#well this took longer to write than I thought

[hiraizyo]

i hear your heart, now it’s racing.

synopsis — you were very aware of how possessive lara could be and despite the obvious interest from others, you only had eyes for her.

established relationship, high school au, fluff, possessive!lara, loser!reader, like two cuss words.

now playing: you belong to me, ari abdul.

a/n: came up with this after thinking about hot and sexy gf!lara. i need her to claim me so fucking bad... anyway, this includes reader being apart of the loser club with winter, yunjin and minji lmao.

this is a lot longer than what i usually write, so get comfortable :’) apologies for any typos & as usual, happy reading!

at the sound of the school bell ringing you let out a relieved sigh, finally able to leave the place everyone thought was hell on earth. quickly packing up your chemistry textbook and pencil case, you shoved it in your bag, already standing up and walking away from the desk.

you rushed out the classroom, barely hearing ms. park’s voice over the cluster of her students hurried footsteps, all trying to make their escape. the walk to your locker was short, feeling lucky that the hallway wasn’t nearly as packed as you expected it be considering it was now the end of the school day.

when you reached your locker, it didn’t take long until another presence was beside you. with your peripheral vision, you see that it was minjeong.

“hey,” she greeted you. minjeong blew up a piece of her blonde hair, the bangs almost covering her eyes. “do you wanna come over after the gig later? i got new a lego set for us.”

she rocked back and forth on her heels, the excitement clear on her face.

you and minjeong were similar in many ways. both of you were more on the quieter side, preferring to observe rather than interact with others. you both took your studies seriously, being top of your class. you also enjoyed the act of building lego’s together, bonding over it after she’d brought it up one day after band practice. and, you were both what your girlfriends described as ‘a loser in a hot body.’ you didn’t understand what it meant, but lara claimed that’s what you were so you didn’t question it.

“can’t.” you replied, shutting the locker door. “it’s date night with lara, and we’re going out after.”

minjeong pouted at not being able to hang out with you. building lego’s together was her favorite pastime between sleep, studying, band practice and hanging out with her girlfriend.

you flicked her forehead at the sight of her lips jutted out. “stop that, jimin may find it cute but i don’t.”

“ouch!” she yelled, rubbing at the now sore part on her forehead. “you’re so mean.”

you snorted, “and you’re so weak.”

minjeong scoffed at your words as you began to walk towards the double doors of the school, her hand tugging on the sleeve of the brown and white flannel you wore.

“we can’t all be jacked like you, ass.” she complained, moving to sling her arm over your shoulder.

“you can’t even see it!”

“that’s the problem.” minjeong huffed, raising her arm in the air. “you see this? these noodle arms look exactly like yours, except mine doesn’t bulge out when i flex.”

you had a bit of a sleeper build, the muscles only showing when there was tension. minjeong made a grunt, bending her arm as if she was flexing in order to add to her point. you laughed at her, shoving her arm down.

“whatever.” you shook your head at her, leading the two of you towards your car.

when you reached the parking lot, minjeong pulled her arm off you and got in the back seat once you’d unlocked it, leaving the door open for any conversation that came up. leaning against the gray vehicle, you pulled out your phone, shooting lara a text that said you were waiting outside for her.

the redhead spotted you as soon as she walked out the double doors, saying a goodbye to her friends and reminding them of what time you’d be playing tonight.

she approached you with a coy smile, looking you up and down. “well, you look absolutely delicious right now.”

the possessive streak ran through her body, realizing that everyone at school could also see how good you looked.

a blush appeared on your cheeks as she snaked her arms up your neck and locked her fingers together. “hi baby.” you mumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

minjeong couldn’t help the cackle that escaped her when she saw your bashful state. pulling away from your girlfriend, you scowled at her.

“i don’t know why you’re laughing, i’ve seen you gay panic way worse around jimin.” you shot back, while minjeong flipped you off.

lara giggled at the interaction, placing a kiss on your neck and walked around to the passenger side. you both got in the car and the drive to minjeong’s place began. you’d be taking her home first before making your way to your place with lara.

after dropping minjeong and starting the route to go home, you glanced to look at the indian girl, who busied herself with looking through stories on instagram. you placed a hand on her thigh, tapping twice to gain her attention.

“are you sure you wanna come with me? the girls and i have to be there an hour before.” you asked, double checking if it was still alright with her.

“yes, i’m sure.” she looked up, locking her phone and lifted her arm to place it behind your head, nails softly scratching the lower part of it. “i want to be there for you.”

lara was an extremely supportive girlfriend, which you were grateful for. even back when you were just friends she gave you her full support, coming to a few band practices and going to all your shows. it was one of the reasons you fell in love with her, among many others.

“okay.” you said quietly, sending her a grateful smile and continued the drive home.

“and now, introducing fallen angel!”

the loud cheers of the crowd had your adrenaline rushing as you stepped out onto the stage. you walked over to your positioned spot, eyes searching for lara in the dimly lit place. finally catching her gaze, she waved and blew you a kiss, your smile so wide it hurt your cheeks.

“woo!” the scream came from daniela, who sat to the left of lara at the round table.

yunjin chuckled as the clapping and cheering died down. she reached up to hold the mic, her raspy voice echoing through the speakers.

“hello, we are fallen angel, and we’ll be doing a cover of about a girl by nirvana.”

the crowd erupted in shouts once again, a few loud whistles here and there. when everyone settled down, yunjin did the count down in her head, then began strumming her guitar. she and minji were on vocals, with you playing the bass and minjeong on drums.

the crowd was hyped as the song played, all four of you feeding off of their energy. you smiled when you caught lara staring, feeling your heart hammer in your chest against your ribcage. you weren’t sure made you more nervous, playing in front of all these people, or the look your girlfriend was giving you at that moment.

lara sang along to the lyrics, her upper body moving with the beat as she turned to face daniela, screaming along with her. her confidence in you swirled around in her chest. she was so unbelievably proud.

as the song began to end, she told the kats’ she’d be back soon, getting up from her seat and swerved through the people. minji thanked the crowd for their support, a couple more cheers being let out. their loud noises were still ringing in your eyes when the four of you walked to the side of the stage that was hidden from everyone.

as soon as you saw lara, you carefully placed down the bass and hugged her tightly, pressing her body against yours.

“you did so well, baby!” she rubbed your back as a sign of support. her mouth was by the shell of your ear, breath tickling you.

“thank you, my darling.” you mumbled into her hair, closing your eyes for a second as you basked in the comfort she brought. “i loved seeing you out there.”

lara leaned back, your arms still wrapped around your torso, cupping your cheeks. she smiled brightly, her pearly white teeth on display.

“and i will be at every show until the end.” she whispered, leaning in until you felt her lips on hers.

the indian kissed you with passion, adrenaline now coursing through her veins as well. her lips were soft like always, the lipgloss making them sweetly sticky, but you were used to it at this point. your hands gripped her, squeezing gently. she broke the kiss, her smile even wider than before and she pecked your lips a couple more times before pulling away completely.

“ugh, you guys make me sick.” minji commented, taking a sip of water from her water bottle.

minjeong hummed in agreement, sitting on a chair that was off to the side, her legs stretched out. yunjin, who was busy packing her guitar in its case, turned to face the rest of the group.

“tell me about.” she quipped, tucking her dark blue hair behind her ear.

lara turned around in your arms, her smile now turning into one of amusement. she raised her up arm up until her hand reached your neck, hanging it loosely as she gripped the back.

“sorry, which one of us has a girlfriend again?” you asked rhetorically, knowing that yunjin still had yet to make a move on her crush.

she grumbled under her breath, harshly zipping the guitar case closed. yunjin walked off after that, stomping her feet on her way out. you snickered at her antics, always taking the opportunity to tease her about her single status, even though you knew without lara you would probably still be in the same situation as yunjin.

minji pulled a jacket over her shoulders, ready to leave as well. “i still don’t get how you two happened.”

“me neither.” you said, looking down at lara with an adoring gaze. she could easily see the love in your eyes, and it made her feel warm all over. “but i’m lucky to have her.”

the redhead felt her heartbeat stutter at your words, her own eyes shinning with deep affection for you.

“mh, you’re all mine.” she told you, her voice low. she kissed you once again, before stepping away from you, her hand falling from behind your neck. your arms unwrapped around her, intertwining your fingers together once she turned around to face you again.

“let me pack up real quick and then we can go, okay?”

she nodded, giving your hands a squeeze before walked away. your hands lingered together, outstretched until she was out of your reach.

you picked up the bass that was leaning against the wall and placed it in its case, zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. bidding a goodbye to the two other girls, you looked for lara in the mass amount of people. spotting her with her group of friends, you wandered over to her. before you could reach her though, a girl stepped in front of you, blocking the sight of your girlfriend.

“you were really good out there.” she grinned, the corner of her mouth curving upwards.

“uh, thanks.” you told her, accepting the compliment with gratitude.

her eyes trailed down your body, the black and red jersey you wore hanging baggy on you. the girl ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it and tilted her head to the side. she thought you looked unbelievably hot.

“i’m haewon,” she introduced herself, hand outstretched for you to shake. you took it gently, letting go after a second. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too, haewon. my name is yn.”

she chuckled at your words, her voice dropping an octave. “oh, i know. i’ve seen you play before, one of my friends knows you from your school.”

haewon trailed a finger down your chest, but you didn’t pay any mind to it. you glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of lara but the voice of haewon gained you attention.

“tell me, yn, have you ever written a song about someone before?” she questioned, her eyes quickly glossing over your lips.

“a couple, but i’m not sure if they’re good enough.” you told her honestly, holding onto the strap of the black case.

her hand dropped, and she stepped closer. you didn’t think anything of it, being completely oblivious to the tone of her voice.

“sounds like you don’t have the right motivation.” she leaned up, looking into your eyes. “if you want, i could be your muse.”

she was flirting with you, but you didn’t know that.

the oblivious look on you face made this even more fun for her. you were like an untrained puppy, being clueless to her intentions with you.

as you were about to respond, saying you already had one, lara came into view from behind haewon, her eyes sharp and filled with a fiery twinkle.

she’d noticed the shorter girl leaning closer from where she was with the girls, not even letting sophia finish her sentence before she was stalking over towards you. her jaw was clenched, feeling her body light up with jealousy and the territorial thoughts began to spiral.

