#tattoo meanings masterpost

[1mlei]

Dead on Main Soulmate AU [Part 2]

In this AU everyone is born with a tiny red heart tattooed on the inside of their wrist. If you're close to your soulmate the heart will beat, and when you meet them the heart turns to gold. If your soulmate dies, the heart will fade to black.

First part | Next part | Masterpost

CW: Brief mention of suicidal thoughts, take care everyone!

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Danny is 15 years old when he's informed that he is the crown prince of the Infinite Realms. He would have loved it if someone had had the decency to explain that the title of Ghost King would be passed down through right of conquest sometime before he fought Pariah Dark. If not that, couldn't someone at least have said something a bit sooner?

Now Danny had been faced with the information that he was ghost royalty out of nowhere, and that's just not something he was prepared to deal with on a random Tuesday afternoon.

As Danny paces the length of his bedroom he chooses to ignore Tucker's pointed reminder of "It's a Wednesday."

Instead of responding, he shoots a tiny ecto-blast at where his friend is lounging in the beanbag, which is easily dodged. Not that it would have hit, whenever Danny was aiming at one of his human friends me made sure to channel his dad and aim almost a full foot away from them, just to be safe.

He may be annoyed with Tucker's lack of sympathy about his situation, but he would never purposefully hurt him. Still, a warning shot when Tucker got extra cheeky wouldn't hurt anyone.

The other boy let out an affronted squawk as he dodged the blast, but wisely stayed silent after that.

Danny continued his pacing for another moment, but before he could start his frustrated rambling again Sam spoke up from Danny's bed, she hadn't even looked up from her phone for the whole time Danny had been ranting.

"It's not that big of a deal Danny, the council have been dealing with things just fine up until now, I'm sure they'll handle things until you're ready."

It was true, he knew that the council would continue to run the realms, and allow Danny to ease into the role.

The thing was, he was hoping that "ready" would mean he was at least of legal age. But no, ghosts saw time and age differently of course, they were satisfied as long as he was at least sixteen. Which he would turn in a few months.

In a desperate attempt to postpone the coronation (because Danny was not ready to become king of an infinite dimension yet, holy shit, he had convinced the council that it would be in their best interest to wait until the summer after Danny turned sixteen.

Danny still had to go to school after all, and the thought of having one measly weekend to be crowned before having to return to the halls of Casper High was not one that excited him.

The council had agreed to wait until summer. Danny wasn't overly happy that he'd still only have two months to adjust, but he'd take what he could get at this point.

He was not looking forward to starting his junior year, to say the least.

As if his looming coronation wasn't enough, now that Danny was aware of his title as crown prince, he suddenly had a bunch of new responsibilities. Supposedly, it was to prepare him for being king. Danny found it tedious at best, but he hadn't found a way to get out of it so far.

Luckily, as long as no ghost caused too much trouble Danny didn't have much to worry about.

----------

A ghost was causing too much trouble, enough that Danny got called in to deal with it.

At first he'd been salty that he had to ditch Sam and Tucker last minute for some stupid job that surely someone else could do. But once he heard what the job was, he was for once glad that he was dealing with it himself.

The situation was delicate, and Danny wouldn't trust a lot of ghost to handle it carefully enough.

An annoying ghost whose name Danny hadn't bothered to fully remember (Wi.. Fin.. Vin..ca.. something or other, not important) had decided to head to the human realm to take revenge for their death.

Now, if Danny tried to stop every ghost that ever tried to avenge their own death he'd never get to rest. A ghost's death was such a personal matter too, Danny didn't feel like he had any right to step in and say what's right or wrong for them to do.

So, in nearly all cases he stayed out of it. A lot of ghosts were happy to avenge their deaths in non-violent ways. Some time spent haunting their murderer, scaring them shitless, and most ghosts were satisfied. Not enough to move on, revenge was rarely enough for that, but enough to exist peacefully in the Realms.

That was all fine in Danny's book, but this particular ghost (Danny mentally dubbed them "Vi" when he failed to remember their full name) had decided that violence was the only answer.

The thing was, they blamed the wrong people. Vi had been a citizen of Gotham when they were alive, and they got caught up in some bad business. That had eventually led to their death.

It wasn't any one person's fault, but Vi blamed the Gotham vigilantes. From what Danny knew, Vi had been running away from said vigilantes, not wanting to be arrested, and had died because they were too focused on avoiding the vigilantes to pay attention to their surroundings.

The details of their death beyond that was not something Danny knew, he had listened to the necessary details from Clockwork before he left, but he didn't like learning exactly how other ghosts died unless they tell him themselves, it felt too personal.

All he needed to know was, the actions of the Gotham vigilantes had indirectly caused Vi's death, so they were on their way to Gotham to take revenge. That was bad, on so many levels.

The absolute last thing Danny needed was The Batman getting interested in ghosts. Danny had done a great job of managing without his or anyone else's help so far, and he really didn't want them poking their noses into his business now.

That was why Danny was speeding towards Gotham City, hoping to get there before Vi managed to track down a vigilante, as he was sure they didn't have any ways to defend themselves against ghosts.

After flying at nearly top speed for half an hour, Danny finally arrived. Not that long if you think about it, but plenty of time for a vengeful ghost to track down their targets.

With no better method, Danny started flying laps around the city, hoping his ghost sense would go off eventually.

His ghost sense remained quiet, but he found something better.

Batman himself, was right there fighting off a group of thugs. It was a small group of people for a skilled fighter like Batman to take on, he didn't really need backup. Which probably meant, the bird was somewhere nearby..

And yup! Standing on a rooftop close by keeping lookout was Robin.

This was neat, two vigilantes in the same location, now Danny could just stay here and keep guard until Vi showed themselves.

Danny hovered over Batman's fight invisibly, realizing how lucky he was that the man was unaware of his existence, and had no access to ecto-powered weapons. Danny shivered just at the thought.

Now that he was thinking about it, Batman was surrounded by a lot of people. A lot of them were probably innocent people, pulled into this business by a lack of better opportunities. Just like Vi.

And if Vi was here only for revenge, surely they wouldn't risk other people suffering the same fate as them. If they attacked Batman now, any one of the thugs could get caught in the crossfire.

Would Vi just wait it out until Batman was alone? It didn't make a lot of sense. Surely they would act soon, but Batman was surrounded, and Robin was.. Robin was alone!

Danny turned around in a panic as a cold shiver ran through his body.

Shit

He shot off towards Robin at high speed. Now that he had sensed them he could tell where they were (two seconds) Vi was heading right for Robin, their claws out and ready to strike (one second), they were just about to make contact, barely an inch away from Robin, when Danny crashed into them, phasing them both harmlessly through the vigilante and flying them far, far away in the blink of an eye. His heart was drumming so hard in his chest, (he could feel it all the way through his arms, wow) he didn't realize his heart could beat that hard in ghost form, he assumed his core would take over.

Maybe it was just testament to how stressed out Danny was.

That had been too close.

He had barely a moment to rest, as Vi broke out of his hold angrily.

"Foolish boy, do not get in the way of my revenge again."

Vi tried to fly away to try again, but Danny formed an ecto-barrier around them to keep them put.

"Not gonna happen, you're targeting two innocent people."

Vi hissed at him with frustration,

"You know not what you speak of, fool. Those killers parading around as heroes caused my unfair demise, and I shall have reve-"

At that point Danny decided he'd heard enough, it was a school night and he had to get going, so he grabbed the thermos from his belt and sucked Vi into it mid-spiel. He'd heard that same speech enough times to know how it goes.

Robin still alive, Batman unaware of ghosts existing, Crisis averted, and Danny would still make it home with enough time to get a half-decent nights sleep. Things were looking up.

---------

Jason is 14 years old. It's been a year since his soulmate died.

He's gotten good at pretending it doesn't affect him anymore. After that first night where Jason let himself properly cry in Alfred's arms, neither of them had spoken about the matter again. Alfred made it a point to treat Jason exactly the same as before, knowing that if he were to act extra careful as to not upset the boy it would have the opposite effect.

Alfred was great like that, always noticing and remembering things but knowing when not to bring them up.

He pretended not to notice that Jason never wore short sleeved shirts anymore.

When he found Jason huddled away in the library he pretended not to notice how many more romance novels the boy was reading compared to before.

During the darkest nights, when Jason silently wishes he could go join his soulmate wherever they had ended up, Alfred was there without fail. He didn't speak of the things he knew Jason was thinking about, whether it was as to not make Jason uncomfortable or because Alfred himself didn't dare say it out loud, he didn't know.

But he was there, every time.

And when Jason realized it had been a full year since his soulmate died, Alfred was there as a silent support, just a moment away should Jason need him yet never intruding.

If Bruce notices that anything has happened to Jason, he hasn't bothered to ask about it yet. Jason isn't sure if he prefers it that way or not.

On one hand, he doesn't like the idea of Bruce butting into his personal business, the man had never been great with emotions.

But the realization that his father-figure didn't even know what he was going through had Jason wanting to burst into Bruce's study and tell him everything, if even just to get a reaction out of him.

It had been a year, but so far he hadn't said anything.

--------

When Jason is out on the streets of Gotham, the mask of Robin is always a nice barrier to hide behind. He'll lock his emotions up tight in the back of his mind and cover them up with the veil of an unbothered vigilante who had far better things to worry about.

This night he's standing on a rooftop, keeping a lookout as Bruce deals with a group of thugs. The group was small enough that Bruce would have no trouble at all dealing with them, and Jason's time would be better spent keeping an eye out for anyone trying to slink away unnoticed by the bat.

It had been an uneventful few minutes, watching Bruce dispose of the thugs as all of them kept rushing him, not a single one having the bright idea that whatever payout they were promised wasn't worth sticking around anymore.

Then, Jason felt a shiver run up his spine. He felt like he was being watched. It was a foreboding feeling, like something was going to jump at him any moment.

He spun around, quickly assessing his surroundings, but he found nothing out of place.

The feeling did not go away though, only growing more insistent.

And then in the blink of an eye, a gust of wind picks up around Jason as the feeling of danger flares, and Jason is sure he is about to die right there.

In the next second, the wind turns cold, and Jason could swear he saw his breath fog in front of him for a moment. Yet he doesn't feel even the slightest bit frozen.

The cold passes through him impossibly fast, and with it the feeling of danger vanishes, and so between one blink and another Jason is left standing there dumbfounded at what just happened.

He hadn't imagined it, that feeling of danger was nothing concrete but it had been clear as day in Jason's mind.

The wind was definitely real too, he'd felt it rustle his hair as it passed by.

And the biggest piece of evidence he wasn't going crazy, was the small piece of frost on the ground around Jason's feet. He took a step away from it experimentally, and it quickly faded. But it had been there.

The biggest mystery of the night though, the part of this whole thing that shook Jason to his core, was his wrist.

He raised his wrist and pulled back his glove to check, because there was no way he was actually feeling what he thought he was.

But right there, the tiny black heart that was stuck to his wrist as a permanent reminder of what he could have had, was carefully beating in an excruciatingly slow rhythm. Slow, faint, but real.

Jason lost track of time as he stood there, just watching the heart on his wrist beating slower and slower, until it stopped and refused to move again.

For the first time in a year, Jason feels a dangerous sliver of hope sneak it's way into his heart.

It can't be.

But there was no other explanation.

Jason had been in danger, but some unknown force, one that brought an overwhelming feeling of safe with it had saved him.

And his tattoo was telling him his soulmate had been there.

Jason couldn't think of a better explanation than that the one who saved him was a spirit, or ghost of some kind. It sounded ridiculous.

He looks back at his wrist, gently stroking his fingers over the tattoo as the considers it.

It seemed like a ghost saved him.

His soulmate had been there.

His soulmate who was dead.

Jason felt silly for entertaining the thought, but he couldn't help but want to believe it. That tonight he had been about to die, and the spirit of his soulmate had protected him.

He took that realization and stored it away with the rest of his emotions. He didn't know how to feel about it.

He knew, that for the past year his grief had made him consider some terrible things. But how could he possibly want to go join his soulmate now, when they'd done the impossible and appeared next to him for even just a moment, to save his life.

Jason decided then, that no matter what happened, he was going to live. The sadness may never fully go away, by he would live the life he had been given, and his soulmate would simply have to wait until Jason was ready to join them.

With a lighter conscience than he's had in a year, Jason grapples away from the roof and heads back home, a tiny hint of a smile on his face.

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Tags: @craftyexpertchild

Thank you for reading <3

[clockwayswrites]

Both Ways at Once Part 1

wc 868, Masterpost

“You’ve read the dossier?”

The clipped words were in time with their quick steps down the pristine white hall.

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Unlike you, Hellblazer, I read my contracts before I sign them.”

“You wound me, Pomp,” John said, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I’m just trying to protect you from the Big Bad Bat. He’s had a bit of a mare over this case. Hell, as a consultant, you shouldn’t even be seeing this with the access level things are at, but…”

“But you’re stuck and need my pretty baby blues on things to help you out,” Danny said, batting his lashes obnoxiously at John.

“Fuck off,” John said without any heat and shoved Danny away. “But the Bat is anxious about it. All the Bats are. If you can help us solve it sooner, then the better, because when the Bats are on edge, everyone is on edge. And it’s a fucking nightmare around here already with all the bloody do-gooders let alone when they’re all worked up about something…”

“Everyone’s on edge, got it.”

“Nightingale,” John said, voice unusually serious— serious enough to make Danny stop even without the hand on his arm. “I’m not saying this lightly. I like you, like you well enough for a psychopomp and whatever the fuck else you are at least. Tread lightly.”

“Got it, Constantine. I’ll work extra hard not to piss anyone off,” Danny said, patting John’s hand with his own tattooed one. Danny picked back up his same quick pace, but his mind now spun trying to figure out what exactly he was walking into. The dossier hadn’t gone into details, just conditions. Supposedly the risk— some side effect created by a villainous magical spell gone wrong— was presently and thoroughly contained. Danny would be able to observe the risk, the individual originally affected, and the items present at the time. He was not to interact directly with the risk, answer it’s questions, or under any circumstance touch it.

It read as a pretty standard contract magical unknown.

John wouldn’t be this concerned by a standard magical unknown. So what was he about to walk into? It seemed like he might actually want to listen to John this time, even if that was always a fifty-fifty chance of being an absurdly stupid idea.

Danny shifted his grip anxiously on the handle of his kit: an old traveling salesman’s briefcase fitted out with a careful collection of haphazard items. Most of the other occult practitioners mocked Danny’s tendency for used items. Half burned candles, old books wiped and rewritten, estate sale candy dishes— odd choices for most people, but for Danny they sang. They spilled the secrets of the world known and unknown to him. He had to trust that between his tools and his skills (let them believe he was a mere psychopomp), he would come out of this at least safe, if not with answers.

Didn’t mean that a few of his tattoos didn’t crawl in warning.

(Who knew what spot of skin that damn ink moth would wander to now.)

“Justice Leaguers,” Danny greeted with a nod as they finally finished winding through repetitive hallways and stopped outside a room.

“Nightingale, thank you for being able to attend to this so promptly,” Wonder Woman greeted him. Of the Justice League members (outside of the Darks) that Danny had interacted with on other consulting gigs she might be Danny’s favorite, so he offered her a smile.

“Of course, it sounded like things were possibly on a time table from the contract, so I’m glad I was between pressing matters,” Danny said. Right then his most pressing matter was a need to find a laundry mat, but the Justice League certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Right, well,” John jumped in when no one else said anything, not that Danny had expected much from Batman with how he was lurking like a shadow. “Er, this way.”

Danny glanced at the room label of ‘containment cells’ as the door unlocked with a clank and hissed open. After John’s warning, he wasn’t surprised that they were taking whatever this was seriously.

There was more white and gleaming metal behind the door. A neat row of spartan cells were set behind thick acrylic glass and metal. Danny’s eyes locked on the figure in the third cell. He stumbled.

He might be sick.

“What the fuck are you all doing?!” The words ripped from Danny in a snarl.

That was a protector spirit.

He brushed past Wonder Woman and through John’s reaching arm.

They had a protector spirit in a cell.

Intangibility washed over Danny, cold as always, as he stepped through the glass wall of the cell.

The spirit stopped in their pacing, the opaque red helmet tilting.

John screamed something at him.

The flashing red of alarms glinted off gleaming surfaces.

Danny reached out and rested his hand over the spirit’s sternum, and they practically crumpled around the touch. Gloved hands clung desperately to Danny’s arm.

A low growl rumbled in Danny’s chest. “They’re hurting you.”

They had a protector spirit in a cell.

How dare they.

----

AN: So, um, yeah. Still sick. Not a cold or allergies at all and not easy to clear up and prob a new life long thing. Which is great. Super cool. I needed more ways to be sick.

But have the start of this thing that I used to take my mind off things! My, what could be going on?? (Also why do I apparently have a tattooed Danny agenda?)

Stay delightful (and well), darlings!

I no longer tag people for various reasons. You can instead be notified by subscribing to the masterpost!

[sluttybwunni]

a pirates greed (m)

[send me requests i like them]

masterpost : recent

pairing : afab!reader x monkey d. luffy

✸ ... synopsis: after saving an entire country, luffy just needs his favourite stress reliever all to himself

wc: 3.6k

warnings : established relationship, porn w minimum plot, post-wano luffy being a whore !!! absolutely rough nasty nd animalistic, unprotected (cmon yall know better), petty argument, faded law, reader is a lil mean, your captain just loves eating you out! use of devil fruit (canon), creampie, drool kink, luffy has a lip ring, overstimulation, mention of blood, praise kink (both parties), cumplay, semi-public, oral (m rec)

getting severe brain rot from just thinking about how needy and greedy luffy would be during a post-battle victory banquet...

especially after how nicely that black dress outlined your ass.

he just wants to put his hands all over you, but nami's banned him from any physically exerting activity, including dancing since he's still recovering from the damage he took.

poor guy almost begged to have himself buried in your sopping cunt, whimpering and gasping under you because he's been so stressed after all that fighting!

it's only right you help your boyfriend release all that pent-up energy right?

but to his dismay you were busy with traffy, his tattooed hands tracing over the thin fabric of your dress as you two danced.

"damn him." luffy chanted in his head continuously, wishing you'd stop focusing on law and pay attention to him instead.

your captain worked so hard to defeat kaido.. so why are you smiling and spending time with law instead? that's not fair. you should be rewarding luffy with your touch for being so strong all the time, no?

he couldn't even hear zoro's drunken babbling as he fixated his eyes on the two of you from his table. luffy thought it was too polite of you to let law touch you like that... way too polite. no longer able to deal with the ache in his shorts. though what made his heart palpitate the most was how the both of you seemed to be having a jolly fun time. he grazes his teeth over his lips, excusing himself from his best friend before stumbling towards the dance floor to reach you and law.

"actually i already rolled some spliffs, we can go outside n hit some right now if you'd like," law said with a deep chuckle, gazing at you with his half-lidded eyes. "go do that with your side, look he's starin' at you as i speak." you joke, nodding your head in the direction of kidd as law harshly exhales, rolling his eyes."fffucking hell will you drop that? i was zooted outta my mind when i said.." your conversation gets cut short when you feel pair of hands other than law's snake around your waist from behind.

you momentarily freeze— only to find relief when you hear luffy's voice. he's clinging onto you, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. the threads of his strawhat slightly bent against your skin as luffy pressed himself closer; hiding the stony expression on his face. “(name).. you've been dancin' with traffy the whole time. it's annoying.” luffy whined against your earlobe. your captain continued to press and grind his body against you, something hard rubbing against your ass.

"i know luffy.. but me and law haven't properly hung since we left zou." you responded as luffy lifted his head from the warmth of your body to send law a glare while you both tried keeping balance on the floor as the surrounding crowd of people continued dancing. "so (name)-ya you coming? strawhat can tagalong if he wants." law spoke, putting his hands in his pockets as he glanced towards the exit.

"w--"

“nuh uhn..” luffy shook his head before you could even respond, his face wincing in a grimace.

"luffy, i—"

"no."

"you're supposed to rest lu.. you're still recovering" you softly exhaled, turning in his grip so you could face him. "well ya could've just stuck around me. ion like that you spent time with tra-guy in the first place." luffy continues whining, his voice growing annoyed and impatient.

he seemed restless, his breath uneven. "also ya promised you'd only dance with me." you giggled, scanning the way his pretty lips formed a pout, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. “don't worry, it won't happen again lu, you're still my number one dance partner.. and i spent all day with you yesterday, n the day before.” you respond, letting another giggle leave your lips.

but luffy doesn't find it funny, he slowly loosens his grip on your waist— tossing his lip ring through his teeth as his obsidian eyes look into yours. "this is the thing with you, ya don't keep your promises (name)." he mutters his voice going a little deeper causing your smile to fall. wait.. huh?

"what's that even mean?" you retort. luffy's feeling all sorts of emotions right now.. but he can't tell why his breath is so shaky, or why his heart was feeling heavy. he'd been so stressed over the past few weeks, the pent-up anger was possibly getting to him.

“you keep breaking ya promises! thats what it means.” luffy snaps. for a second his eyes soften after he realizes he raised his voice, but he doesn’t move from his position, hands still on your waist. law, witnessing the sudden quarrel— decides to walk off leaving the two of you alone.

the tension between you felt heavy. "the fuck? luffy since when have i broken any of our promises. me and law well, dancing just.. happened. it didn't even mean anything we're friends." now you were getting agitated. "that's not even the main problem.." he muttered, luffy's gaze eats you up— and the glint in his eyes almost speak a magnitude of unsaid words.

"..i'm YOUR boyfriend (name), ya didn't like when hancock was all over me so why—" "can you stop bringing that bitch up??" you knew it wasn't great of you to dance with law all while your boyfriend was watching you, but you didn't think it'd be that big of a problem. you trace your hands over his— removing them as you angrily turn around to stride away. but you can never really get away from a man with the power to stretch, so luffy beats you to wherever you thought you were walking off to, stretching his arm and pulling your body back towards him.

“m’sorry… i— (name) i'm just feelin stressed right now. can you please just...” luffy rasps in a softer tone trailing off as his arms cage you. you stay silent for a couple of moments, trying to process the exchange of words you shared seconds ago. but the more he presses your back against him, the more you feel the stiffness between his legs. you don't quite know what to say, so you turn 180 degrees to press a hot kiss against his lips.

luffy's taken aback by the suddenness, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying it. he returns what you gave to him passionately. pulling you even closer, as if he's wanting to get completely lost in the kiss. you hum against his lips when luffy swivels his hips, grinding his dick against your inner thighs.

he seems so eager, so desperate for you and it shows. really lost in the kiss and in the moment, as if all he can think about is being balls deep in your dewy cunt. and who's to say you don't want him just as much. the way luffy's frenching you seems almost animalistic, and you could feel how he's having trouble controlling himself with every passing second that you're pressed against him. trying so hard to maintain his composure.

and when you break the messy kiss, a string of saliva still adjoining your lips— your captain looks at you with a blush, still panting heavily. watching the drool that slowly dripped from the corner of luffy's mouth was something that shouldn't have been so hot to you.

his eyes travel up and down your body and back to your lips. the faint taste of mango luffy had gotten drove him insane. he loved when you slathered your plump lips with lipgloss, regardless of the flavour or color— and he adored making a mess of it, ruining it. his own lips being stained a hint of red.

luffy seems lost again. almost unable to think by himself. he leans towards you once more, seemingly going in for another kiss. but he stops himself for a moment to admire how soft you feel— hands grasping your ass through the flimsy fabric of your dress. your head was spinning, maybe from the shots you took earlier, or the way luffy had devoured your mouth. "i-"

"shut up." you huff out, pulling him towards the nearest slightly secluded space you could find. and luckily, there was a nicely lit room with a thick futon neatly unfolded on the carpeted ground. pressing him against the wall, you brought a nasty, wet kiss to luffy's lips once more. one that left his stomach fluttering. he sucked and drug his tongue back and forth against yours, in the messiest ways he could think of. too lost in your lips to get off of the surface behind him.

he couldn't help the blood that rushed even more to his cock once you tugged hard on his hair. luffy couldn't put it into words, but he was such a slut for the way you painfully grasped his raven locks every time you enjoyed something. he muttered your name a couple of times between heavy breaths before he quickly wriggled out of the red material of his top letting you suction your way down his neck, teeth grazing his collarbone.

and you didn’t need any command to lower your head and place luffy's nipple between your lips. you only bothered to unbutton and drop his shorts low enough to free his aching dick, rock-hard and covered with pre-cum. fuck you wanted to slobber all over his length so bad. though luffy catches you by a fistful of your hair, preventing you from going further.

"stop, i wanna suck." you whine out, but luffy shakes his head, pulling his boxers up just enough to cover past the tip of his cock. pushing his back from off the door- he lays himself on the futon, hauling you with him. "no, i want you t’ sit on my face first." for a second, you stilled, as if the statement shocked you. "you... you want that?" you tested the waters, but luffy didn't just want it. he needed it.

"please… i’ll make ya cum so good (name) just sit on my face." luffy insists, eyes glossed over. face sitting was something he'd yearned to try with you for so long. so impatiently, he pulls you to straddle him, your dress sliding up your thighs. he wastes no time ripping the expensive fabric of your panties— taking a few moments to rub the pads of his calloused fingers along the wet patch you left beforehand.

you nervously let him pull you further up by the hips until your pussy is just above his mouth, the scent of your sweet arousal hitting his nose. “smell so good (name) m’gonna taste you now yeah?” “please do captain” you respond breathlessly. and before you could take another breath, luffy’s making out with your cunt— tongue lapping vigorously over your clit sending a pleasurable shiver up your spine.

you immediately try to raise your hips afraid you’ll suffocate him if you give in to the pleasure, but luffy’s hands grip your thighs painfully, preventing you from squirming away. because luffy doesn’t care if he suffocates as long as he’s got his tongue sloping in and through your folds. and something about knowing how anyone could walk into this room, seeing the two of you sent electricity through your core.

you felt the coolness of luffy's lip ring make contact with you constantly, and you couldn’t quite decipher his muffled words, but you could tell by the way he desperately stuffed his face between your legs that he was in ecstasy. “sso.. mmh feels good lu!” you barely manage voicing out, already close to your on-coming high.

but as much as luffy wants to stay between your thick thighs and fuck you with his mouth, he was restless, and hard. feeling his own heartbeat pulsing right at the tip of his dick. he suctions at your clit roughly, earning a loud cry from you before you’re already cumming— a slightly clear stream of liquid flowing from your cunt.

and of course, luffy being the greedy man he is takes everything you give him, leaving your cunt only after he’s had his fill. “taste n' look so pretty when you cum..” he coo's almost cheerfully before moistening his lips, a more serious look returning to his face as you free your legs from his face.

"here, taste yourself pretty" he whispers, pressing a slow kiss against your lips. though you only manage to come back to your senses enough to comprehend that he's torn off your nice pair off underwear, feigning a faux an annoyed look. "does ripping all my expensive lingerie get you off or something?"

"m'to impatient to take it off slowly.." he pouts, as you drag yourself off of him.

“is that so..? my turn now.” you whisper, before you're on off of him and on your knees tugging roughly at his unbuttoned shorts causing them to slightly tear.

"hey! those were m—"

you cut luffy short before he could complain about your petty revenge, giving the tip of his cock slow kitten licks and a few pumps before sealing your lips around it's pretty head, making him let out a throaty whine as you take or inches of him.

"i'll forgive ya if you open your mouth n take me deeper.." luffy breaths out lowly fully relaxed on his back now. one hand under his head and the other, guiding yours. you part your lips further, warm breaths of air fanning over his flushed tip.

