. you should've known it'd happen - of course, taking care of your little sister while she was sick would have some kind of consequences.

the tv in your bedroom was playing old episodes of buffy the vampire slayer, something you always watched when you were hungover or otherwise having a bad day, and apparently now whenever you were sick.

you had no appetite, and your entire body felt like it was on fire while also being ice cold, your trash can filled with used tissues, your second box of them now on your nightstand next to a cup of tea that had gone cold.

a soft knock was on your door, and you sighed, you knew that your sister felt guilty for getting you sick, but you also didn't want her to get sick all over again. "i told you, don't come in!"

but the door still creaked open, and you let out a soft sigh, the heels of your palms now pressing against your eyes. "i told you not to feel guilty that you got me sick, i don't blame you."

"i wasn't aware that i did that."

you furrowed your brows when the voice that came from the door wasn't your little sister's soft, warm voice, but instead a rough, deep voice, one you were intimately familiar with. you didn't even need to take your hands away from your eyes to know who it belonged to.

but once you did, you were confronted with your best friend's tall figure standing at your doorway, a smile on his face and a grocery bag and a bouquet of flowers in hand as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. you pulled your blanket up to your nose, aware that you definitely didn't look the best right now, only making the boy chuckle.

"why are you here, rafe?" you asked in a soft voice that was muffled by the blanket, "i texted you to tell you i'm sick."

"i know." rafe said as he slowly walked over to your bed, sitting at the edge of it. "you do know that you don't need to hide, right? i've seen you sick a million times when we were kids." the boy chuckled, slowly pulling the blanket down, revealing your face.

"then why are you here?"

"i'm here to take care of you." he said with a small smile. it was odd, you were sure you hadn't seen rafe act this gentle since you were both children, the boy now pulling things out of the grocery bag. "i brought you some crackers, and some of your favorite snacks. and, chicken noodle soup. your sister said you haven't really been eating."

"rafe, you do know that you could get sick too, right?" you asked as rafe started emptying the contents of the grocery bag, revealing an array of some of your favorite snacks, your eyes widening.

"well, if i do, i expect the same treatment from you."

you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him, "you do know that no funny business is gonna go down, right?" and the blonde simply burst into laughter. "i mean, this isn't exactly an attractive sight."

"just let me take care of you."

and even though you kept trying to tell rafe to leave, that he'd probably get sick if he stayed, but your attempts were futile, and after a while, there was a fresh bouquet of flowers on your nightstand along with a new cup of tea, you had downed the chicken noodle soup, the warmth of it calming down some of the pain in your throat, and you were both now settled in your queen-sized bed, a cold towel on your forehead that rafe had insisted you needed.

"i can't believe you're watching this again." rafe grinned, his arm lazily thrown around your shoulder as he bit into one of the twizzlers he had brought, buffy still playing on tv.

"what do you mean? it's a great show."

"mmhm. and you're sure it has nothing to do with your crush on that emo bleach-blonde vampire?"

you softly smacked rafe's chest before taking the cold towel off your forehead, now having turned lukewarm. "you know, he kind of reminds me of you."

that statement made rafe grin, turning to look at you with lifted brows, "oh, yeah? is that why you have a crush on him?"

you simply rolled your eyes, letting out a small scoff.

rafe hadn't even noticed the moment you had gone slack in his arms, still focused on the tv, only realizing that you were asleep when you let out a small, adorable whine in your sleep. he looked down at your face, so serene and beautiful, it made something in his chest ache. he'd never tell you, but the moments he loved the most were the ones like this. ones when he could just admire you without having to hide it.

he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, tugging it behind your ear before pressing a soft, feather-like kiss on your forehead, looking down at you, an aching feeling stabbing in his chest, one that was more intimate than any of the sexual aching he felt for you. and that was the moment that he really realized he was in trouble.

and in a soft whisper, he said, "i love you." hoping that the girl it was meant for wouldn't be able to hear it.

[celestialprincesse]

I don’t know if you are still taking requests, so if you aren’t, please ignore this!! a little while ago I saw something where a military spouse got in trouble for giving her husband a hickey because it was a “violation of government property.” I’m imagining this with Simon LMAO that man would DIE if this happened to him and you

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Everyone knows that you and Simon are together. Although the wedding bands stay hidden snugly between the fabric of your shirts and the skin of your chests, the tan lines remain on your ring fingers, only to be noticed by those who'd been trusted enough to be invited to your intimate ceremony. The two of you had spent months on edge after he'd proposed, always haunted by the looming threat of becoming leverage, a weak spot to be exploited.

That's why you're currently sat on the other end of the common room, curled up on a worn couch with a stack of reports on your lap, trying to ignore the thought of what you and Simon were getting up to last night, blowing off some steam after a long day of pent up frustration and energy. Maybe a little too much frustration, judging by the splotches of purple on Simon's neck when his mask rides up.

"You know," Price states from behind you, a wry, knowing smile crossing his warm features as he catches you clearly off guard, making you jump. "Technically that's a destruction of government property."

"What?" You mutter back incredulously, cocking a brow in confusion as you twist in your seat to face him, trying to school your features back into neutrality.

"Whoever decided to uh," He gives you a knowing glance, looking to the splotchy dark mark in the juncture between Simon's neck and shoulder, where you'd clearly gone a little further than initially realised.

"Bang up our boy there. Could get in serious trouble for that."

If your face wasn't burning with shame, maybe you'd have laughed rather than burying your face back into the stack of reports you'd been poring over, absolutely mortified at the thought of your captain, and probably the rest of the team, being aware of you and your husband's complete disregard for government property.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[pomefioredove]

Can we have kalim's ending for the yuu auction as well? I was pretty excited for his outcome

of course of course!

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: a kalim ending type of post: short fic characters: kalim additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is maybe a little short, hi kalim :)

"Problems don't just go away when you throw money at them, you know," Vil says. The tone of his voice is sour, and he's making no effort to hide it. "You'll have to actually take some responsibility."

Leona rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut it. They're not a pet, they can handle themselves. You're just butthurt it wasn't you,"

"And yet, here you are, still moping just the same," he snaps back. "Kalim, congratulations. I'm sure the prefect will- where'd he go?"

Despite their best efforts, Kalim hadn't heard a single word of the other housewarden's well wishes (and warnings).

He was gone before they'd even started, in fact.

Even with all he'd had prepared beforehand- the new room, the uniforms, all of your favorite foods- there was suddenly a list a mile long on his mind.

First, he had to get you.

Then, he had to show you around your new place.

Then, dinner.

Followed by dessert, of course.

(Maybe a light appetizer to start? Why hadn't he thought of that already?!)

And then he'd treat you to an evening of your favorite songs, laughter, and fun.

So on, and so forth.

Kalim may be a little oblivious at times, but your poor condition at Ramshackle is no secret to anyone. He'd been talked out of helping more than once before- and, so, this was his chance.

The gravity of technically owning a person who doesn't legally exist in this world hasn't crossed his mind even once. The way he sees it, he gets to host you indefinitely, take you on vacations with his family, treat you to the life you deserve after all you've done for everyone, and no one can tell him no.

Though, something still sits in the back of his mind, something that asks him to walk before running. A voice of reason.

If Kalim had a shoulder angel and devil, both of them would somehow be Jamil:

"I would advise taking it easy on them as they adjust. This whole spectacle must have been difficult for them. You're a good listener when you try. Now's a chance to show that,"

More than anything, Kalim wants to impress you.