“there’s my girl.”

she wrapped an arm around you waist, gripping tightly. yours immediately went over her shoulders, smiling down at her with a lovesick look. haewon was forgotten about in your mind, all your focus on the girl under your arm. lara’s mind, however, was screaming with foul words that she wanted to spit out at the dark haired girl.

she wanted to make her crumble, because who was she to flirt with you?

“oh hey,” you beamed, and lara tried not to rip a whole through your jersey with her nails when you gestured to the girl in front of you. “this is haewon, she’s a fan of the band.”

haewon fixed her stare on lara, eyeing her up and down. she gave a sickly sweet smile, waving.

the indian didn’t bother with politeness, a fake smile taking place on her lips. in a demanding tone, she barked at her. “back off.”

her fingers dug into the jersey, strongly pressing them against your side. you furrowed your eyebrows at her behavior, confused on why she was acting like. haewon was nice, thinking that she didn’t deserve the crude treatment.

“woah, lara,” you shot her a look, but she didn’t take her eyes off haewon, glaring at her. “i’m sorry, uh— again, it was nice meeting you.”

haewon didn’t give your girlfriend the satisfaction off backing down, shamelessly looking you over while lara tried to control her temper.

“likewise. i’ll see you around, yn.” haewon said, turning away from the two of you.

hearing your name falling from her lips, lara could feel her sanity slipping away. she was so close to tackling haewon, but the strong hold you had on her weighed her down. once the other girl disappeared into the crowd, you looked at lara with genuine confusion.

“what was that?”

she faced you, taking her arm away from your torso, and crossed her arms. “she was being way too friendly with you.”

“huh? but she was only talking to me.” you stated, thinking over the interaction in your head. your words caused lara to scoff.

god, lara hated how oblivious you were sometimes.

“i saw it, she touched you. leaning in close to you like she was about to kiss you.” her voice shook, the image of haewon’s finger on your chest burned into her mind. it only fueled her rage more, wanting to walk over to the girl and tell her off. “i’m the only person who gets to do that.”

now realizing how lara was feeling and the reason behind her behavior, you sighed. “baby—”

she cut you off with a light shove. it wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to have you stumble back, falling onto a chair that was placed at the bar, the case of the bass slid off your shoulder, it now being beside and you slipped the strap off completely.

the chair at the bar was one of those high stools, which made it easy for lara to step in between your legs as you widened them to make space for her.

the look in her eyes made you fearful, not that you were scared of her, more so of what she could do when she was like this. it definitely wasn’t the first time she’d been so possessive with you.

“listen very closely to me…” she started, her hand gripping your chin harshly. the many rings on her fingers were cold against your skin as you craned your neck upwards.

lara’s eyes were filled with a dark look, her jealousy getting the best of her.

“i don’t care what she said to you. you are not to talk to her again, you hear me?” you nodded at her words, the grip she had on you tightening.

despite lara being aware of your faithfulness, you still felt as if you had to reassure her. “you know i only have eyes for you.”

she chuckled. “i know that, but other people don’t. and i fucking hate to see them trying to take what’s mine.”

there was no denying how hot she looked right now, but you didn’t voice your thoughts as to not wanting to upset her further.

you brought her closer by the waist, squeezing them to let her know you understood. lara peered over at you, leaning down until she captured your lips in a rough kiss. her tongue danced over your lower lip, wanting access to your warm cavern. her tongue flicked over yours, all around the inside of your mouth. her hand moved away from your chin, up your jaw and behind your ear until both hands were in your hair where she tugged cruelly. lara used them to pull you away from her, smirking devilishly at your flushed state.

you were breathless, feeling lightheaded from the angry kiss. your heart was beating rapidly, body temperature rising. the place suddenly felt hot, and the jersey wasn’t helping either.

lara ran her thumb over your bottom lip, the color red and bruised.

“let that be a reminder of who you belong to.”

possessive lara pls save me 🙏🏼 hope y’all enjoyed, i’m taking a much needed nap now.. but sophia imagine coming up soon!

[sylsoddsandends]

Life series fanfic below the cut!

Well, to be clear– it's not a Completed Oneshot, it very well may never be finished, I just had a few Thoughts that desired to be expressed as scenes from a longer fanfic I don't really want to write. Which is why I'm putting it on Tumblr instead of on AO3.

Anyway. Pearl's bodyswap with Lizzie but I thought way too hard about it. The fic.

"Pearrrlll?"

Lizzie's (could she call them hers? She was calling them hers) eyes widened. BigB was here!

"Hiii?" she called back, trying to match his tone. "I'm... upstairs." His voice was coming from somewhere down, so presumably he was downstairs. It was a little confusing. Everything was confusing– she fiddled with the enchanter in her hand, bouncing the floating book up and down.

Did this look like Pearl's handiwork? It was crusted with sea salt and algae– Lizzie remembered Pearl being more... tidy than that.

Sure enough, BigB peeked out from a stairwell. "There you are!"

"Heyyy, BigB," Lizzie began, "I can't help but notice... I'm holding an enchanter?"

"You don't remember stealing it? From the Mean Gills?" (Who were the Mean Gills?) BigB raised an eyebrow. "...Have you become British all of a sudden?"

Lizzie coughed in surprise, before attempting to put on her best Australian accent. "What? No! I'm not British! ...Mate!"

Did Australians say that? She was pretty sure they said that. Did Pearl say that? She'd never paid attention to how Pearl talked, specifically!

—

"Can we all agree: no murder at the tea party." It seemed reasonable enough to ask. Even if Lizzie was the boogeyman– she resisted grimacing at the memory of frantically swiping at Pearl at the bottom of a hole– she wouldn’t dream of killing anyone in the middle of Martyn's special ten minutes.

Well, someone clearly did not agree, she realized a moment too late. Somewhere behind her, an explosion rocked the ground and sent a shiver through her spine.

Involuntarily, Lizzie whirled around, clutching her arms close to her chest. She was shaking, throat tight.

What was going on? She wasn't scared of a little TNT! Annoyed, certainly, at whoever would ruin the sanctity of an almighty Birthday Party, but–

Another explosion followed, and another, right next to her, and she yelped, covering her face as her whole chest tightened up.

Was Pearl frightened of explosions?

Now that Lizzie thought about it, she recalled Scott coming back from Double Life looking shaken, explaining how he'd gone and blown up himself and Pearl in the end. That Pearl had won by less than a second as the pain traveled through their soulbond.

Surely something like that had to stick with you a little.

Lizzie managed to get Pearl's legs to move, shuffling, then running to a safer distance away from the now-destroyed party plaza. She took several deep breaths, ate a bite of bread, and did her best to relieve whatever deep-seated response Pearl's body was having.

"Lookoutlookoutlookout! Pearlescent! Moon!" Skizz yelled, shoving her roughly. Lizzie didn't even have time to snap at him before she noticed the creeper that had come right up next to her, which a couple of others were now frantically killing.

She was still shaking, trying to get her bearings. Did Pearl get like this every time she heard TNT?

She looked down at Pearl's legs, at Pearl's hands, for the first time inspecting the scars they were riddled in. Jagged marks of explosions, the long sharp lines of swords and arrows, even patches that looked as if they may have been frostbitten, told a story across her body.

...Maybe after this madness was over, she should send the poor woman a care package.

Lizzie had never imagined winning one of these things could be so... bad for you, before.

[chrysanthemumgames]

I have a perhaps personal ask, and at the same time struggling with how to phrase it. I've been looking into making an interactive story myself, however, I... cannot code. For the life of me. I can tell one hell of a story, but coding it beyond my grasp, and the system I currently use, while it ought to be simple enough even someone like me could do so, isn't exactly working for how I want it to. Do you perhaps know anything anywhere that I might start looking for someone who would be willing to work with me? I am so sorry if this is a bothersome ask.

Hi anon!

I'm probably not the best person for advice on this, because I've never been in that situation before. I've put some thoughts under the cut, with the caveat that only a small portion of them actually address the question you've asked, with the majority being related but perhaps not helpful for you, depending.

So, I think where you'd go to find a coding person depends on what language you're using. If it's ChoiceScript, probably the forums. If it's Twine... I honestly don't know. Maybe the subreddit, though you'll want to double-check that such requests are not against the rules there.

I sincerely doubt you'll have an easy time finding someone, though. Most folks who code in the systems used for IF are IF authors who taught themselves the coding techniques in order to tell their own stories, not someone else's.

That said, and this is the part you can ignore, because you know yourself better than I do, but... I'm pretty sure you can learn to code. It's not easy, necessarily, and it doesn't come intuitively to everyone, but there are resources out there to help you. Again, this will depend on what system you're using, but the CS forums are very useful for figuring out CS (as is the wiki, once you know enough to parse it). For Twine, there are loads of archived posts on their forums and on the subreddit for specific questions, but for general ones, the documentation for your preferred program (e.g. SugarCube), the Twine Cookbook, and similar resources will break things down into smaller, more digestible chunks. I personally recommend the Twine Grimoire (volumes 1 and 2), for basic interface aesthetics, once you get to that point.

Here on tumblr, @/nyhelism, @/cerberus-writes, @/manonamora-if, @/idrellegames, and others have all answered questions about Twine coding or even in some cases made templates that take a lot of the work out of it. Most have a masterpost regarding things they've answered about Twine or made for others' use, but be sure to check that they're currently accepting coding questions before sending them any, of course.

Learning to code may be slow and incremental, and lots of people manage better if they start with a small project just to learn how to do the basic things in their language of choice. I'd really recommend figuring out what you need your game to be able to do, and learning those functions one by one—it's less overwhelming than trying to tackle everything at once while also writing a huge project.

If all else fails, my most esoteric suggestion is to familiarize yourself with the basic principles of symbolic logic. I took a class in it as part of my degree, and have since also taught that class, and I think understanding things like the logic of conditionals (if statements) as they're used in coding (rather than natural language) really gave me a leg up in learning to code. Not that I'm an expert, but I know enough to make a basic game, at least.

Most (all?) of these things should be findable with a google search; I know there are at least some Twine tutorials on youtube as well, though I'm unsure of CS or any of the languages I'm less familiar with, like Ink, etc.

I do apologize that the section where I encourage you to do the thing you don't think you can do is longer than the one where I answered your actual question, but that's the part I might actually have something useful to say about. If you're absolutely certain you can't do it, I'm sorry for banging on about it, but if you're not sure or on the fence, maybe give it another go before trying to find another person. I've seen a lot of writers looking for coders in the past, but maybe only once was a coder offering their services to writers (and that was a long time ago).