“ahh.. fuckk baby— use that pretty mouth like you do best” luffy slurs, and something in you almost switches like a trigger. his coaxing encouraging the worst in you. especially since it was incredibly rare of him to use pet names with you. so you suddenly take as much his size as you can luffy shuddering in pleasure.

every ridge and vein on his length felt as your drag your tongue, every lick and suck of your mouth on him resulting in obscenity; gagging, wet noises, moaning. everything only making your hole flutter more.

his shut tight. opening them after a few seconds, to admire how your lips sank down on his cock. "gooddd, it's like ya mouth was made jus for— nggh.. sucking off your captain huh?"

"hold on.." you suddenly whisper, causing luffy to whine from the lost warmth. you take something out from between your cleavage. what was so important that you needed to stop? and suddenly he tenses his thighs.. you're scribbling on his cock. it tickles and it’s heaven. luffy couldn't even see what you are creating, but the sensation was fucking amazing. especially since he was so sensitive.

“thereee” you say, admiring your work.

“so pretty.”

“what did you do? i wanna see”, luffy begs, squirming needily. and you raise your hand, waving the wand of your cherry red lipgloss in your hand. luffy glances down to look at his aching cock, to find the words. 'all mine ♡' scribbled in red.

something about that act felt so endearing to him that luffy felt he'd tear up from the gesture— and from the fact that you were teasing his poor friend. he gives you a lazy smile. but as his eyes wander the room, he finds himself making eye contact with the tall mirror that but on a perfect display of your backside. you were almost on all fours now as you slobbered his cock, head tilted down and ass pointed up.

it looked so soft, and you looked ever so stunning. unfortunately for you, luffy was as restless as ever. he could never control himself whenever he saw that damn ass of yours. so you didn't blame him when he tugged on a fist-full of your hair to get you off his cock.

"wait m'not—"

"(name)... i— wanna fuck you from behind, please can't wait anymore.. want ya to put that cute ass on me."

"you're so impatient."

well, who were you to deny captains orders?

with a quick sound rustling of fabric, you'd immediately discarded your dress, pressing your face down into the futon as luffy teased your hole momentarily with the head of his cock. holding you in place by the hips and seconds later, he's already buried inside you— stuffing himself to the hilt. so fucking tight he thought.

luffy bit down onto his lip muffling the whimpers that endlessly slipped from his mouth— to the point that it drew a bit of blood. he pounded like he wanted everyone near to know, to hear how he was making a mess out of you. though he was shameless enough for it, luffy couldn't decide whether he wanted to be the only one that got to see your messy cum stuffed cunny, or if he wanted a live audience as he fucked you to the point of drooling. and who's to say you would mind the latter?

head thrown back in pleasure, his dark hair stringy from sweat, his furrowed eyebrows as you continue to tighten and clench around him, pulling you further onto his cock. he giggles breathily, "l-love when you squeeze me like that" only earning a incomprehensible mumble from you. something about the way he moaned and spoke was so ..slutty.

"cmonn.. i know ya can talk louder than that!" he sneers, and that was luffy's favourite part about doing this with you. he loved pleasuring you to the point of not being able to speak, knowing he's the only one who can make you this dumb on dick.

he loved the freedom that came with exploring new ways to make eachother feel good, and nothing made him happier than sharing in such freedom with you.

luffy's hands roughly fist your hair, pulling your head up in order to better show you what he's doing to you. "look in the mirror (name), look how gorgeous ya- gaahh, look when you're all fucked out. see? so pretty baby~" he taunts.

"gonna cum, wan' cream all over you!"

"yeah? captain's dick feels that good?" he lets off another breathy moan. "y-ya like it when i stretch ya out like this?" and when you let out a string of praises chanting his name like your life depended, he decided you deserved a treat in return for always being this good for him. so luffy bit down on his thumb and blew until you felt an unfamiliar sensation deep in your guts causing you to mewl out. he was way bigger all of a sudden, and his cock seemed to fill and rub against areas you'd never known could be reached.

"ah luffy thats.. you're- so deep” you almost wanted to sob as he watched you wriggle under him, your senses overloading from the stimulation luffy inflicts upon you. it was crazy how he could be so sweet and caring with you one moment, and the next having every bone in your body tingling from euphoria.

"keep— ah god.. moanin' out like that! let tra-guy know that yer all mine" luffy rasped, only further perusing with his erratic pace. it was ruthless almost— and hearing those pretty sounds from you didn't help the burning sensation he felt in his lower stomach.

"sso- so close!"

"pl-please need you to fill me full with your seed.." you whimper feeling your knees almost buckle when his cock starts to forcefully rub against your cervix.

"i gotcha! gonna.. stuff you up- mmm, so good n watch it spill out.." he laughs between his far from quiet moans, one of his hands tracing your ass until he snakes it down between your legs, rubbing at your clit without mercy. your vision blurred and your fingers gripped at the futon tightly, “ah fuck! L-LUFFY! LUFFY!"

and as you finally cum around him, clenching around his pulsating length once more. "that's it! so good baby, so good..!" he continues to fuck into you, hitting deeply over and over again, pushing you into the softness below— then it's his turn to orgasm. his sticky white filling your womb until it started to leak out. luffy pulls out just in time for your body to slump down onto the cushioned surface.

but he doesn't let go of your hips just yet. luffy's gaze hazily follows the milk colored substance that seeps out of your fluttering cunt as he draws heavy breaths. taking his middle and index working them into your sensitivity— watching the string of cum that shadows his fingers as he pulls them out.

luffy being luffy, couldn't help but want to taste it, because what would be the point of all this work if everything went to waste?

"say ahhh." was the only thing you could make out, before you're being flipped onto your back, a strong hand resting on your chin. through your blurred sight— you watched luffy lick two of his fingers slowly, savoringly before he gathers the drool in his mouth letting it drip down to yours. and you let him, letting your mouth hang agape to accept every bit of his filth.

"swallow... atta girl..!" he smiled brightly watching the lewd expression you made tasting your guys aftermath. he runs his hands back to your ass, kneading it slowly but without any ulterior motive other than that he loves holding it when you calm down together.

"i love you (name) m'sorry i got so mad at you earlier."

"no, i should apologize. you were injured n bored and i wasn't even checking up on you."

"speaking of injuries.. i think still i need some stress therapy." luffy says with a sly grin, laying beside you on the futon.

you catch on almost too quickly, shaking your head— breath still uneven. "no no no, we're done. we can't have any of your wounds reopening."

"don't ya wanna suck me off still? a bit of head can't do any harm!"

"you realize this room has no door right?"

"......when has that ever stopped us?"

oh god.

©2023 sluttybwunni  ‎   you are not to plagiarize, translate, modify or post my content on tumblr nor any other platforms.

... ✸ a/n: i was baked past cloud 9 when i wrote the other half of this but, ion wanna hear noone say shit such as “luffy ain’t slutty like that” nah man he is 🙏 down with sex ignorant luffy !!! #ace luffy is still canon but so is slut luff

tags !! @svanesworld , @selkiemaiden , @dilvcslut , @iluvs-world , @eaves-dropper , @yourmumsthings , @sanjisblackasswife , @roronoaswifey , @movie-enthusiast22 , @luffypedia , @pandoras-box0 , @xxdiaqiaoxx , @girlmeetsbullshit , @n9hida , @w9vyy , @juno443 , @roronoazorohater , @soloplayer0901 , @deathkidz

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 2.

Summary: Felix and Y/N's first year of university means being more open with how close they are, while perhaps growing a little more distant than Felix would like. Also the Catton family have bestowed Y/N their own title, which Felix hates, and Y/N and Farleigh have a moment of connection over Christmas.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader with Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh in this chapter. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: Smut (reader bottoming but their gender is not made explicit), Degrading language (reader is referred to as as dog & pet)

A/N: 3071 words. i definitely meant to get to the start of their second year/first run in with Oli..... but this chapter got long enough, so instead we'll meet Oliver at the start of the next chapter and instead we get Felix and Reader at university, best friends who hook up shenanigans, Venetia being a pot-stirrer because she likes to rile up her brother, and Farleigh and Y/N bonding and boning. i feel like the pacing is a bit strange so id love some feedback <3 ALSO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT UK COLLEGE CALANDERS IM SO SORRY LOL

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo

----

To absolutely no-ones surprise, least of all yours, Felix takes to the social aspects of college like a duck to water. Neither of you missed a single day or night of activities during first year orientation, and you both left the various pubs and bars with a different hook up each night.

Felix sees a poster for a band in town, and crows with laughter as he talks about how his mother would hate if he ever got a piercing, but you know the look in his eye too well, and tell him there's a piercing place a block away.

"God I miss Farleigh," you sigh with a smile, watching him size himself up in the mirror of the tattoo parlour where the piercer had drawn approximate dots to mark his soon-to-be eyebrow piercing.

"Oh he'd love this, wouldn't he?" Felix agrees, grinning from ear to ear, catching your gaze in the reflection. Despite the piercer's reassurance that it doesn't actually hurt that bad, Felix plays up the bit of being concerned, insisting that you hold his hand.

It's easier in this environment to be affectionate. Perhaps its the way that all nights liked to blur together, lips and teeth and tongues and hands, and you find yourself invited to parties and into bedrooms and Felix is in the crowd, pupils wide and drugs in his blood and knowing you can take care of yourself.

Fruit flies mistaking his light in the night for the rot they're used to.

That being said, while of course Felix is gorgeous and the life of the party, your own magnetic aura and love features draw in your own crowd of admirers; you proximity to Felix was merely a perk.

You yourself find yourself blooming at college; with a far stronger sense of identity than you'd had for most of your teenage years, you shed many of your adolescent insecurities and begin to embrace yourself and the people around you as more than just Felix's friends.

"I miss you," he teases, eyes shiny and pupils huge, looking at you with that look that made everyone else weak in the knees. The two of you are crammed too close in a booth at a club, everyone else having left to dance or find something interesting to snort in the bathrooms.

"I'm always around, Fi," you murmur, just as high, lips twisted into a bleary smile, your finger beneath his chin to lift his face to you.

"They love you here," he grinned, lips inches from yours, skin glowing with sweat from the adrenaline and high of the night, "knew they would," it's not especially jealous, more proud, and you sigh against his lips with the kind of warm contentment his praise always brings you.

"Don't care if they love me," you say, very tellingly, voice low and flirty. Anyone could see the two of you, but the unspoken rules of high school had fallen away; the rules of college seemed to prioritise a lack of judgement, especially with the people you surrounded yourself with. Felix giggles, flushing red, leaning into your touch, leaning even heavier against you in the little, otherwise empty booth.

"You miss me, Fi?" You prompt, letting his face go as you wrap an arm around him, drawing you in close to him. Despite his height, he folds himself up to lean into you. Felix giggles again, mostly to himself, clearly shitfaced, without answering, he angles his face up to press a kiss to your neck, "we see each other every day, we still fuck around, we -"

"Do you think I could live without you?" He asks suddenly, and surprisingly frankly. His chin is on your shoulder, eyes wide and demanding an answer. It's not a joke, nor some strange attempt at flirting, and your throat turns dry as the lights spin around you both.

"You're drunk," you tell him gently, "and high."

"Why would I ask that?" He frowns, suddenly, sitting up, as if he's talking more to himself than you, "that's a fucked question actually, sorry Y/N, I shouldn't have -"

"I think it's more about how you feel about it." You tell him gently, "we should get water. You sit here, I'll get it."

You're unsteady on your feet when you head to the bar, collecting two cups of water, almost overflowing, from the end, trying not to think about it all. It didn't matter either way, how he thought or felt about it. It was a foolish, drunken question, it doesn't matter. Right?

Except he's bopping back and forth in his seat, tapping the rhythm with surprising success on the table top, eyes shining in the light where all he seems to look at is you. Felix grin wide and bright, thanks already in his smile before the words reach his lips as you sit back down next to him.

You could live without him, but you know you'd never want to, so long as he'd want you around.

"Think I'd rather die than live without you," he says with little prompting, holding the cup with both hands as he downs half in a single gulp. What?

"What?"

He turns those perfect, brown eyes upon you like you don't already live your life in his shape, like he hadn't validated every choice you'd made since you'd met him. He smiles.

"You're my best mate, you're always good to me and help me with shit and never get mad at all the dumb ideas I have and you've made sure I haven't gotten kicked out of any schools, even if I probably deserved it," he rambles and takes another drink, this time choosing to look out at the nauseating crowd of haze and lights and bodies, "I love you, I don't think I could live without you."

"Is that why you miss me?" Your voice is barely audible above the music, but Felix still hears it. Putting his mostly empty cup on the table, he shoves his shoulder against yours, refusing to let up until his full weight is against you, the two of you toppling down in the booth, him draped over you wearing the absolute goofiest grin. It's a good reminder that you're both incredibly drunk.

"Just miss you."

You stumble out of the bar together, and back to the dorms. Felix is insistent that you stay with him.

"No funny business," he mumbles against your ear, breath hot and smirk in his voice, "promise."

"You couldn't get it up if you tried," you snorted, "whiskey dick." Though he tries to protest, you gently elbow him in the ribs and he sulkily admits that you're probably right. Still, in the warmth of his room and the two of you stripped to your underwear, it's kind of irresistible to not make out like teenagers for a good while. You get you both glasses of water to put on the nightstand, and Felix tells you he loves you while on the brink of sleep.

"Love you too, Fi."

"Couldn't live without you, meant it," he hiccups, cracking an eye to smirk up at you from where he's splayed out on the bed, "probably."

"Don't think I could live without you either," you shuffle yourself into the bed beside him, letting him roll over to wrap an arm around you, "even if you are a fucking wanker sometimes," you grin, and hear him laugh into his pillow.

Felix has more game than anyone you've ever met without even trying, stealing and breaking hearts from all areas of the university. You watch it happen with amusement as you find your own slew of pretty guys and girls to keep you company when you feel like it. Still, for all the charisma and charm Felix had been blessed with, his touch-starved nature becomes both a blessing and a curse when he finds himself drunk and tactile and desperate for touch.

A desperate, affection Felix loses all of those carefully-curated social barriers that the two of you had put between yourselves as teenagers in public. Girls are more open and supportive around here; perhaps you should be offended, that many, once they learn he's prone to clinging to you, to kissing you, they end up rationalising it. It doesn't count.

Or perhaps they think they can shift the affection to themselves. Felix always learns to be more affectionate to them, but will find himself with you more often than he's not.

And those girls don't even know about the sex.

"I think about you," he huffs between short, jagged breaths, with you bent over the end of his bed, "is that weird?"

His latest breakup isn't even twelve hours old yet, but when you'd showed up at his room with a six-pack of beers and the offer to let him vent, he'd taken it without hesitation. While they hadn't been going out for long, she'd been pretty, but an apparently lousy fuck. When you'd jokingly offered to remind him what a decent lay was like, Felix had genuinely jumped at the chance.

"A bit - ah," you mused for a moment, hips rocking back to meet his in a pleasant rhythm. He takes a pause to tap one of your ankles with his foot, and you adjust your stance to be a bit wider, "what context? Just in general - fuck, Fi, there," and you find yourself lost for words as he presses his hand against the small of your back. His pace remains steady as he fucks you, and you obliging lean further down; he knows you well, know how to fuck you just the way you both enjoy.

Then you're in his bed, straddling him, riding him with his hands on your hips, your thighs, bouncing as his nails dig pleasantly into your skin.

"Think about me?" You finally continue, breathless, and something about the way he holds you steady, lets you pause as he laughs, flushed cheeks growing even more read, makes you grin too, "you mean like this, don't you?" And you rolled your hips, eliciting a groan from him that was like music to your ears.

"Shut up," he'd laughed, giving you a squeeze, unable to meet your gaze.

"Did you ever call out my name?" You lean down, across him, and for a moment his hands slide up your body to wrap around your neck, bringing you in for a gentle kiss.

"Thankfully not."

"Still, those poor girls," you teased.

"Poor me," Felix argued, "having to try and power through terrible sex while thinking about someone who's not even there, just because I know you're better at it," and he played at pouting for a moment, looking for sympathy.

"You really didn't have to tell me all this," you laughed, sitting back up and setting a gentle pace, smiling down at him, "you're such a perv." When his fingertips trail down your body, a shiver runs down your spine. There's this look in his eyes for just a moment, something knowing, something teasing, something you'd seen on occasion that made you feel so wanted and seen and -

He likes you knowing.

"You gonna give me something to think about?" That tone of voice, the teasing, the faintest hint of authority, like he's pretending like he doesn't know all the ways you'd debauch yourself if only he asked.

Venetia gets you a collar for Christmas, and Farleigh's already been kicked out of several universities by the time your first Winter break had arrived.

"Oh Pet, that's so cute," Elspeth coos at the designer, velvet collar that Venetia had smugly handed over while Felix had scowled, "is that Cartier?" Much to Felix's dismay, Elspeth and Sir James have apparently taken to calling you Pet as a pet name. He blames his sister entirely.

"Pet's easier, sweetheart," Elspeth had tried to argue when you'd sat down at your first breakfast of the Winter break at Saltburn, and she'd asked Duncan 'don't forget about our dear pet'. Naturally Felix had frowned the entire time while arguing with his parents, who insisted it's easier to use Pet than a whole new set of names and pronouns.

"It's been years mum, how have you not adjusted?" He demands, while you have shrunken in your chair and tried to divine life's secrets from your breakfast.

"What do you think, Pet?" Venetia said with a venomous kind of sweetness. Looking up at her, she's wearing this smug kind of smile, directed not at you but at Felix next to you. When you look to him, you see Farleigh across the table trying to hide his amusement in several pieces of toast eaten with no break in between.

"I think," you paused, looking past an annoyed Felix to his mother at the head of the table, "that if you want to call me Pet, you can, I think it's sweet, but please don't expect Felix to refer to me as such," you said with a surprising amount of firmness. Then after a beat of surprise from the rest of the table, you took a deep breath, "and for events and guests, I really wouldn't appreciate being introduced as such."

"Of course," Elspeth quickly amends, adding, "Y/N," for good measure.

"It's a pet name, Pet," Sir James gives an awkward little smile, nodding in agreement. Farleigh met your gaze for a moment, and you could see only the bread was keeping his laughter from spilling out. Beside you, Felix relaxes, and finally you look at him. Dark, serious eyes, with something grateful shining faintly in the morning sun.

Of course you let him throw Venetia's collar gift in the fire in front of her, despite her protests.

You get used to the sweet way the Cattons refer to you as Pet; as much as Felix despised it's connotations when it came from his sister, there was something comforting, something almost secure about the way the whole family had picked it up so easily.

"Was wondering where I'd find you," Farleigh's voice is warm while you're raiding the expansive kitchen for some kind of easy midnight snack. You could have asked one of the many staff members who reside on the property, but you hadn't wanted to bother them over probably some crisps.

"Farleigh!" You light up upon hearing his voice, turning, refrigerator door still open in your hand. He approaches, and you close the refrigerator, hugging him tightly, "oh this is great, it's been so long since it's been just us!"

"Darling pet," he says with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"You should come to Oxford, Fi and I miss you terribly," you tell him, leaning into his touch with a sincere smile as he holds your face gently, while you still hold him is a loose embrace.

"I've already been accepted into another college; you'll be fine without me," and he grins, kissing you on the nose, pressing a kiss to each cheek, "pet." He adds, almost to himself, and your face falls as you think about what he'd said.

"Everything's better with you," you insist, "and you'd love it; we could party like we did that Summer in France, but every weekend -!" Farleigh cuts you off with his lips against yours; you can taste the sweet smile he's wearing before he deepens the kiss.

Later, in Farleigh's bed, bathed in moonlight and the afterglow, you light up a cigarette and open his window.

"Fucking freezing," Farleigh mutters.

"Sorry," but you don't close the window. Silence stretches out between you both. You hope Farleigh enjoyed himself, hope he's happy -

"You don't need them," he says quietly, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, you breathe out a lungful of smoke and turn to him with a frown, "this family; we all know where you're from. You don't need them." There's something strange about his tone, clearing his throat when he finally looks at you, "but you still want them to love you."

"They're good to me," you finally say, dropping your gaze as you reach back to offer the cigarette, "to us," you tell him, and he hums with the smoke in his lungs. Then, taking back the cigarette, you inhale the sour-sweet smoke and tap off the ash off the window sill.

"I'm not their fucking dog, Farleigh," you mumble, surprising frustration escaping you, anger you hadn't even realised you were holding on to.

"I know, pet," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, "you'll let them think they have you kept, but you're not their dog, I know."

"I like you, Farleigh," you say with a faint smile, leaning back to see the way he's grinning too, "and I love you a bit as well I think."

"I know, I love you too, Y/N."

"We miss you a lot." There's something about the quiet that follows your words that you know all too well; Farleigh's about to tease you for something. Probably Felix related.

As if on cue;

"Does he know you like being his dog?" Grin widening, Farleigh gives you a slight shove, though the truth of his words has you hiding your own embarrassed smile.

"He thinks it's an insult to me, which is sweet of him," you chuckled, and Farleigh eases the cigarette from your fingers, "but it's like he has no idea the effect he's had on me for over a decade now. Yeah, I'm my own person, I have hobbies and friends outside of him, but -"

"You're a service bottom and desperately in love," Farleigh cuts in with a surprisingly sage tone, nodding like he hadn't absolutely called you out. Shocked with his vulgar kind of accuracy, you practically shove him out of the bed, laughing that he needs to fuck off, and the discussion is left at that.

The next morning, sitting down to breakfast, Duncan quietly informs Sir James that there had been a disturbance during the night. Immediately you throw Farleigh under the bus and declare that it's his fault.

"Hey!" He shouts back, grinning, "it takes two to fuck in the kitchen!" Which has all four of you, Venetia, Felix, Farleigh, and yourself, cracking up with laughter as Elspeth and Sir James were exasperated by your collective antics.

There is so much affection in Felix's eyes in this moment, this simple, strange moment of admitted sexual deviance. Except it's never felt like that to either of you. It's one of the ways you've both shown love, and he loves that you love those closest to him.

And you love to make him happy.

Farleigh was right, not that you'd ever tell him.

[juvenillia]

~ under my skin ~ John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!reader [fluff/smut oneshot]

Summary: Johnny never wanted any more tattoos. Memories and people were more important to him than a little sketch on his skin. He didn't need those to be reminded of what he hold dear, because he kept all that in his heart. This opinion somehow changed when he met you and suddenly he found himself with five fresh tattoos that meant the world to him. Because these five tattoos reminded him of something he wanted to stay for eternity. The ink holding a meaning deeper than the bare eye could ever see.

a/n: this one was supposed to be a sweet short oneshot about Johnny falling for his tattoo artist but somehow it escalated very quickly and it could've been even longer but I stopped right there (for now)

tw/cw: tattooartist!reader, needles (ofc), tooth rotting fluff, smut, suggestive content, petnames, mentions of a past toxic relationship, flirting, mentions of angst, violence (but only the slightest, this is pure fluff), bestfriend!simon, comfort, love at first sight, pinning

wordcount: 10.4k [upps]

》 Read on AO3 《 》 Masterpost 《

„C’mon Lt. Tell me,” Johnny bragged him for the millionth time today. They just arrived back at base after a draining operation, but as soon as Soap could turn his work brain off, he only had one thought on his mind. For three weeks there was one thing circling his thoughts and he had to pay a lot of effort to shove this one aside during the mission. Therefor he had no intentions in holding back anymore now. Three weeks ago, that was the actual day his world took a sudden turn.

Simon and he had to go undercover through London. Following a trace of a Russian insider who would lead them to their actual target. Nothing unusual. Something the 141 was used to it. Also, it wasn’t that uncommon that their trace led them to a well crowded area, where they needed to observe and find the target person. Usually, it would’ve been Gaz and Price going undercover, or some more rarely even Soap and Gaz, because they were simply the most unobtrusive, but this place literally screamed for Simon and Johnny to go. It was a tattoo convention. A place where numerous of eager artist presented their skills and works. A place where you found the most eccentrical looks. No one would bat an eye about the behemoth of a man Simon was, plus he already had numerous of tattoos covering his body. While Johnny on the other hand seemed to be just the guy looking for some new ones, next to his quite discreet one. They just blended in perfectly in between the many kinds of humans strolling through these halls.

That way they walked through the halls, keeping their eyes open to find their target. Price and Gaz stayed in touch with them over the comms, observing everything from afar, watching their six for just in case. They looked through all the booths, looked at every artist they could find. They didn’t know much about their actual target, only that he frequented a specific tattoo artist with a unique style. “Find the artist, find the man,” Laswell’s words echoed through Johnny’s head as he scanned through a portfolio of the booth he just stopped by. The works looked all perfectly made, with an amazing eye to details and such fine lines. Some medals and trophies placed next to their winning projects decorating the desk. If he ever would get another tattoo, he’d be sure to find an artist with that level of skill. Still, he really wasn’t into getting another one. Never found something with enough meaning to stay with him forever. In his job most of things were just temporally and those who weren’t, those were kept in his heart. No need to ink them into his skin. He absently browsed through the pictures of various body parts decorated with stunning grey and black artworks. His mind keeping track on the conversation Price and Ghost just shared when Johnny’s eyes just locked onto a picture of a back piece with which he was somehow familiar with.

“Something caught your interest?” a soft female voice dragged him out of his haze, but Soap only shook his head no. Closing the booklet in front of him as his eyes wandered slowly upwards to be met with a pair of bright eyes. Some of the prettiest he had ever seen sparkled into his own. Usually, he’d bring out a cheeky comment, a bold smile on his lips. But as his clear azure eyes stared into yours, no words left his throat. He was frozen in place, completely smitten. You gifted him one of your sweetest smiles, which just grew wider when you noticed another man behind the speechless Scot. “Simon!” you cried out, eagerly rounding the desk to give the man a quick hug, which he returned, somehow a bit tense. Johnny only blinked in disbelief at the two of you.

“Hey…” Simon gave your shoulder a quick pat before his eyes met Johnny’s. A warning hidden in his glare, something the Scot haven’t seen so often aimed at himself. Mostly at enemies while interrogation, but nearly never at himself. It made him swallow, before he calmed himself.

“I hope you aren’t looking for a replacement,” you teased while taking his beefy arm into your hand. Inspecting his tattoo sleeve, or better said your work from a few weeks ago. Letting your delicate fingers follow the black lines down to his wrist. Perfectly healed before he had to leave for deployment again. You always made sure he came as early as possible so that your art wouldn’t get destroyed.

“Why should I leave ‘e best?” he nudged you with his elbow, only the slightest, before you let go of his wrist. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. His eyes pinned at your figure. Softer than Johnny was used to it.

“Well, won’t argue with that.” You laughed, while pushing your hands into your hips. You wore a simple pair of black cargo pants. Pockets stuffed full of necessities for the day. Your phone, your vape, some little snacks, some business cards, a pocket mirror and your favorite lipstick, a small ring light for your phone, and stuff you could need at a convention. Headphones loosely hanging around your neck connected to your phone, and the crew tag hanging loose from your belt around your hips, where your shirt was neatly tugged into your pants. The simple shirt revealing your own tattoos on your arms. “Besides…” your voice got that teasing, nearly mocking tone again. “I’d kick your ass for cheating on me.” You punched his upper arm playfully. Knowing that you could never even cause him pain. That’s why he was one of your favorite customers, you could just pull through an eight-hour session without him growing tired or whiney. He would just sit it out, listening to your tea, sharing a quick smoke in between.

“’m sure ya do, sweetheart.” He smiled softly beneath the casual black mask. He just got dragged out of this private comfort as Johnny cleared his throat a bit too dramatic for Simon’s liking. “That’s John by the way.” A sigh left his throat as he pointed at his teammate who eagerly stepped forward to you.

“Friends call me Johnny though.” His smile reached his eyes as he reached his hand out to you and you took it, shaking it with a smile. Eventually his thumb brushed over your knuckles during the process.