Such a thought would make anyone else scoff- the gold and jewels and magic carpets aren't enough?

And his answer would be... well... no.

Kalim possesses many things. He has entire houses full of treasure, trinkets, fine silks, servants at his every whim... and yet, he's still missing something crucial. Something he's become more and more aware of since coming to NRC.

A bond.

Of course, he loves his siblings. And his parents. And the students in Scarabia. And the students in the other dorms. He might consider all of the above friends, but not at the emotional level he seeks. Jamil is a work in progress. But you- you're already well-acquainted, and friendly. You're a gracious guest, a great listener, and... well, you had the kind of bond he looks for with so many other people on campus.

Why else would everyone be lining up to pay to be your friend otherwise?

(That's how he saw it, anyway).

So, he listens. Makes an effort to, anyway. He even stops feeding Grim at dinner when you ask him to.

"Oops!" he says, offering the direbeast a gold-lined handkerchief to wipe around his mouth. "But it's good, right? Jamil's family recipe is always delicious!"

You quirk a smile at him. "I liked it. Grim?"

Grim mumbles something indistinct and crawls to sit on the other side of you.

"I'm glad! I remember you telling me that you miss it from your home- I can't believe some of our recipes are so similar!" he beams. "Maybe Scarabia will start feeling like a home to you, too, then!"

You laugh, a little awkwardly. "Aha... maybe. This is all just so sudden,"

"But... good, right?"

"Yes, good," you smile, tilting your head to the side. "It's a step up from being Crowley's errand-runner and sleeping in the cold, at least."

"Well, you'll certainly never be cold here!"

He laughs again, and a murmur of agreement ripples through the students in attendance, all the way down to the end of the long table.

"Ah... Kalim, this is nice. Really nice... I don't know how I'm going to repay you for any of this,"

"Pay? Like with money?" he raises an eyebrow. "You're my guest, and an honorary member of Scarabia now, so you don't have to do anything but relax."

That's not exactly what you meant, though you don't have the heart to explain what exactly Crowley's care had been like.

"...Right. But really, if you need anything done- I'll be glad to do it,"

He's quiet for a moment, thinking. "Well... if you're really bored, I'm sure you could find something to do. We have lots of board games,"

"No, I meant like, work,"

Kalim blinks. "Why would you have to work?"

You should've just let it go. Now this is getting embarrassing, admitting all that Crowley had you do when you had no say in the matter.

"You know... to earn my keep,"

"Earn your..." he squints. "You don't have to earn anything. Having you here is reward enough for me!"

Sometimes his oblivious nature can be a little comforting.

And even though it's dark, his positivity is as radiant as the sun... you can't help but return his smile.

"Alright, then,"

"Alright! Now..." he says, looking around the table. "Who's ready for dessert?"

[uvobreakmylegs]

Ouroboros

this fic is one I wrote a long while ago as a lil sequel to @hypnoswrites's fic Vengeance Tastes Bitter and she gave permission for me to post :D

please be aware of the tags if you choose to check out either of these fics

Uvogin x female!reader

Warnings: kidnapping, captivity, mentions of death, mentions of murder, past noncon, mentions of suicide, threats of violence, abusive relationships, attempted murder, dubcon, smut, Uvogin being a bastard

Word Count: 2.9k

The sounds of a door abruptly opening and then slamming shut were what announced his arrival. And despite being used to the sound of his return, you still tensed up when you heard him approaching as you determined how long it would take for him to find you within the house.

Unsurprisingly, it wasn't very long.

Uvogin's gaze was on you the second he entered the kitchen, looking you over as you stood by the counter. You heard him hum to himself before he said anything to you, sounding slightly dissatisfied. Perhaps he was looking over the marks he'd left on your skin and was unhappy when he saw that they were fading.

Or perhaps it was because that you had yet to acknowledge him, instead keeping yourself turned away and looking out through the window at the scenery outside. The nice weather outside was a better thing to focus your energy on, though you wouldn't be able to ignore him for too much longer. He wouldn't allow that.

“Don't you have somethin' to say to me?” Uvogin asked you.

“…. I don't know what you want me to say,” you replied.

“What, you don't know that it's common courtesy to greet someone when they've returned home? Who raised you?”

That last comment stung.

“This isn't your home. It's not mine, either. Why the hell should I bother with that?” you asked bitterly.

“Because I want you to.”

He was enjoying this. You could hear it in his voice. And you already knew he had that usual victorious smirk on his face, pleased with himself that he had managed to make you snap at him.

Even though he liked the ways you would push back, he would expect you to comply at some point, and while you hated needing to bend to his will, things were better if you did that much.

Or at the very least, they were less violent.

Your shoulder's sagged as you sighed and then said, “welcome back.”

You then glanced over your shoulder to look at him.

He was smirking. As expected. Still getting a kick out of making you submit to him.

It had been several months since that fateful, awful day where you had convinced yourself that you could kill him and take revenge for your family. The day where he had soundly beaten you without even trying, and instead of taking your life for bothering him with the weak attempt, he had amused himself by humiliating you. Starting with pissing on you after preventing you from taking your own life and ending with him raping you repeatedly over a period of several hours.

He kept you at the camp he had set up for a few weeks after in the hopes that people would come looking for you so he could torment you even more by killing your would-be rescuers in front of you. But no one ever came, much to his disappointment and your relief, though it was depressing that no one seemed to have noticed that you were gone.

After that Uvogin traveled from place to place, moving from continent to continent while living a rather nomadic lifestyle. And he dragged you along with him, as you were there to be his greatest source of entertainment.

It was an existence that you despised. And he knew you felt as such.

He seemed to revel in that fact.

Uvogin tended to keep to less populated areas when it came to his camps. He seemed to genuinely enjoy surviving in the outdoors, so it was surprising when he had broken into the house you were currently in and announced that the two of you would be staying there. You could only assume that he wanted a change of pace.

You didn't complain, as it was nice to be able to sleep in a bed again, even if you did need to share with him. And Uvogin had seemed to have gotten that for you without killing someone for it, which helped in keeping you from feeling too guilty about staying in a stranger's house.

All you hoped for was that the actual owner of the house wouldn't come back while the two of you were still there. You knew what the outcome would be if that were to happen, and you would hate yourself even more if you were forced to stand to the side while someone died for no reason.

“Was that so hard?” Uvogin asked you, the stupid smirk still on his face. He was still trying to goad you into getting upset with him.

Instead you just sighed and turned away, looking back outside. The house he had found was still more on the outskirts of society, and not far from the kitchen window sat a mountain with a hiking trail where you regularly saw people walking through.

You had enough common sense to know that you couldn't go to anyone for help. Uvogin would just kill them.

And when he began to leave you alone in the house, he had warned against attempts to take your own life, telling you that if he did come back and find you dead, he'd go out and slaughter a hundred people. Even if you managed to escape him in death, he would go out of his way to make sure that someone paid the price, and he didn't care who it was.

A hundred people was a lot and it felt far too over the top when you heard it, but you didn't question him on how dedicated he was to that plan: you could absolutely see him carrying that out. And despite how tantalizing the knife block over to your right managed to be that promised you an easy way out, you kept yourself from going that far. No matter what, you couldn't give him any excuses to kill even more people.

The only way you could see yourself escaping him was if he finally got tired of you and killed you like you'd wanted for so long now.

It was an odd thing to wish that you would be so boring that he would kill you for it.