[4only1]

Last Christmas - Secret Santa Part 4 (Final Part)

Featuring: Gun Park, Goo Kim, DG/James Lee, Jibeom + Jihan Kwak & Hudson Ahn Masterlist -----------------------

Gun Park

He called you to his house, well, if you could call it a house. You actually wouldn’t, it’s really more of a shack, but let’s not digress. You were glad you bundled up, the chill of December’s air prickled your skin. Looking over at Gun, you couldn’t figure out how the man was shirtless right now. 

Perhaps it was because he was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t register the temperature. His hand moved carefully, carving away at the wood he held. The only sound heard was the knife scraping, shaving away to make a shape.

It wasn’t until Gun put the knife down, that you even realized he was done. He took a moment, turning the wooden statue around, scanning for imperfections, before handing it towards you.

You grabbed the stature, following Gun’s lead, and admiring the statue. It took a few seconds, but you noticed how familiar the statue looked. Gun watched as the gears turned in your head, happy that you recognized what he was trying to make.

He carved a little statue of you. 

The silence between you two continued as you admired how good the statue looked. No thanks were needed from you, Gun knew you appreciated it. He could tell by the sparkle in your eyes.

----------------------- Goo Kim

“Hey, HEY BE GENTLE! I got that limited edition and I am letting you hold it, be grateful.” Goo’s voice somehow was more high pitched than usual. He was also being more dramatic than usual.

He hadn’t even let you hold the gift he got you before yelling about how you needed to take care of it. His hands held a precious manga, one that you had mentioned you would like to read. 

It was difficult to find the first volume due to the older age of the series. When you did find the manga, it was quite a hefty price. Lucky you that the man in front of you happens to own the first volume and was graciously gifting it to you. 

If he got over his fit though.

Despite saying he was gifting it to you, he refused to even let it go, holding the manga close to his chest like a child would when asked to share their toy. Goo did act like a child.

“Goo give me the manga, you said it was my gift, stop hogging” You spoke, lunging forward, hands grabbing onto the manga, tugging it towards you.

Despite this, Goo didn’t let go, leading to a tug of war between the two of you for the manga.

“Let go!”

“No it was mine first, I don’t have to give it to you”

“Are you kidding me, I’m telling Gun!”

“TATTLETALE”

“YAAAA”  “YAAA”

Now you both sounded like children.

----------------------- DG/James Lee

DG had thought long and hard about what to give you. Like with everything he did, he planned out every scenario. How would you react to this or would this feel important enough to you?

For a secret santa, he was taking it very seriously. If he were still James Lee, he would have just thrown you a lollipop before walking away. But no, he was no longer that teenager who went about excelling at everything with little effort. He wasn’t about to half ass your gift.

Which brought him to the current dilemma. He had handed you the gift, the one he had spent much thought on, only to be greeted by disapproval on your face.

Disappointment was a better word to describe the emotions you felt when you opened the gift. This man, who was a successful Kpop idol and owned a company, got you an album. His album. His signed album.

He didn’t even write a special message on it, just his stupid signature.

You look at him, lips pressed thin and eyes squinted, shaking your head back and forth. You were clearly disappointed. 

“You know, a signed album only means something if you actually listen to that person’s music. But thanks, I’ll sell this for lots of money.”

Ah, he should have just got you money. That was the obvious choice.

----------------------- Jibeom & Jihan Kwak

Turns out, the Jibeom & Jihan decided it would be best to team up for secret santa. Afterall, what’s better than getting one gift from two people? Probably getting two gifts from two people but let’s not complain. 

It took the two brother’s a lot of thinking to figure out what to get you. They didn’t even ask Jichang for help!

You wish they did.

They stood, side by side in front of you, hiding something behind their back. Each of them had a smile, well, smirk, on their face.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands” Jihan tells you, so you do.

“This gift is great to take a bath with. The nutrients soak right into your skin.” Jibeom informs you, as your gift is placed in your hands.

You let out a scream as you opened your eyes to see what they had given you.

A snake. A dead snake, but it was still a snake.

You threw your hands up, launching the snake far away, almost prompting Jibeom to chase after it.

“Are you kidding me! What kind of gift is that?” Your yelling caused Jichang to emerge from the nearby building, quickly piecing together what had transpired. 

Soon, the brother’s were on their knees, hands in the air, taking a scolding from Jichang about how terrible of a gift they got you. He made them promise to get you another, better, gift.

You didn’t trust them.

----------------------- Hudson Ahn

“So, what did you get me?” You eagerly ask, clapping your hands together in anticipation.

You didn’t notice the way Hudson swallowed his nerves. His calm demeanor remained on the outside, not showing a hint of worry. He had dragged you along to his master, Taesoo Ma’s, mountain. You assumed he was about to hand you the gift he got. 

A little bird named Jacky told you Hudson pulled your name in the secret santa. You were excited to see what the gift would be. He didn’t appear to bring anything with him, so perhaps it was something small.

Taesoo read Hudson like a book, noting the boy's slight tells that showed he was worried. Hudson took a deep breath before facing you, attempting to pose cool. Ya know, legs spread, elbow on his knee, strong eye contact, nonchalant expression.

“In Ansan, no one comes close to your level, you are unique and exceptional. I am lucky to know you. I gift you 100 points, making you one of Ansan’s finest.” 

Silence is all that followed as you and Taesoo just stared at the boy. The silence lasted a good minute, before you spoke.

“You forgot to get me anything and didn’t remember until I asked you, didn’t you?”

Again silence, until Hudson spoke again.

“Another 100 points”

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

As you returned home, your eyes gazed over at the pile of gifts you had received for secret santa. The results were…results. You could have done better, maybe next time you will provide clearer rules and a wishlist so people actually get you something you want.

The real question though, is how did all these people manage to pull your name in secret santa?

You didn’t put it in 26 times for nothing.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Welcome to the final part of the secret santa. This was just a fun little series I wanted to do for the holiday's and I am happy with the way it turned out

Fun Facts about the series

I wrote the first three parts before I posted part 1. Part 4 was written while I published each part because I just couldn't figure out Goo or DG.

My favourite part to write was part 2 or 3

Part 4 was originally just going to include just Jihan and not Jibeom, but I decided it made the scenario more fun if I included both.

The very first character's part I wrote was Daniel's and the last was Goo's.

I think the hardest character to write for was DG.

The character I had the most fun writing were Jake, Samuel, Jerry, Gongseob, Jibeom/Jihan & Hudson.

Easiest to write for: Jibeom & Jihan

Hardest to write for: DG (I do not know this man)

[harpersdragons]

Theft in the Family, Chapter 7

This is the final chapter, and I’m a little sad it’s over. This was fun to write, definitely one of my favorites.

Words: 3448

The rest of the weekend passes peacefully. Jason and Damian run out to grab some groceries—dressing in old league gear, since he guarantees the Bats will still be looking for him. League gear is still conspicuous, to the Bats and civilians alike, but the hope was Gotham is weird enough most people wouldn’t bat an eye.

They spend the rest of their time in peace at the small cabin, reading (he’d picked up another book or two as well) and just generally taking a rest day.

By the end of the night, Jason felt suitably relaxed—despite the bone-deep exhaustion. He still hadn’t slept near enough in the past couple of days.

Jason is cleaning up the kitchen—making sure everything is in order so they can leave early in the morning—when he feels Damian lightly tug at his sleeve.

“What’s up, Habibi?”

“You are coming with me tomorrow, correct?”

Jason glances down, seeing Damian’s wide, hopeful eyes. He smiles softly. “Well, I have to take you there, don’t I? You can’t get all the way there by yourself.”

“No, you are coming in with me, you are staying.”

Jason sighs and crouches down to level with him. “Dames, I can’t stay, we’ve been over this. Bruce doesn’t want me. Even if he did, I’ve made too many mistakes. I’ve killed, hell, I took you from him. He’s not gonna let me back in his home.”

Damian stares at him consideringly, his green eyes narrowing in thought. “Well if that’s the case, he doesn’t want me either.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve killed! My body count is almost as high as yours!”

And if that doesn’t make Jason despair for this child—

“It’s different, bud. You were, are, a child. You didn’t have a choice. I, on the other hand…” He trails off, staring at some point of Damian’s shoulder.

He doesn’t regret his decisions, not really.

Crime Alley will only respond to one thing: more violence.

It’s taken over so completely, simply following the Bat’s plan and locking criminals away and hoping for reform, it would never work.

The only way to change Crime Alley is to fight fire with fire. The gang leaders, the instigators of the violence, speak one language. He must respond in kind.

He has to protect the innocents there, the ones who are stuck in the vicious cycle.

He gives chances to those who deserve it.

He protects the kids, the ones who are cast aside by the rest of society as worthless, just because they are from Crime Alley.

He became who he needed when he was a kid.

So no, he doesn’t regret it.

He does miss his family. He regrets that his decisions have severed any connection he might have been able to have.

Though, some may argue that his death had already done that.

Or before that, when Bruce flat out told him he’s not Jason’s father.

Jason does not have a family.

Not anymore.

Except Damian.

Jason shakes himself back to his conversation. “I can try, kid, but I can’t guarantee it’ll go well. I can’t guarantee I’ll stay longer than brunch.”

Damian brightens, ducks in for a quick hug, and then darts off. Jason smiles to himself as he gets back to cleaning.

He wants to get to the manor early, early enough no one but Alfred will be awake.

It’s not until much later that night, when he’s laying in bed unable to sleep, that the reality sinks in of what he just agreed to.

He just agreed to turn himself in.

He’s turning himself in, in a couple hours, to the man who can—and probably will—lock him in Arkham.

He’s agreed to submit himself to the rejection, to the pain of being told he’s not family, of seeing his family lock him in a cell, in the same building as his murderer.

He takes a shaky breath, looking down at Damian’s still form. The kid isn’t in a cuddly mood, so he’s curled up on the other side of the bed.

He’ll do it. He’ll do anything for Damian, but the weight of knowing what’s about to happen settles in him, makes it impossible to sleep.

He spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, counting down until they have to leave.

Brunch is at 11, but everyone will start waking up and filtering into the kitchen around ten. Alfred will start preparing food around 8:30 or nine. Jason will probably aim to be there at seven, so they should leave around 6:30 if they’re taking the (stolen) car.