“Pleasure to meet you. Heard already a lot,” you cooed, squeezing your eyes shut while crossing your arms in front of your chest. Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, thinking about the things his Lieutenant could’ve told you already. Hopefully nothing too embarrassing he thought. Just then you told him your name before he repeated it quietly. Letting its sound roll over his tongue, the same smile from earlier on his lips.

“Would love to chat with ya more, y’know, but...” Simon interrupted the scenery in front of him. His glance searching for the blue ones of his teammate, sending him a knowing glance. “work…,” he said in his usual stern manner but still calm. You only nodded your head.

“And I thought you would drop by to say hi. I’m violated, Riley.” You faked a shocked face before a chuckle left your throat. Simon’s glance softened at your statement. “My work’s also waiting.” You pointed to a guy with a naked upper body half and half-finished chest piece. “Some awards to bring home you know.” You smiled smug patting your flat palm against his chest. Simon only nodded; his brows relaxed.

Johnny couldn’t suppress his bright smile the whole time, his eyes watching every move you made. It amazed him how much at ease you were with Ghost, because Soap knew it took a lot for him to be comfortable around people. Especially civilians. But Johnny couldn’t blame him, you already got him hooked as well. That’s when something clicked in his head.  “Wait a sec.” He pulled a picture out of his jacket. Simon tensed, as the Scot moved to show you said image. “Yer recognizing that style?” his voice was serious but somehow, he couldn’t suppress the adoration beneath it.

“Johnny…” Simon instantly had a scolding tone lingering in his voice. He knew from the beginning that he could’ve asked you about that specific artist. He knew you were quite known in the scene, having contacts everywhere, but he didn’t want you to get involved in all that his life was. Yes, he told you a few things about it. Especially when getting his own dog tags inked under his skin. You knew about some things he didn’t like to talk about. Especially when you decided to grab some dinner after a session, and he grew more comfortable around you. And with that he grew to become one of your closest friends. You knew many things about the ghost he was. You knew that his job was bone crushing and bloody. Still, he didn’t want you to get corrupted by it.

You ignored Simon and took the picture out of the Scot hands. Your eyes lingering on his forearm for a while - you called it occupational disease – before you investigated the work in the picture. It was nothing special for the unknown eye, but you saw anything that wasn’t traditional made. You saw every line that had a personal note in it. “Check out Mad Hatters studio, Misha I suppose. Could also be Sasha, he did learn from Misha though,” you stated while still looking at the picture.

“Thanks, bonnie.” Johnny’s tongue was faster than his mind as he once more caught himself starring at you. You looked at him, your face relaxed again. Your features were like a flame, warming him up from the inside as himself became a moth pulled to it all the way.

“Don’t even wanna know what you need from them. Good luck,” you said looking at Simon, who’s brows were ached in concern. You then turned back to Johnny. Your eyes once more clinging to the small piece on his arm. “I could do better.” You winked at him, the smug grin playing on your lips as you gave the picture back to the Scot. It caused Johnny to really start considering getting another one. He was that impulsive, and if there wasn’t that dumb job to get done, he would immediately jump onto your chair. Just to see how you would do it, just to see you more, feeling your delicate fingers running over his skin. Simon watched the scenery with an unsettled rumble in his stomach, as you walked back behind your booth and pulled some black rubber gloves out of the box. Smiling once more at the men in front of you and with a little wave you turned around to get to your model.

“Boys… focus,” Price cleared his throat and scolded them after watching the whole situation a bit longer than he should have in the first place. But still you gave them the needed evidence. You led them to the person they needed. So, the operation could process any further until they found their actual target three weeks later.

 All those incidents leading us back to the day when Johnny didn’t stop to ask his Lieutenant about his tattoo artist. “Why’d ya want to know anyways?” Simon’s Manchester accent was thick as he rolled his eyes. He already knew why the Scot wanted to know. Simon knew that his teammate didn’t want any more tattoos. They had plenty of talks about it. Always when he came with a new one back from leave, Soap told him ‘not up to that Lt’. And suddenly he wanted to know your name and the studio you worked in, or better said own.

“I really want to get that one tattoo…alright. Made up ma mind.” Johnny’s nearly whiney voice pulled at the little strings that made his bag of nerves up. Simon was a patient man, especially when it came to his team. Still, he didn’t want to get you involved with more of his life. Knowing that Johnny would tell you so many stories that wouldn’t be meant for your ears. Knowing you too well, fearing that this could become more. “C’mon Lt. Please. Dinnea let me down!” Simon only rolled his eyes at him and wrote an address down. You could see his hesitation in his handwriting, but Johnny would find out this way or another.

And a few days later Johnny found himself in London, in front of a cozy looking studio. Warm lights inviting him in. A bell jingled sweet as he pushed through the door. The place lovely decorated with plants, fairy lights and some candles. Framed pictures of stunning works along the wall as he walked up to the counter. “One moment.” A familiar voice clung from the back to his ear and made him instantly smile. It was ridiculous how your voice was already imprinted in his brain from such a small encounter. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you, Johnny?” you cooed smiling at him. Relaxing your arms on the counter and your body weight on it.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” his voice was calm as he leaned against the counter, closer to where you placed yourself. “Gonna show me how ye can do better, bonnie.” The smug grin facing your figure. The first time you caught him off guard. This time he prepared himself.

You exhaled sharp, followed by a chuckle. “That’s not how it works, darling.” You reached to your side and pulled a book in front of him. “I have a tightly filled schedule. Didn’t Si told you how I work?” You raised a brow at him. Johnny only shook his head no, while the smile started to falter. Seeing the gloss in his eyes slowly fading made your stomach turn. Why did he affect you so much? “Damn idiot…” you pinched the bridge of your nose. You opened the book and went through the appointments of the next days. “How big you’re planning?” Your eyes scanning through the upcoming projects.

His eyes instantly lighting up again. He was like a puppy that just got told they were going to the park. It was adorable. “Well, as big as it need to be. But upper arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his perfect toned arm and presented the area he thought of as placement. A veiny hand circling around the spot. Your eyes were pinned onto the flexing muscles as you felt a certain warmth creeping up your stomach. It’s not like you didn’t saw well shaped men rarely, but something about John MacTavish was different to say the least.

“Alright.” You slid your phone over. “Put your number in. I’ll see if I can fit you in the next days.” He eagerly took the phone and put his number in. Before you could say something or even snatch it back, he even dialed it to give himself yours. It made you chuckle as you took your phone back. You looked at the contact, there was only ‘johnny’ written with his number of course. “Lastname?”

“Already wanna take it, lass? I like straightforward.” There was that coquettish smile back on his face. His azure eyes staring into yours. “MacTavish, would suit ye though.” He slowly licked over his lips, as his eyes didn’t dare to avert from yours.

“You’d wish.” You typed his last name in. “Johnny is just a really common name, and you don’t want me to call the wrong one. Don’t you?” you teased, still a slight blush on your face. He shook his head no, while straighten himself up.

“Aye, would be a shame.” He placed his hand quickly onto yours which laid on the counter. Giving it a quick squeeze, before leaving again. “Waitin’ for yer call, bonnie.”

That call came like two days later. You managed to rearrange some appointments to clear a day for the Scot. Telling yourself that it was only because he was a friend of Simon. Not because you found quite a liking in the man and his flirtatious manner. So, two days later he was seated in your shop again. Upper half of his body completely stripped. He told you he was more comfortable with wearing no shirt at all, then pushing the sleeve up again and again. Yes, he could’ve just worn a tank-top but who were you to judge? He was quite a treat for the eyes. You just prepped his upper arm with the stencil as he told you a story how he tried to sneak into the military while he wasn’t even old enough.

“Simon was right, you’re unbelievable.” You smiled while smoothing the stencil paper over his arm. He stayed completely still, while his inside was trembling as he felt your delicate touch on his skin. Even with you wearing those gloves it gave him so much to enjoy. Desperate for more already.

“Hope he only told yer good things. Dinnea want ye to think bad of me.” He smiled sincere. His face turned to you, as you slowly removed the paper. It was close to yours, as your glance found his once more. The smile he wore reached his eyes and again you found yourself with the same warmth on your cheeks, your own lips tugged up in a genuine smile.

“Don’t worry. Only the best.” You chuckled while rolling with your stool a bit away to look at the outline of the work. “Take a look, if we can start or if you want to change a thing.” You took a mirror to let him get a proper look at the piece. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace. Because this is going to stay with you for eternity.” You were used to customers completely smitten by the stencil itself, but with Johnny it was different. His eyes were shining bright, as bright as his smile. But his eyes were more pinned on you, and not onto the future piece of art decorating his skin.

“Dinnea think of anything to change. Dae yer thing, bonnie,” he cooed, and it gave you that feeling in your guts again. Somehow you believed he didn’t even care about the tattoo itself. Still, he used something that fitted him perfectly. Well, as perfect as you could assume from Simon’s stories. And the following hours reassured you. With that you started to let the needles sink into his skin for the next seven hours. Black and white ink forming a masterpiece just after your liking while you listened to all the stories Johnny shared eagerly with you. Asking you many questions about your life beside the studio and customers. Asking about your family. You learned that he had two sisters and was really close to them as well to his mum. He shared openly so much information about himself, that you yourself kept talking about everything under the sun.

Sometimes he had to reposition his arm that you could reach a spot better. What led to a half hour of his calloused palm resting on your thigh. He couldn’t help but let his thumb stroke over the fabric of your pants. You’d lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it. With your job it came naturally to be close and kind of touchy-feely with your customers. But it wasn’t so common for you, that it affected you personally. Especially when it came so casually by him. He kept talking about that one time when his teammate, Gaz, fell out of a helicopter. Even if Johnny wasn’t there himself, he told the story so passionately that you believed you were there yourself while his thumb still caressed your thigh. His gently touch making your stomach tingle as you tried to stay focused.

Soon seven hours came to an end and a boar’s head was now engraved onto his upper right arm. Not like the usual animal portrait you so often had to do. No, it was indeed something more meaningful to him. Connecting the pride for his home country to his family, mixed with your personal note to give the tattoo a specific spice. Johnny loved it as he stood proudly in front of the mirror, investigating every line you made.

“It’s fuckin’ perfect. Bonnie, yer the best,” he exhaled while placing a quick peck onto the crown of your head while turning back to the mirror. His gesture left you breathless for only a second. Emotional outbursts after a finished session weren’t something you were unfamiliar with, but Johnny always added another note to his actions and words. A subtle undertone that gave you butterflies.

“Glad you like it.” You smiled putting on another pair of gloves on to clean the piece and wrap it up properly. “You know how to take care of it?” you said calm while placing the second skin onto the fresh wound. Johnny shook his head slightly and it earned him a chuckle. “Alright, the second skin stays on for like five days. If it loosens before, don’t break your pretty head about it. Then you wash it with usual water and cream it with special lotion. I’ll give you some. No gym, nothing to make you sweat more. No sunbathing and no swimming for the next two weeks,” you said reaching to your supplies to get a tube of tattoo med out. “You should drop by then to let me have a look. If we need to improve…redo some things, or if everything heals perfectly fine.”

“Lass could simply ask me out if ye wanna see me again.” He winked while pulling his shirt back on. His eyes never leaving your figure and finding a liking in seeing you all flustered. He was good looking; indeed, he knew the effect he held against woman. But with you it was different. He just wanted you to like him, to look at him like he thought he looked at you. Smitten.

“Not my kinda style.” You shrugged it off. What somehow demotivated the Scot. The whole time you were flirting back and forth with him, and when he discreetly asked you out, you turned so distant. He wouldn’t give up so easily though. Therefore, he was way too eager, but he called it a day. Paying you your loan and with that you somehow parted ways. The job was done, and you both went after your business.

Unfortunately, Johnny couldn’t stop by after the two weeks mark was passed. He got suddenly drafted in again, he just shot you a quick text.

Johnny MacTavish [09:03] Sry, bonnie. Works callin. Gonna make it up to ye ;)

You [10:36] Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

You [10:39] Come back alive.

Johnny chuckled silently after your second message arrived. Those three words gave him an unbearable urge to see you again. Already sitting on the truck next to Simon. “Ye couldn’t keep her away forever, Lt.,” he snickered, shoving his phone into the pocket that would stay off the fields.

“At least I tried…” Simon sighed half annoyed, but half amused. He knew both of you well enough to know, that you’d fit each other’s liking way too good. It was hard to keep up with one of you, but having both combined would bring him the death of his peace. But he was sure, that it wouldn’t become something more. At least he hoped. You had rules, and on top of the list stood: No flings with customers. Especially not after what happened with your ex. So, Simon was sure that Johnny would become at furthest a good friend to you, just like Simon did. He was as sure as he was that this operation would be easy and that nothing would keep them occupied for too long. But Simon was so very wrong about both.

The mission went south faster than Price could smoke his cigar. Kyle was the worst injured, while Johnny didn’t sustain any injuries. It made it clear again. Clear how dangerous the path was they were following. He loved his job; he wouldn’t change a thing. But to know that he almost lost his teammates, it made something to him. So, while sitting at the train station, that should bring him back to Scotland to spend some time to recover, he pulled his phone out.

Johnny MacTavish [12:29] Yer havin a free spot for yer fave Scot?<3

You [12:39] Drop by the studio tomorrow noon.

You [12:41] Sacrificing my days off for you. Make it worthy.

Johnny MacTavish [12:42] Aye!

And Johnny made sure to make it worthy. Instantly jumping on a train to London, instead of home. Booking a hotel nearby on the way and making sure to collect some stuff on the way. He picked up some good lunch on the way to the studio. Making sure to treat you right. He even thought about buying some flowers, but he didn’t want to make you somehow uncomfortable.

When he wanted to push the door once more open, it didn’t move an inch. Just then you walked up from the inside, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Hello there. C’mon in.” You held the door open for him to slide in. Locking the door once more after him, avoiding passing customers. “So, what’s the idea Mr. I don’t want any more tattoos?” you asked him mockingly, while he placed his stuff at the couch in the waiting area and unzipped his hoodie. You were used that customer often came back after the first one. Literally nobody stayed with only one of your pieces. For Johnny you were overly glad that he came back though.

“It’s even more special than before,” he said calm while pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. You took it in, and a little smile played on your lips. “I trust ye with it,” he added before his eyes met yours. You knew that look. It wasn’t the cheeky and playful smile. It was genuine, meaningful and he entrusted you with this, it made your heart flutter. So, you took your graphic tablet and get it to work out. Just as perfect as it needed to be.

You were seated on the couch in your waiting area next to him, while he kept telling your stories of operation and after-operation celebrations. He didn’t talk about the most recent one. You kept listening to his voice as you drew the outline for his next piece. He leaned a bit closer into your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked at the tablet. His talk paused. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t move, let him rest against you as you inhaled his scent. He smelled nothing like you’d imagine a soldier. Nothing like Simon when he came to the studio. He smelled just fresh. His mohawk holding a scent of balsam in, but also like a tone of green apple. “Something to fault it?” you asked calm.

“Yer dae even better.” Johnny let his head linger on your shoulder while his eyes scanned over the screen. There was shown a hat, a cap and a skull in your original style. Something so insignificant to others, but something so important to him. You sketched it out and prepared the stencil as he stripped his shirt once more. You stood in front of him as you looked at the piece from the last time. Checking if anything was damaged, a satisfied smile on your lips. Just then you prepared his left chest for the three symbols. His hands twitched as you stroke over his chest, and he just wished for you to ditch those damn gloves. His eyes pinned down to your figure, as you wore a little smile, while your fingers worked over his chest.

It took another good amount of time to get this piece done. You took more breaks this time. Sharing some of the food he brought, and many laughs, while he laid on the flat bed and your next to him. Carefully going after the lines of the stencil, while his arm slipped around you and his hand lingered on your waist so often during the process. You didn’t mind. Neither of you said something about it, just enjoyed the company, the closeness as you shared some more chats. But sooner than later this session come to an end.  That way you found yourself standing next to him, observing his face as he looked at the latest addition in the mirror. A smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t like the bright and toothy ones; it was heart melting and genuine. Something so meaningful. “Tapadh leat,” he said a bit absently. It made you raise your brows. His eyes finding yours, while his hands finding your waist. “Thank ye,” he repeated for you to understand, and you smiled, while he didn’t dare to pull you closer. His huge palms only squeezing your side a bit as you stood in front of each other.

“It’s my job, Johnny,” you said calm. And he shook his head no, while he once more squeezed your waist what made you tilt your head in confusion slightly. But you didn’t give it another thought. You wrapped his tattoo up; he pulled his clothes on again and you went to the front desk for the check out. You broke down the skin routine once more with him, but he interrupted you.

“Go out with me,” he said abruptly before you could even say something more. His voice was desperate, but at the same time so gentle.

“MacTavish…” you sighed while your own heart ached. You had your rules. A rule you broke once, and it was the worst decision you ever made. Simon had to help you back then to free you from the stalker your ex-customer and ex-boyfriend was. And with his leaving you lost many regular customers and friends. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it again, even if you knew that Johnny would be different. Even when your heart screamed to just say yes to him.

“Otherwise, I need to come back every time on leave to get another one.” His voice gave you some hints of a joke, still you weren’t so sure about it if he really was joking. His eyes were filled with a certainty, a determination. You averted your eyes.

“I am sorry…” you said calm. But he only declined it. His face a bit defeated, but still something told you he wasn’t done with the thought. Simon told you once how stubborn this man could be, so you steeled yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t give in. Even if it would be hard when those azure eyes literal begged for you to do so.

“Gonna stay ‘n London for three weeks. If ye make up yer mind. Ye ken how to find me,” he said while leaving your studio.

You exhaled deeply after closing the door after him. Waving after him as he crossed the street. His eyes still bright as always. You cleaned up the studio and went to the front desk for a last time today. As you flipped you through the bills to put them away something different caught your interest. A little paper neatly folded between the notes. You took it and unfolding it. It revealed a sketch of your own face. It was a unique art style, and it made your heart ache even more. Under the sketch was something written in a sloppy handwriting. ‘nae stunning as the original’ You pressed the paper to your chest, while a desperate chuckle left your throat. “John MacTavish…you’re gonna be the death of mine,” you said calm to yourself as you put the drawing into your personal journal.

“He came for ‘nother one?” It was a few days after your gripping encounter with the Scot when Simon was seated in your studio again. Working to add a new part to his back piece. You only nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. “Ya like him, don’t ya?” The Brit said calm. You paused your work for a second. Not answering him was answer enough for Simon, what made him chuckle deeply.

“Si…” you exhaled while continuing your work. You wanted to say so much about that topic because he was right. You liked him. He already reserved a place in your heart for himself and the last days were only filled with that god damn genuine smile of the Scot. You found yourself often at night looking at the portrait he gifted you. Asking yourself how long you’d be able to turn him down.

“Tomorrow, drinks at yer place.” It wasn’t an offer, more like an order and you sighed. Not like you and Simon didn’t spend some time of sessions together. You were close after all. Drinking and talking or just watching some stupid shows together at your apartment. Even if the thought of you meeting his teammate still annoyed Simon, he couldn’t bring himself to watch two idiots pinning for each other when it was way too obvious. And even if he wouldn’t admit it for anyone to hear, seeing two of the people he liked the most falling for each other, it made the coldness of his own heart melt. You only needed a little excuse to ditch your rules. Even if Simon hated to break those. If it meant that you could finally be happy again after your ex, he was willing to help.

Lt💀 [17:09] 1900 at the studio

John MacTavish [17:11] What yer up to Lt?

Lt💀 [17:15] Don’t ask stupid questions.

Johnny knew better than asking more questions, so he got ready and made sure to be punctual. It was Sunday, so the studio was indeed closed as he stood in front of it at 18:56. As Simon walked around the corner, wearing all casual sweatpants and a hoodie, Johnny was even more confused. The Brit had a plastic bag from a nearby grocery store in one hand. “C’mon Johnny.” He punched his shoulder playfully while walking around the studio, aiming for a door in the side alley.

“Mind fillin’ me in, Lt?” he arched his brow at him while trailing close after him. Hands pushed into the pockets of his denim pants. Somehow, he felt overdressed next to the way too casual look of his Lieutenant.

Simon looked at his watch, waiting for another minute to pass. So, it was actual 7 p.m. and he pressed the button of an intercom. “It’s Simon for tonight,” he said, shooting Johnny a glare who only looked more confused but raising his hands in defense. The door started to buzz, and Simon pushed it open, signaling Johnny to follow him. Climbing some stairs before they found themselves in front of another door, which already stood a gap open. So, Simon naturally walked in, kicked his shoes of and Johnny followed his lead.

“Hello there,” you chimed while walking up to give Simon a quick hug, which he returned before ditching his mask. Your eyes switching to Johnny who just wore a stunned smile. He had thought of many things to happen tonight, but not to find himself in your apartment together with his Lieutenant and a various beers and whiskeys.

You all shared some good laughs, some amazing and catching stories. You told them about some cringe customers and very hilarious stories they shared with you. Johnny and Simon entertained you with sharing stories of their daily events. Johnny didn’t know what excited him more, the way he saw his stoic superior so at ease around you. Joking, laughing and even open so much. Or the fact that you were seated next to him, somehow always having one of his limbs touching any part of you as his eyes were glued to your lips.

It was an easy-going evening when you all had way too many drinks. You were just on the way to bring some empty bottles over to the kitchen when you could hear the teasing voice of Simon once more. “For a lad, that didn’t want any more tattoos, ya fast with getting’ new ones,” he joked, and Johnny only scratched his neck. His cheeks tainted red, mostly from the alcohol running through his system you supposed. “Ya know, Kyle even bet ya’d get a trump stamp if necessary.”

Johnny let out a wholehearted laugh. To be honest, if his whole body was already covered in tattoos and this would be the only way to see you again. He’d do it without hesitation. Hesitation was something you didn’t know today either. Just like that you walked over to the Scot. “Real talk now.” Without a warning you sat down, straddling his lap as your arms found his shoulders. Johnny only swallowed, sobered up so suddenly as you pushed your body weight onto him. “If you ever get a tramp stamp and I am not the person to do it… we won’t have a shared future darling,” you said mockingly, while your hands found some loose strains of his hair. Simon only laughed as he leaned back in the armchair, sipping on the beer in his hand. Watching the scenery in front of him in amusement.

“Bonnie, yer the only one for me. Ya ken,” he said while his beefy hands found your waist, helping to stabilize you on top of him. His words held much more meaning in it than you’d realize in your drunken state. His heartbeat quickened up as your fingers played with his hair. The redness of his cheeks rose, just like a certain tightness in his pants. He just hoped to not scare you away. But he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide it, you simply had to feel it the way you were seated just above the bulge.

You only laughed. Eventually you felt his arousal, eventually you just chose to not pay any attention to it. “Then let’s do it,” you joked, leaning a bit back to look at him properly. He looked flabbergasted back at you.

“Sweetheart, yer drunk,” Simon cooed, and Johnny literally forgot that the Brit was there until this very moment. At this point, he felt somehow embarrassed but also thrilled at the same time.

“Darling. You’d be able to kill a man when drunk. Aren’t ya?” you tilted your head to the Brit with a devilish smile. Simon only sighed, and your smile grew. “See! And I can tattoo then.” You laughed, turning your attention back to the Scot, who by now started to let his thumbs stroke over your waist, drawing lazy circles into the fabric of your top. “What you’re saying, love?” your mischievous smile aimed at him as your eyes pierced into his.

“Fuck it. Let’s dae it,” he said. The alcohol running through his veins was the main reason he agreed, but how could he deny you, when you were so beautifully seated above him. Hands stroking a long his neck and hairline what sent shivers down his spine. His mind was hazy, and he didn’t care for any consequences.

“That’s my boy!” You laughed while slowly standing up. “Benefits of living just above the studio.” You reached for the keys to the studio and signaled the men to follow you. Just a few minutes later you found yourself in the studio downstairs, everything prepared for this very spontaneous and somehow dumb idea. If you’d be sober, you’d never agreed on it. Giving a tattoo to a drunken person is indeed very unreasonable. The body tend to bleed way more with alcohol rushing through it. Quite apart from being drunk yourself. But who said that you made wise decisions in the whole process?

Johnny was positioned on his stomach on the flat bad. His shirt gone once more, and his pants awkwardly pulled down to reveal the required spot. Simon was seated next to you, as you started to draw a tramp stamp freehand on his lower back. For this part you ditched the glove and Johnny couldn’t be happier about it. At the same time, he found himself in quite the misery. This tattoo session giving him a literal hard time, while Simon talked with you the whole time and Johnny only felt your delicate skin onto him. Simon laughed from time to time about the design or the muffled groans the Scot let out. Johnny was certain that Simon did fairly well know about his misery.

In your current state the tattoo took way longer than it would usually have been. But you didn’t mind. The delicious view in front of you made it easier to pull through. And now while your mind was flooded with those inappropriate thoughts, you couldn’t suppress the longing the Scot caused deep in your heart.

“What’d you think, Si?” you placed the tattoo gun down and looked at the artwork, wiping the excess ink away. It wasn’t your masterpiece, but you were more than satisfied.

“Bloody ‘ell. ‘s perfect.” Simon laughed, while looking at the lower back of the Scot.

“Lemme see.” Johnny carefully stood up and walked over the mirror. You haven’t talked about a design, he trusted you to just do your thing and the face he just wore made it so worthy. Even if he would’ve been pissed seeing it. “Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny stood in front of the mirror and looked over his shoulder to see a squiggly tribal leading to the center of nothing else than a unicorn.

“You don’t like it?” you walked up to him, standing just in front of him as he faced you again. There was no regret in his face, only a smile on his lips before he started to laugh wholeheartedly. He pulled you close to his chest as he kept laughing and you just joined him. Placing your hand gentle on his bare back as you started to giggle yourself. It felt way too comfortable.

“Wait a damn minute.” It was Simon who interrupted the scenery. Pulling you a bit away from him. Not forcefully, not to cause any harm. He looked stunned at the chest of the Scot, while his hand was still placed on your shoulder from his earlier action. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he said with disbelief in his voice staring at the three familiar icons on the bare chest in front of him.

Johnny only smiled at him. “Surprise.” His hands stayed at your hips, as all of you three started to laugh at the situation. One of your hands pulling at Simon’s shirt what led to a tight hug shared between the three of you.

Time passed and you haven’t heard of one of them in the next months. You were used to it through your friendship with Simon. But now it was different. It bugged you more than before. Of course, you always did kind of worry for the man, but now there were two men you struggled about. You needed to fight the internal urge to shoot him a message. Asking if he’d be fine and safe, but you didn’t. Not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him.

It already turned fall when and you started to decorate the studio. The whole place screamed Halloween now, but it wasn’t enough. One of your favorite seasons and it needed to be celebrated right. It was already quite late as you received a text that your appointment for tomorrow cancelled due to sickness. You hated last minute cancellations because you wouldn’t find any replacement. But this time it was somehow fine. The last days were so stuffed full that you could actually look forward to a day off. So, you made plans to go shopping for even more decorations. Enjoying a day off just for yourself. Well, that was your actual plan. A plan that got thrown over as soon as you noticed a familiar face walking through the front door. You turned around and greeted him with a bright smile. Relieve settling in your bones to see him again. He walked strictly up to you and only stopped a few centimeters away. “Johnny.” Before you could even say anything more, he pulled you close to his chest, and you completely engulfed in his embrace. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, as your hands found his back. Drawing lazy circles on his back.

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You didn't know how long until you spoke again. “I can make you some tea and we can talk. If you want to,” you offered with a soft voice, your hand still caressing his back through the thick layers of his jacket.