And unfortunately it seemed to be something that was easier said than done.

“What, nothing to say to that?”

When you didn't respond, you heard him hum to himself once again. Then he approached you, his footsteps sounding against the tile of the kitchen floor, and they stopped when he stood behind you, leaving very little space between the two of you.

Even without his nen, his presence was overwhelming. In part because of just how he towered over you and effortlessly made you feel smaller than you actually were. And Uvogin was clearly using that to his full advantage at the moment as he placed both of his hands on the edge of the counter, his arms on either side of your body as he kept you stuck in that spot. Any attempt to duck under his arms would just end with him holding onto you, so you stayed put. Even though him being in such close proximity wasn't ideal, at least he was keeping his hands to himself, if just for the moment.

Uvogin hummed to himself a third time.

“You've been quieter,” he said.

“Have I?”

“Yeah,” he answered flatly, “what's that about?”

“Why does it matter?” you asked.

“Because it makes you seem like you're up to something.”

“I'm not,” you said, then you added “I guess I'm just accepting my situation.”

He snorted at that.

“Accepting it, huh? Doesn't seem that way to me.”

“Okay,” you said, shrugging.

Uvogin didn't seem to buy your indifference.

“If you were really okay with this, I don't think you would've snapped at me earlier,” he said.

That time you didn't answer.

His gaze was heavy on you, and you swore you could hear the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to figure what would be the best way to deal with you. It'd be very easy for him to just hurt you, something he'd done many times before. What was stopping him from going that far right now was a mystery to you.

“It still seems like you're up to something,” he finally said.

“I'm not,” you answered.

But you couldn't help but add something else to that.

“Why does this even matter to you? Most of the time you're only interested in fucking me.”

He sounded pleased with himself when he answered with a “yeah.”

“But I've come to like our conversations,” he added.

That makes one of us

Something like that probably would've been your response only a few months ago. When you had just a bit more fight in you and hoped that if you yelled and insulted him enough, he'd kill you.

But that sort of reaction was the thing he was looking for, and your goal was to disappoint him. Something that you were failing at in the moment, but you could still try.

He was quiet again, and this time you heard his fingers tapping against the surface of the counter.

It made things feel a bit more dangerous, for some reason.

After a few moments of that, he spoke again.

“What would their reaction be if they were still alive?” he asked.

You knew who he was talking about even without him saying it specifically: the dead members of your family, who he likely didn't even remember murdering or even why he had killed them. The whole reason this awful chapter in your life had started.

The question was a trap. You knew that much.

“If they were still alive we wouldn't be here,” you answered shortly.

“Hm. I guess.”

He leaned down closer and you felt his breath tickling your ear. Despite your attempts to keep yourself steady, you couldn't keep yourself from shuddering at the feeling.

You knew that he noticed because he chuckled at you.

“If your family knew what would happen after they died,” he asked, “if they knew that one day you'd fuck up your attempt at revenge so massively that it would end with you becoming my slave, how sad do you think they'd be?”

You didn't answer.

The knife block was still in view from the corner of your eye.

“What would they be thinking if they saw you all those times you came while my cock was buried inside of you?” he whispered, “knowing that their last surviving member was the one who was getting off with help from the guy who killed them? How disgusted would they be? If they saw just how much of a slut-”

You grabbed a knife and tried to stab him in the face.

Uvogin caught your wrist, the blade of the knife mere inches away from his eye.

And he grinned as he tightened his grip around your wrist, forcing you to open your hand and drop the knife.

He won.

Again.

He'd been goading you again and you hadn't been able to help but fall right into his trap.

It went without saying that something bad was coming your way.

“That seems a bit extreme, doesn't it?” he asked you, glancing down at the knife where it lay on the floor.

“You're a piece of shit,” you hissed.

“I think we established that a while ago, babe,” he said.

Then he let you go and pulled away from you. Your hand immediately went to the aching area around your wrist, and when you looked back up at him, he was standing at full height with his hands on his hips and an expectant look in his eye.

You knew what he wanted. You'd seen that look often enough to know what it meant.

But for some reason, you decided to play dumb.

“What?” you asked.

“What, you want me to spell it out for you?” he asked back, “on your knees.”

“No.”

It would still happen. You knew that, but you didn't want to submit completely. It went against your strategy of being as boring as possible, but after trying to take out his eye with a knife, you figured there was no point in trying to keep up with that. Not for today, at least.

Instead of slapping you around before forcing you to your knees, Uvogin hummed to himself. Then his eyes went to the window behind you, as though he caught sight of something, and he smirked to himself.

That was what made you nervous. And your nervousness turned to dread after he motioned for you to look out as well and you saw what he had spotted.

Two people along the hiking trail.

Despite the distance between you and them, you got the sense that they were a couple. Something in the way they walked together, or when one of them looked back to the other. Just two people out on a hiking date.

Two completely innocent people who didn't deserve death.

The cracking of Uvogin's knuckles had you spinning back around, and he gave you a toothy grin as he said “I guess if you don't want to…”

He then turned as though he was going to leave the kitchen.

Placing a hand on his arm, you stopped him.

Like he knew you would.

When he turned back to you with that smirk still on his face, you did as he wanted and went down to your knees. It felt uncomfortable against the tile of the kitchen, but you told yourself that it could be worse. At least you weren't out in the open with stones digging into your skin while your leg was broken.

Pulling down the hem of his shorts revealed that he was already semi-hard. You frowned as you took his length in hand and began to stroke it. It wasn't long before he was fully erect, and you moved in closer to place a kiss on the tip.

“You can do better than that.”

There was a familiar feeling of a hand at the back of your head, and then you were being pushed in closer, the tip of his cock smearing precum over your lips before you forced your mouth open so he could shove the head inside.

“That's more like it,” he said, although it seemed he was saying that more to himself.

You fell into a rhythm that you knew well by now; your tongue glided over cock while you stroked whatever didn't fit. All the while he stared down at you with a triumphant look on his face.

He'd get bored of you eventually. That was what you told yourself. A man like him would one day get tired of you, when you would no longer give him any new or interesting reactions. And getting rid of you would be as simple as crushing your head beneath his foot.

Not today. You'd messed that up royally.

But eventually….. Eventually you'd get out of this hell.

Uvogin's grip on your hair got tighter and he pushed his cock into your mouth as far as he was able when he finally came. He kept you there for a while, ignoring the way you slapped his thighs to try and tell him that you needed air.

With a content sigh he finally let you go, allowing you to fall backwards onto the tile of the kitchen while you sputtered, coughing up remnants of his release. One may have thought you would've been used to something like that by now, but it always managed to feel like too much.

You were expecting more taunts from him, more goading insults to upset you further so you felt even more helpless when he would force himself upon you once again.

Yet nothing like that ever came.

And when you looked back up at him, it seemed as though he was thinking about something.

He snapped out of it when you made eye contact, however, and he grinned at you once more.

“You wanna stay here or go to the bedroom?” he asked.

“…. Bedroom.”

No sooner had you said that, he had bent down and scooped you up, throwing you up onto his shoulder just as he had done on that first day, and he began to march you over to the bedroom.

What happened next was expected: he threw you down onto the bed, tore your clothes off and roughly fingered you for a few moments before slamming his length into you. It hurt and you hated it, but you did your best to take it.

His mouth ended up on your neck faster than you were expecting, however, sucking on your skin to place new marks over the older, fading ones.