Jason prods Damian out of bed at promptly six in the morning, having been out of bed himself for a while and making breakfast. He guides the sleepy kid to the kitchen, cleaning up his mess as Damian eats. Before they leave, Jason methodically puts his gear and weapons on. Bruce may have an idea of who he is, but that doesn’t mean he has to confirm it.

By the time they get to the manor, Damian is nearly asleep again. He ends up picking Damian up and carrying him to the door, steeling himself before knocking.

He’s had hours to come to terms with his fate.

He’ll survive, Arkham is a revolving door. If he gets locked up, he can break out.

He takes one more steadying breath before the door opens, and Alfred stands before him. The older man’s face softens as he takes in Damian practically asleep on Jason’s shoulder. He ushers the two indoors, shutting the door behind them.

Jason makes to walk straight to the kitchen, only to be stopped by Alfred’s raised eyebrow. “Now I know you remember our weapons rule, Master Jason. Kindly disarm and leave your weapons on the table.”

He did remember. However, walking into the kitchen and facing the Bats completely weaponless is the last thing he wants to do right now.

“Sorry, Alfie.” Jason sets Damian down, then begins unstrapping all his obvious weapons—that is to say, only his swords and guns, and maybe one additional knife. Maybe he can get away with a few concealed ones.

Alfred clears his throat just as Jason steps away. “Am I to expect this is all you’re carrying right now?”

Jason turns back sheepishly, though most of his expression is covered by his mask. “Yeah?”

Alfred pins him with an unimpressed look. “Hm. I expect at least 5 more weapons on that table.”

Jason deflates, and takes out a few more knives. That’s most of what he’s carrying, he has a few darts and shurikens, plus an additional switchblade, but that’s not near enough to be comfortable.

“Hm.” Alfred finally turns and heads towards the kitchen, gently guiding Damian along. “Ideally you’d lose that suit too, but I suppose that’s too much to ask. I hope you aren’t expecting a fight, because I’d hate for the kitchen to need remodeling.”

“They don’t know my identity yet.”

“And so the full suit is required?” Alfred leads Damian into the living room, quietly instructing the child to lay down on the couch.

“Alfie…” Jason’s heart rate picks up at Damian leaving his line of sight, but he doesn’t protest. And yes, the full suit is required.

“Fine, fine. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

“Tell that to the Old Man…” Jason mutters.

“Now I know I taught you to speak clearly, young man.”

Jason clears his throat, then speaks up, “Nothing. Sorry, Alfie.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Do you want help preparing the crepes?”

“That would be lovely, my boy, it has been far too long since I had competent help in the kitchen.”

Jason smiles under his mask, and carefully sheds his gloves and cloak, leaving them on a chair. Alfred’s eyes catch on his mangled fingertips—side effect from digging his way out of the pine box��but they move on quickly.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm with Alfred again, and it’s not long before they have the crepes prepared and all that’s left are toppings. He smirks as he makes Bruce’s plate, throwing the butter and lemon on haphazardly, then carefully sprinkling the sugar in a distinctive outline.

Alfred frowns disapprovingly at him, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. Jason sets the plate at the head of the table, where Bruce has sat as long as Jason has known him, and returns to help Alfred with the rest of the plates.

He takes a lot more care with his brother’s plate—despite Dick’s monstrosity of a topping choice—especially Damian’s. He painstakingly picks out all the blueberries from the fruit mixture, much to Alfred’s amusement.

Damian wanders in as they finish laying out the plates, coming straight to Jason and burying his face in his side. Jason wraps one arm around his shoulders as he helps Alfred clean up.

Bruce comes in next, heading straight to the coffee machine and almost tripping over Damian.

Jason scoops his brother up and glares at Bruce, grumbling as he retreats out of his way. It takes a laughable amount of time for Bruce to become aware of the additional people in his kitchen.

He’s been leaning against the counter, practically glaring at his coffee, before he seems to startle and realize Jason’s standing across from him with Damian on his hip. Bruce directs his glare at Jason, and snatches Damian from his grasp—attempts to, anyway. Damian tightens his grip on Jason’s neck and lets out a muffled whine at being pulled away.

“Back off, jackass.” Jason growls. “I brought him back, take what you can get.”

“Language, Master Ja—” Alfred’s voice is sharp as the reprimand cuts off.

Bruce’s gaze sharpens as he glances from Alfred to Jason.

“What is going on here?”

“Your son has been returned to you, safe and sound, Master Bruce. Focus on that and go sit down.”

Bruce’s demeanor sours further, somehow, and he sulks over to his chair.

Jason rubs Damian’s back gently. “Time to wake up, kid, it’s almost time for brunch.” Damian shakes his head, trying to burrow deeper into Jason’s hold. “C’mon, you love crepes. There are no blueberries, I promise.”

Damian makes a huffing sound, but doesn’t move.

“Work with me here, Habibi, they’re gonna think I drugged you.”

“Well if I wasn’t before, now I am.” Bruce interrupts.

That finally gets a reaction out of Damian, who shoves out of Jason’s grip and flips to the floor. He levels a scathing glare at his father, a near perfect imitation of Bruce’s own glare. He doesn’t say a word as he takes a seat at the table, eyeing the bowl of blueberries set out suspiciously.

Jason chuckles as he crosses the room, ruffling his brother’s hair. “I made sure there were no blueberries on yours.”

“Tt.”

Bruce glances from his plate, to Alfred, and finally to Jason.

“You are Jason.”

“For fuck’s sake, can we not?”

Bruce sighs, all traces of anger dissipating. He pushes out of his chair and steps towards Jason until they’re nose to nose. “Take your mask off.”

Jason raises his chin, refusing to back down. “No.”

“Jason…”

“No. You don’t get to boss me around, Old Man. I’m pretty sure you have a few other birds around here that just looveee taking orders. I did my time.” Jason almost flinched at the words coming out of his own mouth. That sounded too close to reminding Bruce he should be locked up.

“Robin,” Bruce growls. “Take off your mask.”

Jason does flinch this time. “The fuck? I’m not fuckin’ Robin!” He shoves at Bruce’s chest, trying to create space between them.

Bruce goes easily, his posture softening. “My robin, my son. Always.”

Jason tilts his head, watching Bruce for a second. Then he turns and walks out the backdoor, into the garden. He keeps walking, heading deeper into the woods surrounding the property. At some point, he stops and hoists himself into a tree.

Fuck Bruce.

Fuck them all.

Except Damian, of course, but that was obvious.

How can Bruce call him son now?

How, when he refused to acknowledge Jason was his son before he died?

Jason’s not a Wayne now, maybe never was, but he’s not the boy he was when he died. Whatever he is now, he’s just the monster that crawled out of the grave.

Jason picks at a thread in his pants, staring absently into the distance. At some point, he hears Bruce calling his name and looks down. He’s standing under the tree, looking pleadingly up at Jason.

“Fuck off.”

“Jason, please, can we talk about this?”

Jason doesn’t answer, petulantly ignoring Bruce. He doesn’t know how long he sits in his tree, but eventually he’s dragged out of his head by a sickening cracking sound. He stiffens, trying to minimize his movement, while also looking for a way to grab another branch.

He can’t find one, and just as the branch gives way underneath him, Jason pushes off and tucks into a roll as lands.

A hand grabs his arm and yanks, and Jason prepares for the fight, readies himself for blows. He swings, but another arm pins his hands to his sides and tugs him into Bruce’s chest. Jason struggles for a second, before he goes lax. Bruce shifts his grip, letting Jason’s arms go. One of his arms comes up to clutch at Jason’s head, the other wrapping firmly around his waist.

Jason buries his face in his father’s shoulder, arm’s gripping desperately at his soft sleep shirt.

“Sh…Jaylad, I got you. No need for apologies, you’re alright.”

Jason didn’t even know he was speaking, let alone mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ repeatedly into Bruce’s shoulder.

After a bit, Bruce tugs gently at Jason’s hair, pulling his head back enough to make eye contact. “Can I take your masks off?”

Jason shrugs, averting his gaze. “Might as well.”

Bruce carefully unlatches the half mask, then peels the domino off. His thumbs skate over Jason’s cheeks, tears brimming in his eyes. “You’re home.” His voice is soft, reverent.

Something in Jason breaks a little, and he dives back into his father’s hold.

“Just…just don’t put me next to him. Please.” Jason doesn’t know if Bruce heard him, or understood him with the way his face is pressed into his neck.

He can feel Bruce tense under him.

Shit, shit, shit, he shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have reminded him—

“What?” Bruce tries to pull him back again, but Jason resists, gripping him tighter. “What are you talking about, Jay?’

“In Arkham…preferably you’d put me in Blackgate or somethin’, but just…just don’t put me next to the clown. Please.” Jason’s voice cracks and gets thicker with the tears in his eyes.

Bruce inhales sharply, “No, no, I’m not locking you up. I just got you back, sweetheart, what makes you think I’d willingly lose you again?” He tightens his grip, lowering them to the ground.

Jason grips even tighter, fighting against the tears and the sobs trying to break out. “You…you didn’t want me…”

“I do, I do, Jay, Sweetheart. I promise, you are welcome here. I want you to stay here with us. Why do you think I don’t?”

“You said you weren’t my father, and then I died, and I’m not that same boy, and you didn’t even want him, so how could you want me?”

“I messed up big time, then, but I promise you. You are my son, and I want you here. You understand? I don’t care how much you’ve changed, you came back. I will always be grateful for that.”

They stay like that for a while, and eventually Alfred comes out to get them.

“While I’m glad you two have worked out your differences, without bloodshed, might I add, the food has long since gone cold, and I must insist you come inside.”

They both stand together, Jason’s masks dangling from one of Bruce’s hands. The other arm is wrapped tightly around his son’s shoulders. They enter the kitchen together, and Dick and Tim have finally made their way downstairs. Dick is happily munching on his spinach and pesto monstrosity of a crepe.

Damian gets out of his seat and comes over to them, glancing from Jason’s tear stained face to Bruce’s. “You’re upset.”

Jason tugs him closer, “I’m good, kid, I promise.” C’mon, let’s go eat.” Jason and Bruce take their seats, and Jason feels true peace, for the first time in a very long time.

After, once the kitchen is clean and everyone’s moved to the family room, and Jason has taken off his armor and stripped to his undersuit, he asks Bruce how he found out who he was. Everyone’s sprawled out on various furniture, Dick is aggressively cuddling Damian. He’d mouthed at Jason to let him know he was next, but he’s not too worried. He can always tickle him to get him off. Jason is half laying on Bruce, letting his dad hold him again.