“Need something stronger.” Was his only response. So, you closed the store and brought him upstairs. He instantly sank down on your couch as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey and purred him a glass. “Thanks, bonnie,” he said calm while taking the glass. You sat next to him; your eyes filled with concern. The usual smile washed away from his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Johnny,” you literally begged him. Your hands finding his thigh, what made him look at you. His eyes were still the same azure ones you fell for, but somehow, they looked pale. He looked drained and tired.

He leaned closer to you, until his forehead was resting against yours. Eyes closed, while his hand found the back of your head. “I was scared…” His voice just above a whisper. A quiet confession. “so fuckin’ scared…that I wouldn’t be able to see you again.” His fingers stroked through your hair as you closed your eyes. Trying to suppress the sudden burn you felt in your eyes. His honesty broke your mind and the sheer thought of not being able to reunite with him anymore, it broke your heart. But he was here with you. He was safe with you. Still, you were only friends. You shouldn’t feel those things for your friend.

“I am here, Johnny.” Your voice was soft as your palms found his chest. “I am not going anywhere.” You added a little reassuring tone before he pulled his head only a centimeter away from yours. His blue eyes somewhat brighter than before, staring in yours. You melted right there as his other hand discarded the glass to reach out to your cheek. Your eyes were glued onto the gaze he gifted you. His eyes filled with adoration as the corner of his lips slightly tugged up again.

“Please…” His thumb stroked over your cheek before it took a gentle grip of your jawline. “Let me kiss you.” His glance darted between your lips and your eyes, waiting for your response with anticipation. The slight movement of your head giving him permission was the only thing he needed. Instantly closing the gap between you, as his lips brushed over yours. Gentle and soft, and still you could feel how he held back. The hand on the back of your head pulling you closer. Your hands found his neck as your melted into his touch. You broke away for a second looking into his eyes once more. They were blown with lust and endearment. No way you could retreat anymore.

“Johnny…” Your voice was soft as you pulled him back. You slowly leaned down on the couch and he immediately followed you, hovering just above you. “I am not a person for a one-night stand.” Your voice cracked a bit, but the smile on the Scots face reassured you instantly.

“Who said I’d leave ye.” He connected your lips once more. More eagerly, more lust filled, and you followed his lead. Taking a tight grip onto his neck. If you thought he was hard in the drunken state a few months ago, you were wrong. Nothing compared to the need he felt right now, growing every second as his kisses grew sloppier. Openmouthed wandering down to your neck. A moan left your throat as his teeth gently sank into the soft flesh of your neck. You could feel how everything in you screamed to take him. To feel him.

He leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his perfect shaped body. A body you had seen so many times before during his appointments, but now everything felt different. He played with the hem of your shirt before he helped you strip out of it. “Like a goddess,” he praised while his calloused hands roamed down your body. Followed by passionate kisses and gently nibbles down to the waistband of your pants. “Let me taste ye hen,” he plead while toying with the hem of your pants.

“Go on, love.” Your voice was filled with so much adoration, it sent electric jolts through his body. He started to fidget with your trousers to free you. Just as your pants landed on the floor, you could feel the cold breeze brushing against the hot spot between your legs. His finger carefully brushing over it. Your panties already soaked, what made him groan with anticipation.

“’st tell me when something feels wrong,” he said soft before pushing the black lace aside to let his mouth take care of your cunt. As soon as he let his tongue slid through your folds you already arched your back. Another groan was heard as his hand took grip of your hips. He ate like a man starved, while you cried out his name.  Johnny had to pull himself together not to cum right there as he tasted you. Everything in him screamed to let go. He couldn’t wait any longer. Not when you were so pretty spread only for him. He stood up, liking over his lips as you looked at him. Your chest heaving. “Cannae wait any longer. ‘m sorry, pet.” He unbuckled his belt and discarded his trousers, followed by his briefs. It made his hardened member jump against his stomach. You parted your lips at the sight. He was an average man, but still shaped like an image out of your wildest dreams. He climbed back on the couch to hover over you. Leaning on one arm, the free one was between your bodies. His hand guiding his cock along your folds. Your hand found his back as your eyes locked again.

“The impatient man you are, John MacTavish.” Your smile enlightened the passion within him even more, as he let the tip slid through your entry. Teasing you with a mischievous smile. Your nails digging into his back as your breath got caught in your throat. “Johnny…” You whined into his mouth while he kept it occupied with his heated kisses.

“Who’s the one impatient now, mo ghraidh?” His smug grin only grew as his lips caught yours in another kiss as he pushed himself inside. You cried out while he gave you some time to adjust. He ditched everything, the prep, the foreplay, he needed you right now and for the loving woman you’re, you couldn’t even try to protest, as it already made you feel that good. You wanted to be good for him, and only him.

“Takin’ me so good,” he praised while pushing deeper in. Feeling your plushy walls around his length already sent him into an abyss. It took him a bit longer to fully button out, letting you adjust to his seize. Showering you with more praise and kisses. As your body started to relax more he started to move. Rolling his hips against yours, letting him slip out and in again. “Hells bells…,” he cried out as he thrusted into your tight hole. His hands holding you tight against him. His forehead pressed to your temple.

Both of you knew you wouldn’t last long. The longing, the desire that grew over the time so huge that it became unbearable anymore. But he promised you that it wouldn’t be just a casual fling. He promised to stay. All the pent-up emotions leading you to the edge so soon. “I’m so close.” He didn’t slow down at your words. Rather pushing his pace up as he felt your walls pulsating.

“I ken.” He kissed your forehead, as your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back. “’st let go, for me.” He assured you while he pulled himself together. Your hands forcing him impossible closer to you as you felt your walls clenching around him as he rocked against that spongy spot inside you. You nodded fast as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, while he pushed his body weight onto you. Kissing your temple as he went deeper and slower. Rolling his hips to keep pushing at that same spot.

The heat building up as it felt unbearable anymore. He pushed you over the edge and you could feel how his length started to twitch inside. You only nodded before he could even ask, while your head stayed pressed against his shoulder. Your orgasm washing over you so hard, that tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. Completely clouding your mind. Somehow, you had to compensate the overwhelming sensation, so your teeth found his neck and you bit in his flesh as he painted your walls white. A deep groan leaving his throat as he rode out his high. You only loosened your jaw as your tongue could sense the taste of iron. You fell back as he collapsed on top of you. He placed another kiss onto your temple. “Dae so good for me, mo ghraidh,” he cooed while your hands clung to his back.

“Will you stay?” your voice was low, brushing over his skin. Somehow scared that this wasn’t real. That his promise wasn’t real. That he wasn’t serious. Even if you knew deep down that those eyes couldn’t lie. And even if they did, you were too addicted of him, you would just accept it that way.

“Inside ye?” The smug grin that reached his eyes was finally back on his lips as he propped himself up a bit. You punched him playfully.

“No, you idiot. In general.” You looked into his now softened eyes. He placed another kiss onto your lips. He slowly pulled out and gently stroked some damp hair from your forehead away. He didn’t need to answer that. Actions were louder than words. He made sure you took a relaxing bath together and afterwards just cuddled up in your bed.

“I’m nae goin’ anywhere.” He kissed your temple while pulling you in his chest. Spooning you and you just curled yourself up, clinging to the strong arm around you. Already on the way to drift away with him being all around you. You couldn’t even wish him sweet dreams anymore.

The next morning felt unreal. As you woke up you found the side next to you already empty. A sigh left your throat as you walked into the living room. After your actions of last night, you slept in nothing more than a fresh pair of panties and his shirt. You stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway to your living room. It looked hilarious how big his shirt was on you. A smile crept on your face as you noticed a low humming.

“Mornin’ bonnie.” Johnny came out of the bathroom, instantly pulling you close to him again. He only wore his briefs. A sight you never wanted to miss anymore. His tattoos by now perfectly healed.

Suddenly something different caught your interest. “I am sorry.” Your eyes wandered to the mark you left on his neck. It was slightly bruised, and you could clearly see an imprint of your teeth. Johnny looked at you and then at himself in the mirror. Examining the spot on his neck and a smile crept on his lips.

“Dinnea need to.” He turned to you, pulling you close to him once more. “Tattoo it.” His words rolled so easily over his lips. You blinked at him in confusion. “’m nae jokin’.”

“Johnny… that’s…a confession…quite possessive”. You tried to find the right words which was hard. You didn’t even know what you actually were, and he wanted you to tattoo your bite mark onto him. Maybe it was like a kink to him? Maybe he was just that cocky. But he didn’t give you space to let your mind wander any more.

“That’s the whole fuckin’ point.” He placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I want the whole world to see who I belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was his way to show you, that this indeed wasn’t just a one-night stand. A love drunken smile crept on your face.

“You’ll regret it sooner or later.” You stated while your fingers brushed over the mark.

“But what if…” He placed a kiss onto your head. “…what if I dinnea.” He smiled at you, watching how your eyes scanned the spot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am yer eejit.” He corrected you without hesitation. “If ye let me though.”

You pushed your face into his chest, and he wrapped his beefy arms around you. “Let’s get some breakfast first.” Your voice nothing more than a mumble against his chest, which vibrated due to his laugh, nodding before following you into the kitchen.

Did Johnny spend his whole time on leave at your place in London? Eventually. Just as he got a text from his Captain he left with a sad look in his face, but he promised to return safe. He now had a reason to return. Was the time on operations harder? Not really. You worried as much as before, but now you were officially allowed to text him or Simon to look after each other. Did he get teased by Gaz for the new tattoo found at his neck more than the tramp stamp? Equally Simon would say. But Johnny didn’t mind because both held a unique and deep meaning in his heart. Just like his love for his home country shown through the boar on his upper arm, with what he also had the connection to his family on him. Just like the tattoo symbolizing his teammates, his second family, just above the spot where his heart pumped in his chest. And for every man that would mock him for the tamp stramp he’d flash them in the gym, he only smiled wide, giving them a wink. Knowing that this tattoo marked the start of one of the best things happening in his life. An evening with two of the most important people to him. An evening that he’d forever cherish.

At this point John MacTavish was sure that he was done with getting tattoos. He had the things that were most important to him now immortalized onto his skin. But sometimes this man was in the very wrong. Because about two years later, he found himself once more surrounded by the buzzing of a tattoo gun. Two years that were spent in the fields with his team to make the world a better place. Just to return into your arms at the end of the day. In those two years he never regretted any line you placed onto his body. And he never would regret the fifths tattoo he was just about to get. It was different than the times before.

He was surrounded by his teammates, and your closest friends. Really just the closest of the inner circle. Keeping it as discreet as possible. The big day with everyone would be postponed to another date. But as always, Johnny wasn’t a patient man, so he wanted to have something beforehand. Something just for both of you before he had to go save the world again. That way he wore a casual decent but still traditional fit. The red and blue of his family’s tartan painted his kilt. The same tartan the scarf had you wore around your shoulders. A decent dress below, as you let the needles sink into his skin once more. His hand in yours as you tattooed a simple line around his ring finger. A similar one you already had on your hand. The first and only tattoo the Scot would ever give someone was now around your finger.

Just as you finished you kissed once more, while smiling at each other like the love drunken birds you were, as everyone around you clapped and cheered at you. Your studio filled with so much love and joy like never before. A moment you will always look back to in awe.

“I told ye, MacTavish would suit ye.” He teased while holding you close. His words nearly drowning between the noises of your friends and family.

You punched him playfully against his chest. “I love you too, eejit.”

“Don’t they have to say like I do or anything like that,” Kyle mumbled over to Simon, who just shrugged but smiled at the couple, now husband and wife, in front of him.

Even if you were glad that all the important ones were here around you, in the end only on person mattered to you. And that was the man holding you close in his embrace as he leaned his forehead against yours like he did millions of times before. Every night wondering if he’s alright. Every day waiting for his return. Every nightmare you endured. Everything was so worthy, just to have him close next to you and see him smile down at you. And everything started with a tattoo he never even wanted in the first place. A tattoo that led to four more. A tattoo that gave him a life with you by his side, because from the moment he met you, you went under his skin and there was no way he could ever escape it. Not that he even wanted to.

taglist: @cooliofango @ghostslillady @bunnyreaper @anothersimpsblog @kitkatscabinet @starry-eyedblog @yawnderu

[batsycline69]

Chapter Two: Night & Day

Summary: Jason's night doesn't go as planned. As a result, neither does yours.

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 4,365

Content/warnings: profanity, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood

SERIES MASTERPOST

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Jason wakes in a sweat.

He’s had this dream before; his body throbs, slick and sticky with blood. Each hit of the crowbar jerks his body.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his feet meeting the cold wood floors beneath him. He huffs, his head falling in his hands as he slumps towards his knees.

There’s no blood. Hell, there aren’t even the scars to prove what he went through anymore. It’s just Jason trapped in his own mind. The laughter echoes in his ears long after he wakes up, but the pain eventually fades into the back of his mind, a lingering nagging as he tries to grip onto reality and find something to distract himself.

Lines of light fall across the floor from the streetlamps pouring in through the venetian blinds. He’s been meaning to get curtains. He feels too exposed, even if the blinds are always shut.

When he was first resurrected, there were only so many memories he had to comfort himself with. Anything from his life with Bruce was immediately off limits, so he usually sought out Talia. The comfort she’d managed to offer him after all of that just by showing a little kindness.

A few days ago, he met you. You’d been kind to him too.

He told you to just call a ride instead of taking the train. He knew what happened in this neighborhood at that time of night. But you didn’t listen.

Jason knew you weren’t going to get onto that train without a hitch. He chose following you over the stupid drug bust. He figured there’d be time to take care of them later. He’d been right, of course, but after that, he froze.

You hadn’t been intimidated by him at the shop. But you’d seen him—the real him—and flinched. Not that he can blame you. It was a hell of an introduction on his part, barrel of his gun up against some guy’s head. In a city like Gotham? God, he could have been any creep.

But he’s him. He’s the same he’d been at the shop, but you don’t know that. And you can’t.

That doesn’t stop him from thinking of you. As he wakes from his nightmare, you’re there, and he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because your kindness is so straightforward. It’s not shrouded by trauma and odd gestures meant to translate to kindness. You talked with him, laughed with him. You got him food that you insisted he eat.

You’re better off without him. There’s a natural path for the two of you to never see each other again. It’s more work to not lose contact with you. Even with every part of him saying no, Jason makes the effort.

How’s your tattoo healing?

It’s still dark out, but it’s nearing 6 am now. As he sends the email, he hopes you get the idea he’s some sort of early riser. Maybe you think he’s less of a mess than he is. He’d let you think that, if you wanted to.

Part of him also worries about you. Not in some wild way, but after your close call with the guys at the train station, he doesn’t want you to be scarred for life. That may be overdramatic, but the point remains. That’s normal shit for him, but that’s not something you signed up for. That’s just the bi-product of living in Gotham.

His body collapses back into bed in a heap, his breath finally evening out. He’ll try to fall back asleep for at least an hour before he realizes it’s probably hopeless and gets up.

Mornings like this, he cooks. It passes the time. Dealers aren’t making deals this early. The shop doesn’t open until ten, but he sure as shit doesn’t want to be sitting around dwelling in his thoughts for longer than necessary.

So when Jason finally rises out of bed, he goes to the kitchen. He pulls out eggs and bread. Bacon, tomatoes, and cheese. Good salt, the salt that costs extra. He doesn’t have a lot of good these days, so he takes it where he can.

The Gotham underworld is lucrative, no surprise there. Jason has access to things he never would have as a kid. The sort of stuff he was introduced to at Wayne Manor. Except now Jason has them on his own terms. He didn’t need Bruce for it.

Bacon is on the stove sizzling as Jason’s old coffee machine gurgles. He’ll drink most of the pot by the time the sun rises. By now, there’s enough for him to focus on that he can push the dream to the back of his mind. He doesn’t need to think about the past. That’s why he has his plans. He has a future to look forward to. And if he has to be alive again, he’s going to make something of it.

Just the light above the stove is on. Jason likes the dark. Old habits and all that.

He fries up an egg until the ends get crispy. Toast, egg, sharp cheddar, bacon, and hot sauce. He takes a mug of coffee and his sandwich over to the small table up against the window and watches as the city wakes up.

It’s the most normal his day is going to look. These moments where his brain isn’t completely fixed on the job. He’s not trying to parse through whatever lying scumbag is coming into the shop. There’s no blood. It’s quiet.

The quiet is nice until it isn’t. Until it’s too quiet, and there’s nothing besides the quiet.

When he woke up, buried six feet under, it had been quiet. Except for his breathing. The claustrophobic weight. The crushing weight of the dirt as it pressed against him, as he fought to the surface.

You reply while he’s out taking his smoke break.

The tattoo itches, but it looks good, you say. I’ll send a picture once it’s healed.

His second appointment of the day, the one he goes to after he sees your email, is the type he usually sees. Some asshole that wants a skull on his arm to prove he’s tough. Someone who definitely isn’t you. But it’s not his place to wish it was. He feels ridiculous being so attached to you like a lost little puppy.

He wants to think of an excuse to see you again, but his mind is blank. Can’t just lure you to a dark alley for a chat like the people he’s normally trying to get in touch with. Yet again, just trying to be a regular person, he falls short. He doesn’t know how to navigate this. He spent the years he was supposed to figure this shit out in a box beneath the earth. As much as Talia taught him when he came back, he didn’t get flirting lessons.

There’s so much he doesn’t know about you. Sure, he could dig around and fight out a thing or two. That’s what Bruce would do, but he’s not Bruce. He doesn’t want to do that with you. He wants to just be Jason in your eyes, so that means keeping Red Hood as far away from you as possible.

Are you taking care of it?

It’s not flirting. It’s not smooth, either, but it does keep the conversation going.

During his next appointment, he has to push you to the back of his mind. The guy ends up being a small-time dealer. A guy who works for a guy who works for a guy sort of dealer. His license was scanned when he came in for the tattoo, and that means Jason has his address. There’s a lot he can learn from a license, assuming it’s real. Lucky for Jason, the dealer wasn’t smart enough to use a fake. Now he’s got a new lead, more heads to bust.

After the shop closes, he goes home. As he’s researching, he gets another response.

Yeah, I’ve been going swimming every day and using dish soap to keep it clean just like you said.

He smirks. You’re a smart-ass. That’s part of what he likes about you.

As he eats the leftover fried rice he heated up to the light of his laptop, he thinks about your appointment. The way you’d laughed over your dinner. The mischievous look in your eye as you teased him. He wished he had paid closer attention to that look because when he thought of you now, he saw that look of fear. That look directed at him. Guilt sat heavy in his chest because of it. You couldn’t trust him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you. It was a good instinct. As much as it hurt, he wasn’t going to blame you for it.

Tonight, he’s going to kill. Becoming a crime lord isn’t pretty work, but he’s not about to shy away from it. If he has to spill blood, that’s what he’ll do. But he isn’t willing to risk that colliding into his memories of you either.

You’re separate from all of this.

Jason doesn’t regret being there for you at the train station. How could he? But at the same time, now you know, and that’s a liability. He doesn’t think you’d go around asking everyone, but he also doesn’t know you, and that fact remains even when his mind runs away from him to focus on your skin. Sure, Jason’s got the training to be able to read someone, but he’s not one to get too comfortable about such things.

This whole thing is still new. It’s precarious. Jason’s been back in Gotham weeks. There’s still plenty to be done, and he doesn’t need to be distracted.

Jason’s night doesn’t go as planned.

The dealers he’d been meeting with had gotten sloppy. A crew that got way too comfortable talking about sales in public. Batman got wind of it, but Jason was one step ahead. He got out minutes before Bruce arrived, and he didn’t leave anyone left alive to talk to. It’s messier than he’d like, but he doesn’t leave evidence. Whatever trail Bruce has picked up through them will run cold.

Just when he thinks he gets away without a hitch, he runs into the boss of the men unlucky enough to cross his path. He gets a shot in, but not before the boss grazed his thigh with a bullet. It bleeds, but it doesn’t go deep. Still, he can’t ignore it. He takes shelter in a residential area. He can keep a lower profile here if Batman is in the neighborhood, so he finds a dark alley to lick his wounds. He steams over how much carelessness has set him back, when a door slamming breaks his concentration.

And there you are.

You don’t see him in the darkness. You’ve got a bag of garbage in your hand heading towards the dumpster just a few feet away from where his back is pressed against the wall. It’s only a matter of time you see the faint glow from his mask, and he’ll see that same startled look on your face. He doesn’t want you to look at him in fear again.

The bag of trash clamors into the dumpster as you toss it in. You turn over your shoulder and freeze at the sight of someone standing just out of sight. And there’s that look. That same startled, caught in headlights look that’s been haunting him since he left you at the train station. He can’t stand it. So he raises his free hand and gives a small wave.

“Just me,” he says.

Recognition crosses your eyes as you fully find him in the shadows. “Oh,” you say, the sound getting drowned out by the light rain falling. Unconsciously—at least, he hopes—you take a half step away from him.

Yeah, maybe Jason should have thought this through a little more. So careful when he’s making his big plans, but all of the sudden, with you, he’s got his foot in his mouth and his brain where it shouldn’t be. Last you ran into him, he had been hidden out of sight, appearing suddenly to come to your rescue. And maybe doing the same thing outside where you presumably live isn’t a good look.

He should have gone on a rooftop somewhere.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not like the full version of the truth would offer you any comfort. I don’t think you’d like to hear that he’s on the run from Batman for killing a few guys. But is you potentially thinking he’s stalking you any better?

Your body is still rigid, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing down there?”

He wonders if you’ve got your pepper spray on him. You’d know better than to use it against him from your first run-in, but maybe you’re holding it now as a comfort. He’s not going to humor himself by believing you trust him. Even if he knows you’re safe with him, you don’t.

“Seemed like a good spot for a rest,” he replies.

The shadows across your face make it hard for him to really see where you’re looking, but he sees your back stiffen.

“Is that blood?” you ask, and now he’s sure your eyes are on his leg, fixed to the spot he was grazed. The concern is evident in your voice. Your eyes grow wide, and Jason all but sees the internal spiral happening on your face.

“Don’t worry, it’s mine,” he replies.

You stand, open-mouthed for a moment, the features of your face twisting further into confusion and worry. “Don’t worry?” you ask in disbelief. Your voice pitches slightly.

“Relax, it’s just a bullet graze. I’m fine.”

A moment of silence passes. Jason waits for the bleeding to slow a little. But once time passes without any sort of response from you, he looks up to catch your eyes wide in disbelief. Which is probably fair. At best, he sounds like an asshole being so casual about something like that. Sure, it’s Gotham, but even that’s a little much. Your obviously freaked out, and here he is acting cavalier.

Jason nods once. “Sorry. The people I’m usually around don’t get bothered about that sort of thing.”

You nod once, your arms crossing over your chest. “I bet.”

God, this is such a mess.

Your eyes flicker up from his wounded leg to the glowing white space where his eyes are beneath his helmet. Jason wishes so desperately to know what’s going on in your head. Do you see him as some sort of monster? Is there any bit of Jason you see beneath the helmet, even if you can’t actually know it’s him? Or has he blown all of this?

“Are you...okay?” you ask.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me.” He thinks it’s silly you would in the first place. People have never worried about Jason; he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You shouldn’t be the first one to take on the hopeless task of worrying for him, especially not over some graze. Especially not some graze relative to all of the other things that’s happened to him.

If this is what happens when he a bullet grazes his leg, he can’t imagine what you’d think of everything else.

“So...what’s your deal?” you ask cautiously.

“My deal?” Jason replies, even though he knows exactly what you’re asking.

“Yeah. I mean...what kind of guy in a mask are you?”

There’s a rough, modulated laugh from behind the helmet. “Well, I scared off those guys the other night, didn’t I? What kind of guy does that make me?”

“You scared them off with a gun.”

“And? They didn’t hurt you either way, right?” Maybe there was no room for you to see anything in Red Hood, and maybe he was foolish to think otherwise. He wonders if that still leaves any hope for you and Jason.

“And you conveniently are in the same place as me at the same time. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“So you think I’m stalking you, huh?” he asks with a light laugh.

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” you reply.

You don’t trust him. There’s no hesitancy to voice your skepticism. He has to admire you just a little bit, even if it is a stupid idea to be arguing with the guy you know is carrying a gun. Now he’s the one who’s going to start worrying about you, as if that wasn’t already the case.

“You live in a shitty neighborhood. You’re gonna see guys in masks around here.”

“It’s Gotham. Most of the neighborhoods are shitty. Are you always this evasive?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

There’s a pause as you look him over carefully. Even if you don’t trust him, Jason doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants you to believe that he’s not a threat to you. Not on purpose, at least. He showed up at the train station because the thought of those guys laying a single hand on you made his stomach roll.

He wants you to trust him now like you had trusted him with your skin.

“Listen, I was working in the area. Swear to god, it was a coincidence. I needed someplace quiet to patch up. I didn’t know you were here.”

You don’t seem totally pleased with the answer, but he can tell you could maybe eventually buy it. Again, you watch him carefully for a minute. Gotham is singing her usual song around you, sirens and rain hitting the rooftops. Somewhere a few blocks away, Jason swears he can make out a fight.

“Are you blinking under there?” you ask, sounding a little unnerved by the constant glowing where he can see what’s going on.

He laughs lightly. “Yeah, I’m blinking under here.”

“I tried to thank you the other day, but you were gone already,” you finally say. “So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason replies, even though he had heard it. When you were focused on the train rolling in, he’d slipped back into the shadows, waiting until the sounds of the train had long died down just to be sure there wasn’t anything else that was going to interrupt your trip home.

There’s another beat before he speaks again. “So are you okay?”

You look at him, slightly surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just glad you were there when you were.”

Jason nods. “Yeah, me too.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your eye darting nervously back to his leg.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

Your weight shifts. You’re hesitating, still not ready to accept his answer. “Do you...need anything?”

He wants to tell you not to offer help to guys like him. You’re being too nice, and not every guy is going to be like him. Maybe he’s just flattering himself, but he gets the idea this isn’t a universal openness. You’re testing the waters, weighing everything he says and does. He thinks about how you must be putting together one hell of a pros and cons list in your head right now.

Jason imagines what would happen if he said yes; maybe you would scurry up to your apartment. You would come back with three towels even if you thought he only needed one. You’d get him water or some food to keep his energy up. What would you bring out to share with the stranger who has a gun?

But Jason shakes his head. “I’m all set,” he replies. “Jacket’s got a lot of pockets.”

Thunder cracks overhead. You startle from the sound, gaze turning towards the sky as rain starts falling down harder around you both. With Jason’s helmet on, he’s not much bothered beyond the drops blurring his vision slightly, but you’re exposed.

“You should get inside,” Jason says, nudging his head back towards the door you came out of.

And, of course, you pause. He sees the way your eyes flicker nervously to his wound.

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t do it,” he says.

“Don’t do what?” you ask indigently.

“Invite me in to be polite and all that.”

You scoff. “Invite you in? Are you kidding me? You’ve given me next to no information about yourself. You’ve openly admitted you hang out with people who aren’t phased by getting shot--”

“’Hang out’ is an overstatement--”

“I am not inviting you up to my apartment. I’m sure you have dangerous friends you can stay with.”

With the helmet, you can’t see, but Jason smirks. You are warming up to him. The you from the shop is getting pulled out little by little. He’s glad to see you again.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn towards the door a little. “Well...good luck with your leg,” you say, fishing through your coat pockets. The movement picks up a little more, followed by a soft curse under your breath.

“Locked out?” Jason asks. He doesn’t bother to hide the pleased tone in his voice.

“I left my keys inside,” you grumble.

Jason rises to his feet, careful to stay off his wounded leg as much as possible. “Bummer,” he says. “Want me to pick the lock?”

You turn back over your shoulder, looking like you’re trying to suss out whether he’s joking or not. With the helmet on, he’s sure it’s hard to tell.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reminds you. “Just gonna get the door open for you, and then I’m out of here. Promise.”