His lips were also faster in catching yours for a kiss, and when he pulled away, he saw the look of confusion on your face.

“What, you still gonna be a bitch about that?” he asked.

“…. Do what you want,” you answered, officially giving up.

“I intend to.”

Uvogin went back to marking up your neck, and in between leaving those marks, you heard him mutter “keeping you was the best decision I ever made.”

…. That was a little worrying, but your focus went back to the way he thrust into you.

One day this would end. He'd lose interest in you and then it would be over. He was just lying to try and upset you further.

….. Right?

[oh-no-its-bird]

Thinking about my desire for a mistaken identity time travel fic where Obito and Sasuke get tossed into the warring states, but bc Sasuke looks like an Izuna clone and Obito for some reason gets the wild hair look back, they keep being mistaken for Madara and Izuna.

Notably, they keep being mistaken for Madara and Izuna as they are in the middle of attempting to beat the ever-loving shit out of eachother.

And because Obito likes causing problems for Madara and Sasuke shrimply does not give a fuck and might even appreciate the fake identity alibi, they do nothing to actually deny the mistaken identity. Obito actually encourages it, usually by loudly agreeing with whoever shouts "omg its Uchiha Madara" as he lights shit on fire.

Anything to cause the real Madara more problem, right? Karma, bitch aa

He actually wants to cut his hair short again but the temptation of getting to continue to ruin Madara's reputation is too good, so he doesnt

ANYWAYS. Thinking about all of the above again w the context of my "Kakashi is related to and bears a resemblance to Tobirama" agenda thats been steadily growing in like. Actually, I think almost every Kakashi fic Ive written so far (oops)

Maybe I want Kakashi in this now. Maybe I'm also thinking about Tenzo, who got the same "oh for some strange reason my hair is longer now" treatment as Obito and with the Mokuton, can now be mistake as Hashirama by those who have never seen him. Or even people who have seen him but logically assume he's wearing a henge.

There's only one known man with the power of Mokuton-- why would the ever believe it wasn't Hashirama (unless they were close enough to the man to truly doubt it on a personal level)

I have no real ideas for an overarching plot, but like. Obito, Sasuke, Kakashi and Tenzo mistaken identity time travel my beloved,,

Kakashi and Tenzo traveled + landed together and Obito and Sasuke did the same so neither group is aware of the other

(Kakashi and Obito eventually figure it out bc of the shared eye connection I think)

But in the mean time they actually keep managing to avoid each other bc they'll hear rumors ab "Uchiha Madara" being spotted in the town over (Obito continues to be very loud about it very on purpose) and then avoid going there, while Sasuke hears the same, figures its Obito, and sprints over to try and bash his face in

Obito finally eventually gets cornered by Kakashi, Tenzo, and Sasuke and gets his shit rocked fr fr send tweet

Sasuke and Kakashi bonding moment(s) where we tackle the uhh. Everything. Of canon. And Sasuke gives Kakashi a crumb of respect back or smthn

Idk but I just want to see Sasuke call him sensei, don't ask me how we'd get there

Meanwhile when they're finally like, exposed or whatever there's just SUCH a mess there to be had

I'm choosing Uchiha Hikaku as my first contact bc I love him dearly and think he serves as good middleground between ranks of importance and relevance

So like. Picture this.

You are Hikaku. You're sent out to investigate some rumors about Madara and Izuna fucking shit up and causing a general mess some ways away. A henge, a slander campaign, the real Madara-sama is sure.

You get there and find 3 people fighting.

(Obito, Kakashi and Tenzo's first interaction. It's tense. They may all come from the final battle, after Obito changed his mind, but there were a lot of things left unsaid and also they all probably just wanna beat the shit out of eachother anyways. Things happen, things are said, a fight is had)

Two of them bear a passing resemblance to Madara and Tobirama respectively, and the 3rd has the look of a Senju to him.

Ok. So, Senju slander campaign? Gone... wrong, he'd assume by the fact that they were all fighting.

You then recognize that the fake Madara has mismatched eyes (!!!! What the fuck !!! Culturally significant thing there !! Was he born like that? Was it a transplant?)

And the fake Tobirama(?) has a whole stolen sharingan he seems to be ACTIVLEY using (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! SOUND THE ALARMS!!!!! BLOODLINE THIEF ALERT !!!!!!!!)

You debate between just watching or entering the fight, but then the fake Tobirama makes some sort of reference to his sharingan eye belonging to the fake Madara's.

All thoughts come to a screeching halt.

Ok. So. Gonna get involved now.

There's a clear side here (Uchiha vs potential Senju) Hikaku can not leave his clanmate to die, and he doesn't yet know how he might have been involved in the slander campaign so it's honestly best to put this guy in his pocket and bring him back to Madara anyways

So Hikaku enters the battle, everyone makes appropriate shocked pikachu faces bc no one noticed him and aw shit it's gonna get more complicated, cool, awesome, great

(Also note; Hikaku became the eventual Uchiha head after Madara's defection so there's also a "oh shit no way" reaction from Obito specifically who knows this information. And also maybe Kakashi who I imagine knows a lot of Konoha's history and politics)

Battle continues, Tenzo uses Mokuton, Hikaku gets appropriately freaked the FUCK out at the idea of another mokuton user

Then Sasuke comes crashing out of nowhere , yay !!!

(Kakashi and Tenzo, who did not know Sasuke was here yet and are only seeing him for the first time, make more surprised pikachu faces)

Sasuke, who... possibly knew Kakashi and Tenzo were around and may have been avoiding them, wanting to signal that for now at least they were all on the same side (against Obito) nods to Kakashi specifically and gives a tense and sort of stilted, "sensei."

SO. HIKAKU IS KIND OF GOING THROUGH IT OVER HERE NOW.

Sasuke is a dead fucking wringer for Izuna in the way that only a direct relation can be. I'm talking they could absoloutley pass for twins kind of relation. Worst of all, they look around the same age (Sasuke is only a few years younger)

Hikaku is no longer fighting with a strange Uchiha against Senju agents he's now fighting with an Uchiha against another Uchiha (who's a dead wringer for his clan heir !!!!) He does not know who to believe or what side to exist on.

(Had this false Izuna called the fake Tobirama sensei? Oh god—)

Things happen, whether they lose or escape I don't know but it ends with an incredibly confused and concerned Hikaku returning to the Uchiha clan compound with tales of bloodline theft, another mokuton user, and horrifically— A possible sibling, lost and raised by the senju in secret.

Yeah. So. Madara won't react well to that. Madara won't react well to that at all.

(Izuna won't either, in the slightest. Does... does he have a twin...? Did he have a twin once, lost too early for their parents to bear to tell them...?)

It's incredibly hard for the Senju to deny any involvement when Hikaku has sharingan perfect memories to share of the fake-Izuna (Sasuke, they had called him Sasuke) standing side by side with a man who resembles Tobirama and another who is very fucking clearly using Mokuton. And that's "very fucking clearly using mokuton" seen by someone who has SEEN mokuton used in battle. Multiple times. He will not mistake it for anything else.

Anyways oops sorry for creating a horrible political scandal and also probably making the Uchiha/Senju wore like 10 times more charged teehee </3

(Obito doesn't give a shit. Sasuke swings violently between caring both too little and too much depending on the hour of the day and how the issue is framed. Kakashi and Tenzo are.... distracted. And undecided. And care about this issue from an "aw shit but Konoha wait no—" view point)

Ummmmm anyways endgame Konoha is made early (but possibly with a bit more blood involved) and Hikaku is made Hokage bc I fucking love Hikaku, yay the end !!!