“It was a bunch of little things. The way you spoke, the way you protected Damian. I could see your influence on Damian’s mannerisms, plus he had your book, that I thought for sure was lost in Ethiopia. You called me Old Man, your reactions are the same. It just took me a second to put it together. The final straw, though, was the crepes. Alfred would never let them look that sloppy, especially not when everyone else’s were perfect. And you wrote out ‘FU’ in sugar, Jay, it was pretty obvious.” Bruce hugged him closer. “Alfred would never, and the list of people he allows in the kitchen is short. My very hurt, very angry son being one of them, well, he would.”

Jason let his head fall on Bruce’s shoulder, slumping down into his father.

“I don’t think I can stay here all the time. I don’t know if I can stand to stay here at all.”

Bruce sighs, “That’s ok, but you have a room here if you ever want it.”

“I want Damian some weekends. I can’t just leave him.”

“He has to have some stability, Jay, we can’t uproot his life all the time.”

“I refuse to leave him behind!” Jason struggles to sit up, his outburst drawing the attention of the others in the room.

“Then visit him here!”

“You don’t get full custody of him! I practically raised him! If you don’t agree, I’ll just randomly kidnap him.” He crosses his arms stubbornly.

“I would let him, Father.” Damian pipes up.

Bruce just sighs. “Fine. We can talk about it. Later.” He tugs Jason back into his arms, “I seem to remember saying you haven’t been sleeping. Time to remedy that.”

Jason huffs. “I’m fine, asshole. Not even tired.”

That’s a bold faced lie, but they don’t need to know that.

Bruce pins him with a disbelieving look. “Right. And I’m Superman.”

Dick snorts, “You wish.”

“Not helping, Dick.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Come on, Jay, just take a nap. You’re safe here, Damian’s safe here.”

Jason deflates, “Maybe a little one. But I have to leave soon!”

“How did you get here?” Tim asks.

“The car? Did y’all not notice it or something?”

“Car? What car?” Dick sits up, almost letting go of Damian. “Wait. You stole the car?”

“Y’mean my car? Yeah, I took it. Security was shit, by the way. It was super easy to get in here.”

“You had Barbara’s help.” Dick deadpans.

Bruce smiles at his kids, watching them bicker.

“Same difference.”

“Better not let her hear you say that.” Tim contributes.

“Anyway. Yeah, I took my car.” Jason leans back, further into Bruce. (Sue him, the man is comfortable). “Oh, B, one more thing.” He twists to face his father.

“Yeah, Jaylad?” The look on Bruce’s face is stupidly fond.

“Do not put Damian in the Robin suit until he is at least—and I mean the very minimum age—14. 16 is preferable. He can train, I don’t give a shit, he’s gonna do that anyway. But if you let him in the field, I’m shooting you and taking him with me.”

“Hey, I was Robin at eight!” Dick glares at Jason.

“Yeah and look how you turned out.” Jason glares right back. “I mean it, Bruce.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, besides, Tim is Robin until he decides for himself that he’s done with it.”

“Good.”

WIth that, Jason relaxes and lets himself doze off, surrounded by family, and totally at peace. There’s still a lot to work out, but for now, it’s enough. Damian is out of the League’s hands, Jason was somehow welcomed home, everyone is content. It’s better than he could have imagined.

[anbaisai]

Finally had time to sit down and write, but honestly there’s not much to be said other than thank you to everyone who wrote a message on my tree! I really enjoyed reading every single message and screenshotting to save them into a folder for when I need a lil boost ww (including one from Mr. Viper himself above that got a laugh out of me, thanks Jamil really appreciate you thinking I’m cool)

Some sappiness under the cut:

I never expected to receive this much support for my silly yume/oc ship content when I began posting, and I really don’t have the words to express how grateful I am. I’ve met many wonderful people through this fandom, and also just had lots of fun in general making art. I mean it when I say I genuinely never had this much motivation and inspiration to create for any fandom (or original content) in the past. There was a long, long period in my life during which trying to find even a crumb of motivation to draw felt impossible. There was always some reason that I couldn’t - be it school/life being too busy, feeling too tired, having other stuff to do first, etc. I thought I’d never rediscover my love and passion for art, until I finally pushed myself to design my Yuu for real (instead of just thinking about it) and then everything just snowballed from there. (For context, I began playing TWST in 2020 and, despite being very much in love with it, only began drawing anything for it this year.)

I have such a massive list of ideas that I still want to draw (plus several asks that I want to answer that I just haven’t had the time to yet), so I’m certainly going to be kept busy for a while. After previously making every excuse possible for not drawing, I’ve learned that yeah, once you really love something you will squeeze time out for it no matter how hard things get, because it kills you not to. All those times when I wondered when I’d ever be able to draw as much as my favourite artists now feel like a distant relic of the past, and I have Twisted Wonderland (especially Jamil) and this community to thank for it. If anyone reading this is going through something similar, I promise it gets better - you will need to put in the effort to make it start, but you will get there.

There’s also my past experiences of being in fandoms that, well, did not welcome yume/self-shipping type content. If I so much as thought of creating any, the fear of being ridiculed would make me back away from the idea immediately. I’m glad to see that sentiment seems to be no longer the norm, but also the TWST fandom has been one of the most supportive of yume content I’ve ever seen. To everyone wanting to participate but has been hesitating, you absolutely should! My only regret is not starting sooner, seriously. In a sense I feel like I'm fulfilling a childhood dream of mine, and all of my past hesitation and anxiety just dissipated once... as cringe as it sounds - once love took over. So go pour your love and passion into that character you adore, they deserve it.

Anyways, wishing everyone a happy holidays and happy new year! Here’s to another year of enjoying TWST and creating for the things we love ❤

[feroluce]

When talking about Boothill's drink order in 2.6, like. Hoyo could have just glossed it over and described it as "a few" or "several" drinks. They didn't bother to program in the actual glasses or anything- it's not like any of us were gonna count them and notice if they put in the wrong amount.

But they specifically chose the number seven, and if it IS just coincidence, it is a very very fun one.

Hsr is also known to make tarot card references- we had the online event shortly before Penacony's release, I'm pretty sure there's at least a couple simulated universe occurrences and a curio, and then Black Swan's Everything.

The Seven of Cups is a card about dreams and making choices when you have multiple options it front of you. It represents resisting self-deception and false dreams, and not letting yourself be charmed by hallucinations. It is a warning to carefully consider what is real vs what is not, which is very important in Penacony as a whole, being the land of sweet dreams, and it becomes relevant to Boothill later, when Primon starts to fuck with his head.

It can also represent someone who is "deep in their cups," which is a more polite way to refer to someone who uses alcohol as a coping mechanism to an unhealthy amount.

I hate that this could be a serious comment on Boothill being an alcoholic to cope with how much horrifying trauma he's experienced...and I have to discuss it looking at Primon's ridiculous fucking face fjkdslajldk

The overall message of the card is to stand fast, keep a clear head, and make your decision. Which suits Boothill beautifully even outside of this patch, since he is the very picture of ruthlessness and straightforwardness- he is able to see that bright clear line between action and result, and he follows it doggedly! Everything he does, he does wholeheartedly and decisively! And we see it especially well when he fights through the partial regression Primon leads him into!

Straight and clear and sure as a bullet, baby!!!

[khesi]

Hiiii thereee! Okay so I know you're a big Furilumi fan, so I was wondering if you could help me collect all the info and events that imply it, and their general dynamic and stuff??? Anything about their relationship in all canon or semi-canon content. I'm working on the Traveler x Genshin chars list again, and I'm honestly undecided on how to interpret Furina's feelings for the traveler, so I thought you could help :>>>

Hellooo~ and gosh I'm flattered that you think so.

I will say that while I am a fan; I'm not as die-hard as others maybe. I'm very much a characters-before-the-ship kinda gal when it comes to Furilumi (also in general with other characters).

Like if you were to put a gun to my head and ask me what is my top Travelver X Character ship "canon wise", Furilumi wouldn't even be top five. (also I am adult enough to admit that I'm very much wanting to fuck Furina a Furina x Reader shipper more than anything)

But even with all that, I think they are cute together together and they have an interesting dynamic that can be explored.

I'm wasn't quite sure how you wanted the information or how much you wanted. I'm just gonna go through certain moments from quests Furina & Lumine have been in together so far. And just talk about them.

Also if I forget a scene or something please forgive me!

When Lumine first meets Furina at the very start of the Fontaine Archon quest, she isn't being herself.

As we all know, Furina was acting as the role of Hydro Archon. So calling it a proper meeting isn't accurate, since I tend to believe we don't meet the real Furina until much late. This isn't just in reference to her identify, but also her true personality.

Also it was just basically Furina going "We are rivals now!" and Lumine being like "....sure I guess?".

But I thought it important to high light it since it does establishes their early dynamic.

Furina knows about what The Travelver has done and sees her as an answer to her problems;

She has been chasing the one trial to end all trials; the one case that is so spectacular that is will save Fontaine from the impending floods. And what better opposition than the famous Outlander?

And she says at much at Lyney's trial:

Although there is perhaps a bit of fear at what the The Travelver could do, Furina is sure that their face off will soon happen. And that the odds will be in her favour (even though she kinda doesn't know what she is doing lol), with her being determined to save Fontaine.

It is always hard to truly know what the Travelver themselves is thinking. But I would guess Lumine also views Furina as a means to an end. It is the reason she is traveling Teyvat finding her brother.

This shows that while they both are different, they are very willing to do what they can to obtain their goal. Whether that means playing a role for 500 years, or travelling all over the whole continent, they will searching through any scarp of information to find the answers.

While Furina does lose and is, from Paimon's own words: "...like a deflated balloon now." I think Furina is more sad that it wasn't "The Trial" more than anything. Especially since she is "...unable to contain her joy at seeing you and Paimon enter.", when coming to protect her while meeting with the Arlecchino. Showing that she doesn't have any ill will towards Lumine.

Granted this could be because Furina is utterly terrified of The Knave as well trusting in Neuvillette very much. But still that rivalry is put on hold. But from this little tea party Lumine starts feeling distrusting of Furina, thinking she is hiding something. And from the events of Poisson, this just grows.

While Lumine is willing to go through the plan with others to trap Furina, this is very much a last resort;

Lumine doesn't want to be feuding with Furina; this rivalry that Furina has thrusted upon them is something she doesn't want. And while Lumine is reluctant to do this, she knows there is no choice. The Travelver doesn't think Furina is a bad person. But they need answers, and as such it seems that they are both destined to be on oppositions at court.