A bright flash of lightning illuminates your face, and you nod. “Okay.”

You take a step back from the door, letting him at the lock, gnawing on your lips nervously. “What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not worried about it,” he replies.

“And if someone catches me with you and I get evicted? I’m a little worried about that.”

“I get I’m not exactly at the top of the list of trustworthy individuals, but I’m going to need a little more confidence from you.”

There’s a crash of thunder. The rain gets even just a little bit heavier as Jason fiddles with the lock until it opens. It only takes him a few seconds, but you don’t comment on it. He’s not sure if it’s because you’re not surprised he can do it that quickly or because you’re exhausted with everything you’ve learned about him in the past few minutes.

You look at the open door, then back at him. “Thank you,” you say. It’s a little reserved, but he sees the echoes of you sitting in his station at the shop. A hint that maybe his chances aren’t so doomed as he worried.

“You’re welcome. Stay out of trouble.”

One last time, your gaze drops down to his thigh before looking back up. “You too,” you reply, letting the door slam shut behind you.

He should take this as his sign to leave, but he lingers a minute. It’s long enough for him to just barely hear a window slide open overhead.

Above him, he sees your head peek out over the ledge of your fire escape. Your building has the old kind, the wooden ones that are without a doubt a safety hazard. When you see him looking up at you, you quickly disappear out of sight again. The shyness is a little endearing, he has to admit. Not that he’s been doing a great job fighting it to begin with.

He can’t tell what you’re doing, but he knows you’re still out there. The top level is about as tall as the tracks above him. You live close to the station. That makes him feel a little bit better about your trip home after your tattoo. At least the time you were exposed to more trouble was cut down because of that.

There’s a little movement up on the fire escape. You hang something off the edge, but he can’t quite make out what. He sees the top of your head as you climb back through your window, and then the faint glow coming from your window goes dark.

Jason waits one second longer, trying to decide whether he’s meant to see what you’ve left him or not. He decides he is, and makes the trek up the rickety ladder. Some steps give a little from rot. Even if his leg isn’t wounded too badly, he does feel it each of the steps up. He wonders if you left everything up on the fourth floor where you live to spite him for being so nonchalant about getting hit.

When he finally makes it up to where you’ve left him a surprise, he sees your curtains are drawn shut. There’s no sliver of light peeking through. He wonders if you turned the lights off so he couldn’t see you trying to stay hidden while getting a look at him.

Hung over the railing is an umbrella. One he knows you didn’t have with you when you were out with him. You put it out here for him, even with his helmet on. Maybe as a thank you for helping you inside. Maybe as a way of toeing the line of you saying you won’t invite him in.

He could be anyone, but you gave away where you lived. He’d done enough for you to trust he wasn’t going to take advantage of this knowledge. But as the rain starts to get a little harder, he leans up against the brick of your building and opens up the umbrella. He can keep his leg dry until the rain lets up, at least.

Sitting out of the rain in the safety of your rickety fire escape, Jason makes the decision he’s going to ask you out for a drink tomorrow morning. Not him, Red Hood, but the tattoo artist. He knows for certain he’s not going to be able to keep you off his mind now.

He hopes tonight, he dreams of you.

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[grishaverse-chaos]

okay SO. it took longer than I expected for various life reasons but here is the massive conlang masterpost, featuring all the languages and prominent dialects that I imagine would exist within the grishaverse. under a cut bc it got really long!

RAVKA

"standard" Ravkan. this is the language spoken in Os Alta, as well as most other places in East Ravka. used on any official documents within Ravka. spoken by most nobility, including those in West Ravka

West Ravkan. this dialect formed only after the creation of the Fold - because the two sides of the country were separated from each other, linguistic drift occurred. over the 400 years that the Fold existed, the two languages diverged from each other significantly, but are still mutually intelligible - they're still very clearly dialects of the same language, not separate languages altogether. most West Ravkan nobility don't use this dialect, although those who are in favour of West Ravka becoming an independent country WILL use this dialect to promote independence. many West Ravkans also speak "standard" Ravkan, because of military service; they would have to communicate with people from across the country - however, many of them would still speak West Ravkan at home, with family, etc. most East Ravkans, especially nobility, wouldn't speak West Ravkan and would probably look down on those who do; I imagine Nikolai speaks at least some because it's the kind of thing he'd do (and the place he's Grand Duke of, Udova, is in West Ravka)

Suli. definitely a completely separate language from Ravkan; they don't have much in common. spoken predominantly by travelling Suli, and very rarely by non-Suli - although in canon, it is taught at the Little Palace, and some Grisha will learn the language. diplomats who often have dealings with Suli communities, and soldiers who serve in areas with high Suli populations, will often learn some (though probably not enough to become fluent) - canon states that it's useful for travelling in the west and northwest of Ravka.

Suli/Ravkan dialect. in areas with high Suli populations (predominantly in the west and northwest), locals may have adopted parts of the Suli language, and vice versa, to create a pidgin language that can be understood by both groups. probably NOT spoken by soldiers/diplomats/etc, who prefer to learn the original Suli language

various other dialects! while the most significant difference is between "standard" and West Ravkan, small towns and communities across the country will speak slightly different versions of the language, just because of how big Ravka is

ancient Ravkan. this is briefly mentioned in canon - I imagine it bears a similar relationship to modern Ravkan as that between Old English and modern English; ie, it's a completely different language! very old books that were printed in ancient Ravkan probably still exist; I imagine it's spoken by some members of the clergy, similar to how the Catholic Church uses Latin in our world. often studied by historians or other scholars. iirc Mal's tattoo is also written in ancient Ravkan, which means that either he or somebody around him must have spoken it fairly well. I would guess that Tamar and Tolya probably speak at least some ancient Ravkan because they grew up in the church

FJERDA

"standard" Fjerdan. again, spoken in Djerholm, by the military and by the government. fun canon facts I found while researching for this: all nouns are both plural and singular (similar to English words like "fish") and the language has three grammatical genders, but they are called wolf class, hare class, and tooth class!

Hedjut. the Hedjut, in canon, are an indigenous group living on Kenst Hjerte, a pair of islands off the coast of Fjerda. though some have come to live on the mainland (I believe Ylva, Jarl Brum's wife, is Hedjut?) most still live on the islands and speak their own language, separate from Fjerdan

liturgical Fjerdan. religion plays a huge part in Fjerdan culture, and imo their holy texts would have been written in this liturgical version of the language, many centuries before canon takes place. drüskelle are probably taught liturgical Fjerdan. some people might also prefer to pray to Djel in liturgical Fjerdan? speakers of modern Fjerdan can probably understand it, but with some effort

again, multiple other dialects. Fjerda has a lot of peninsulas; the language would have developed differently in different places. when Nina is in the Elling peninsula in KoS, she probably has to speak the local dialect rather than the "standard" Fjerdan which she probably learnt in training

other indigenous languages. now, this is purely conjecture, but the grishaverse map shows other small islands off the coast of Fjerda, which don't seem to be part of Kenst Hjerte. it's entirely possible that there's other indigenous groups, like the Hedjut, living there, with their own separate languages. on the other hand, in an age of sea travel, it's likely that Fjerda would have colonised those islands and brought them into the larger country, meaning that the groups living there would be classed as Fjerdans and encouraged to speak Fjerdan

KERCH

"standard" Kerch. this one is so interesting because Kerch is canonically the language used for international trade, so diplomats and politicians across the grishaverse would likely be able to speak Kerch. knowing the language is probably also a sign of status in other countries, including Ravka. it's spoken by most people within Kerch, as well as being the language used for any kind of international relations. for example, I imagine that at the summit at the end of Rule of Wolves, both the Ravkan and Fjerdan delegations spoke Kerch

Barrel Kerch. has a similar relationship to "standard" Kerch as Cockney does to "standard" English - they're recognisably the same language, though spoken with very different accents, but Barrel Kerch has created so much new vocabulary that doesn't exist in "standard" Kerch. I also think that this is why Wylan didn't recognise the word "mark" in Six of Crows - it simply didn't exist in the version of Kerch he's used to speaking!

other dialects. Kerch is much smaller than Ravka or Fjerda, so I imagine there's fewer separate dialects, but people living in the Kerch countryside probably speak a slightly non-"standard" version of Kerch. Kaz probably grew up speaking a country dialect, and had to adjust when he started living in Ketterdam

SHU HAN

official Shu. probably? we know very, very little about the language(s) within Shu Han, but it's a fair bet that there's an official version of the language used by the government etc. this is probably the dialect that's taught to students studying Shu, particularly noble children or diplomats. its main difference from common Shu is that it has a smaller, simpler vocabulary and is easier to communicate effectively in

"common" Shu. in canon, we get a lot of references to words or phrases in Shu that are untranslatable - often in poetry or literature. that would probably be really impractical for a language used in business, so imo the dialect used by most people would be slightly different from the dialect used in government. this dialect has a lot of flowery, poetic language.

other dialects. while Shu Han is smaller than Ravka, it's still pretty big, so I imagine that again, there would be slightly differing variants of the language spoken in different places

THE WANDERING ISLE

there is no standard version of Kaelish. in my personal headcanon, the Wandering Isle is based on a mix of multiple different Celtic cultures and so has multiple different languages. honestly I could make a whole other masterpost based on my headcanons for the Wandering Isle, but I'll stick to the languages for now

Central Kaelish. this is what I imagine Colm and Jesper speak; it's loosely based on Welsh, given that Jesper's middle name is Welsh. it's probably Colm's first language, but he taught Jesper to speak it so he wouldn't lose touch with his Kaelish heritage

North Kaelish. this is what I think Pekka Rollins's dialect is; loosely based on Scottish Gaelic

basically, there's dozens of dialects across the country; some of them overlap somewhat with others, while some are more distinct

NOVYI ZEM

okay SO. once again there's like, zero canon material to work with here, but it's fine. canonically the language spoken is Zemeni. like with most of these countries, there's probably a "standard" version which is used for official purposes, spoken in and around the capital city, Shriftport

Northern Zemeni. the capital city is in the south of the country, so the dialect which differs most from "standard" Zemeni is probably spoken mostly in the north

other dialects. if I had to guess, I'd say that the other big separation of dialects is between coastal areas and inland areas - coastal cities which see a lot of trade would probably use "standard" Zemeni, so they can communicate with people who've learnt Zemeni (who would likely have studied the "standard" dialect), while inland areas would have developed their own dialects

OTHER AREAS

the Southern Colonies: is canonically a colony of Kerch, so their official language is probably "standard" Kerch. it's also canonically a place where criminals from Kerch are exiled (and the former King and Queen of Ravka, but that's almost certainly a rare exception) so there's probably also a lot of Barrel Kerch being spoken, that the criminals have brought over

there's almost certainly at least one indigenous language spoken there as well, though. whatever culture it used to have before being colonised by Kerch probably hasn't been entirely erased. the closest real-world comparison is probably Australia, where English criminals used to be sent? so I do think that there are indigenous groups living there, with their own culture and languages

a dialect has probably formed that mixes parts of Kerch with parts of the indigenous language, forming a new pidgin so that locals and new arrivals can communicate

if the Southern Colonies ever gets independence, I imagine that the original indigenous language would become its official language - the pidgin is probably used more day-to-day, though

it's also possible that the Southern Colonies used to be a part of Novyi Zem before being colonised; in which case, the indigenous people might speak Zemeni? I personally think it's separate, though

the Bone Road: a set of islands, near the Wandering Isle. apparently there are dozens but only two have names - the names they've been given sound vaguely Ravkan. I imagine that those two, Jelka and Vilki, have been "discovered" by Ravkan explorers (though probably not colonised? I think if they were Ravkan territories that would've been mentioned when Nikolai takes Alina to the Bone Road in S&S) and given Ravkan names

however, all of the islands have their own cultures and languages. they're pretty small islands so I don't think that there would be many different dialects within each island. on the other hand, I wouldn't be surprised if the languages spoken on each island were all quite similar to each other, though recognisably distinct. they're probably all at least from the same language family

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

gillion canon design masterpost

ok last one \o/ lmk if i missed anything!

EPISODE 1:

Scute-like armor

Whalebone longsword

Shell shield

Shoulder-length hair

No shoes

Pretzel in tank at his hip

Simple loose black pants

Black sleeveless turtleneck

LOFFINLOT ARC:

Niklaus deal tattoo on wrist/forearm

DESIRE ISLAND ARC:

‘Coral’ colored necklace from Aslana

PARAMOUNT TOURNAMENT ARC:

New platemail armor

BLOCK:

Loses sword

Ring to match chip (never mentioned again)

EPISODE 54:

Broken coral crown (earl steals pieces of it for potions)

ALLPORT ARC 1:

Gains the Golden Lotus (sword), eventually called Destiny’s Blade

EPISODE 82:

Red lightning scars 

EPISODE 85:

Magical friendship bracelets

REDESIGN (87):

Hair longer, up in a bun

Pretzel now on shoulder

More traditional fantasy looking armor

Spikes, exaggerated shoulder pads. 

Blue black and gold

Helping hands gauntlets

Luxbrious pearl fragment embedded in sword

Shower head spray nozzles on palms of gauntlets. So he can spray people with water.

Boob window on shirt (not said in the episode but its on his character sheet)

ALLPORT ARC 2:

Oozing black scars on chest (only got scratched in “cool places” whatever that means)

Leaves armor there for rufus to customize it for him

ZERO AGAIN:

Gets armor back, now it's retractable

Curse scars heal

BLACK SEA ARC:

Hair braided (but still in a bun)

Gets skinned (“you didnt think i just grew the skin back, did you” but he does he literally does he heals himself and its fine after that)

[oddinary4bts]

Sinful Lust | myg & jjk

☆summary: in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

☆pairing: bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi x female!reader x Jungkook

☆rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

☆genre: mostly smut. a tiny little bit of angst if you squint real hard. an open-ending if I decide to make this into a full fic, snippets of life!au

☆warnings: cursing, alcohol, pet names, explicit content: lingerie set, threesome, dom!jk, sub!yoongi (with a tiny little bit of switch maybe), switch!reader, consent bc consent is important!, oral sex (female and male receiving, male on male, female on male and male on female), Jungkook has a praise kink, dirty (filthy) talking, hair pulling, jerking off, tits play, ass slapping, ass biting, deep throating, clit play, fingering, pussy slapping, ass eating, ass fingering, unprotected sex (please use protection irl), big dick!jungkook, finger sucking, mouth fucking, edging (sorry yoongi), anal sex, double penetration, choking, aftercare (none for jungkook :( )

☆word count: 10.4k

☆a/n: Yeah so. This is pure filth. I am sorry. I lost control of myself and... yeah. No regrets though. I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it hahaha. Thank you @moonleeai as always for beta-ing this fic <3

☆a/n pt2: also, I switched up my writing style a little for this one bc I wanted to try something new, so my bad if it’s trash. And another thing that’s worth mentioning: I do not own BTS or any of the members. I do not know what they are like irl (I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc.). This fic is just a work of fiction, so please keep that in mind while reading

☆series masterpost

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

           If there is one thing you have figured out about your boyfriend, it’s that he likes men just as much as women. Has probably never really indulged into his fantasies with the male gender, but you know he desires it, in the deep dark corners of his heart.

You know he has a thing for one of his younger friends. And you can’t blame Yoongi – Jungkook is a source of fantasies even for you. With the sleeve of tattoos, piercings, and his new motorcycle, you’re pretty sure Jeon Jungkook is the initiator of a lot of fantasies in the people surrounding him. Because Jungkook is sinfully beautiful, with his long hair and muscular body. An image of lust and desire.

Yoongi is sitting across from you. Eyes lost in his book, with a strand of his long hair actually hiding his gaze from you. He hasn’t noticed you worrying at your bottom lip, or the way you have been tightening your thighs together for the last minute. You have a clear image in mind: him, going down on Jungkook. And you know Yoongi will say yes if you ask.

Indeed, he’s never refused you anything when it comes to sex. He’s happy to indulge in your own fantasies, and finds pleasure in seeing you come undone. Maybe it’s time you find pleasure in seeing him come undone.

“Yoons”, you breathe.

It’s whiny, the way you say it. Yet he keeps his attention on his book, mouth falling open. “Uh?”

“Is there something you would like to do?”

He looks infinitely confused, and his eyes finally flit to yours. “Right now?”

You nod, tilting your head to the side until it rests against the couch. Your eyes are dark, lustful, and you bash your eyelashes for him.

He immediately gets the meaning.

“Oh.” He puts his bookmark in place, before dropping the book on the coffee table. “Isn’t Jungkook supposed to drop off some stuff later?”

All part of the plan. Jungkook went on a trip to another country a few weeks ago and bought alcohol for you and Yoongi. He’s supposed to drop it off after dinner, and you can’t help the wandering thoughts in your head.

“Yeah?” you let out, sighing heavily.

With a little bit of dramatic effect too, maybe.

“What’s up with you?” Yoongi asks, and there’s the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

It’s been established in your relationship that Yoongi is bisexual. So you don’t feel a tug of regret when you say, “Would you ever be interested in having sex with a man?”

A confused line appears between his eyebrows. “While dating you? I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

You keep silent, wetting your lips, and it takes him a moment for him to understand that that’s not what you meant.

“Oh”, he lets out again. He chuckles, and the smirk reappears on his lips. “What has been troubling your thoughts, sunshine?”

“I know you want it”, you simply state.

He’s not stupid enough to deny it, so he remains silent.

“What do you think about a threesome?” you ask.

At that he ponders for a time. “I don’t know if I’d like sharing you with someone else.”

You had expected that answer. But you know what to say to convince him otherwise. “What do you think about Jungkook?”

You don’t miss the light flush that moves on Yoongi’s cheeks. It’s echoed on your own cheeks.

“What about him?”

You cock an eyebrow, because Yoongi knows just as well as you what you’re implying.

“He’d never say yes.”

Your fingers travel up to your lips, and you pinch the bottom one between your index and thumb. You think for a time. Yoongi is not wrong. You have no idea how you’d convince Jungkook to do something like that. Even if Jungkook is the type to sleep around a lot, you don’t know if he’s ever done anything similar.

More than that, you don’t know if he’d be willing to have sex with one of his friends. But Jungkook… Always willing to offer a helping hand Jungkook… You’re pretty sure he’d do anything for one of his hyungs.

“There’s no hurt in asking”, you point out.

Yoongi folds his arms on his chest. “It could make our friendship pretty awkward.”

You have an inkling Jungkook won’t say no though. So you offer your best puppy eyes to Yoongi.

He chuckles, and shakes his head. But you know by the blush that hasn’t left his cheeks that Yoongi is just as willing as you are to ask.

Maybe he’s been thinking about it himself, you wonder.

You figure you should prepare, if you’re to ask Jungkook tonight. Yoongi helps, and you realize he’s a lot touchier than he usually is. Kissing your neck while he’s hugging you from behind, pressing you against him. It’s his way of saying thank you. You know he probably won’t voice the words, but he’s the man you love.

You know him well enough after all.

The hours tick by slowly, and when you hear the doorbell ring you both startle. You look at Yoongi, and he offers you no salvation. You’re the one that will have to ask.

You make your way to the door, opening it to reveal Jungkook. He’s just as attractive as ever, with his oversized black t-shirt that hides the upper part of his sleeve of tattoos. You drink in the sight, offering him a warm smile as he greets you with his bunny grin.

“Hey Jungkook”, you reply, and you open the door wider for him.

He doesn’t hesitate, stepping in and around you. “Yoongi-hyung!” he says as a way of greeting your boyfriend.

Yoongi has moved closer, and he grabs the bottle of whiskey Jungkook has brought back from Scotland. You notice your boyfriend looks a little uncomfortable, but Jungkook’s eyes have already moved back to you.

“How was the trip?” you ask as you close the door behind him, leaning against it.

Jungkook is holding his biker helmet in one hand. Your thoughts provide you with an image of him riding the motorcycle, and it’s all you can do not to bite your lips.

“It was awesome”, he says. “Road tripping around Great Britain was way more fun than I thought it would be.”

You cock your head to the side prettily. “Was it?”

Jungkook nods, and his eyes dip on your frame. You think he hasn’t noticed the way you’re dressed before, because his eyes widen a little.

You’re wearing jeans, with a set of lingerie under a shirt. Your oversized white dress shirt probably hid it at first, but Jungkook’s gaze takes a while before moving back up to your face.

You’re pretty sure it has gotten a shade darker by the time he meets your gaze again.

“It was”, he replies. He glances at Yoongi, probably wondering if the scorching look you’ve been eyeing him with is normal, or if something’s wrong with Yoongi.

Yoongi is still holding the whiskey bottle, and he raises it a little. “Want a glass?”

Jungkook is a smart man. He doesn’t always let it show, but you know those big, doe eyes of his notice everything. You almost think you won’t even have to ask out loud. He’s already connected the dots by the time he looks back at you.

“I hoped you’d ask.” The words are said in a lower tone than the voice he usually uses. It feels intimate, and a drop of warmth moves down your spine.

“You’ve gone so far to get it for us, it’s only normal we offer some to thank you.”

He gulps. You know he’s fighting internal demons right now, trying not to gaze down at your breasts again. So you push up from the door, walking around Jungkook, close enough for your arm to brush his.

“Why don’t you come in?” you say over your shoulder, as you make your way to the kitchen to get glasses.

You and Yoongi form a great team. Because by the time you join them in the living room, Jungkook is sitting on one end of the couch, and Yoongi is turning on some ambient music. Nothing too high-key, because you don’t want to scare Jungkook away.

You need to make sure he wants this too, even if he probably has connected the dots already.

You put the glasses down on the coffee table next to Yoongi’s book before grabbing the whiskey bottle. Before you open it, you kneel down, sitting on your heels. That way when you pour Jungkook will have a direct view of your cleavage. You take your time pouring, feeling the burn of his gaze on your curves.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Yoongi comments.

He’s bold. Bolder than you thought he would be. But he always does when he becomes horny, and you know your offer has made him hornier than you’ve seen him in a while.

Jungkook tears his gaze away from you, almost reluctantly. He seems to hesitate for a time, and if he hasn’t really caught up to the vibe, he sure has now.

“I’ve always told you your girlfriend is gorgeous”, he agrees.

Yoongi has a smirk playing on his lips, but he remains silent as you finish pouring the glasses. You grab one of them, taking a small sip of the burning liquid. You let it roll on your tongue before swallowing slowly. You keep your neck arched a little, just so Jungkook can see your throat work as you swallow.

He shifts on the couch a little, spreading his muscular thighs open.

“It tastes so good”, you purr.

Jungkook’s lips part open, and he catches a breath. “Does it?”

He’s always looked like the dominant kind. From the stories he’s told you both, you know he is. But if you want to really pleasure Yoongi tonight, you have to make sure you stay in control.

“Taste it yourself”, you say, wetting your lips as you slowly get up.

You keep the same glass you just drank in, and you walk around the coffee table to offer it to Jungkook. He glances at Yoongi as you do, and Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, smiling at his friend.

Jungkook grabs the glass you hand him. You don’t let it go right away, and you smirk as Jungkook looks up at you. He plays with his piercing, before offering you a dashing smile. You let go of the glass and watch him as he takes a sip.

He swallows just as well as you just did.

Your smirk turns satisfied, and you turn back around to grab the two other glasses. You give one to Yoongi, and then you sit next to him. Your boyfriend wraps an arm around your shoulder until you’ve molded yourself perfectly at his side. He moves your hair behind your shoulder, before kissing the spot on your neck over the collar of your shirt.

You tilt your head to the side, offering him better access as he sucks on the skin, and you never gaze away from Jungkook.

You’re pretty sure he hasn’t blinked in a few minutes now.

“We’ve been thinking”, you say as Yoongi presses a wet kiss on your neck before pulling away, observing the mark he put on your skin. “We have to thank you properly.”

Jungkook shifts a little again, and if you didn’t want to keep the eye contact you would look down at his lap to see if he’s already aroused. He bites at his piercing, and his gaze moves from you to Yoongi, before resting on you again. “A glass is plenty enough.”

You know he’s lying. His voice is husky, low. You’ve never heard him speaking like that before and it only makes you want him more.

Want him for Yoongi too.

“We can offer you a lot more”, Yoongi says. He shifts too, and you know he’s already hard. You decide to be bold, and you let your free hand fall to his lap. It rests on the top of his thigh, and you gently pat him.

“We sure can”, you echo. You wet your lips, though Jungkook is looking at where you’re touching Yoongi. You don’t miss the flash of envy that moves on his features. “If you want to.”

You’re not sure if he expected you to ask for explicit consent. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, before knocking back his glass and drinking the whole of it.

Anticipation builds up in your core as his dark eyes find your face again. He’s smirking, and it’s a dangerous look on his features. You’re pretty sure he can consume both you and Yoongi if he wants to.

“If I want what?”

He’s teasing. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, and it only burns brighter as your hand moves to Yoongi’s dick. You palm him through his jeans, and Yoongi rests his forehead against the back of your shoulder. Probably because he’s growing shy, and he’s afraid Jungkook is going to refuse.

“We could make you feel good”, you purr. You palm Yoongi harder. “Couldn’t we, baby?”

He moans against the back of your shoulder, and you let a dangerous smirk of your own move on your lips.

“Pretty sure that meant yes.”

Jungkook shifts. This time your eyes betray you and they fall to the bulge that has already appeared in his pants. He looks big, but you quickly move your gaze back up to his face.

“You guys want to fuck me?”

Jungkook is crude. You didn’t expect that from him, yet it suits him well. It suits his fuckboy persona far more than you thought it would. But it also explains why he’s been able to sleep around like that – he knows what he’s doing.

Yoongi looks up from your shoulder at that. He surprises you with his next words. “We want to show you how you’ve been good for us.”

Yoongi is not the dominant type. It happens, sometimes, and you didn’t think it’d come out when you’d be with Jungkook. You’re happy it has though, because Jungkook loses the dark look. It turns into want, unexpectedly, and it makes you understand one thing: he has a praise kink.

  “Such a good boy, who bought whiskey for us. Right, Yoons?”

Yoongi sinks his teeth into your shoulder. It takes you by surprise, and you let out a small moan. Jungkook watches carefully, putting his glass down on the coffee table. You drink from yours, never breaking eye contact, a little like you did earlier.

It works just as well, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook shifts purposefully closer to you. He’s not close enough for you to touch, but you can tell he wants it.

“You’re going to jerk him off in front of me?” he asks.

He’s figured out the dynamic of sex between you and Yoongi, hasn’t he? He knows you’re the dominant one, and something about it makes him want to dominate Yoongi with you.

Jungkook is right where you want him to be.

“I might”, you say innocently. “Would you like that?”

You cock your head to the side, and Yoongi goes back to sucking a mark on your skin. It makes your focus on Jungkook waver a little, and heat pools at your core.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to know for a time. He’s probably never been in a situation like that before. But he finds the strength to smirk, nodding once. “I wonder what kind of sounds hyung makes when he comes.”

Yoongi bucks his hips, searching for more friction. Jungkook is turning him on far quicker than you usually do.

“Then why don’t you help me get him out of his pants?”

The question takes Jungkook aback. He didn’t expect you’d want him to participate in pleasuring Yoongi, didn’t he?

He wets his lips, his tongue playing with his piercing for a time, before he replies. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.” He looks like he wants to please though.

“Why don’t you get on your knees in front of him?”

Jungkook’s mouth is parted. He doesn’t know what to do, but he watches you bite your lower lip, before nodding once again. While he positions himself, you take the glass of whiskey out of Yoongi’s hand, before putting it along with yours on the coffee table. It brings Jungkook very close to you and you freeze as he grabs your jaw. His face is inches away from yours when he says, “Can I at least kiss you before I suck his dick?” Because he knows that’s what you want. He understood as soon as you suggested him kneeling in front of Yoongi.