[edenesth]

Cheat Codes and Heartstrings

"Oh, dude, what are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be on a date?" Wooyoung asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend's unexpected appearance at their gaming hangout—a plan Yunho had bailed on to be with his girlfriend.

The taller man sighed, pulling out the empty chair and dropping into it. "She cancelled. Said something important came up, so she couldn't make it. Guess we're gaming now."

Mingi smirked, fingers flying across the keyboard as he struggled to talk while focusing on his ongoing Valorant match. "Told you, man. Nothing beats our bond, not even girls. Bros before hoes, always."

San scoffed, tossing a chip at him from across the table, offended on behalf of his loving partner, who was currently at home baking his favourite brownies while waiting for him. "Yeah, yeah. You're just salty you don't have a girlfriend."

"Yeah right, simp," Mingi rolled his eyes.

Wooyoung snickered. "Nah bro, he's not salty about not having a girlfriend. He's just salty because Yunho betrayed his moral loyalty and fell in love with someone else."

"Shut the hell up, Woo," Mingi shot him a side glare before his friend could fire back with their never-ending bromance joke, muttering a curse as he lost his game. He quickly switched over to League of Legends. "Anyway, you showed up at the perfect time—DoraTheDestroyer's playing today."

That got Yunho's full attention. He immediately perked up, scrambling to log into his Steam account. "No way, seriously? Is she actually here?"

DoraTheDestroyer—the most famous female gaming legend in this part of Seoul—had crushed all LOL players and held the top spot for ages. People often wondered why she hadn't gone pro. Few knew what she really looked like, as she preferred to stay under the radar, slipping in and out of cybercafes in her signature black Adidas windbreaker and cap. She always played in the VIP section, away from the regulars.

"Yeah, she's here. Probably for the weekly tournament, though we all know she never accepts invitations to the national championship," San confirmed, nodding toward the VIP section. The doors were closed, but through the small window, they could glimpse her trademark outfit. "Such a waste of good talent."

"Tell me about it." For a moment, Yunho forgot about his girlfriend, his face lighting up at the sight of the female gamer's familiar profile picture—a popular meme of Tyler the Creator dressed as Dora the Explorer.

"Holy crap, I can't believe we finally get to play against her," he grinned, his heart racing with excitement. He'd been waiting for this moment for a long time. As much as the Korean gaming community hyped her up, he needed to experience her skills firsthand—and get beaten by her—to fully believe she was that good.

Mingi chuckled, flexing his fingers as they geared up for the match. "You should probably thank your girlfriend for cancelling. Turns out it was a blessing in disguise."

The match began, and right away, the female gamer's team took an aggressive stance, pushing hard against their defences. But the guys weren't going down without a fight. They called out positions, planned counters, and slowly gained ground.

At first, it seemed like they were evenly matched. Yunho even managed a few key kills that had him grinning in satisfaction. "Well well, looks like we've got a shot," he said, feeling the adrenaline surge. The game was neck-and-neck, the score swinging back and forth as both teams traded victories in intense skirmishes.

But then, as the match wore on, something shifted. The legend had been quiet for a while—too quiet. Just when they thought they had her pinned, she'd slip away, regrouping with her team in ways that left them scrambling to defend their positions. Her map awareness was on another level, and her timing, impeccable.

Mingi caught on first. "Wait… she's playing us. She's luring us into traps."

It became clear she wasn't just good—she was a strategist, always two steps ahead. The moment they thought they had control, her team would come in for a devastating coordinated attack, wiping them out with perfect synergy. Her ability to manipulate the battlefield, vanish when needed, and strike when least expected left them speechless.

The final battle was the most intense, and for a moment, it looked like Yunho's team might actually pull off a victory. They fought tooth and nail, but in the end, her team made a flawless, surgical final push. The defeat was swift, calculated, and undeniable. And as expected, she emerged as the MVP of the match once again.

Yunho leaned back in his chair, breathing heavily. "She's amazing," he said, awe-struck.

His friends sat in stunned silence, nodding in agreement, still processing the sheer level of skill they had just witnessed.

"Well," Mingi finally spoke, running a hand through his hair. "That was something else."

Yunho was still trying to process the insane skills he had just witnessed. DoraTheDestroyer wasn't just a legend in the community; she was a master tactician. Her stealth, her timing—it was on a level he hadn't even imagined. His heart was still racing from the match when his phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message from his girlfriend.

'Sorry for bailing earlier, Yuyu :((( I just got done, let's meet and I'll make it up to you, okie? <3' — beautiful✨

He stared at the text for a moment, his thumb hovering over the screen. Normally, he'd be up in a flash, eager to meet her. But this time, he stayed seated, his mind still reeling from the game. Wooyoung, who had caught a glimpse of the message, nudged him. "Bro, aren't you going?"

Yunho bit his lip, feeling conflicted. He cared about his girlfriend, but something about what had just happened stuck with him. "This won't do, guys," he said, shaking his head. "I have to convince her to join the national championship. She's too good to be just playing for fun like this. She'd make South Korea proud."

Mingi looked over at him, surprised. "Dude, you're serious?"

Yunho nodded firmly. "She's the real deal, man. If anyone can dominate on the national stage, it's her. I have to try."

He pushed himself off his seat, spotting the female gamer moving to leave the VIP section. "Here goes nothing," he gulped, steeling himself as he approached the figure. She was masked up, her cap pulled low, and walked swiftly toward the cybercafe's exit, ignoring the stares that followed her, just like she always did.

"Wait, miss!" he called out, his heart racing as her steps faltered, but she didn't turn to face him. His friends watched intently, along with all the others in the cafe, curious about what he was about to do.

"Look, I just wanted to say how incredibly talented you are. I don't understand why you haven't gone pro yet, but you need to! I promise you will have my full support, along with all the guys here!" he declared, urgency creeping into his voice. There was a pause, and the room fell silent, everyone holding their breath.

Slowly, she turned around, her head still lowered, the cap obscuring her face. "If I do, will you forgive me?" she replied softly.

Yunho blinked, momentarily speechless. "Wh-what...?" His jaw dropped as she finally removed her cap and mask, revealing...

"Babe?" he gasped.

A chorus of disappointed groans swept through the crowd of amateur gamers, who were heartbroken to finally learn the identity of their goddess—and that she had a boyfriend—one who was just as attractive as she was. The revelation sent murmurs rippling through the room, and a collective sigh of annoyance echoed from the guys, realising their beloved idol was taken.

You nervously bit your lip as you watched your boyfriend stride toward you, each step purposeful. He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze intense as he muttered, "God, I didn't think it was possible to love you even more than I already do."

The crowd quickly dispersed, returning to their games, envious out of their minds.

You beamed at his words, reaching up to cover his hands with yours. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" you asked hopefully, but his grin took on a sly edge as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "You wish, baby. It's going to take a lot of making up for that."

Your cheeks flushed at his teasing, warmth spreading through you as he wrapped a possessive arm around your back, guiding you out of the male-dominated space. Stepping outside, you felt excitement and apprehension, knowing that your journey to make amends for keeping your identity a secret was just beginning.

As you walked together, Yunho couldn't help but stare down at you, still trying to process everything. He was in awe. The sweet, innocent girl who had always been at the top of her class and earned "Employee of the Year" at work was also a badass gamer who commanded the virtual battlefield. "Why didn't you just tell me who you were?"