But Lumine still tries one last time to get through to Furina.

This part of the Fontaine Archon quest is one of my favourites; this is where Furina's thoughts and feeling finally start to poke out.

It happens because Furina's greatest fear is coming true, but still. Pretty good.

Lumine is very much on to the act that Furina plays. She knows that is she isn't godly or uncaring as she may give off. Lumine tries to show to Furina that it is okay to let go:

If Furina had been quicker and had told her the truth, Lumine very much would have stopped the plan. But from what we know, Furina would have never told. She was dedicated to the very end.

Skipping to after the Hydro Archons trial and the crisis being averted. We don't get anything until Furina's story quest.

Story quests are in general kinda a mixed bag. They are can be great in show casing the playable characters, well character. As well as expanding on the world as a whole. But sometimes they just focus on the second part a bit too hard and the character suffers from.

Now looking back at Furina's quest, it probably wasn't as bad as I thought originally. Well at least looking through just the lines by themselves is fine (Paimon is still...well I have thoughts on how they utilise Paimon's character when it comes to story. They use her as comic relief/to lighten it up when it is not needed...But that's a convo for another day).

There are at least some good bits to take from.

The first being that the reason Furina even helps the Troupe in the first place is because the Travelver drags them (literally and figuratively) into the plot. By the way of hand-holding no less.

After the ordeal that Furina has been through she is actually quite reluctant to be out and about. Furina strikes me as someone who is introverted, this very well could because she has had no real personal relationships.

On topic of personal relationships, Lumine is properly the only person who knows about what Furina truly felt during her 500 years of acting. This is cause of Furina unconsciously trama-dumped on Lumine, but still. Having someone who has seen the many sides to you, can be nice. Furina can be candid with Lumine, not needed to put on a performance. But I'm sure Furina also feels it is kinda awkward. Because 'Oh archons this person knows all about me', it crates an unexpected power imbalance, which can make for an interesting dynamic with the Travelver.

Another good moment is when they are back in Poisson;

If there is one ideal out of the seven that The Travelver embodies most, it is freedom. Freedom is very important to Lumine and I think it's very telling when she tells Furina that freedom is her reward. She is saying to her that it's It's over, and that she is free to begin a new chapter of her life.

So I think it's no coincidence after this quest Furina ends up being a director in "Roses and Muskets". She breaks out of her shell a bit and once again comes along on the Travelver's behest. Granted there aren't that many scenes/moments with them since this was very Chevreuse forward event. This is also similar in the Lantern Rite, but we did get a cute diagonal where Lumine says "I have keenly felt the passage of time since our last meeting." so that was cute.

Unfortunately since Furina has only been out for 7 months we'll have to wait for more. Hopeful in 4.6 (if it follows the same patterns) we will get her second story quest, and that it's a little bit better.

But there are voice-over and teapot stuff! (Had to get these from the wiki since I don't have Furina fully unlocked. yeah yeah know)

These are pretty self explanatory. Just Furina wanting to spend time with the Travelver and taking about the next chapter of her life having Lumine in it.

I thought this one has particularly cute. Furina would make macaroni for Lumine.

This one is a favourite

Lumine only needs her.

Now on to the teapot, there is a very cute scene where Furina talks about teaching Lumine to dance;

Another where Furina talks about them doing acting together and writing a script.

And that's all I can find! Like I said, I probably missed some stuff, but I think I'll call it quits here. I hope I was able to get the info you needed, but if not you can ask my specific questions if need be.

Also I'd love to the list when you are done!!!

[astro-duck]

Something that gets slept on a little is the fact that Lil’ Bulb, while rampaging and tearing apart the bin in “The Great Dime Chase” (S1 E4) scans Gyro as:

Gearloose, Gyro

- Genius

-Inventor

-Father

I have two big questions, one of which contains multiple offshoot questions.

1. How did Lil’ Bulb come to the conclusion that Gyro was any of those things? The Inventor part makes sense, he is that. But ‘Genius’? And more importantly ‘Father’? Did Gyro program that in to him? It seems likely that he would program an invention to believe that he was a genius, but definitely not to believe he was his son. Especially pre-“Astro-BOYD” Gyro. However! In the first part of the season 2 finale, he does call an army of Lil’ Bulbs “Children!” This probably isn’t quite indicative of his true feelings about the bulb army though, and is more just a term of endearment for the creations he’s proud of.

However, Lil’ Bulb is very obviously sentient and can also come to the decision on his own that Gyro is his father (and also a genius). However it happened, the idea that Gyro is his father seems to be so built in to his core that even when he is going haywire and is “mad with power” due to a high-wattage lightbulb he still remembers it. Even when he’s ‘evil’ and on a rampage, he won’t/hesitates to hurt Gyro because he is Lil’ Bulb’s father.

Maybe you can see where this is going

2. Maybe a similar thing happened to Boyd? Just a thought.

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Tell us weird theories/speculation among Insomnia's population about What Happened When The Conqueror Went To Galahd.

Hello and welcome to another episode of Historia Antiqua. A podcast where we dissect anecdotes, happenings and people from ancient history. The grotesque, the mysterious, the mundane, the well known and the unknown. Everything goes.

My name is Falco and today I have something very special prepared for you.

Maybe some of you listeners - depending on when you are listening to this - have already heard of this. If so, welcome! I hope you will learn something new from this as well.

So what are we talking about today? Well, we are going to talk about a man named Firmus Lucis Caelum. You may better know him as the Conqueror and 10th King of Lucis.

'But hold on', I can hear you say, 'we already know everything about this man' - well, you're wong. What I will talk about today currently has near every scholar of antique history up in a tizzy. I think one of the old scolars got so upset his wig fell off. It was great.

But before we get into the meat of things, let's first talk about what we know about dear old Firmus. A refresher, if you will. And maybe you will learn something new as well. You never know.

Who was Firmus Lucis Caelum? We all know him for his epithet. The Conqueror. So let's start there. What did he conquer? The answer to that is most of the Lucian continent.

Before his reign, Lucis was barely more than all of Cavaugh and a few territories along the Leidean coast. After he died, his son inherited a Kingdom that stretched from Cavaugh all the way to Ravatogh. The land north of the mountain was still its own kingdom by that point, but that's not important right now.

What is important is that a single man's ambition more than tripled the size of a kingdom in about a generation's time. Which is very impressive. According to anecdotal history, the moment Firmus brought Ravatogh under his rule, the Draconian gave him his epithet The Conqueror. Before that he was actually known as The Elementrist.

Side tangent: If you ever come across a certain consirancy theory telling you that The Elementrist is a missing King of Lucis that we erased from history, no, there wasn't. It's just Firmus. I cannot stress enough how that is just Firmus's first epithet. Yes, I'm talking to you, Constantia.

*ahem*

Where were we? Ah, yes. Firmus came very close to giving Lucis its modern borders. Which begs the question: Why? Why conquer nigh on a whole continent? No one just wakes up one morning and chooses violence on that scale.

The answer to that question is 'A Divine Decree'. For all that don't know: the Devine Decree is a document written by the Conqueror himself, detailing that his conquest is in accord with the Devine Will of the Astrals. It's a very... interesting read. Sadly, not all of it survived to this day. Part of it got burned when the Old Palace burnt down during the time of The Rogue.

Some people were very upset back then about women being Kings. Let me tell you.

If you are interested in the finer details of what we do have from the Divine Decree, I'll leave a link on my mog-page along with all other sources I have consulted for this episode.

What else we have on written record of the Conqueror is very sparce. Most of what we do know, comes from a man named An Inarim - a Leidean historian who lived around that time - and he wasn't exactly Firmus's biggest fan. For very good reasons as well. According to what we have of his books, Firmus had a very salt-the-earth mentality when a town didn't surrender before he killed their leaders. Among varuous other things. An Inarim also called Firmus a religious fanatic, which was a very bold claim to make at the time.

By now some of you might be wondering what the point of all of this is. Well, that's simple: Some weeks ago a young man named Ianus Veter walked into the Grand University of Insomnia with an old diary he found in his grandparents' attic. The contents of which are so monumental that they will change how we write history.

Yes, you heard that right. A nearly 2000 year old diary is the reason you have seen that funny little picture of old Scolar Lampas loosing his wig circling around the net.

In all seriouslness though, this diary is a milestone in researching ancient history and how we think about it. Especially wen it comes to one tiny detail. A hint to answering the qustion of what happened to the Black Fleet.

Through the tenth book of the Lucis Caelum Cycle - which is what the bools of An Inarim are called - we know that the Black Fleet was built as a part of the Divine Decree, though that part of the document has been lost to time and flame. It was completed somewhen around 427 AS, though some sources also mention the years 424 and 429. We know for sure however, that it set sail in 431 AS. Inarim is quite insistent on that detail.

What we don't know what happened to the fleet after that. All we know through the Lucis Caelum Cycle and a few surviving written pieces in Insomnia, is that only three ships returned, maybe around the year 433 AS. No one can say for sure.

What happened to the fleet has been a mystery ever since. Firmus himself hasn't been very vocal about it. As far as we know, at least. He must have said something, since the vanishing of a whole fleet, ships and crew and all, cannot have been without consequences. Sadly, no sources survived to this day.

This is where the diary comes into play. According to the University - and the parts of the diary they have published - it was written by an older noble named Avitas Veneres. He mostly wrote about his day-to-day life, which in and of itself cound't be amazing enough. That man really loved his wife and children. Which is an important detail, because on the 13th day of the 1st Leviathanis 431 AS he writes that, and I shall translate roughly: 'Worry eats me down to my bones, for my youngest son has signed onto the Farsighted. It is a fine vessel and it would be a fine choice, if this ship hadn't been part of the fleet set sail to the savage nation of Galahd.'

He goes into a bit of a rant, which shall not be repeated here, but let that sink in. Part of the fleet set sail to Galahd. If there wasn't any other fleet being built at the time - and the possibility of that is vanishingly low - Veneres here is talking about the Black Fleet.

Which, I don't even know where to start with this. If this is true, then this would mark the first contact between Lucians and Galahdians in history. It was previously thought that the honour of first contact belonged to the Wanderer.

Why is this important? Well, it would at least in part inform about the animosity between our two people. I mean, who would want to deal with a nation that tried to conquer theirs? And I know it has been nearly 2000 years since then, but I think we all have heard about the famous feuds of the Galahdians by now.