Yoongi’s breathing grows louder. Jungkook lets you turn your head towards your boyfriend. You make sure Yoongi is willing, cocking an eyebrow in question. He pats your back, sitting back on the couch to watch.

Your eyes trail back to Jungkook, and you see him swallow once as you close the distance between the two of you, one hand landing on the nape of his neck to bring him closer. He kisses you slower than you expected, and his piercing presses an indent into your lips. When he swipes at your bottom lip with his tongue, you open your mouth.

Jungkook is a good kisser. It takes you aback, and you moan in his mouth. The moan turns to a pained whimper when Yoongi grabs your hair and pulls you back.

“Enough”, he says.

You think he’s angry, but you only notice that he’s freed his dick from his pants while you were kissing Jungkook. And he’s slowly stroking it. For a second, you bite your lip, wanting to dive down and wrap your lips around his tip, but you resist.

The goal is to get Jungkook to suck his dick, not you.

Jungkook seems taken aback. He’s breathing heavily, lips parted as his eyes avoid Yoongi’s dick. He looks at your boyfriend’s thighs, at his face, but he clearly ignores the dick that’s standing prettily about a foot in front of his face.

“Don’t be shy”, you encourage him.

Jungkook blushes a little, and his eyes settle on you. “I’ve never done this before.”

The little bit of insecurity that shines on his face takes you by surprise. You gently cup his cheek, glancing back at Yoongi once before you focus on Jungkook.

“You’re so good at everything”, you praise. He swallows, listening to you intently. “Show me that you can be good at this too.”

When you pull him closer to Yoongi’s dick, Jungkook doesn’t resist. He follows your lead, until his mouth is but an inch away from your boyfriend’s cock. Yoongi is holding it up, and he’s watching Jungkook with round eyes.

You can tell he’s wanted this for a while by the bead of precum that sits on the slit.

“Why don’t you lick it first, mmh?” you encourage Jungkook. “So you can get a taste.”

He gulps, and his eyes flutter shut as he obeys. Yoongi sucks in a breath as Jungkook licks at his slit, hesitantly at first. But then he seems to steel himself, and he swirls his tongue around the tip of Yoongi’s dick once, then twice.

You can tell Yoongi’s aching to grab the back of Jungkook’s head so he can fuck his mouth by the way his grip on you tightens. It hurts a little, but you’re fascinated. You can’t look away as Jungkook wraps his lips around the head, sucking once.

Yoongi hisses, before letting out a low, “Shibal”.

You think the word is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard Yoongi say before.

“See, you make him feel so good already”, you praise Jungkook, and he lets out a small moan.

He likes it. That much you can tell. He really does, because one of his hands replaces Yoongi’s at the base of his dick. That frees your boyfriend’s hands, and it doesn’t take him long to pull you in a heated kiss that leaves you breathless. You suck on his tongue and swallow the moans he lets out as Jungkook starts bobbing his head up and down. Slowly at first, then finding a rhythm that seems to be comfortable.

Probably because Yoongi has moved one hand to Jungkook’s hair, and he’s guiding him down on his dick. It’s your turn to moan now, and you go back to kissing Yoongi.

He’s panting, trying to focus on your lips, but some part of you tells you he wants to look at Jungkook. So you pull away and sure enough Yoongi’s eyelids shoot open, and his gaze glues to where Jungkook is working on him.

Jungkook is holding your boyfriend’s cock up with his tattooed hand. His long fingers make Yoongi seem smaller than he looks in your own hand, but you know your boyfriend stretches you well enough. You already think about fucking yourself on his dick, using Jungkook’s spit as lube…

You need friction, and soon. You quickly shrug off the cotton dress shirt. Jungkook opens his eyes, and his gaze trails to you. He drinks you in as you palm one of your breasts through the lingerie. It makes you feel hot, even though he’s currently almost choking on your boyfriend’s dick.

Especially as Yoongi bucks his hips, and he hits the back of Jungkook’s throat. You’re surprised to hear Jungkook moan, and for a time you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve heard in your life.

You’ve unbuttoned your pants by the time Jungkook has blinked some tears away, and you’re pulling them down your legs when he sits back on his heels to catch his breath.

Yoongi is a mess. Head thrown back against the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down each time he swallows or gulps. You’re pretty sure he could finish like that, but you want to give him more.

“You’re so good”, you praise Jungkook. “You could make him come like that.”

Jungkook slowly jerks Yoongi off while his eyes trace every curve of your body, as if you’re a piece of art he has yet to understand. He doesn’t seem like he wants Yoongi to come down his throat, and you’re not sure you can blame him. But still he looks at the two of you with fire in his gaze. He doesn’t want to stop either, and you watch him battle conflicted emotions for a time.

“But aren’t we supposed to be the ones making you feel good?” you add, offering him salvation.

“I feel good”, he admits, and he flushes deep red.

You smirk, playing with your tit again. You pinch your nipple through the fabric, brows almost touching as you let out a small moan. Jungkook has stopped jerking off Yoongi by now, and you look down at your boyfriend’s dick. He’s leaking precum, and you bite on your lip.

“Do you think I should suck him too?” you ask. Before Jungkook can reply, you turn your attention to Yoongi. He’s already looking at you through half-lidded eyes. “Will you be a good boy and not come down my throat, mmh?”

Yoongi doesn’t seem like he can even think coherent thoughts. Still he nods, mostly because he’s probably on the verge of an orgasm and he has no sanity left.

You look at Jungkook. He’s sat back on his heels, and he’s palming himself through his pants. The bulge has grown a lot more by now, and you weren’t wrong before: he clearly has a huge dick.

You salivate at the thought, knowing just how well it matches his large frame. You wonder if he tastes like your boyfriend. You’re not sure Yoongi would like you doing that; he’s shown a little possessiveness earlier when you were kissing Jungkook. So you focus on taking off your jeans for now. The fabric feels too tight against your skin, and you need them off before you start blowing Yoongi’s dick.

Jungkook watches you, as does your boyfriend. You’re stuck not really knowing what to do next. Because both men clearly want something from you. You’re surprised when Yoongi speaks up.

“Do you want to taste her too?” he asks.

Your eyes widen a little, and Jungkook gulps once. “If you don’t mind.”

“She’s got the sweetest taste, of course I don’t mind.”

You meet Yoongi’s gaze. You realize he’s doing this for you. He knows you find Jungkook attractive too, and he’s ready to give you what you want.

It makes you love him even more. So you go in for a kiss, kneeling next to Yoongi.

You startle when Jungkook slaps your ass. “Why don’t you get in a position where I can eat you out while you take my place at hyung’s dick, mmh?”

You almost forgot Jungkook is more on the dominant side too. If you weren’t already soaking through the lingerie, you know his words would have made you drip.

You obey him, mostly because you’re afraid Yoongi’s going to change his mind. But your boyfriend doesn’t seem like he will, and he offers you a sweet smile and a nod of his head to indicate that he wants this just as much as you do.

You stop hesitating. While you get on all fours, Yoongi finishes taking off his pants and underwear. His skin is red where the pants have been tight against his skin, and you massage his thighs mindlessly while Jungkook moves.

He takes off his shirt, and you’re pretty sure both you and Yoongi have frozen as he stands next to you, the hard planes of his body making both of you salivate. Jungkook works out a lot, and the results are satisfying, giving him a body you could spend hours admiring. He looks like a perfect Greek god, and you’re struck dumb. It doesn’t last long, because he quickly moves behind you, sitting on the couch until his face is at a level with your raised ass.

Before you have a chance to turn and focus on Yoongi’s dick, Jungkook bites in your ass, hard, and then sucks on the skin.        

He’s been dying to leave a mark on you too since he saw Yoongi do it, hasn’t he? It makes you moan, and as your pussy clenches around nothing, you grab Yoongi’s cock by the base to bring it up to your mouth. And you’re relentless, sucking him just how you know he likes it. You’re probably better than Jungkook, just because you know how to please Yoongi like the back of your hand, and his cock hardens in your mouth.

You know Yoongi could come just like that. But he told you he wouldn’t, and you trust him. So you give him your best, taking as much of him in as you can, keeping the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat. One of your hands starts playing with his balls, with just the right pressure, and you moan around his cock loudly when Jungkook cups your pussy through the lingerie set.

“She’s soaked”, he tells Yoongi.

Yoongi chuckles. “She’s probably dying to be fucked.”

Oh the little shit. Jungkook slaps your ass again, and it stings. “I assume you’ll be the one to fuck her.”

“Don’t think she can take both of us at the same time.”

Listening to them talk about fucking you like that is making you forget what you’re supposed to do. You make to pull away, but then someone holds your head in place.

“We didn’t say you could stop.”

It’s Jungkook. And as he holds you down, Yoongi starts fucking up in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. If you weren’t busy choking around the dick in your mouth, you’d hear the sound of kissing.

Indeed, Yoongi pulled Jungkook into a kiss, and surprisingly enough Jungkook didn’t resist. No, he’s been enjoying this far more than he expected he would.

You blink back tears as Yoongi keeps hitting the back of your throat. It’s not your first time doing something like this, though Yoongi is usually softer with you. It seems bringing Jungkook into the action has changed him, because he’s relentless, fucking your mouth hard.

You don’t care. Not a single bit, because Jungkook has pulled the lingerie set to the side, just enough for two of his long fingers to start drawing circles on your clit. You moan, and the sound is echoed by a grunt from Yoongi.

“You’re two messes”, Jungkook says as he dips his fingers inside of you up to the first knuckle. He’s collecting your juice, and a second later he’s back to drawing quick circles on your clit. “Begging to be fucked by me.”

The moan Yoongi lets out this time is higher pitched. More like a whine, and you choke around his dick as he thrusts up hard. You would pull away if you didn’t know Jungkook is going to force you back down. Right now, you want him to pleasure you, and you move back a little, seeking for friction on his hand.

He pulls the hand away, before slapping your pussy hard. You whine around Yoongi’s cock, and your boyfriend grabs a handful of your hair. You can imagine him, with his head thrown back on the couch. Not knowing where to look between you and Jungkook. And apart from the light touch of his fingers on your clit, you don’t know what Jungkook is doing. Is he touching himself, or is he watching Yoongi? Is he discovering he might like this more than he expected, or is he searching for a way out?

“Should I get her ready for us, hyung?”

The little brat. You know your boyfriend will feel intimidated by having to dominate you with someone else. But still, Yoongi says, “You sucked my dick, it’s only fair I let you fuck my girl”.            

You’re not sure if it’s fair. But thinking about Jungkook fucking you with Yoongi… it makes you go haywire. You dig your nails in Yoongi’s thigh, where you’ve been holding yourself up for a moment after you stopped playing with his balls. He hisses in pain, but you’re swirling your tongue around his tip, playing with his frenulum just the way he likes.

Jungkook is silent for a time. He moves his fingers from your clit to your entrance, circling it once to collect more juice. But then instead of moving back down to your clit, he moves up, and your pussy clenches as his fingers play with the circle of muscle of your asshole.

“Have you ever been fucked by two guys at the same time?” he asks. You don’t know if he wants an answer, so you keep sucking your boyfriend. Jungkook slaps your ass again, and his fingers go back to your clit.

You understand his question was rhetorical when something very wet replaces his fingers on your ass. His tongue. He uses it to play with the ring of muscle, even going all the way as to dip his tongue inside. You want to reach back and touch him, but you can’t let go of your boyfriend.

Not when Yoongi is using your mouth like this.

The fingers Jungkook has been using on your clit move back to your entrance once again. This time, he dips them in, deep, without a moment of hesitation. You clench around him and he spreads the fingers, fighting against your walls. This time, you pull away to moan, face falling on your boyfriend’s stomach as you jerk him off quickly, holding his dick tight in your grip.

Yoongi’s shirt is clinging to him, sweaty from the action. Though he’s mostly just been benefiting from what you and Jungkook do, you know his heart has been beating out of his chest. You raise your head to look at him, but he’s busy looking at Jungkook. It makes you glance back, and you think you could almost come watching Jungkook work on you like that.

Jungkook has his eyes closed, brows knit together as if he’s in deep focus. You can only see the top of his face from where he’s eating your ass, and his fingers make squelching sounds as they fuck into your pussy.

You’re so wet you’re almost convinced you could take both of the men in your pussy. The thought makes you moan, a pornographic sound that makes Jungkook’s eyes open. He pulls away, and he slaps your ass as you just stare at him.

“Why are you not sucking hyung anymore?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he observes you with that dark lustful gaze of his. “You can’t focus?”

As he says the words, he fucks his fingers harder into you, and the knuckles of his other fingers almost hurt as they hit the soft flesh on both sides of your pussy. You can tell you’ll be sore once Jungkook is done with you. Once Yoongi is done with you too.

Your nails once again dig in Yoongi’s thigh, and he quickly grabs your hand to move it away. He puts it back on his balls, and you massage gently, not wanting to hurt him. You try to straighten, but Jungkook puts a hand on the top of your back, shoving you down towards your boyfriend’s dick.

“Be a good girl and suck him, baby, he’s been so good to us both.”

You obey, and your tongue is back on Yoongi in no time, tasting the salty precum that keeps leaking from his cock. Jungkook laps at your hole once again, and it’s a new feeling. You’ve never done that before, but he knows what he’s doing. So much so that you’re barely surprised when he dips his thumb in your ass, pushing hard against the tight ring of muscle until your hole has swallowed all of his digit.

You could come soon. You’re pretty sure if you focus just for a few seconds, you’ll be coming all around Jungkook’s fingers. But you don’t want to come just yet, you want to enjoy every little jolt of electricity Jungkook pulls from you.

Maybe your lack of attention on Yoongi has given him back his thoughts, because your boyfriend grabs one of your breasts in his large hand, his grip tight. You reward him by swallowing his dick whole, letting your throat work around his head.

You’re becoming more wet with every movement of Jungkook’s fingers inside of you. So much so that he adds a third one with ease, stretching you wide open. You don’t even know who he’s trying to get you ready for: Yoongi, or himself?

You don’t care. You want both of them to fuck you.

But you want a little control too, you want to know what’s happening. As Jungkook fucks his digits inside of you, you pull away from Yoongi’s cock.

“Jungkook, why don’t you finish undressing?”

He stops moving, probably not expecting you to still be vocal. But he obeys you, mostly because his dick has been straining against his pants for a while. You can’t imagine it being comfortable.

While he undresses, you climb on Yoongi’s lap, your back facing him. You grab his dick, holding it up long enough so you can sink onto it, and you moan breathlessly as you go as far deep as you can, until all of him is gripped in all of you. You clench around him, and his large hands find your waist as he grunts.

And while you’re fucking yourself on Yoongi, you turn to look at Jungkook. He’s even more beautiful than you imagined he’d be: his cock is huge, definitely larger than your boyfriend. You almost think you won’t be able to take him in, but something about the way he smiles devilishly tells you he knows how to get you all ready for him. His dick has a large vein that goes from the base all the way to the tip. You want to run your tongue on it, but he’s sitting a little too far again, muscular thighs spread wide as he strokes his cock lazily.

His eyes follow you as you move up and down on Yoongi, and your boyfriend’s fingers dig in the supple flesh on your hips as he guides you on himself. But when Yoongi moans again, you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes dart to him, his grip around his dick tightening as he starts going faster.

“You like it, mmh?” you tease him, regaining his attention.

Jungkook plays with his piercing, his head resting against the couch as he watches you.

“You could suck my clit while I fuck myself on Yoongi.”

Your suggestion is barely out of your mouth before Jungkook gets up. His dick stands proud and tall, and you look back at Yoongi to see him already drinking in the sight. He fucks into you then, and you slow down so he can use you however he wants.

Jungkook jerks himself off, gently, making his way towards you. He stands in front of you, and you can’t help but look down at his dick. At the large head, that shines red as precum appears on his slit. Your eyes trail up to his face, and the smirk on his lips tell you enough of what he wants.

He wants you to choke on his dick. But he understood something too, earlier when you asked Yoongi for permission.

“Hyung, can I fuck her mouth?”

Yoongi moans loudly as your mouth falls open.

“Say it with your words.” Jungkook is indecent. You’re pretty sure he’d tie the both of you up and use you both however he wanted if you let him.

“As long as she likes it”, Yoongi replies breathlessly. He slows down his movements into you, but he pulls you lower, until all of his dick is sheathed inside of you. He then circles his hips, and it makes him reach places unknown to you before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan loudly.

The moan is interrupted by two digits sitting on your tongue. Your eyes shoot open, and you instinctively close your mouth around the fingers, sucking once. Jungkook cocks his head to the side as you start playing with the pad of his digits, hollowing your cheeks as you suck another time.

“You really want to suck my dick, don’t you?”

You do. You also want to see Yoongi sucking his dick, but you’re not sure the position allows it. So you nod, keeping Jungkook’s fingers in your mouth for as long as he allows before he’s grabbing the back of your head, dragging you closer to his cock.

You resist a little, just because you want to be a little brat, and Jungkook slaps your cheek with his cock once.

“Open up your throat.”

His words convey a command you’re wired to give in too. No matter how much you like to dominate, you’re not sure you have it in you to disobey him when he speaks the words with such a husky voice.

So you open your mouth, and you let him move your head until he can thrust into your mouth. He’s big. Large. It hurts your jaw a little, and your eyes water as he reaches the back of your throat faster than you thought he would. It doesn’t deter him, and he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting in again.

Below you, Yoongi is still circling his hips, and he grunts as you clench your walls around him, instinctively. Your juice is dripping down his balls, tickling him, and he has the clear image of Jungkook licking him clean. He almost wants to ask, but he’s too shy. All he can do is fuck you as he listens to you choking on Jungkook’s dick.

Jungkook fucks your mouth another couple of times before he lets go of the back of your head, moving your hair to the side to reveal your neck. He caresses it with one long finger, and you take the lead, grabbing a hold of his dick as you swallow once, your throat tightening against him.

The sound he lets out makes you think you’ve reached nirvana. It also makes Yoongi fuck up into you, and though he’s already hitting your cervix, you almost think he’s gotten deeper.

You offer Jungkook’s cock the same care you offered Yoongi’s earlier. You suck him dry, licking up at his head to taste his precum. It tastes a little different than Yoongi’s. A little sweeter, and you think you could get drunk off of it. It’s addictive, and all you can do is swallow as much of him as you can, hollowing your cheeks around him.

You try to look up at him, but the position doesn’t really allow him. You’re bent and you’d have to stop sucking his dick to be able to turn your head enough to look at him. You can’t resist the impulse though, and you hold his dick with one hand as you pull away, licking down his length, with your head tilted to the side until you can look up at him.

He’s not looking at you. His head is thrown back, revealing a sharp jawline that could cut through glass. You can’t resist yourself, and you let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his dick.

He looks down so fast you almost think he gets whiplash. Instead, he just surveys you with a dark dangerous look on his features. It makes you add your own movements to Yoongi’s action, and your boyfriend’s grip on your hips tightens even more.

“I thought you were supposed to suck my clit”, you tell Jungkook, maintaining eye contact as you tap his dick on the side of your face, tongue darting out until you’ve found the frenulum.

He seems angry, towering over you like that. You’ve seen him eating good food enough before to know that that’s because he’s enjoying himself. “When you can suck my dick like that?”

You pull away, and surprisingly enough he lets you go. You start moving up and down on Yoongi again, cocking your head to the side. “But poor Yoongi is barely getting any action.”

Jungkook looks at your boyfriend. You’re not sure he’ll understand what you want, but a few seconds later he drops to his knees.

“Maybe he just needs me to suck on his balls, don’t you think?”

You moan, almost in time as Yoongi. Jungkook is bold. Crazy, even. You lose a hand in his hair as he dives in. He stops by your clit first, sucking it hard. It makes you clench around the cock spearing you, earning you a grunt from your boyfriend. He’s rock hard inside of you, and you’re pretty sure it’s taking all of his will not to come.

He suddenly straightens and wraps an arm around your middle as Jungkook moves lower. You assume Jungkook sucked on one of his balls, and Yoongi lets out a low string of curses that makes a knot tighten in your core.

You’re far from being ready to let it uncoil. But you can tell Yoongi will come if Jungkook keeps doing whatever he’s doing.

“Yoons, you think you can hold on a little longer for us?” you purr.

His forehead is resting on the back of your shoulder, so you feel it when he nods. But he has no words for you, just a broken string of moans that form a melody in your ears as you keep moving up and down. You taunt him, clenching your walls once, and the moans turn into a hiss.

“Never thought hyung was such a good boy”, Jungkook says as he pulls away. He’s got spit on his chin and your hand moves from his hair to his chin so you can dry it.

And instead of letting it air dry, you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking it dry. Jungkook just watches you carefully, and then he’s moving back to your clit.

The next few minutes are lost to you. The orgasm that hits you takes you by surprise, almost bringing Yoongi down with you. But he’s better than you, and he just forces you to still your movements as your walls pulse against his dick.

Jungkook is too skilled with his tongue. Flicking your clit in a way that makes you see stars, until they’ve exploded and you’re just left panting for dear life.

“You ask him not to come and then you just do?” Jungkook teases. “How unfair.”

He stands, licking his lip dry. You’re spent, head thrown back and resting against your boyfriend’s shoulder. Yoongi is still holding you, one of his hands palming your breast through your lingerie set.

You’re pretty sure it’s ruined at this point. Jungkook bends down, and to your surprise he steals a kiss on your boyfriend’s lips. Yoongi moans in his mouth, and while they kiss Jungkook’s hand sneaks under you. He finds the place where the lingerie is attached, and quickly releases it.

You turn your head, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. Jungkook must have sensed it, because a second later he’s meeting your lips. You can still taste a little bit of yourself on him, though you know Yoongi lapped most of it clean.

“Let’s get her out of this”, Jungkook says as he pulls away.

Yoongi obeys, and he pulls the lingerie set over your head, until your breasts are finally revealed. Your nipples are perked on your chest, hardened by the pleasure that just ran to you. Your boyfriend palms them as Jungkook watches, and he’s back to stroking his dick.

You reach out, and your hand finds his balls as he pleasures himself. He tilts his head to the side, but he lets you do as you want. You’re weak from the orgasm that just rocked through you, and Jungkook looks as if he’s coated in an aura.

You know it’s the ecstasy from you coming so hard, but some part of you want to believe he’s a fallen angel.

As you palm him, Jungkook’s gaze slides to Yoongi’s next to you. Yoongi wets his lips, and his eyes drop to his friend’s dick.

“You want to get a taste?”

Really, Jungkook is not familiar with sanity. He doesn’t care for it, only wants to ruin the both of you. You’re forced to let go of his balls as he moves until he’s got one knee resting on the armrest of the couch. He holds his dick up towards Yoongi, and you let out a slow whimper as Yoongi wraps his lips around Jungkook’s large head.

You realize then that Yoongi probably has had lots of experience with men before you came into his life, because he clearly knows what he’s doing. Jungkook looks almost pained, brows touching on his forehead as his mouth falls open. He’s panting after a few seconds, and his eyes fall on you.

“Fuck”, he curses. “I don’t know which of you sucks best.”

From the moans he lets out next, you’re pretty sure it’s Yoongi. But you don’t care, you’re too busy circling your hips so Yoongi’s cock reaches every little spot in you that can make you see stars.

Jungkook observes you. You think he’s been watching you more than Yoongi. And as Yoongi bobs his head up and down, taking more of Jungkook’s cock than you ever could, the younger man bends down and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is sweet and slow. With no tongue, just his lips working against yours. His are infinitely soft, and you moan in his mouth. He keeps on kissing you, to a slow and steady rhythm that almost aches.

You miss him as soon as he straightens. But you don’t miss the way his gaze hardens as he holds yours. He looks sad, for just a fleeting moment. The next moment the look is gone, replaced by a lustful expression.

“Fuck”, Jungkook says, and he looks away from you to meet Yoongi’s gaze as your boyfriend keeps sucking him. “I want to get the chance to fuck her before I come.”

Yoongi whines, and he reluctantly pulls away from Jungkook’s cock. The latter refuses to meet your gaze anymore, and he motions to the couch.

“Hyung, why don’t you lie down?” he says.

You clench your jaw, before getting up from Yoongi’s lap. Your pussy clenches around nothing for the first time in a while, and you stand next to Jungkook as Yoongi moves. You startle as Jungkook slaps your ass, hard.

“Do you think your asshole is ready to take him?”

He meets your gaze now. He’s about to drag you to hell with him, and you admit you should be scared. Somehow, you aren’t, and you just want him to use you the way that he wants.

“I don’t know”, you whisper.

“Bend down”, he orders.

You nod, facing the couch until your chest is pressed against the back rest. You hold yourself up with a knee propped on the side of the couch, and your eyes turn to Yoongi. He’s holding his dick, jerking off slower than his usual. Probably because he’s already too close to coming.

You jerk forward as Jungkook lands another slap to your ass. It stings, and he parts your cheeks to reveal your asshole to him again. One of his hands moves between your legs, collecting your juice as he dips two fingers inside of you again. Once he thinks his digits to be lubricated enough, Jungkook pulls out and moves them to your asshole. He seems to hesitate for a time, and you bite your lips as you hear him spit, and the blob of saliva lands on your hole a second later.

Only then does Jungkook push his fingers inside your ass. He fingers it slowly, with scissoring motions that make your legs tremble, but you hold on strong. You keep holding Yoongi’s gaze for as long as you can, but when Jungkook adds a third finger, you lose the battle against your drooping eyelids.

The feeling is foreign. It doesn’t feel as good as when he was fingering your pussy earlier. Yet it makes you clench your pussy around nothing, makes clear juice collect around the entrance again, until you’re dripping on Yoongi under you.

Jungkook starts going faster, and when he slaps your ass with his free hand you moan loudly, hiding your face in the couch cushion. You wince when Jungkook pulls you by the hair, forcing you to look at Yoongi again.

“Look at him”, he commands. “You’re going to have his cock deep inside your ass soon.”

Yoongi is jerking himself faster than before when you finally are able to open your eyes. His jaw is clenched hard, and you can see a vein popping in his neck. You reach between the two of you, and he lets you grab his dick, though you only offer him a slow job as you’re too weak from Jungkook’s ministrations.

Jungkook takes that as a cue to pull his fingers out of your ass.

“Sit on him.”

You’re slow to obey. Yoongi sits up a little to help you, and a moment later you sit on him reverse-cowgirl style. You look up at Jungkook, waiting for his next order, but surprisingly enough Yoongi acts on his own. He angles his dick with your ass, moving it between your cheeks twice before settling it against the ring of muscle.

You wait for Jungkook to give you permission, and when he nods you sink down on Yoongi.

His dick is far bigger than Jungkook’s three fingers. It hurts a little more, even though Yoongi took the time to use his spit as lube before he aligned his dick with your ass. You wince, but you refuse to close your eyes, holding Jungkook’s gaze until Yoongi is deep inside of you.

“What a fucking pretty picture”, Jungkook murmurs.

Yoongi lies back down, bringing you with him. He puts his feet up on the couch, to give himself leverage so he can slowly move in and out of your ass. Never fully leaving you empty, but always keeping a steady rhythm. The initial discomfort slowly melts into pleasure, and your hand moves between your legs, until you’re drawing circles on your clit.

Jungkook surveys you for a moment before he decides to join the fun. It’s a little awkward at first, as he positions himself, but soon enough he’s kneeling between both your legs and Yoongi’s. He spits in his hand, rubbing his palm on the head of his dick for a few seconds as his eyes fall to the spot where Yoongi is slowly fucking you. He must like what he sees, because his features turn hungry.

He’s going to wreck you.

Jungkook positions himself at your entrance. He uses his dick to rub on your clit a few times, and you bite down on your lip as he does it. It feels good, better than you thought it would, but you’re pretty sure that’s just because Yoongi is still fucking your ass, and your body is craving for more. Jungkook’s features soften as he meets your gaze, but when he starts pushing in, your eyes shut.          