You sighed, leaning into his embrace. "I'm sorry... I know this probably sounds stupid, but I didn't want you to see me differently. What if you didn't like the version of me you just saw? What if—”

"Are you kidding? It is stupid. If anything, I love you even more. Do you have any idea how hot that is? DoraTheDestroyer," he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. His tone deepened as he tightened his grip on you. "You could destroy me any day."

You blushed, realising that if you had known your gentle giant had such a naughty side, just as he didn't know about yours, you might have told him from the start.

"Maybe I will, Yuyu."

✨ Bonus ✨

"So, are you still mad at Yunho for betraying his moral loyalty?" Wooyoung teased, nudging Mingi, who was still in shock. "I mean, she's only the nation's best League of Legends player. Do you still think you could go up against her?"

The tall dork cleared his throat, blinking as if that would help him regain his composure. "I might not be able to beat her in League, but that doesn't mean I can't beat her in winning Yunho's affections."

San raised an eyebrow, his expression clearly saying, "Really, brother?"

"Fine… I guess she is kinda cool," Mingi conceded. He crossed his arms, trying to maintain a tough demeanour, but there was no hiding the admiration in his voice. "I'll let her have him if she joins the championship."

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The idea of gamer Yunho is just so 🫦 this was supposed to be a short little timestamp but as usual, I get carried away and voila.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar |

@bunny4yungi @zl-world

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[brucewaynehater101]

I’d love to see more of the Emotional Marks AU. I want to see the reveal and the Bats having the realization that just because they’re doing better /now/, it doesn’t fix the damage they did before. And that they can’t force things to heal. Healing takes time.

Post being mentioned is here

What I'm curious about is if it's a human only thing or if others (like Kyrptonians, Martians, Atlanteans, etc.) also get marks.

Anyways, here's some more stuff I thought of. As always, take as little or as much as you'd like of it ^^

Tim never takes off the object hiding his marks, even for himself. It's part habit and part desperation to never see how much his loved ones have actually hurt him.

He's unique in that he isn't sure where most of his marks come from. People usually see the marks within 24 hours of their appearance. Tim has gone years between seeing his own marked skin.

As I've stated before, the object works like glamor. Therefore, those with enough magic power would be able to see past it. This is part of why Tim wanted pants for the Robin uniform (any magicians working with Robin would see the moment they saw any of Tim's bare skin). Tim is very lucky the marks on his face only appeared a bit before he became Red Robin (and part of his reason for the cowl).

Marks typically stay away from the face. They only appear there if symbolically significant or if the marks are running out of space elsewhere on the body. Bart and Kon dying really did a number on Tim even though it wasn't their fault.

YJ and Dick have helped soothe some of the marks left behind by the Drakes (and Bruce too if you want good dad Bruce). Quite a bit have even fully disappeared due to them.

Tim still collected them like Halloween candy, though.

Major marks and their placement [though feel free to offer different ideas]:

Bruce calling Tim "Jason" - x on the back of neck

16th birthday - Major gash on right temple hidden by hair

Janet dying - splintering cracks along hand (bigger version of the one Janet fakes)

Jack coma then death - line in left calf then up to mid back of thigh

Bart dying - right side from under armpit to end of ribs gash

Kon dying - giant oval over sternum

Jason's TT attack - left foot/ankle cracks

Damian's attacks - stomach area

Losing Robin - largest slash diagonal across back (left shoulder to right hip)

There's more marks, but the ones on his face are caused by people not believing in him [this is not a "they should have" argument. It would have hurt regardless of what they should have done]

Hmm... So, the reveal? I'm thinking a magician. This would be after Tim switches back to just a mask and no cowl. His face marks would be on display for magicians but no one else. He, wrongly, assumed he'd be fine.

He's playing nice with the Bats at this point, even if he doesn't fully trust them. He loves them and wants to keep the peace. He'd never voluntarily show them his marks or tell them about it.

The Bats are being nicer under the idea that their assumptions about markless were incorrect. It weirds Tim out and usually has him ghosting them for a few days if they try to initiate feeling conversations with him. He kind of wishes they would just go back to normal.

It's a few months of this behavior before some magician makes a remark about Tim's facial marks. Something along the lines of, "You okay, Red? You're aware of how dangerous it is for marks to progress as far as the face, right?"

Cause what happens when there's no more room for marks? Drastic decrease in physical health. Could lead to death.

The Bats overhear and promptly freak the fuck out again.

Tim, who has been dealing with their bullshit for the last few months and doesn't want to deal with the confrontation, disappears. He's waiting for them to process their shit before returning [he loves them but does not want to be caught in that fucking whirlwind. Bats notoriously do not handle emotions well]

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your area 7

masterpost

Chapter 7 

…Jason slowly put down the book and turned it cover up, shell-shocked from that interaction. He lifted his phone and took a photo. He sent it to Roy. 

“What do you see?” He typed. Jason bit his lower lip and tried not to scowl while he waited for a response. 

It wasn’t that Jason was unused to conflict. Jason was great at conflict. He won every conflict! (Almost.) But what the hell had this shit been? Why had that guy been so pissy about the book? What the hell was wrong with the book that Jason didn’t see?

“Gibberish?” Roy texted back a few minutes later. “It gives the impression of wonky Cyrillic to me. But it's got a terrible energy to it. The hell is that?”

Jason looked at the cover. To his eyes, there was a serif font declaring it Sense and Sensibility Universe D version 5. 

“Thanks,” he sent, ignoring the question and then the barrage of heart emojis. Shit, okay. 

That answered one question. But it didn't answer enough. What the fuck had that college kid been seeing that was so offensive? 

‘And why'd he think we would meet again?’ 

Jason pushed deep, deep down any awareness that he hoped it was true. That had been weird enough that it would bother him forever if he didn’t get answers.

He sort of hated the idea of getting his nosy family involved, but they would ask different and in some ways, less annoying questions than other groups he could poll. They'd know not to lie to him, at least. So he sent the picture on to the family group chat with the same question and grimly finished his tea. 

The elderly proprietor came out then and noticed that her other customer was gone. She looked confused for a moment, scanning the seat to see if his book bag was still there. She picked up the cash he'd left on the table and then started stacking dishes.

‘He’s a regular,’ Jason guessed, honing in on the opportunity to learn more. He flipped the book open but held the apparently offensive cover down towards the table, out of her line of sight. He needed to know what had gone so wrong. Jason wasn’t normally the kind of person that cute college kids had beef with.

He'd never been in this café before, his intuition had just told him to duck inside.

“I think he forgot something,” Jason offered casually, pretending to just look up from his book. “Ran out real quick in a panic.” 

The lady let out a soft “Ahhh,” of comprehension. “Something for his afternoon class, perhaps,” she agreed, looking a little happier. 

“Yeah, it looked like he was getting ready to settle in for a long study session and then he bolted,” Jason lied, watching her underneath his lashes. He had been paying a little more attention than he ought to when the guy came in. He was Jason’s type, aside from the thing where he’d hated Jason’s face for no apparent reason-

‘No, actually, everyone I’ve ever been into hated me on sight.’

Ouch. As Jason digested that embarrassing truth, the owner continued talking.

“He does that,” she agreed, apparently not thinking it was odd at all for them to talk about the habits of another customer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a sharp cookie, did you know that?” She continued, and oh, she had halfway adopted this college kid, huh? There was warmth and a hint of pride in her tone.

Jason valiantly swallowed the snort. “He looks familiar, but I don't think we have classes together,” he fished. 

“Mm, he's doing some kind of math and engineering,” the lady helpfully supplied. She gave Jason her full attention as she stood up from the table. “And you?”

“Modern language and literature,” Jason said, and sort of wished it was true. He didn't really have the time. Did he? Spoiler was a full-time student, wasn't she? …Huh.

While he chewed that over, the lady had drifted a couple steps closer.

“...Those are two meaningfully different courses?” 

“Modern language is learning additional languages, I'm doing Russian and Greek right now,” Jason lied easily. He was fluent in both already. “Literature is mostly classics, for my purposes. I'm focusing on Regency Lit.” 

She looked very interested, but she detoured away to deposit the dirty dishes behind the counter. They kept up a light conversation about books as she wiped off the table and reset for the next customer. 

When she left, he finally had the chance to check his messages. There was a full-on fight in the group chat. The last message was from Stephanie. She had tagged him and asked, “Is this an optical illusion??? Like that dress?”

Ah, fuck. Jason felt a rock settle in his stomach at the confirmation that something hinky was going on.

‘I can’t read this in public if it’s saying something I can’t control or even know.’

Fucking hell. Jason scrolled back up and checked. Damian listed the correct title. Dick saw what, ‘I thought was Greek at first.’ Stephanie might have been joking but she argued vigorously that it was pictographs that started with a bird. Drake had sent “You rediscovered Minoan Linear A? Cool.” and then not participated in any follow-up discussions. Duke had sent only a stream of confused and tearful emojis.

Cass had marked it read.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Jason muttered to himself. Resentfully he put the book back in his bag. 

What had that guy seen? If he’d just seen something foreign but illegible he wouldn’t have gotten so pissy about it. And who the hell had he been, anyway? Why was he so special?

Well. That was something to do with his afternoon. Jason paid up his bill and gave Phyllis his well-wishes for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the way out. Phyllis was a good contact, he would definitely come back for more of her jasmine tea no matter how mad that guy got at him.

…Jason really needed a name.

And found…

He headed to Gotham University and used the student computers to look up departments and then hack into the registrar. Jason flipped through photos until he found his guy: Danny Fenton, 19, sophomore double-major in the Engineering department. Good grades, no notes on his account about academic dishonesty or conflict.

'Little weird to meet two Dannys in a 24 hour period.'

Jason searched the guy online and found…

He let his mouth drop open in disbelief at the batshit insane website design he had stumbled into. The Fenton family had a website, apparently, and they had maybe let a 7 year old design it in 2008. The colors… The lack of centering… The.. the neon choices.

His eyes watered. It took a while to fight down his aesthetic grief and actually start comprehending the text.

He had expected this to be like, an online family newsletter. And it was! The link he had followed detailed “Danno going to college in the big city!!!” The boy himself looked extremely resigned in the attached photo. Seriously, Jason had seen much less mortified mugshots. The thing was, that on the same page, alongside posts about other kids going college (Jazzypants!) and someone called Alicia recovering from “supergout!” with "her eight favorite toes remaining!!!", there was also a lot of mention of ghosts.

Like, a lot.

Jason scrolled in pained disbelief. There were photos that showed extremely weird and dismayed green people obviously flinching away from a camera. A beautiful green woman with her hair halfway over her face snarled through a flood of smoke under the title “Wishywish Ghostie Interviewed: Learn what drives her generous heart!” and an ugly robot motherfucker was seen fleeing under the caption, “Skalker indicates that spook is a GHOST SLUR!”

….Was it a shit post? Just one long shitpost? It had to be a joke site.

Well. No. Jason buried his face in his hands and came to terms with the horrible fact that not only were ghosts real, he was accidentally married to one and this bombastic midwestern family already knew about it. This was his best lead for getting that 'beyond death do you part' separation.

They had been blasting the existence of ghosts for all the world to read, and it hadn’t been news. The Justice League didn’t know about this whole society. The journalism done by– Jason lifted his head to check– Jack Fenton interviewing clearly very unwilling ghosts was the only primary source that he knew of. 

He took a few deep breaths. He came to terms with grief. He decided to block his family from any further involvement in this shitshow, for what remained of his dignity. And he grimly noted down Jack Fenton’s email.

Jason cleared this history and closed down his tabs, feeling a decade older than he had when he had entered the library. He ignored the sultry ‘come talk to me’ eye contact that the student worker was shooting him from behind the counter as he slouched out. 

He stopped for a moment on top of the stairs to watch campus move. He saw the theatre building and the modern language headquarters from his vantage point, along with about half of the student center. There was just a trickle of foot traffic between buildings along paved paths. A few people were hanging out on blankets in the grass. An old man in a suit was taking a phone call next to a crawling rose garden. 

‘Maybe I should go to school.’

Well. After this shit was sorted out. Obviously he could not go to school before he got divorced. It would be torturous to hang out with cute boys his age and be committed to some hot dead mermaid who didn’t even wanna make out with him sloppy. Loser shit on absolutely every level, goddamn.

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and jogged down the stairs. He kept an eye out for Danny, but had no luck.  

Not that he cared. It was interesting that he had a lead: Danny clearly had some connection to ghosts, and he had been able to read… 

‘Maybe he realized it was a ghost’s property and he thought I stole it?’ Jason realized in a stroke of inspiration. That made more sense. If he knew enough to recognize it as ghost language or whatever, then he might have felt affronted about Jason having it.

He went through his mental checklist to pick out what he did and didn’t know. Once he felt he had a hang on his priorities, he beelined to his own laptop in his favorite safehouse and started looking into the Fentons in more depth.

It was a great lead. It was suspiciously good, in fact, he thought as he found Jack Fenton’s online family newsletter again. What were the odds that he would run into Danny Fenton in a cafe that Jason had never even been in before? It had been a total fluke that he’d entered. He’d been walking past to a favorite place and then just had the urge to try the dark little family cafe.

‘…Ah, fuck’, Jason sighed. More ghost shit. It had to be. Something about Danny Fenton’s ghost shit had registered to him now that he’d been exposed to ghost central.

[swallowtail-lotus]

Harassed {Jack the Ripper/Poseidon}

Repost

I'm sorry that I wrote this

Warning: mentions of murder and harassment. Don't do any of these things

__________

Jack the Ripper🔪-

One of your friends had dragged you to a bar one night, insisting you needed to get out more. You didn't have any plans that night but you still refused. After some convincing, you agreed to go.

A few minutes in and your friend is already gone, leaving you by yourself at the main counter. You only took a few shots, but stopped yourself after the 4th shot.

Suddenly, some drunk guy sat next to you, resting his rough hand on your shoulder. He tried so many times to get you to talk, but you just ignored him and walked out the bar. You began your lone walk to your home.

Just when you turned a corner, hands began to caress your sides. You thrash in the guy's grip but he just held you tighter. You took out a small pocket knife and stabbed his leg. You took off the moment he let you go, running inside your house and locked it.

You had a hard time sleeping after that.

The next day, you refused to get of bed, let alone the house. This worried some of your friends and tried to ask you why, but you kept quiet, which led them to ask the friend who took you.

"I do not know. They just left without even saying anything."

That was all they said. They decided to drop it once they realised their question won't be answered.

The next night, while it was dark, you heard a knock on your bedroom window. To your surprise, it was someone who you grew close to, Jack the Ripper. Your first encounter was when he was injured and you, a kind hearted soul, took him in, unaware of who he was. He originally wanted to kill you but seeing how kind you were, the thought of killing you soon went away.

"Milady, what seems to be troubling you?" He asked, his mixed eyes staring into your soul. Your dropped your head down low, refusing to let him see your tears. You wanted to lie your way out, but Jack would be aware of it.

"I-I was forced to go to a bar and this disgusting man touched me and tried to-"

"What did he look like?" You looked up, seeing the man's face turn to his usual murderous expression, but it seemed more dark.

"W-well, he had black hair and blue eyes and looks a little bigger than you. He also had some facial hair on his jaw." You described the man the best you could. Jack didn't say anything and disappeared into the night.

2 nights later~

Sweeping the floors of your house with a headache wasn't the best idea. After finishing off, you rested yourself on one of your chairs. You felt a piece of paper under your hand and picked it up. It was folded neatly and had beautiful handwriting. You opened it up and read the short letter.

I apologise for leaving you in your time of need, but I had to get rid of the beast who tried to corrupt you.

You felt a presence in your room and turned around, spotting Jack, twirling a knife in his hand. Without a second thought, you jumped up and hugged him. Jack held his arms away from you, not knowing what to do.

"You didn't need to kill him." Your voice muffled by his chest. Silence filled the room after you spoke.

"It was entirely necessary. I refuse to let them take your beautiful colours away."

Tears been to fall out, staining his shirt. Jack lowered his arms, slowly wrapping them around your waist.

He always thought he'd never meet a kind person, until life decided to let him meet you.

Poseidon🔱-

Being married to one of the most fearsome gods has its ups and downs.

One up is that you're the only one who can meet his gaze and live the next day.

One down is that he refuses to let you show affection in public to not ruin his public image in being perfect. (It does upset you, but you understand)

He sees you as his equal, so it isn't much of a surprise when another god stupid enough tries to have his way with you and he is informed.

This god won't leave you alone, even when you declined his invitation to accompany him.

"I told you many times! I do not wish to go with you!" You yelled at the persistent god following you.

It all started when he approached you and started a normal conversation. Then, he started getting a little too touchy with you, brushing his hand against your bare skin, his hands lingering on your shoulders and hovering over your chest for too long. That was enough for you to storm out and head back to your husband, the god you truly love.

"Come on, beautiful! I just want to know you better." The god exclaimed, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you closer to him, smirking victoriously when he saw your frightened face.

"I don't think she feels the same way." A familiar voice chimed in. The god froze in his spot, giving you the chance to wiggle out of his arms and step away from him. You felt relieved to see Heracles, his usual smile not present on his face and replaced with a menacing glare. The god trembled in his shoes and just took off to who knows, too afraid to even try to speak to the towering demigod.

"Fucking coward." You thought, watching the god disappear around a corner. You felt the demigod's hand on your shoulder.

"You should go back to Uncle. I bet he's missing you." Heracles' face changed to a more cheerful one, his smile exposing his pearly whites. You giggled at his sudden change and nodded.

"I should. Thank you for saving me!"

"No problem!"

With that, you took off to see your husband. Before entering, you took the time to stand up straight, take a deep breath and walked in. You faced your husband, slowly making your way to your throne next to his. Sea Blue eyes observed your form, noticing your slightly messy hair and increased speed of your breathing.

He knew these were your signs of discomfort.

"Who is responsible?" His chilling voice filled the silence. You felt exposed upon hearing his question and hesitated on answering. But you gave up.

"Just another god." You finally answered, your hands gripping the armrests nervously. You knew lying to your husband would be impossible.

"Come here." He demanded. You quickly complied, standing in front of him, unsure of his next demand.

"I said, come here." He demanded again, his eyes staring right in your own orbs. You swallow slowly, stepping closer to him. This was strange, he never demanded, let alone asked for anything like this. With hesitation, you wrapped your arms around Poseidon's waist. When he didn't push you away, you lowered yourself down to sit on his lap.

Crying was out of the question if it was for anything else, but after what happened, you couldn't help it.

Your quietly sobbed, tightening the hug. Surprisingly, Poseidon did nothing but sit there, listening to your sobs.

Poseidon will have to wait until he can deal with the living filth that decided to get his dirty hands on his wife...

[vivwritesfics]

Christmas Sweater

Y/N learns to Knit. Daniel loves it (so fucking much)

Masterlist

"Happy November first!" Daniel Ricciardo cheered as he came down to his living room on the morning of November first.

It had been a weird morning already. Danny had woken up alone, something he wasn't used to. And, if he did wake up alone, Y/N was usually in the bathroom. Not this time. His girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

So, he made his way downstairs. When he heard the television on, things in his head clicked into place. She'd gotten up early and gone downstairs to watch television, of course.

But then Daniel walked into the room and properly looked at what Y/N was doing. She sat on the couch with two thick knitting needles in her hands and yarn on the floor in from of her. Some of the yarn was a lovely dark red, some was white and some was dark green. "What are you doing?"

As far as Daniel was aware, his girlfriend had no idea how to knit. He didn't even know she had knitting needles. But she sat on the couch, knitting away, the two needles clacking together as she went. Her brow was furrowed and her tongue was poking out as she worked. No, Y/N didn't know how to knit.

When she got to a good place to stop, Y/N held up her needles, calling Daniel what she had been working on. "Grandma sent me some supplies so I could make you a Christmas sweater," she answered.

Daniel had a bit of a reputation in the F1 community. A reputation for his Christmas sweaters. The most notorious of the Christmas sweaters? Why, the jingle my bells sweater, of course.

"Baby," he said, drawing out the word as he sat beside her on the sofa. "You don't know how to knit."

She waved him off, dropping one of her needles. It slid out of the yarn, dropping to the floor. "I'm watching Youtube to learn, Danny," she said as she reached down to pick up the needle.

Instead of threading it back through the yarn, Y/N pulled out her other needle, pulled apart her work and started again.

Danny watched her. It was slow work at first, and he soon realised why she started so early on in the year. His eyes focused on her hands as she cast back on and began knitting once again.

Y/N had to stop and start several times before she finally got it right. Daniel sat on the couch with her, arm around her as she worked. Several times she held her knit work against his stomach (taking a moment to touch his abs. But, come on, who could resist?)

It took weeks, near to a month of constant work before Y/N finally finished with Daniel's Christmas jumper. She worked as they travelled, while she was supposed to be watching Daniel race.

It was perfect timing, really. She got it finished just before December began. Wrapping it up, Y/N placed it in a box, wrapped the box and finished it with a bow.

She gave it to Daniel on the first of December, exactly a month after he'd seen her start to make it. It was red with little green stripes and white reindeers that was clearly having sex.

"I love it," he said as soon as he unwrapped it. "You couldn't have done anything more perfect for me."

"Try it on then!" Y/N urged.

So, Daniel did exactly as she asked and tried on the jumper. He didn't take it off for the entire month of December. No matter what country he was in, he stayed in his Christmas jumper. No matter how hot and sweaty he got, he stayed in his Christmas jumper.

The best part of it? Y/N learnt how to knit. She began knitting everything. So, so many hats for winter. Gloves and scarves and blankets and sweaters and tops and bags. Anything Y/N could make, she did.

Daniel wore it all proudly. Where he used to wear his Red Bull and AlphaTauri shirts, he now wore whatever Y/N knitted for him.