My sister hears two of them arguing in the streets one day. Apparently it was about a member of one family slighting another family, which happened at least several hundred years ago, and they were arguing about it as if it had happened just last year.

So I do have to wonder: Do they know about whaat happened to the fleet? And if yes, how accurate is it? In research circles Galahd is famous for keeping to its oral traditions to this day. Which is quite the amazing feat, to be honest.

All we do know for sure is that the Conqueror has forbidden the depiction of his likeness after his desastrous return to Insomnia.

And that's it, dear listeners. We shall take a quick break and then return to discuss some of the finer details of what Avitas Verenes has written about Firmus Lucis Caelum and the whereabouts of the Black Fleet.

See you in a few.

[kwilooo]

<3333

You remind me of calm, rainy days, sitting by a window and reading an old book. Of a blazing fire warming a mountain cabin, like a warm hug. You remind me of daydreaming about the scenes of a favorite book, show, or even era. of the soft glow of a candle, it’s light, along with many others, illuminating a ballroom where a small group plays their instrument. You remind me of the sweet smell of flowers in the spring, and the bright pop of orange and yellow leaves in the fall.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Running off of two-ish hours of sleep and two bottles of coffee. I'm doing about as well as you'd expect.

[errantgoat]

7 (bc I'm curious what you did for his backstory in not-Thedas :P), 16, 23 from the BG3 asks?

6. What is your Tav’s origin story? 

What I wanted is for Harv's backstory to echo what it was in DAO a bit more than what I came up with in WoTR, I had to compromise some but I'm generally happy with what I came up with.

In BG3 timeline, I imagine Harvey's a bit older, in his early/mid thirties, and enough things happened for life to chew him up and spit him out, so while still stoic, he definitely feels more jaded.

Harvey's not originally from Baldur's Gate, he's a bastard son of a local lord more up north. He was born to a highborn concubine and given legitimacy, since the lady of the house couldn't bear more children other than his older half-brother. Mother died in childbirth. He had a generally decent childhood, often felt like he was playing second fiddle, but with his brother being supportive much of it was quickly forgotten.

Attack on his home happens when he's a bit younger here, 14 or 15 yo (what kind of attack it was, I'm still mulling out the details, but the result stays the same, all of his immediate family - brother included - are gone. At the point of events in BG3, these are old, festering wounds.) Harvey miraculously escapes the massacre, almost doesn't make it...but is ultimately saved by an older human ranger who happens to be in the area. Nothing is free though, and the man demands apprenticeship from the teenager for having saved his life. Harvey, who was taught to honor debts, and well...is still a naive kid at heart, can't do anything but agree to his terms.

(This kind of takes care of the early life/Highever massacre/Warden conscription parallels. For the second part of his backstory, I wanted to use themes present in the game itself, difficult relationships, trauma, and all the ways each particular character deals with it)

Young Harvey refocused his despair into a new purpose, learning to slay monsters, to which he took like fish to water. The teacher wasn't kind, but he was competent, and the boy was a fast learner, taking in everything from book knowledge to tracking and fighting. This arrangement lasted a few years. When Harvey reached his early twenties- and his apprenticeship had ended, (or maybe when the old ranger died), he directed his steps to Baldur's Gate in search of his more distant relatives. He didn't know the family on his (real) deceased mother's side well, but I imagine he would try to contact them via letters after what happened to his home. They turned out to be a a family of nobles of greatly diminished importance. To his surprise he was welcomed with open arms, and it was the first time in years he started feeling at home again. The illusion didn't last for long unfortunately, when it turned out these so called relatives immediately took steps to secure a better political position by arranging a marriage between him and some noble broad Harv's never even seen in his life before, without his knowledge.

The transactional nature of his relationships with people over the past few years - first the ranger and now his extended family messed with Harvey's head really bad and left him disillusioned. He reflexively let the flight response kick in - washing his hands out of all that mess, he broke off the engagement and left for the wilderness, figuring out ultimately people were just not worth the trouble.

As of shortly before BG3, he's retracted into himself, still roaming around and focusing on survival, without higher aims or goals, doing odd jobs, living off monster bounties, rarely working in adventuring parties, and when he does, it's never for too long.

At the start of the game, I imagine he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, visiting Baldur's Gate lower city to simply stock up when he was abducted.

...

(Unrelated little heritage headcanon I'm humoring. I like to think Harv's mother was actually a half-elf, though his blood has diluted to the point not much of it shows besides his slender build and eyes, which are unapologetically emerald.)

16. Which of the companions does your Tav trust most? 

Haha, I just had a mental image of Act1 Harvey going through all his companions in his head, putting a big red X over each and every one of them, Astarion very much in the lead.

I think at the beggining...Karlach, she seemed the least like a ticking time bomb, ironically.

But the trust was earned by every companion, in time. It started with trusting Gale's reasonable advice, trusting Astarion to have his back in a fight, two precise strikers sowing chaos together. Trust Shadowheart to be kind despite her suspicious Goddess worship, trust Wyll to be honorable and driven despite his shady deal with the devil-woman. I think Lae'zel was the last person Harvey learned to trust to a decent degree, he was not quite sure she wouldn't just sell them out the moment she was with her people again.

23. What is your Tav’s favorite moment they’ve had with their lover?

Light on spoilers. I personally like their misunderstandings and frustrations with each other the most, but I think Harvey's having the time of his life right now, with Astarion finally free of his master. He can't believe this goofy ass elf was hidden beneath all that act. I mean he saw the glimpses of it before, the seldom dorky laugh, the few instances the over the top routine dropped, but he's still astonished. He loves it.

(You get different kind of responses from Astarion depending on approval and relationship stages. The responses after his quest concludes and you are in the relationship with him -and he's not Ascended- are by far the least flirtatious and over the top. He's comfortable enough to actually be laid back and drop his learned habits and I find it endearing.)

[etfrin]

⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem

⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)

<masterlist> < bc: @cafekitsune >

He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.

When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.

His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”

You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.

He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.

You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.

Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.

Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”

You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.

Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.

You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.

You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.

One. Snow was here.

Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.

Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.

And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.

A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.

“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.

He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.

Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.

Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.

He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.

“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.

“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.

Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.

His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”

With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”

“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.

The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.

You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.

He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.

His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.

He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.

He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.

All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.

The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.

His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.

“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.

The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.

You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.

His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.

“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.

[sceletaflores]

well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…

pair: joel miller x fem!reader

wc: 8.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

joel found a lodge house…

You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.

He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.

Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.

You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.

And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.

It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.

What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.

But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.

So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.

You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.

You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.

Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.

You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.

In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.

You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.

All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.

After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.

It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.

It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.

A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.

You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.

Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.

It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.

You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.

The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.

You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.

Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.

There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

You learned how to be ruthless because of it.

How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.

The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss. 

And then you found yourself with Joel.

You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.

A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.

But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.

He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around. 

You didn’t know what to do with that.

It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.

Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.

He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.

It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.

The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.

You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.

Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.

The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.

The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.

Joel. Of course.

He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.  

“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.

You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.

“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”

Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”

Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.

“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.

Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway. 

You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.

Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”

With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.

You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”

Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.

You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.

You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.

You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.

Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.

You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.

Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual. 

But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.

You’re on your feet in an instant.

“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”

“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”

“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”

He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant. 

His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own. 

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”

"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.

“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.

"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."

Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.

You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.

The smell of blood hits you immediately.

The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.

Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.

Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.

“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.

It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.

A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.

“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.

You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.

You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.

You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.

You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”

Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”

“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”

He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.

You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.

“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.

Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.

You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly. 

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.

Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.

You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.

Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.

But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.

You’re staring, and you know it.

The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.

You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.

Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”

You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.

“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.

Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”

The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.

He’s too damn proud for that.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.

“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”

“Who taught you?”

The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.

You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”

You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.

Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.

You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.

“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”

Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side. 

“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned. 

You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”

You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.

You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”

“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”

You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.

“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”

Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.

“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now,  his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.

“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.

The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.

You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.

Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.

“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.

“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”

“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.” 

“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”

That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.

Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”

It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.

You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you. 

It never was.

“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”

Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.

“I want you to prove it.”

The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. 

You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.

But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing. 

It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.

He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.

His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.

You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.

Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.

You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”

You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.

You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.

This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence. 

Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.

He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin. 

Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.

“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.

You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”

He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”

You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach. 

His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back. 

“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.

“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.

“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”

Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.

“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest. 

“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.

“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”

“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.

“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”

Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind. 

The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.

Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”

Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But you don’t hesitate.

You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch. 

“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”

"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”

Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.

He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.

You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need. 

You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.

Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency. 

As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.

“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.

Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.

“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.

"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”

You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”

Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”

Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.

Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.

“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.

He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”

The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.

“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”

“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. 

The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness. 

Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.

Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”

“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”

He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.

The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.

Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.

His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth. 

The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.

Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you. 

The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."

You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.

"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.

Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”

His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.

Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.

You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."

With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure. 

You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.

Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.

His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.

He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts. 

Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.

Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.

“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”

Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.

“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.

Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.

A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.

“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”

You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.

All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits. 

Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO

[jeonginsleftcheek]

By The Pool

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???

wc: 2.5k

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, pinch of degradation, reader is called 'slut' once, cum tasting, creampie

a/n: since i found out he has a lifeguard license on skz code i needed to write this🫠

masterlist

You thought it was going to be another boring month at the resort.

It was a place you knew very well ever since you were a child, your parents always took you there, every summer was the same.

Even now, when you were a student and no longer living with them, you couldn't escape the three weeks they wanted to spend there with you and your brother as a family.

But, there was nothing boring about the eye candy you noticed by the pool.

Every year, there was a new lifeguard on duty and though they were all fit men and women, no one captured your attention like he did.

There was something about him and you made it your mission to seduce him, wanting to have some fun and spice up your summer.

Quickly, you asked around since you knew the staff well, finding out his name is Hyunjin, he's your age and here on a student job, and most importantly single (though you have no idea how no one has snatched him up yet).

You came to the pool every day, happy that you bought some cute swimsuits that revealed more than they covered.

You made sure to be right in his view as you put on sunscreen, slowly spreading the thick liquid all over your body.

You saw him staring and gulping, before averting his eyes and acting unaffected but the tips of his ears matched the red color of his swim trunks.

Of course, you amped it all up with bending over as you spread your towel over the deck chair, showing Hyunjin your cleavage.

Giggling to yourself when you saw his eyes twitch as he adjusted in his lifeguard chair, you lay down with your sunglasses on so you can feast your eyes on him the whole time.