It hurts. A lot. Yoongi stills inside of you as you let out a pained sound. Jungkook gives you a moment to adjust, and then he’s pushing in a little more. The tip is fully in by the time he stops again, and you’re panting as Yoongi holds you tight to his chest. He runs a soothing hand on your side, and you take a deep breath to try and relax.

You startle when a hand cups your cheek, making your eyes fly open. It’s Jungkook, and he makes sure you’re looking at him, solely focused on his gaze, before he finishes thrusting in.

You weren’t wrong. He’s enormous inside of you. Way bigger than Yoongi. But you don’t know if the feeling is confused because Yoongi’s dick is still up your ass. You feel so full you think you might explode. Jungkook gently runs his thumb on your cheek, and you take a deep breath in time with him. You slowly breathe it out, and the ache between your legs slowly changes.

It still hurts, but not as much, and you nod slowly to indicate to Jungkook that you’re ready. He’s gentle as he pulls out, before thrusting all the way in once again. You moan, and everything clenches around the two dicks. Yoongi tightens his hold on your middle, fingers digging in your ribs. He’s probably going to come without even having to move, his body succumbing to all the edging you and Jungkook gave him.

It takes a moment for your pussy to adjust. But it eventually does. Jungkook sees the change in you, and he grabs your waist carefully as he gets ready to pound into you. He’s not quite ready to do it yet though.

“Hyung, why don’t you fill her ass with your come?” he says. “You like it, uh? When I fuck into her like that?”

Yoongi curses again. “Yes.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s willing for you to come now”, Jungkook continues.

You nod. “Please come for me, baby.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw at the pet name, but his eyes roll to the back of his head as Yoongi starts moving again. And then Jungkook is thrusting in you, in synch with Yoongi, and all you can focus on is the spot between your legs. The two cocks spearing you, fucking into you relentlessly until you’re on the verge of another orgasm.

You’re a moaning mess. Both men also moan their share, being vocal in their pleasure. Yoongi is the first one to reach his high between the three of you. He stills deep inside of you, releasing his hot seed in your ass as Jungkook keeps fucking into you. The latter must see you’re on the verge of coming undone too, because he reaches between your bodies, until his thumb is rubbing on your clit.

You come next, painting Yoongi’s pelvic white as his come drips from your ass. You don’t remember when he pulled out, but the feeling joined with Jungkook’s thumb brought you to your orgasm, and it hits you with a renewed intensity. It blurs your vision, turning it fully white, and there’s ringing in your ears when you finally fall from the high.

Jungkook hasn’t come yet. He waits until you’re looking at him again, and his hand wraps around your throat as he leans forward, just to hit a better angle for himself. And then he’s coming too, ropes and ropes of his seed that he plants deep inside of you, barely even slowing his rhythm. He milks his orgasm inside of you, with knitted brows and his teeth digging in his lower lip. It almost looks painful, and you reach up to pull his lip free of his teeth.

Only then does he still inside of you, though his dick twitches a few times again before it finally rests too.

There’s nothing but the sound of breathing for a time. From Yoongi beneath you and Jungkook above you. Your own breath is ragged, and you’re not sure you have blinked since Jungkook has come. Your eyes are lost in his, and you drink in the emotions that pass in his gaze.

You wonder if it’s regret that makes him pull away until all you can watch is his profile as he sits on the other side of the couch. You feel his seed roll down your pussy, sliding over your sensitive hole until it drips on Yoongi, mixing with his own come.

It’s sinful. What you did tonight is sinful, and your body is already sore from it. But as Yoongi presses a kiss on the back of your shoulder, you know you would do it all again.

It takes a moment before Yoongi lets you go. He always holds you after you’ve done the deed. It’s something that’s always been important to the two of you. But it feels a little unfair today, because Jungkook is sitting on his side of the couch and he looks infinitely lonely over there. So you sit up, moving off of Yoongi until he can sit up too.

“Do you guys want a glass of water?” you ask.

“Please”, Jungkook answers, and Yoongi nods once when you meet his gaze.

You get up from the couch with shaky legs, and you wince as you feel more come roll down your thighs. You bend down to grab Yoongi’s shirt, pulling it over your head, and then you’re off to clean yourself and grab water for the two men.

When you come back from your trip to the bathroom and the kitchen, you’re hit with the smell of sex that clings to the living room. You’d open the windows right away if you didn’t know how cold it is outside, so you instead move to the boys to offer them their glasses.

Both of them have put their pants back on, and Jungkook is holding his shirt in his lap, looking at it with a troubled expression. If they have talked while you were gone, they’re now completely silent.

“Here”, you say as you hand the glasses.

Yoongi grabs his and gulps it down in long sips, while Jungkook barely looks up at his before taking it. It takes him a few seconds before he’s drinking, and you turn your head away from his pretty features to look at your boyfriend instead.

Yoongi is already looking at you. He offers you a loving smile, the one he reserves just for you. It makes you smile too, filling your chest with warmth as you move towards him, until you’re sitting on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck. Jungkook takes that as a cue to put his shirt on, and he sighs heavily before glancing at the two of you.

“Didn’t expect this would ever happen in my life”, he admits, and a tired smile moves on his lips.

If you hadn’t seen the troubled expression on his features a moment ago, you would almost think Jungkook is happy and satisfied at the moment. The latter might be true, but there’s sadness surrounding Jungkook. Something you don’t think you’re supposed to be the one to fix.

“Thank you”, Yoongi says.

You turn your head to look at him, as Jungkook lets out a small laugh. “Anytime, hyung.”

“Both for the whiskey and the sex”, Yoongi adds as a joke, and this time Jungkook’s laugh rings truer.

You talk a little, letting the afterglow of the sex carry you through a conversation about everything and nothing. You partake in it, though you’re getting tired. The two orgasms that those men pulled out of you are taking their toll on you, and soon enough, you’re yawning with your head resting against Yoongi’s shoulder.

Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll take that as a cue that I should go.” He gets up, stretching lazily. His shirt hikes up a little to reveal a sliver of his skin, and you feel hot all over again at the thought that you had sex with him.

Jeon Jungkook just manhandled both you and Yoongi as if it’s nothing to him.

You follow him up, walking to the door with him. Yoongi walks behind you, his fingers finding your hand and holding it gently as you lean against the wall in the hall. You watch as Jungkook puts his shoes on, before grabbing his biker helmet that he left next to the door.

“So”, he breathes out, and a small chuckle follows the word. “I’ll see you two around?”

He’s looking at you as he says the words. You offer him a small smile. “I hope you didn’t think you’d get rid of us so easily.”

The unease that has seemed to be clinging to Jungkook slides away, replaced by relief. Did he think you were going to drop your friendship with him?

“Of course not”, he denies. “Even if tonight was unexpected…” he trails off.

“It was fun?” Yoongi provides.

Jungkook nods his head, and his eyes flit to Yoongi besides you. “We should do it again.”

Yoongi’s fingers tighten around yours, the only indication that he would want it too. But he’s letting you choose what to reply.

A smirk casts a mischievous look on your features, and you barely hesitate before saying, “Let’s meet up again sometime next week”.

Teaser | Next

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Ooooooooof yeah. That was... yeah. I’m sorry for sinning so hard haha but thank you for coming down to hell with me :’) I’m wondering, will you guys like seeing more of this couple/throuple?? If so, please let me know by following this link! Also, don’t be afraid to leave feedback, it’s always appreciated!!

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[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 40 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Agree to Disagree

The juniors are arguing because Sizhui said that some demonic cultivators might have good intentions. According to Jin Ling that means that Sizhui is celebrating the murders of Jin Ling's parents, or something.

(Actor) Peixin Qi uses forehead-squinching as a primary acting tool, which would be perfectly fine if he wasn't playing a character with a red dot between his eyebrows.

He goes on to say that Wei Wuxian is the evillest of them all, way eviller than Xue Yang. Which in sheer numbers of victims, is probably a fair point. But Xue Yang was way more of a dick.

Ouyang Zichen is all of us when he asks Jin Ling to chill the fuck out.

Sizhui apologizes even though Jingyi is ready to throw down on his behalf. It's unclear if this helps, because Hanguang-Jun chooses this moment to arrive. He immediately defuses the situation with the power of stinkeye.

(more after the cut!)

More Than Meets the Eye

Many differences between CQL and the novel are adaptational choices - Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's deep, early friendship; the yin iron plot, Jiang Cheng being loveable, etc. Changes like that, I normally don't point out, because adaptations are AUs, in my view, and can be enjoyed separately from their sources.

Other changes are driven by censorship, however, and in those cases I think it's fair to look to the novel and its less-censored adaptations for a peek at what's happening off camera. Particularly when there are scenes and interactions in The Untamed where the show seems to be deliberately pointing to the novel to fill in the blanks.

This moment on the stairs is one such scene. In the show, Lan Wangji carries liquor upstairs to Wei Wuxian, and the juniors react with shock; Jingyi drops his chicken out of his mouth and Sizhui stuffs it back in there.

They are shocked because he bought liquor, and that's the extent of their reaction.

In the Donghua, Manhua, and Novel, Lan Wangji is dragging Wei Wuxian up those stairs, having drunkenly tied him up with his headband.

First he stops to show his prize to the juniors, who have basically the same reaction in every version of the story, including Jinygi dropping his chicken and Sizhui stuffing it back in his mouth. In the novel, however, Sizhui does that to stop Jingyi from saying anything to Lan Wangji & his captive.

The liquor, in all versions, is a clear sign of how much Lan Wangji has mellowed since his youth. In case we need another reminder, we learn here that he let Sizhui get a tattoo on his finger.

Every parent will tell you, you gotta pick your battles.

Returning to to the timeline in which no visible bondage is occurring, Wei Wuxian is sitting around in the room upstairs waiting for Lan Wangji. Wasn't he busy talking to Lan Xichen when Lan Wangji went into the inn to shut the kids up? How did he get upstairs before Lan Wangji? Never mind, never mind.

Wei Wuxian goes to look out the window and Wen Ning appears, hanging off the roof like a dork, or like someone who has seen that one Spider-Man movie and is hoping for some upside-down kissing.

Wen Ning asks if Jin Ling is the kid he halfway orphaned, and Wei Wuxian says yes.

Then he hears Lan Wangji coming, and Wen Ning falls to the ground for no reason.

Wei Wuxian urgently shoos Wen Ning away, trying to hide him from Lan Wangji.

Wen Ning acts way too clueless for someone who spends so much time third-wheeling.

There's no in-world reason for Wei Wuxian to hide Wen Ning; They fought side-by side in Yi City, and they were all together for A-Qing's burial. There's not a problem between him and Lan Wangji.

Once again, the novel provides the missing information. Wei Wuxian is hiding Wen Ning because Lan Wangji is hella jealous even when he's sober. Wen Ning fell to the ground because drunk Lan Wangji leapt through the window and kicked him.

In the novel, Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji's evening ends with a game of tag that's loaded with sexual tension, followed by a kiss...followed by Lan Wangji literally knocking himself out to avoid taking advantage of Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji does everything in the most extreme way possible.

In the live action, the most sexually charged part of their interaction is this positively sinful hip thrust that Wei Wuxian gives when he turns around at the window.

If you've seen Xiao Zhan dancing, you know this is not an accident.

Unlike the novel's perpetually clueless protagonist, live-action Wei Wuxian clearly knows he's on a date right now.

...and he's enjoying every minute of it. He's delighted that Lan Wangji has provided *good* liquor, rather than the rotgut he's able to afford himself.

As he pours for Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji points out that both of their brothers know who WWX is at this point. Wei Wuxian isn't happy about it but he says they can't do anything. Which is...not correct.

He tries once again to get Lan Wangji to tell him how he recognized him, and Lan Wangji responds by asking him why his memory sucks so much.

Wei Wuxian says "you try dying by falling from a great height TWICE and see how your brain likes it." That's what he should have said, anyway.

This whole thing about his memory isn't actually important in the live action, even though it keeps being mentioned. He's forgotten the name of their song because he was delirious when he heard it; otherwise his memory seems perfectly fine.

I think this might be another instance of the live action giving a wink to novel readers in the audience, because in the novel Wei Wuxian forgot Lan Wangji's confession of love. Which, like WangXian, was presented in a cave while WWX was delirious; Lan Wangji is not great at choosing his moment.

Anyway, this may be why Lan Wangji seems to take Wei Wuxian's memory problems personally, despite having very little in-show reason to be upset.

Lan Wangji changes the subject by asking Wei Wuxian to go to Jinlintai with him, to search for Nie Mingjue's head. Sounds like a perfect romantic getaway for a boy and his favorite necromancer.

Just as Wei Wuxian starts to ask what Zewu-Jun will think, Zewu-Jun and his cheekbones come into the room.

He's taken time to think things over--a concept the rest of the cultivation world could stand to learn about, incidentally--and he agrees that they should investigate.

Note: the non-CQL illustrations come from the MDZS manhua, which is complete online (mangadex.org includes the uncensored extra bits), and is about halfway through being published in English by Seven Seas. It's delightful and I highly recommend it.

Bonus: Lan Wangji and Sizhui enjoying some tie-in cup noodles. (A few in-character ads are included in the Viki version of the show.)

[sitkowski]

this place is haunted ( vinny mauro x f!reader )

pairing: vinny mauro x f!reader

cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ mentions of sex work, rough sex, sex tapes, rough oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, choking, face slapping, unprotected vaginal sex, spooky shit is happening (or is it?), character death (???), just trust me on this one.

word count: 2.9k

author's notes: so i found this on my drive, written for someone else but never given so i turned the oc into a reader insert. consider this an extra halloween thing. title comes from "undead ahead 2", divider by @saradika-graphics

this fic is being dropped into the queue!

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

“I’m sorry, you want to what?”

Rolling your eyes in the mirror’s reflection, you turn around to look at your boyfriend. “You heard me.”

“I did hear you,” Vinny nods. “It sounds like you just told me you want me to rail you in a haunted house. On film.”

You can see the smirk on his face, knows that he’s just messing with you for the fun of it. He knows what you do for a living, and has never had any problems participating in it. “It’ll be good content for Halloween. And we don’t have to meet everyone else at the cabin until the day after tomorrow.”

“Babe, you don’t have to sell me on anything. You kinda had me at railin’ you—”

You laugh and slap at his shoulder. “I didn’t say it like that! I said that we should check out one of those abandoned locations and film a little something.”

“So it’s either my kind of haunted house,” his eyebrows raise. “Or yours.”

“Well I mean if you wanna invite Justin and Rick along, I’m sure I wouldn’t mind.”

“So you want a gangbang for Halloween?” Vinny hums thoughtfully, before shaking his head. “Nah, Rick’s tattoos are too noticeable and I kinda like the idea of being the only one you fuck on camera.”

You’ve been doing this for a while now, long before you and Vinny ever knew each other. Back then, it was just you doing solo stuff. He knew that you’d been posting stuff online when you started dating, he never once asked you to give it up. You were together nearly two years before he got involved with it. You always kept his face out of it, and it was easy for him to be anonymous when he didn’t have any tattoos. If the band knew, no one said, it was probably his best kept secret..

“I even got a very cute costume,” you say. You see the interest spark in his eyes.

“Please say slutty ghost,” Vinny crosses his fingers and you reach out to swat him again. He catches your hand this time, twisting it behind your back. “Hey now, be nice.”

“Or what?” you challenge, and he lets go of you only to slap your ass hard. “Ow, dick!”

“What do you think of going to Frick’s Lock? They close before dark, but I can get us in.”

The idea of filming a scene in an abandoned nuclear ghost town is pretty appealing, You can admit that. You’ve been there on one of the day tours and know that doing a night shoot could work, the place is just run down enough to give off the spooky, haunted vibe you want.

“You think we’ll see some ghosts?” you ask teasingly, knowing that despite the set up, it’s always a possibility. And both you and Vinny believe in that sort of thing.

“You never know,” he says, before slapping you ass again. “Okay, you find your cute little costume and get your shit together, I’ll set it all up.”

“Thank you baby,” you smile and kiss him. “You always give me the best presents.”

The drive into Frick’s Lock is silent and dark. You’ve got a bag with everything in it you need, and Vinny brought his camera and a few lights. Typically when it’s nothing but a couples scene, it’s just the two of you filming anyways. You’ve done this sort of thing before, filming in a location besides your apartment. But it’s the first time that you’ve chosen a spot so public, and for Halloween no less. Vinny’s hand slides over your upper thigh as he drives, and you bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

The place is creepy at night. You can admit that. You have to drive down a few thin, winding roads before they reach the small row of abandoned shacks. You didn’t ask how Vinny got you in here after closing. You didn’t need to know. You have a specific window of time you're allowed to use. When he stops the car and turns off the headlights, there’s just enough moonlight for you to be able to see to get into the building without using the flashlights on your phones.

It’s just one room that you walk into, the walls are grimy and moldy, the floor scattered with leaves and dirt. You know that some of it is for dramatic effect for the tours, but mostly it’s because whoever is responsible for the upkeep just doesn’t care. You sit down your bag and let Vinny work on the lighting so that they’ll at least be able to see, along with a handful of candles that you brought along. You take a picture of the room once he’s out of the camera’s view, so that you can post it on your social media to hype people up.

You show the post to Vinny before you make it, as always. Despite it being your thing, he always gets a say in things you post that involve him. Snagging your phone from your hand, he switches it over to the camera again. “Give ‘em a little peek, sweets.”

Your costume is in the bag, and you’ve got no problem changing right there. Outside, there’s a loud screech that makes both of you jump. Something moves past the window and you hear the flapping of wings. Just an owl, you assume. You take off your jacket and then your shoes, shirt and jeans, adding them to the growing pile.

The outfit you put on isn’t so much a costume, just a thin strapped short black dress and fishnets. You’d done your makeup and hair before you left the house, but you smear your eyeliner some, even though it’ll all be a mess later. You brought different boots than the shoes you wore in, and you let Vinny help you into them. He stays crouching down at your feet, fiddling with the camera settings before snapping the picture.

“Pretty little goth girl took a wrong turn in the woods on Halloween, hm?” he asks. You blow him a kiss before making the post and then passing the phone to him for the pov shots.

The only other thing you brought with you was a sleeping bag to toss on the floor so you don’t end up with splinters. He spreads it out on the floor for you.

A loud scraping rattle startles you both, and it’s followed by a low hum. Vinny gets up, glancing out one of the grimy windows. 

“Is there power here?” you ask.

“There aren’t any light switches, so I doubt it. Maybe it was a water pump or something for one of the other buildings,” he shrugs and takes off his own leather jacket, tossing it aside before setting up the camera in the right place.

Air seeping in through the windows makes the flames flicker ominously, but you ignore it. You give Vinny a look as you hit the button for the camera and he smirks, hooking an arm around your waist and hauling you against him. “Ready to play?” you ask.

“Trick or treat.” he murmurs before he kisses you, and you laugh against his mouth.

There’s no sound in the room but the hissing of the candle flames and the slick slide of your lips. Vinny’s hands grip your hips hard, bunching up the skirt of your dress a little. You moan quietly against his mouth, reaching between you to rub your hand along the front of his jeans. You can feel him getting hard for you and you flick her tongue against his as you squeeze gently. When he pulls back, he slips on the mask that he brought with him, usually you just film it from an angle where his face doesn’t show, but the room has no furniture and a lot of the both of you will be in frame for this.

The floor is not forgiving on your knees, and you can feel the wood snagging your fishnets as you kneel in front of him and wrap your hand over his belt buckle. When you raise your eyes to him, you’re met with your phone’s camera, and you bite your bottom lip.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me?” Vinny asks. His mask muffles his voice enough that you probably wouldn’t recognize it as his on film. 

You undo his belt and the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down torturously slowly. You give him wide, innocent eyes. “I’m always a good girl.”

Vinny laughs and it makes you grin as you shoves his jeans down, followed by his boxers. His free hand winds into your hair as you take his cock into your hand, licking up the underside slowly before pulling back and taking him into your mouth. He moans quietly and you hum around him.  You take him deeper, letting him hit the back of her throat. The noises you make are obscene to your own ears, echoing around the room. Vinny’s fingers yank on your hair, moving your head back and forth for you. Tears slip from your eyes as you gag, grabbing onto his thighs to balance herself. you keep your eyes upturned to the phone’s camera, knowing that your face is already a mess.

Outside, there’s the sound of snapping branches and rustling. you pull off Vinny’s cock, coughing and wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “What was that?”

“Probably a raccoon,” Vinny shrugs. “Maybe a ghost.”

“Ha ha,” You roll your eyes. “Wanna invite the ghost in for a threesome?”

The hand still in your hair twists viciously and you whimper, trying not to smile. He lets go of your hair only to wrap his fingers around his cock, stroking slowly, tapping the tip against your mouth. You open up and stick out your tongue, licking him teasingly. You can’t see his face behind the mask or the camera lens, but you know the way he’s probably looking at you better than anything. Shuffling back a bit, you move until you’re kneeling on the sleeping bag, and crook your finger at him.

You sit back and spread your legs, the hem of your skirt riding up our thighs. Vinny kneels between them, giving you a little slap on the outside of your thigh as a sign for you to spread them wider. There’s nothing beneath your fishnets and his free hand slips between your legs, fingers teasing into you through the holes. You moan and rock against his hand, trying to get him to put his fingers deeper. But he’s just warming you up and after a few minutes, he pulls away. Ignoring your frustrated whine, he reaches up and slaps your cheek before pushing those fingers into your mouth roughly. 

You reach down and tear the fishnets open, Vinny moving the phone just enough to catch it. you can hear him laughing at you behind the mask, and you’d flip him off or say something nasty, but there’s that noise again outside.

“Seriously,” you mumble breathlessly, “I think something’s out there.”

Vinny turns the phone towards the window, “I don’t hear anything.”

Maybe it’s just your imagination. Maybe it’s actually some animal out there wandering through the woods. You’re the one who wanted to do this here. Ignoring the paranoia you feel, you spit on your fingers and reach between you, wrapping your hand around Vinny’s cock and stroking him. He brings all of his attention back to you, and you preen for the camera, eyes turned down to watch as you roll your hips down onto him.

He groans above you as he bottoms out, and you absently think of investing in some sort of stand for your phone because you want him closer like you can usually get him. Instead, you just hook one of your legs around the back of his thigh, and let him push you down flat on your back. His hand pulls at the top of your dress impatiently and you giggle, wriggling out of the straps, leaving the dress bunched around your waist. You bite down on your own tongue so you don't say his name.

His hand clamps around your neck, not squeezing, just holding you down, and you feel the sting of tears in your eyes. You grind against him harder, sharp noises escaping your throat when his thrusts get rougher. Even with the mask, you know that he’s waiting for you to either give him the signal to slow down, or to encourage him for more. You wrap a hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

A thud outside startles you both and you yelp, pushing up on your elbows. “Something is out there!” you insist loudly.

Vinny finally relents, pulling out and fixing his clothes. He saves your footage to your encrypted cloud and gets up, pushing up his mask and walking towards the door. You scramble up, hurrying to get back into the clothes you brought with you. The mood is decidedly ruined, and you walk around the room to blow out the candles before shutting off the camera.

When you follow him outside, it’s quiet other than the sound of crickets chirping. The temperature had dropped while you were inside, and the sweat had barely dried on your skin when you’d yanked on your clothes. Vinny walks around to the other side of the building and you trail him, stumbling a little in the tall grass.

“I told you, there’s nothing out here babe—”

His words cut off, turning into a wet, choking sound. All you see is him at first, until your eyes adjust more and you see the man in the mask standing there. Vinny’s body falls to the ground in front of him, and then you see the knife, covered in blood. You scream, stumbling backwards. Your eyes bounce from Vinny laying motionless in the grass to the man slowly advancing on you. His mask is similar to the one Vinny had been wearing, only it’s dirtier and something is etched into it. He tilts his head at you, wiping the blood onto the leg of his coveralls. You take one last look at Vinny, and you turn and run.

Your first thought is the car, but Vinny’s got the keys. Screaming for help was useless, but you did it anyway, trying to make a break for the road. But you know no one is out here, no one knows you’re out there. Vinny still had your cell phone too. Your Chucks slide in the damp leaves and gravel, but you can still hear him behind you. You know that the road is way too long and you’ll never make it. But you still have to try.

And stupidly, you turn back to look. He was right there and then you’re falling, tripping over your own two feet and landing hard in the grass. You try to crawl away, grabbing onto the nearest tree to pull yourself up. This guy is huge and he wraps an arm around your waist, yanking you up to her feet. you scream, long and loud, trying your best to get away but he’s too strong and your eyes catch on the bloody knife in his hand. 

Under your own screams, you think you hear laughter. You do, and it’s coming from the guy currently holding you. You stop struggling and narrow your eyes. you knows that fucking  dumbass laugh.

“Justin?” Reaching up, you grab at the mask and yank it away, revealing the familiar face. “What the fuck?”

He sits you back down on your feet, ruffling his sweaty blonde hair that had been pushed back. Over his shoulder, you see Vinny coming over. Looking down at the mask in your hand, you see the IX carved in the plastic. It’s Justin’s old mask he used to wear on stage.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” you screech, smacking him repeatedly with the mask. He laughs and ducks away from you.

“It was his idea!” he protests, pointing to Vinny, who’s now close enough that you can see he doesn’t have a mark on him.

“Oh come on, you have to admit it was a little funny.” he says.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Mauro.”

“Nice try babe, the knife isn’t even real.”

For some unknown reason, you don’t feel as angry as you know you should. These two dumb fucks just terrified the hell out of you. you thought Vinny was dead. That you were going to die. But you feel your rage subsiding, just a little. 

“Fine, whatever, you scared me.” you relent. “How the fuck did you even get here?”

“Ryan dropped me off like two hours ago,” Justin explains. “It took you a lot longer to catch on to me being out there than we thought.”

You narrow your eyes at him again. “Were you watching us fuck?”

Vinny cranes his head to look up at Justin. “You better not have been, that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Ya’ll are fucking loud.” is all he says, and you slap him with the mask again before throwing it at him and trudging back towards the building to get your stuff.

“Wait, can I get a ride home with you guys? I never told Ryan to come back and get me.”

“You and Vin can ride in the trunk for all I care,” you mumble, enjoying the looks on their faces as they hurry to catch up with you.

⇉ taglist

@ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae

@rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @kinseysucks @collapsedglasshouses

@thatchickwiththecamera @th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow

@ao3userfeistycadavers

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

[zarvasace]

Ugh tumblr is not cooperating with my readmores and art. Oh well we can do it this way. AU masterpost

Say hello to Shackle and Nothing, dark Wind and dark Time :D more art and long descriptions beneath the cut!

Shackle

Shackle is dark Wind. 

To me, one of Wind’s core themes is freedom. He goes wherever he wants on his boat (and has fun), he frees a couple girls from the Helmaroc King, and when I think of him, I think of wild blue skies and an endless horizon. He loves life and is one of the most determined heroes. 

Shackle, on the other hand, is a bit of a control freak. He doesn't mind not being in charge all the time (he does mind, but he doesn't like to be challenged, and knows that he'd lose any fight for the top place, so he pretends to not care) but he does mind when things don't go his way. If someone or something is annoying him or not listening to him, he will readily use one of the many chains he carries to threaten or restrain. He likes being in control of others, and he likes when people are afraid of him. He keeps fairies nearby, not so much in case of healing, but because he can shake their bottles and listen to them chime in fear. 

Shackle is a rather skilled manipulator, and one of the few Darks that look pretty much human, so he's often the one to head excursions into town (Prince is more of a charismatic diplomat, but his powers don't work on whole crowds at a time.) Because of his strength and chains, he's often the one to be on Dire duty, something he doesn’t mind much. Shackle is also very fond of money and luxury. He’ll pinch rupees on anything that doesn't have to do with him, like someone else’s supplies, but he's happy to splurge on himself. 

He doesn't have any mystical powers, but he does have enchanted chains that grow and shrink according to his needs. He eats food like any mortal. He's as young as Wind is but is more often successful at bluffing his way into bars and the like. He “jokes” often about earning a couple rupees from selling one of the others—usually Lost or Madness, or Nothing if he's being annoying (a normal occurrence.) Shackle’s ambition is to break free of the others and start a true pirate empire, and the way he wants to do that is by starting a slave trade. That way he can indulge his loves of intimidation and money at the same time. 

In terms of design: Shackle is pale to Wind’s tan, a bit beefy to Wind’s young lankiness. He wears red instead of blue, leaning into the pirate aesthetic with sashes and belts and leather and eyeliner. He got a chain tattoo because he thought it was cool. He fears losing everything he has, and some of what he doesn't have. 

The only thing that Shackle and Wind would agree on is that Aryll must be protected and lavished with gifts at every opportunity (even though Shackle hasn’t technically met her, yet.) He'd treat her like a princess—as long as she agreed with him about what a princess should be. He isn't a very good listener. 

Nothing

Nothing is dark Time. He appears as a petulant child: sharp and angular and half-dead. He takes all of Time’s gremlin tendencies and turns them into cruel pranks and mean-spirited insults. Time is a leader, and Nothing intentionally holds the group back if he can get away with it. Nothing is resentful: he remembers fighting Time, though he, like Agony, is different now—he can think more clearly and has a  purpose beyond just being something's  guardian. 

Nothing gets along best with Madness. He hates being given orders and actively goes the other way unless it was his idea. The group at large only barely puts up with him, but they keep him around for a good reason: he's kind of a genius. He knows dungeons, traps, and gimmicks like nobody’s business. He won't ever give advice on one of Depth’s plans if asked, but they've figured out that if they give Nothing an opening to dunk on someone and hurt one of the Heroes, he'll jump into it and put that genius to work. He's excellent at predicting what the heroes might do, which makes everything just that much more sinister. 

On occasion, Nothing will fall into fugues. During these periods, he appears as an older teenager instead of a child, and he's virtually unresponsive. He'll move if prodded. He’ll fight—and fight very well—if told to, but he won't speak, the embodiment of his name. Pretty much everyone finds the contrast rather creepy. These periods don't last long, and soon enough, Nothing is back to his bratty younger self. 

Most of all, Nothing wants everything Time has, but if given the option, he wouldn't take Time’s place. He innocently wishes he could be a hero, but he knows he can't be, so he's going to go as far the other direction as possible. He wants to build his own life. But the people around him wouldn't ever let that happen, so Nothing is bitter and lashes out, without any reason not to. 

Nothing is designed very much after the Dark Link in Ocarina of Time’s Water Temple, with a few significant tweaks. He is based on young Link instead of the older one, and he is also covered in signs of decay. There are faint red and purple lines like veins on his skin, like corpses that began to decompose underwater, and his tunic and hat show signs of the same. When he appears as a teenager, the decay is even worse. His sword is patterned after the Master Sword, but is just a normal, nonmagical thing. 

Nothing is the Hero of Nothing, a sad admittance of his own emptiness and a jab at Time’s forgotten timelines. He wouldn't even know how to seize the opportunity to be a hero of something if it showed up in front of him.

[pvffinsdaisies]

Ireland Headcanon Masterpost

Artwork drawn by @nordickies

Part three of creating master posts for my interpretation of certain characters & nations. This time we’re doing the lovely miss Ireland! Who has been occupying my mind a lot recently. Before we get into it, I want to say that I have not been developing Ireland for even half as long as I have been every other character I have. She’s been a floating concept in my mind for years, but I only actually started to develop her properly last month. For most of the time I’ve had her, she’s just been a pretty face and a name, and I’ve been having so much fun actually exploring her. If you enjoy reading her information, I’ve also made posts for Scotland and my OC of Northumbria, both of those posts are going to be much longer than this one is.

I want to emphasise that I am no history expert, and I do not even wish to be associated with historical hetalia. However, as I am from England, it means I am treading a very fine line with my portrayal. That being said, if anyone from Ireland sees this post and takes issue with anything I say here, I encourage you to reach out and correct me! I am still learning, and, as I’ve said before, my portrayal is still very new.

PHYSICAL

Ireland stands at about 5’5, or about 165cm. Making her about the average height for an Irish woman. She still gets teased by Scotland for being “short.”

She has pretty small features. Small, green eyes, a tiny little button nose, and a small mouth with thin lips. She is very pretty, but she still looks quite approachable.

She has long, beautiful ginger hair. It’s pretty wavy, her natural texture is 2c, but she styles it pretty often. Her siblings have always loved to tease her about her hair- the colour and texture- so she’s pretty insecure about it.

She’s very good at styling her hair because of this, though she’s no longer a massive fan of fancy up does. She insists she’s no good on hair that isn’t her own, but she taught most of her siblings how to do at least a plait growing up.

Ireland is covered in freckles, from head to toe.

Her skin is naturally very pale, but it’s also very sensitive, and can turn red pretty easily. She always has to be careful about the stuff she puts on, or else she’ll come out in a rash.

She has a tooth gap between her two front teeth, it represents the River Shannon, the longest river in Ireland.

She has a rectangle body shape, although she used to be a bit curvier when she was younger.

Once rounder and softer, her body still hasn’t returned to how it looked before the potato famine of the 1800s. Her size is far healthier now, but she’s still quite thin and boney. Ireland is not her ideal size, and wishes she could gain a bit more weight to feel more comfortable.

That being said, her bottom is actually pretty plump. Representing the mountains that lie around the edge of Ireland.

Whilst she does like to wear make up every now and then, she’s actually pretty bad at it. Her application can be patchy, and she’s not the best at matching shades. It’s nothing you’ll notice straight away, however, and she genuinely does feel prettier when she wears it.

She has the Triskelion, or the Celtic Spiral Knot, tattooed on the inside of her upper, right arm. The symbol has different meanings depending on who you ask, but she had it tattooed to represent the continuous of life, and moving forward. It was also just a way for her personally to show that she will never, ever let her culture be stripped from her.

PERSONALITY

Ever the extrovert, Ireland is friendly and welcoming to everyone she meets. She has a natural ease about her, and a remarkable ability to make people comfortable around her quickly. Within 2 sentences, you could easily feel as though you’ve known her your entire life. Like you’re laughing and joking with an old friend.

Much like her brother, Scotland, Ireland is remarkable at comedy and making people laugh, she firmly believes a good sense of humour goes a long way. Her humour is a bit more lighthearted and witty than the rest of her siblings.

Ireland shows her affection through teasing and sarcasm. It’s how she jokes with her friends, and the more she teases you, the more she likes you. It could come across as mean, but her tone is usually playful enough to not cause harm.

Her culture truly means everything to her, and she loves sharing it with people. She actually loves meeting tourists, she loves telling them stories of her people, and she actually isn’t opposed to sharing her past with them. She will proudly gives them ideas of other places in Ireland to visit, and things to do, she hopes that everyone who takes the time to come visit leaves happy and smiling, having had a fun, interesting and informative experience.

However, she is also extremely protective and defensive of herself, her culture and her past. After years of oppression, being ignored and spoken over, who can blame her? She isn’t too appreciative when someone speaks on her behalf, she doesn’t like other’s sharing information without consulting her directly. She is vocal, and not afraid to step up and correct people, and put them in their place.

Empathy is where Ireland truly shines. Easily feeling and immediate connection with and understanding for those going through hardship. She will always be an advocate for the underdog, for those whose voices are not being properly heard. She longs to provide the compassion, and the feeling of having someone in your corner, that she lacked when she was suffering.

That being said, she can be very judgmental, and she’s a huge gossiper. She usually attempts to soften it by saying something like “and, god love them” or “god, bless their heart” or “but who am I to judge?” as though she’s not just been talking shit for the past hour.

Ireland cannot hide her feelings, and she doesn’t see the need to. She’s very open when she’s happy, upset, angry etc.

For as open a person as she can be, she still hasn’t quite processed her hurt and her negative feelings correctly. Choosing to brush it off, and pretend she no longer cares. She can grow very resentful because of this, but she absolutely refuses to accept this may be a problem.

Ireland can be feisty and fiery if need be, she knows how to defend herself and she will! She’s never been shy, no matter what, and she won’t let someone walk all over her. She never has, and she never will go down without a fight. She prides herself on this.

Ireland is extremely laid back, she’s not prone to jealousy or possessiveness, and she’s certainly not over-protective about anything. She doesn’t see the point of trying to cling onto someone, it all just seems pointless.

HOBBIES

Ireland is creative mind, and one of her best skills is gold-smithing and her ability to work with metals. She prefers to make her own jewellery, and she loves making fancy and intricate broaches especially. However, she mainly does smaller projects now, as her workshop is merely a cleared out space in her basement. She’d love to find a bigger place to rent out.

You will rarely ever find someone who’s a better storyteller than Ireland, she truly has a way with words. Be it short stories, poems or songs, she excels at it. She absolutely loved to share her stories with her siblings when they were growing up.

Music means a lot to Ireland, she wouldn’t know who she is without it, and as well as writing songs, she also sings. She doesn’t have the best voice, but it’s pretty and melodic. It’s soft and calming, and she has fine technic. But it’s certainly nothing special.

She also plays the harp, which she’s very skilled with.

Ireland loves a party and celebration, and she always goes all in. She seemingly never gets tired, or never needs to go home to rest, she can just keep going.

On a calmer note, she also loves just sitting in a pub and having a few casual drinks. Doesn’t need to be a celebration. She especially loves a proper Irish bar, and she almost has a sixth sense where she can find one wherever she goes.

Speaking of bars, Ireland is pretty good at snooker. She’s no hobbyist though. She and Scotland are at pretty much an equal level, and they’re the only two in the family who stand a chance of beating one another.

She loves a good walk around the countryside, and she’s always driving out of the city to have a stroll. Though she will constantly complain about the sheep blocking the road.

She does boxing, though she’s still a very low level beginner, and definitely not good enough to go up against anyone yet. It was a hobby she picked up a few years back, to try and help her build some strength and muscle.

As well as sharing her own, Ireland absolutely loves taking the time to learn about other cultures of the world too. Every time she has a meeting in a foreign country that she doesn’t visit too often, she tries to see and do as many cultural things as she can outside of work. She absolutely loves travelling.

She adores animals, she firmly believes they’re smarter than humans give them credit for, and she loves to draw them! She’s not the most skilled artist, she really only does sketch work in a sketch book. She rarely attempts to colour in, or smooth out the lines.

Ireland’s favourite, and her comfort show, is Father Ted, she puts it on whenever she’s upset. Without fail, it will always make her laugh, even if she’s seen every episode about 1000 times already.

Ireland enjoys knitting, alongside some of her other family members. She pretty much exclusively knits all of her own cardigans herself.

LIFESTYLE

Ireland uses the human name Saoirse O’Reilly, spelt as Saoirse Ní Raghallaigh in Irish.

However, Saoirse hasn’t always been Ireland’s preferred name. She used to use the name Aoibheann, but during English rule she was forced to take on the name Evelyn Kirkland. After Ireland gained its independence, Saoirse started being used more and more as a name because of its meaning being “freedom”. She has used Saoirse as her name ever since.

Irish is her first language, and she is determined to help keep the language alive. She offers tutoring lessons for people (Irish or not) to learn the language. Unfortunately, she’s not the best at teaching.

Alongside Irish, she also knows English, ISL (Irish Sign Language), Latin and BSL (British Sign Language). She knows a little bit of Manx and Scottish Gaelic.

Saoirse currently lives in Dublin. She used to own a farmhouse, but following independence she decided it’d be best to move to the city. She sometimes misses her old house, and you’ll catch her reminiscing on it. She doesn’t hate city life, though.

She is incredibly family oriented. If you ask Saoirse, family always has and always should come first. As the oldest, she helped raise all her siblings the best she could. She always felt closest to Northern Ireland and Scotland when they were growing up, and whilst she & Scotland are still close to this day, things with N. Ireland have been better. Their relationship has recently been… strained, to put it nicely. Saoirse is still waiting for the day when they can be close again. She never has and never will stop reaching out.

Ireland does not have any pets. However, for most of her life, she had a Wolf friend who would always find its way back to her no matter where she travelled. She did not own this wolf, it was free and was part of a pack, however, it was supposedly immortal, like many hetalia pets. It was killed in the 1700s. Ireland has a picture of it that she drew herself hung up in her living room.

In terms of religious beliefs, Saoirse would describe herself as “Catholic Pagan.” She might get some strange looks from foreigners who hear this term, but her religious beliefs combine both Catholicism and Celtic Paganism. She believes in the Lord, and in Jesus, but also believes in and sees traditional folk creatures. She seeks guidance and truth in tales from both religions.

Out of all of her siblings, Ireland is probably the worst driver. She usually is not in front of the wheel when someone else is in the car, because they don’t feel entirely safe in the car when she drives.

Saoirse is so bad when it comes to procrastination. She’s perhaps too laid back in that aspect. She doesn’t like to rush anything, and will continue to push back things she needs to do until she can actually be bothered. If anyone calls her out on it, she’ll blame the weather, saying something like, “have you seen how it’s raining out there? It’s not fit to do anything!”

She has a small fairy friend who lives at the bottom of her garden, named Órlaith, who likes to sneak inside the house and cause trouble when Saoirse isn’t in. Otherwise, you can sometimes see her fluttering above her shoulder. It’s not uncommon for the pair of them to gossip together about certain people they meet.

You’ll never not see her without a cup of tea. She perhaps has too much of it, drinking multiple cups at home, and taking some out with her in a travel mug if she’s going somewhere. If she’s visiting someone, she’ll be sat waiting to be offered a cup of tea. She drinks the most out of the whole family, which drives england nuts. She’ll get grumpy if she doesn’t have a cup of tea on a morning.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

monster - haegeum, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: Mafia boss Min Yoongi. Bodyguard Jeon Jungkook. And the weapon. The monster. The violent creation of the shadow king. You.

--

please, read the following.

As you can see, this is not the story. This is your warning. Only this post should be tagged / reblogged and not the actual post. This is intentional.

Some of you have read the 'monster' AU. The 'monster' AU is based off the world within the Daechwita MV. It was also written back then, in 2020. What many of you don't know is that the three parts on this blog (part i | part ii | part iii) are only some of the sex scenes of a much larger story. Mhm. I have never posted 'monster' in full anywhere. It would be misconstrued and misunderstood too easily. It is not for unprepared souls.

The gist of the story is that black-haired mafia boss Min Yoongi wants to kill the blond-haired Mad King, and he does.

I often get requests to revisit this AU.

My original intent was to not write anything more. I thought about taking the posts down at one point, as they are technically parts to an incomplete story I will never publish on here. Eventually, I decided to just let it be. People enjoy guilty pleasures. As long as you have your head straight and know this isn't real.

If there was any time to revisit these three, well, it would be after the release of Haegeum, wouldn't it?

Again, this is your warning. The following is not for the faint of heart. I am not holding back. If you click forward, that means you have read the following warnings below and you still wish to proceed. You know what you are getting yourself into. This is violence. This is insanity. This is 'monster' and there is no redeeming them.

Remember, everything is fiction. Read the disclaimer in my masterpost.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; premeditated killing and mass death with all three contributing; graphic descriptions of murder; blood; gun + knife violence; arson > explosion; thievery (money); mentions of reader placed in solitary confinement as punishment; physical abuse; sociopathic and manipulative behaviors; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, unprotected penetrative sex [reader is medically sterile], restrained [arms pinned down], choking with leather collar and with hand, heavy bite / scratching / bruising, stimulation to climax with the handle of a switchblade and said closed switchblade inserted into reader's vagina; reader being spit on and licked degradingly; cum-covered switchblade and later fingers in JK's mouth by Yoongi; standing sex, standing doggy, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, m-masturbation onto reader's face); non-idol!AU - mafiaaboss!AgustD!Yoongi (long black-haired Daechwita/Haegeum AU), longhaired!tattooed!bodyguard!Jungkook; mercenary!reader; m/m tension between them; JK has a praise kink; you have a pain kink

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This is after the death of the Mad King.

Now, Min Yoongi has all of South Korea within his clutches, puppeteering the dirty money that goes in and out of this country. The underground ruler of the inhumane ruthlessly takes out anyone that is stupid enough to step forward and challenge his rule. Oh, they will always come, their greed tempted by the prosperous forbidden fruit flourishing in the darkness. Foolishly thinking, ah, but who could stop me? After all, no one knows who the shadow king really is – not until they are already locked within the fangs of death.

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by proceeding, you are verifying that you have read all warnings.

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masterpost

[ymaohohoh]

Elriel Masterpost

Elriel - Writing prompts & Masterlist. 

(reposting from my main)

Just some ideas I’ve been thinking about (over and over). Posting them to inspire others or I may take a stab at them myself. Completed fics are linked. Open to requests.

Completed

Elain is struggling with her first Fae blood cycle alone and refuses to ask for help because she’s embarrassed. Azriel leaves her a tonic. - oneshot

Their first time is obviously out in the garden - oneshot, M rated.

Azriel’s POV when they go to the Hewn City in Silver Flames. He and Elain steal a quiet moment together while Nesta dances. - oneshot with angst and smutty thoughts.

Azriel teaches Elain how to use a dagger. - oneshot

Azriel teaches Elain how to winnow and they end up angrily expressing their feelings. - angsty oneshot.

Elain learns about Rhys’s interruption on Solstice. She tells her brother-in-law to back off and respect her choices. Rhys, to her surprise, agrees to support her.

Elain and Azriel are about to die and confess their feelings. - oneshot, angst party

Elain asks the cauldron to take back her gifts, she wants Azriel instead. - oneshot

Prompts

Elain still finds it difficult to put her head under the water in the bath. She prefers her baths to be piping hot against the chill. 

Elain dancing at Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony – she wears cobalt blue and the stars are shining. 

Elain sees the sea for the first time. She wants to swim in it but she doesn’t know how. 

Mor spots Elain admiring the Illyrian boy’s wing’s and tells her about the wingspan rumour. Elain laughs until she cries. It’s the most she’s laughed since the Cauldron. 

Elain catches a bit of the Valkyrie training and admires the strength and power of the fighters, though she knows her own inner strength can match it.

Elain makes a pledge and gets her very own tattoo. It’s not in a place you see easily. Azriel has a look for it. 

Elain rejects the bond with Lucien and he's thankful. She feels a crushing sense of relief as the bond vanishes and they work on their friendship (they actually get along well now the drama is gone).

Elain sees her first Starfall. Azriel flies her somewhere to get a better view.

Elain tries on some Illyrian leathers for the first time. She can feel a certain person’s gaze on her. She looks just as good in a flowing dress though (and better yet - nothing at all).

Elain embroiders something for Azriel and he keeps it by his bed.

Gender Swap AU - Elain is the deadly shadowsinger and Azriel is the quiet gardener.

Elain and little Nyx play together. She thinks about children and motherhood and what it might mean for her.

[becauseplot]

Hi yall! I'm back from my little three-day break :D It's Inktordem time again! This time, we're doing something a little different. AKA, I'm subjecting you all to one of my AUs. I've talked about it a bit on here (god I need to make a masterpost of my AU rambles) but there will be basic details under the cut.

Spoilers for OPD Episode 6!

DAY 9 — MORTE

90 Seconds to Midnight AU. Thiago survives Santo Berço, but the Symbol is still branded into his mind. It starts off as nightmares of the Symbol that he and the others suspect are just that, nightmares. But then, as the months progress, he starts to zone out while he's awake, sucked in by the Symbol for seconds, minutes, even hours at a time, if no one is there to pull him out of it. He's roommates with Liz, who has been on a downward spiral herself, drinking more and diving deeper into her investigation of the Desconjuração with a growing disregard for her own health and safety.

~*~

Liz paces back and forth in her cell, arms folded tight and head ducked low. Her skin still burns with the fresh tattoos, but it’s a distant thing in her mind.

He’s not back yet. Why isn’t he back yet?

Facts of the case swirl in her head. There is something that ties them all together, something she isn’t seeing. After months of searching, she feels like she’s on the brink of discovery. She just needs to dig a little deeper. Why was Leonardo’s body so mangled? Why did Eva Van Gloss’ research turn up something about the Desconjuração, whatever that is? What does Santo Berço have to do with it? Why are these occultists so interested in it?

And why isn’t he back yet?

Liz should have thrown Thiago out the moment he showed up at the apartment. She should have slammed that door in his face and not opened it for anything, because anything would have been better than this—captured by occultists, tortured with nightmares, experimented on with these strange tattoos that she can’t make heads nor tails of. 

She thinks of Thiago going through what she did. She thinks of his mind, under so much stress, being swamped by that Symbol as a result. And considering that his nightmares and lapses of awareness have just been getting worse and worse over the past month—this is the last thing he needed, to get roped up into Liz’s mess.

Thiago was taken for…whatever it is these vermin are doing to them before Liz was. When she was thrown back in their cell, it was empty. She doesn’t know if that means he’s gone twice while she’s only gone once, or if he’s simply taking longer, or if he’s dead—the last of which she can’t even begin to consider, because that would be another person dead because of her. And for it to be Thiago, the one she watched fight for her all those decades, the one who continues to fight to stay here despite the memories of the Symbol eating his mind, the one who means everything to her—

Liz runs her hands into her hair. Her heart hammers in her chest. Oh god. Oh god he needs to be alive. Everything will be okay so long as he’s still alive. Liz can still save them so long as he’s still alive. He needs to be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive.

She continues to pace with her head swirling in desperate pleas. Her shoes hit a steady beat on the concrete, the only sound. Minutes melt into meaningless treacle. 

And then, footsteps that aren’t her own. 

She doesn’t hear them over the roar of her thoughts, not until they land at the door to her cell. Something is being dragged. She freezes and whirls around in time to see, in the feeble light from the cracks in the walls, a dark heap being tossed into her cell. The door swings shut and locks faster than she can blink, not a word spoken.

“Hey!” she shouts at the door. “Where do you think you’re going!”

The heap shifts. It groans.

“Thiago?”

Forget the fucking occultists. She’s at his side in an instant, dropping to the ground so fast it hurts her knees. She gets her hands to him and rolls him onto his side, checking his head for any bleeding from when he was thrown in. She pauses to tilt his face towards her. The slivers of light reveal that his skin has been written over with tattoos as well. “Thiago? Thiago are you alright? Are you with me? Does anything hurt?”

No answer save for another soft noise of pain. 

“Thiago? Are you hearing me?”

Nothing. He’s limp through it all. Weak. His head lolls on his shoulders, as if asleep, but she can see that his eyes hang open, vacant. He looks…

No, she won’t say it. She won’t even think it. He’s still breathing, albeit shallow, and his pulse is steady, albeit slow, and his skin may be cold, but it is not the chill of the cadavers she’s become so familiar with. 

She recognizes this look on his face. He’s still here. Just lost. It happens with him sometimes, especially when he’s under stress—the Symbol takes him away for a while. He just needs some help finding his way back.

She doesn’t want to force him to sit up in case he’s injured. She shrugs off her coat, bunches it up, and carefully slides it under his head. Then she cups his face with one hand, thumb rubbing circles under his eye. Then she takes one of his hands in her other and squeezes.

“Hey,” she says, her voice clear. It doesn’t tremble. “We’ve been here before. I know you can hear me. You always do, eventually. So listen to me…” 

Come back. You’re not done yet. Come back.

“...Your name is Thiago Fritz. You live with me, Elizabeth Webber. You and the others just call me Liz…”

She keeps talking. She talks about where they live, that Santo Berço has burned, that he destroyed it; where they are now (as best as she can), his work at the Order, anything she can recall of the last time she spoke to any of the others, weeks ago now. Whatever she can think of that might pull him back and ease his anxiety when the disorientation sets in.

At some point, he starts to squeeze her hand back. And his eyes open, just a little wider. 

Liz pauses in her speech. “Thiago…? You with me?”

His eyes are moving now, flicking side to side. He blinks a few times. He breathes in, and he breathes out. “...M’with you.”

“And you’re…” Liz wants to be relieved, but she looks over his expression; calm. “...You’re feeling okay?”

Thiago hums. “Tired. Where are we?”

This is strange. This is very strange. Thiago is usually much more agitated when he comes out of the Symbol, panicking because he can’t recognize anything of his surroundings. “I’m not sure. The occultists took us, remember? We’ve been in this cell for a few days now, I think.” Thiago nods a little. “And you’re sure you’re okay? Does anything hurt?”

Thiago shifts and winces, exhaling. “Some. But. It’s not bad.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what they did to you?”

“...Something on my skin. I remember nightmares, I think.”

“The same as me, then,” Liz murmurs. “You didn’t hear anything else they said? Anything about where we are, what they’re doing, or…?”

“No.”

Liz stares down at him. She squeezes his hand a little tighter, and she considers the facts, and—this isn’t right. Not at all. His voice is too damn flat. His words are too damn short. She doesn’t think it’s an effect of the drugs, because his speech doesn’t sound slurred, he just sounds—listless. Weirdly disinterested, like finding out anything about what these occultists want from them is hardly a concern for him.

Dread suddenly begins to pool in her gut. No. Liz refuses to consider what it means. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks him after a moment. “Is it something to do with the Symbol? You seem off.”

Tell me I’m overreacting. Tell me I’m fussing too much. Smile and give me a reason to be wrong.

Thiago doesn’t smile. He looks away. Even with all of the nights of lost sleep he’s had over the past few months, the circles under his eyes have never been deeper. “Just… I’m just tired, Liz.”

“You can rest,” she replies. “I can keep watch. I won’t let them take you—”

“No, it—”

They both stop.

A small eternity stretches between them. Liz watches the rise and fall of his chest, and feels the rise and fall of her own. The only sound is the sound of their breathing.

“What?” she whispers, piercing the silence.

“...It doesn’t matter.”

“No, you can tell me—”

“I am.”

Liz pauses. Thiago’s other hand creeps up and finds her knee. Tethered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he continues. “The Symbol has always been in my head. It’s in me, Liz. It’s everywhere. I’m tired. I can’t…”

Her stomach is sinking. The walls are closing in. She stares down at him, searching, Give me a goddamn reason to be wrong, Thiago. “You can’t what?”

He doesn’t answer. Liz feels a sudden dampness running along the side of her hand, the one cradling his face. He’s crying.

No. No no no no no no— “No no no, hey.”

Liz hooks her arms under him and pulls him to her chest, hugging him tight. To hell with the possible injuries, this is more important right now. Nothing could possibly be more important than this right now. “Thiago, listen to me—you cannot give up on me. That Symbol can’t take you. I’m going to get us out of here, I swear. You just need to hang on a little longer, okay? We’ve made it this far, we can make it a little further. I’ll get us out of here, and then we can go home and rest.” 

She’s aware she’s gripping the back of his jacket hard enough to make her fingers hurt. She’s aware that she’s crying now, too. She shifts her other hand to cradle the back of his head.

“We have to have hope, right? You promised me we’d have hope. It’s not over yet. We’re still here. We have to have hope.”

Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t go.

One of his arms shifts up to her back, returning the embrace. It’s weak, but it’s there. It’s something. 

Thiago takes a deep breath. “I’m with you, my dear,” he murmurs into her shoulder. “Do what you need to.”

She holds him tighter. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

“We’re leaving this place together,” she promises. “Okay?”

Thiago nods.

“Okay.”

Liz continues to hold him. Thiago continues to lean into her. The cell is dark, and they both wait—for answers, for daylight, for whatever is yet to come.