Hyunjin did his duty well and you watched him like a hawk, any time he had to jump in, he would toss his shirt off and you loved to admire his muscles.

He was made to be in water, looked so natural as he swam and he did his job perfectly, making it obvious why he was hired.

By the fifth day, you got fed up with exchanging looks and nothing else so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

If he wasn't gonna approach you, you were gonna do it yourself.

It was a nice sunny Friday, not that you really cared what day it was since you were on vacation, the day was only important because you planned on having Hyunjin all to yourself today.

As per usual, you watched him work and he stole glances at you as much as he could.

After some kid was making a mess in the water and Hyunjin had to jump in to stop them, you watched his wet body, the clear droplets of water running down his back and shoulders as his muscles flexed.

The summer heat was nothing compared to the heat erupting inside you.

You waited patiently for another hour before his shift ended.

The other lifeguard then came to take his shift and you saw him and Hyunjin talking, which was your cue to stand up and run to the pool house where lifeguards usually leave their things and change.

You made sure no one was there and waited for Hyunjin to make his way to you.

You heard footsteps and with bathed breath you hid behind the wall like some stalker and almost laughed at yourself for doing so much for just some dick.

But it wasn't any dick.

You've never wanted anyone as much as you wanted Hyunjin.

Ever since you set your eyes on him, you couldn't stop fantasizing about him, every night when you touched yourself you imagined different scenarios and they all included Hyunjin.

You peeked and saw him get in and then you waited a few moments before knocking on the door and coming in just as he called out.

He probably thought it was one of the staff members, judging by the shocked look on his face when he turned around and saw you.

You giggled, as he gave you the elevator eyes, you were wearing your skimpiest bathing suit yet.

He quickly looked up as you cleared your throat, struggling not to look down at your breasts again.

"D-did you need something?" he stutters, clutching the towel in his hand.

Oh he is simply adorable, you just wanna devour him whole.

"Yes, you." you answer without even blinking and his face becomes red.

"Excuse me?" he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing up and down deliciously.

You chuckle and make your way towards him slowly and he takes one step back, colliding with the table behind him.

He quickly looks back at it, and you find the way he put his hair up in a little ponytail so endearing.

"I think you're hot." you state, standing in front of him now and his lips open and close a few times before he laughs awkwardly.

"Thanks. I- um think you're hot too." he says rather shyly, driving you even more crazy to taste him.

Your hand lands on his arm and you squeeze a little, before slowly dragging it up and down.

"Then, there's nothing else to discuss, is there?" you smirk and lean in, so close to his lips that you feel the shaky breath he lets out on your face.

"I- I- someone could walk in." he whispers and you chuckle.

"I don't care." you're quick to cup his face and crash your lips into his.

A surprised exclaim from Hyunjin gets muffled as you start kissing him and his eyes go from wide to fluttering closed as he returns your kiss eagerly.

Yes, he saw you by the pool every day and he knew what you were doing.

He wanted you just the same as you wanted him but he enjoyed watching you struggle and try hard to get his attention even though you already had it.

He smirked to himself as your bathing attire became more revealing every day and he knew you were slowly losing patience.

Hyunjin wanted you to hunt him down and now that you were here, he decided to reciprocate and show you how much he's been wanting you too.

As the kiss deepens, Hyunjin's tongue swiping over yours and tasting you, his hands slide to your waist and he squeezes before gripping you and swiftly moving the two of you until you were pressed into the wall.

You gasp as he leans back to look at you, a sly smirk on his face.

"You were tempting me on purpose, weren't you princess?" he said in a sultry voice, his hand caressing your cheek, fingertips sliding down to your neck to touch your sensitive spot.

"Was I that obvious?" you tease, letting your hands finally roam free on his hot shoulders, arms and chest.

"Mhm. Waving those tits in my face constantly. Wiggling your ass. What if some poor soul drowned because of your distractions, hm?"

"That wouldn't happen, you're too good at your job." you smirk and he chuckles.

"Sweet talking me won't get you out of this. You're gonna get exactly what you wanted, princess." Hyunjin smirks.

Before you could even realize what's happening, he grabs the strings of your bottoms and swiftly undoes them, letting it fall down and reveal your wet cunt to him.

You gasp, your heart beating hard in your chest in thrill as he hoists your leg up and you hook it around him.

"Is this what you imagined, hm?" he asks with the same smirk as he runs his fingertips on your wet folds, pressing them into your clit every time he comes up.

"Y-yes." you moan, chasing his touch as you rub against his hand and he chuckles, his other hand gripping your breast harshly.

You slide your hands back and undo the strings on the top part of your bikini and Hyunjin helps you with the strings around your neck, the item falling down on the floor as you keep staring into his eyes.

Hyunjin hovers over you, leaning in to kiss you passionately, his lips are so soft but desperate against yours, his tongue is wild like he is trying to remember the way you taste forever as his teeth nip into your bottom lip.

You moan when he starts pinching your nipples and playing with your tits, his fingers pressed into your sensitive clit, massaging it in circles.

You're going crazy as his lips lower to kiss your neck and you can't help grinding against his hand, your wetness spreading all over his fingers as Hyunjin bites into your skin, squeezing and fondling your breast.

"You want my fingers, princess?" he says into your neck before licking a stripe over the bite mark he left on your flesh.

"Yes." you whimper, gripping at his arm.

"Beg." he leans back to look at you and you want to slap him but you know you're too far gone to be snappy.

"Please, fuck me with your fingers." you bat your eyelashes at him and he smirks again, pushing his fingers into you immediately.

"Ah!" you moan as you take him in easily and he lets out a low chuckle.

"You're such a desperate slut. Letting some stranger finger you in a pool house." he laughs, fucking you semi-fast immediately and you moan loudly, meeting his thrusts and not giving a single fuck about someone hearing you.

"So good that you can't even speak?" he fucks into your sweet spot, his thumb pressing into your clit as he presses you against the cold wall, a contrast to your heated body.

"H-Hyunjin." you moan and he chuckles, of course you know his name.

"Say my name louder." he looks at you with a cocky smile and you stutter for a moment as he fucks you harder and faster.

Your legs shake and you hold onto him as he keeps scissoring you open for him, nothing coming out of your lips except his name.

"Cum on my fingers, princess." Hyunjin whispers in your ear as your nails dig into his shoulders, your whole body shaking against him as he keeps plunging into you, the squelching sounds of your arousal filling up the room.

"Ah! Hyunjin!" you whimper loudly as you squirt all over his hand, grinding against him to ride your high as he observes you.

"Taste." he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty as he brings them to your trembling lips.

You wrap them around his digits instantly, sucking on them and licking them clean as he keeps eye contact.

As soon as he pulls his fingers out, his lips are on yours again, kissing you hungrily as he grabs your other leg, effectively lifting you up and making you squeal as he leads you to the couch.

You're thrown down on it, albeit gently before he quickly takes his swim trunks off and your mouth waters at the sight of his dick.

He is perfect everywhere, you think as your eyes roam all over his sexy body.

Hyunjin is quick to kneel between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips.

"I don't have any condoms." he chuckles at the reality of the situation.

Even though he knew you were trying to seduce him every day, it's not like he thought you were actually going to come in after him today and kiss him so he wasn't prepared.

"I'm clean. Please." you whine, your legs wrapping around him and bringing him closer.

Hyunjin chuckles again, he can't believe you are so desperate to have him.

"Okay, princess. You think you can take it?" he gives you another smirk, sliding the head of his hard cock on your soaked folds.

You whimper as you look at his length and nod quickly.

"Yes, I can take it." you're almost breathless and Hyunjin pushes in, making you moan at the feeling.

His fingers couldn't prepare you completely for his cock but the stretch is delicious and your pussy welcomes him eagerly.

"Shit, you feel so good!" Hyunjin whines as he bottoms out, pushing his entire length inside you and filling you up perfectly.

He leans down as his arms cage you, kissing you sloppily before he leans back and starts fucking you at a steady pace, making your orgasm build up already.

You gasp and moan, spreading your legs more as you take him, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you feel even hotter.

You've never been this wet, your pussy pulsating in arousal as you moan loudly, your body shaking and feeling like you're going to explode any second.

Hyunjin looks down at you darkly, low moans escaping his lips as he keeps trying to bury himself deeper inside your warmth, so close to losing control over himself as your pussy constantly clenches around him, gripping his hard cock.

Hyunjin grabs your breast and your thigh, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder as you whine loudly, the new angle making you feel like he's fucking his cock even deeper inside you and his eyes roll back as he fucks into you harder.

You're so loud that if someone passes by they can 100% hear you moan Hyunjin's name as you grab his ponytail and pull on it while you cum all around his throbbing cock.

"Fuck!" Hyunjin almost growls as his hips stutter, fucking you with even more fervor as he chases his high, his hand leaving bruises in the soft skin of your thigh.

"Gonna cum." he whines, wanting to pull out but you grip at him.

"Cum inside me, I want it so bad." you groan, your eyes filling up with tears of pleasure as the head of his cock keeps brushing against your cervix.

"Fuck, you're so dirty, princess." Hyunjin pants, the sight of him all sweaty and flushed above you takes you over the edge and you cum again, clenching hard around him, his name slipping off your lips once again.

His eyes widen as his cock twitches and he unexpectedly cums hard inside you, spurts of the hot liquid painting your insides and filling you up.

Hyunjin collapses on top of you as he feels you still clenching around his now soft member.

It's quiet for some time and just then you realize that you can hear all the sounds from the pool and some people walking and talking next to the pool house, making you realize that everyone probably heard you fucking.

Hyunjin lifts up to look at you and something tugs at your heart, making your stomach fill up with butterflies.

"What's your name?" he asks and you burst out laughing, realizing you never even introduced yourself properly.

"Y/n." you answer and he smiles.

"Y/n. Pretty name for a pretty girl." Hyunjin leans in to kiss you, his cock slipping out of you and you feel the trickle of his cum seeping out of your pussy.

"Are you free tonight?" he asks, his lips traveling on your cheeks, you jaw and your neck, making you shiver as you caress his upper back.

"Depends what you're offering." you smirk and he looks at you.

"Dinner, movies, a walk on the beach?" he asks and you giggle.

"With a happy ending, of course." you say.

"As many happy endings as you want, princess." Hyunjin chuckles.

"Then I'm free." you say and he smiles before kissing you again.

This is going to be a fun summer.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun