#I was struggling I tiny bit (a lot) with his head in different angles (that's something every Rob has in every Au. His head is complicated)

[yurki-posts]

The Nopony

(I made the eye wrong on the upper right aaaghhhhh)

[a-suspicious-number-of-ducks]

Hermit-a-Day May, day 11: Cub + Corporate Memphis

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Minecraft YouTuber Cubfan135 in the "Corporate Memphis" style. His head is incredibly small for his body, and his legs are incredibly large and long. His form is made up of oversimplified shapes and unrealistically smooth angles. The drawing is mostly lineless and the colors are flat and solid with no shading. Cub has one leg straight and one bent at the knee, as if he has been flying and is about to land. He has blue batlike wings that are flared out behind him, resembling a vex mob from Minecraft. In his left hand, he is holding a gold tier Hermit Permit from the Hermitcraft server (a scroll of paper with a red circular seal and a gold ribbon). His right hand is making a thumbs-up. His skin is also blue like a vex mob, and he is wearing long khaki pants with a black belt, a black shirt over a white collared undershirt, a red tie, a gold nametag, and black shoes. His hair is black and forms an exaggerated swoop on each side of his head; one of the swoops fully covers the left side of his face. His right eye is a simple black oval, and a slanted white half-circle represents his grin. Behind him is a teal circle slightly smaller than his body. The background of the image is pale teal. A signature runs down his leg, reading "a-suspicious-number-of-ducks." ./End ID]

Today's style/medium is Corporate Memphis, aka Alegria! If you think you're unfamiliar with this style, you're probably wrong--you've most likely seen it in advertisements, marketing, and even internal training materials for large companies (or small ones who want to seem trendy). You can just look it up and see what I mean, but in short, Corporate Memphis tends to be used for images, particularly depictions of people, that are meant to be quick and cheap to make and "universally appealing" to a customer base. That means that it's rare to see diverse body types or skin tones in this style--many examples even use bright, unrealistic candy colors for people's skin to avoid the "issue" of racial diversity entirely. That's part of why I made Cub blue for this piece (the other part is the vex lore, of course).

Bodies in Corporate Memphis are usually incredibly disproportionate, with tiny heads and massive, long legs. Angles are swoopy and smooth instead of sharp, limbs are noodle-y, colors are flat and lineless, and backgrounds are often abstract and geometric.

Now, there's been a lot of debate about this style. Many people think it's soulless, cheap, and sanitized. Others think it's a legitimate art movement and shouldn't be demonized. Personally, I'm on the soulless side--I don't hate the art style itself, conceptually, but I hate what it represents and how it's used. You're free to disagree with me, however!

As for why I chose this style for Cub, well. Can you get more "soulless corporation" than the Permit Office? (A bit more rambling under the cut!)

Making this piece was, like the Rainbow Fairy!Doc last year, an active struggle in making my art... not worse necessarily, but different. I say this not to brag, but I had to fix the proportions multiple times because I was making them too realistic. My shapes kept being too complex. It was honestly hard for me personally to make something that looked good while also making it something that followed the specific conventions of this style. It was a constant exercise in smoothing, simplifying, and removing all traces of uniqueness or texture (both metaphorical and literal).

Now, I'm sure there might be someone out there reading this who draws like this naturally and that's just their style. And that's so incredibly valid. I'm not trying to shame every artist who draws things that look like this--actually, I'm not trying to shame artists at all. It's more a matter of being frustrated with exploitative companies who only want to wring every drop of profit out of their clientele, without caring about the implications of what they're doing OR about the artists they're paying (probably not enough) to design these things. If you draw in a style that looks like this and you put your heart and soul into it, I couldn't be happier for and prouder of you. You're not the problem. To you, and everyone else who's read this far, thank you! And happy arting.

[cryingcarcass]

Cowboy

A/N: Anon requested more Johnny fics, and I am happy to oblige. Next after this will be the part 2 to my latest Josh fic. I struggled a lot with this one, I won't lie. I tried coming at this from a different angle; I hope you all still enjoy it.

Johnny Kelly × fem!reader (18+) porn with mild plot and some fluff: cw for mild substance use and unprotected outdoor sex

"Come on sweetie, you can do it! say 'cheese'!"

The toddler ignored her father's call, more interested in plapping her tiny hand onto the wooly back of the sheep in front of her.

Your camera snapped a photo anyway, thumbing over the film wheel to ready another shot. "I don't think she's gonna bite, John" you smiled with a shake of your head. "Still a cute picture"

"Aw man, but she just did it!," he sighed a bit, bouncing his daughter in his arms as she blew spit bubbles at the animal peering up at her from the petting zoo fence.

"She's not a performer like her papa" you clapped him on the back sympathetically. Her little grimace -would've- been a funny shot.

"Maybe not" he relented, standing up straight with an "oof"

It wasn't often the drab 4s little ones got together for an outdoor play-date, but fall was in full swing and that meant baby's first memories. It also meant more of your amateur photography of your boyfriend being frankly an amazing dad; far too cute to pass up.

Kenny was chasing around his oldest, who shrieked with delight every time she could 'get away' from her dad's sweeping arm grabs. Posted up on the picnic table they claimed in the grass was Josh; half asleep with his own daughter tucked into his arm and lightly rocking the car seat where Kenny's youngest slept with his foot.

"Thanks for comin, I know it's not the most 'romantic' of dates..." the drummer replied sheepishly, "but it makes the girls happy"

"Oh, it's no trouble! Besides, she's a lil cutie pie, aren't'cha sweetheart~?" You cooed at the little girl who instinctively hid her face under the black curtain of her dad's hair.

"Aww, are you shy? It's okay, hon," he soothed the infants grumbling, giving her a kiss. "She's a nice lady, promise~"

"Johnny, for the love of God, c'mon, it's your turn," Josh's drawl pipped up, catching both of your attentions, "I'm gettin eaten alive over 'ere"

"Alright, I'm comin," he laughed, bright and sunny as ever. He was met with a nonplussed stare as Josh's daughter ('Rebecca', if you remembered right?) was busy grabbing at his ear with the most jewelry in it; jangling it and trying to latch on with her mouth.

"Scuse me, ma'am," he mumbled at you softly; getting up so the two of you could sit together. It was hard not to laugh as tiny fingers grabbed hold of his nose, making his chiding of "that's enough kiddo, no more grabbin, 's not nice" become almost goose-like honking rather than words.

Turning your attention back to the man of your affections, your heart swelled with wamrth as he handled her. Uncaring that she would chew on his fingers or drool on his t-shirts, always patient and attentive, even if she was fussy. Being a single dad was tough, and seeing how good he was with kids was admirable.

"She's getting kinda sleepy," you lowered your voice as the little one in his arms gave a big yawn and a bleary look, leaning on Johnny's shoulder for a pillow. "All those animals tuckered her out"

"Tell ya what, why don't I take you out tonight? I'll drop missy here off with Pete 'n we can have some 'grown-up' fun, huh?" He leaned over to nuzzle your cheek, his goatee tickling gently.

"Yeah? What'cha have in mind, big guy?" You felt the heat in your face more than the smile on your lips as he returned the grin. Playfully nipping at you to make you giggle.

"Bonfire down at the lake, maybe a lil bit 'o Jack, 'n some tunes? Horse around?" He did his best whinny while ensnaring your waist with his free arm, pecking you incessantly

"You and your horses," you snickered, giving him a little shove, mindful of the baby. Curling up to him proper, it was all too easy to steal a proper kiss, full and warm. That is, until you were spotted by Megan mid-play, her face grimacing at you two.

"EEEEEWWWW!!! DADDY!!! UNCLE JOHNNYS KISSING AGAIN!!!"

______

Peter was all too happy to babysit that night, leaving the lovebirds for the dirt road around the local lake where they had shot one of their first music videos themselves. Johnny's other baby, his car, chugged down the winding path faithfully as grey clouds accented the turned foliage.

"It really is beautiful..." you whispered against the window as the water came into clearer view "sure we won't get in trouble?"

"Nah, we won' make a big fuss," he flashed his pearly whites as he pulled to a stop. "Mind helpin me set up?"

"Not at all," you chirped, getting out to scout an ideal spot to set up 'camp'

It was real cozy in the crisp autumn air; a tarp down under a thick blanket to keep you from any damp ground, a small fire crackling with the cricket song, a bottle of Jack Daniels and cigarettes to split, and the man of the hour with his stereo and collection of cassettes in a case. Passing the bottle back and forth, the whiskey burned warm as he wrapped you in a second blanket, watching the firelight ripple off the water as the sunset colored the sky in reds and oranges.

"This is real nice, John..." a soft sigh escaped you as you leaned into his side, nuzzling into the leather of his jacket, playing with his necklace.

"Yeah? I'm havin a pretty good time myself~" he hummed, splaying his hand on your side, stroking you through your shirt. He took another swig and passed you the bottle. "Something" by The Beatles rolled on from the stereo sat up on a stump, and you felt his fingers tap against you to the beat.

"Keepin time?" shimmying up his torso, you snatched his cowboy hat off his head, placing it on your own before he could protest. The devilish grin that spread across his face was enough of an answer.

"I can make some time, can make a couple other things too~ c'mere~" he rolled you on top of him proper, wrapping those strong arms around your back to keep you there as he went in for a kiss. His taste of tobacco and whiskey was smooth, and paired well with the smell of the fire and gentle hum of the cassette changing songs. Getting lost in him was delicious, moaning into his mouth.

It stayed that way for a while as the sun finished its descent behind the horizon; painting the darkening sky in hues of purple and blue, a brave star standing out here and there in the gaps between the cloud cover. A sweet haze to cloud the mind.

"Oh Johnny... I love ya so much..." a soft murmur in the midst of a heated kiss, burning hot like the fire just a ways away. Touching his forehead with your own, panting for air as the heat of it all began climbing more and more. Be it the booze or the bonfire, you were ready. "I wanna make you feel good, John, please... please let me make you feel good..."

His reply a hot cry of a moan that echoed off the water's still surface; darkness swallowing up both of you save for the orange glow of the fire light. Reaching between your bodies, you found the bulge of his jeans. Instantly he bucked into your touch, searching for any crumb of friction.

"You sure?" Johnny asked a tad worried, relaxing his hold as you rolled off momentarily to shuck off your pants. He was a thoughtful lover, always caring about your pleasure and needs even when he was in the throes of it. It was cute.

"I'm sure," you tousled your hair a bit, standing above where he lay, hoping you looked appealing as you thought you did. Naked from the waist down, flannel top unbuttoned a bit to show off some cleavage, and still wearing his hat. "Now unzip those jeans for me, won't'cha?"

He whistled low, licking his lips a bit as he went to work fighting his belt. "Well now~ yes ma'am~" he hissed a bit as his length was exposed to the cool breeze. "Would love to see you ride on it, since you've got my hat 'n all. Might buck ya off if you're not careful~"

All you could do was smile. After throwing another log on the fire to hopefully keep the bugs at bay, you turned back to where he was lazily stroking himself, arm propping up his head to keep his eyes on his prize. Sauntering over, swaying your hips a little for him as you walked, you made yourself comfortable atop his hips.

His broad hands found purchase in the flesh of your thighs, stroking the supple skin, and stealing a grope or two of your asscheeks. The callouses in his palms were a comfort against the cold. Reaching below you to hold his shaft earned you a pleased groan, stroking him a bit to full hardness. Leaning forward with a hand on his chest, you lined him up, the feeling of his tip stroking between your lips making you cry out softly.

"Atta girl, that's it~" he huffed, holding back as his tip breached your walls, slowly letting you sink down onto the length of his cock.

"Oh fuck, Johnny!...Oh God, that's good"

Once you were stretched to his size, the real work began. The first pull out and push in were always the toughest, but from there, it was easy to find a rhythm. Bouncing on his cock had you sweaty and panting, so the natural order of things was to take the abandoned Jack bottle and polish it off. The whiskeys spice went well with the warmth growing in your lower belly, stray rivulets running down your chin and neck

"Allow me," he grunted, sitting up and grabbing hold of your waist to tip you back, but keep you from falling off as he latched onto the top of your breast, licking off the stray drops. "Not gonna let it go to waste, now~"

The new angle sent another hot cry of yours echoing out into the woods as he licked and kissed you clean of any trace of liqour. Brown eyes were blown and dark, the orange glow of the fire making them beautifully haunting as he settled back down satisfied, licking his lips.

In response, the pace was increased, your breasts practically bouncing out of your bra from the effort, making sure to keep his hat on while your knees began to ache somewhere deep in the back of your mind. Every time he slammed back into you was another staccato moan.

Johnny was quick on the draw, those skilled hands going back to their favorite spot as he began to meet you in the middle. Every thrust timed to your bounce, sending him deeper inside, carving a new space inside.

"Baby you're tearin me up!" You hollered as he dug his heels into the blanket for better leverage. A few more thrusts had him filling you deep, hot and heavy as he threw his head back, riding out the pleasure. Even when he was done he didn't stop, reaching up to give your clit a few tight strokes.

White hot stars blasted your vision as you came, the feeling of his spend and your slick coating the inside of your thighs. Slowing to a tremble atop him, he pulled you to his chest before you could fall off, squeezing you tight. He was breathing hard, sweat slick brow pushing into your nape, eager for anything. Your smell, the softness of your hair, the taste of your skin.

"I love you," he spoke hoarsely in the safety of your flesh

"Love you back," you huffed out, burying your face into his thick mane.

"You're too good to me," he began after a while, finally catching his breath, "You're good with kids, you tolerate my schemes... didn't think I'd ever feel like this again..."

"Aw, John, baby, You're too hard on yourself" pulling back to give him a smile, you pushed his hair out of his face to kiss his temple softly, leaving a little smear of lipstick behind.

He gently rolled you off him and set about cleaning up, wrapping you in the spare blanket while the last of the wood was put on the dying blaze.

"Tell ya the truth, i don't really wanna leave" you hummed, pulling your pants back on

"I'm afraid we may not be able to, don't think I can drive after all that. I'm sorry baby" he rubbed his neck sheepishly, "lemme try sobering up a bit, then we can head out"

"Oh my, spending more time with you? Simply a tragedy," you snickered as he lay back beside you. He snatched his hat back off your head and put it on his own.

"Think you can ride this horse all night?" He did a frankly laughable impression of one of those movie cowboys, finger guns 'n all, and let out a chuckle

"Maybe baby, just maybe~"

[brick-a-doodle-do]

karlnapity noms, you want a weirdly specific oneshot idea, you’ll get it:

Sapnap’s a pred, Quackity’s a tiny avian or something, and Karl is just a human.

Sapnap noms Quackity a lot, but Karl can’t nom him and is starting to get a bit jealous of the time the two of them spend together without him.

Sapnap and Q feel really bad about this, so they come up with a plan to help Karl feel more included!

Whether this is, like, Karl shrinking and getting nommed with Quackity, or Karl somehow safely nomming Q for the first time, or something else entirely, is up to you! I’m just a sucker for karlnapity noms lol

mmm hello! this is four months old but let's just move past that! :D

i guess i probably should've included quackity just a tiny bit more and treated him less as a side-character with early-days personality,, BUT STILL!

we will abide

words: 2789

cw: vore (sfw, nsx), brief jealousy (but i wouldn't count that as a cw tbh,,,)

────────────────────────────────────────────

Karl watched. He laid across the couch with his arms folded under him, holding his head up on the couch arm. He studies how his soon-to-be-husbands embrace their drastic size difference. It’s adorable, Karl admits, though he can’t stop jealousy from flaring in his gut. He frowns at how gentle Sapnap is with Quackity, and how Quackity leaned into Sapnap’s limbs that fit him nearly perfectly. Karl fell between the two’s sizes, and sometimes it felt like he was too large or too small. Karl was of course grateful for how Sapnap did try and satisfy Karl by attempting the same things he tried with Quackity, though more often than not it would end up uncomfortable for the both of them. 

It had been passable for a while, until Sapnap had grown instincts. Quackity was small enough to be stored, and Karl was decidedly not.

Karl, after seeing Sapnap’s, had also developed instincts. Not so much over Sapnap, instead for Quackity. But, with Quackity up to his shin, it didn’t really work out the same way. And plus, a human like him didn’t have the interior to suit a tiny.

They still loved Karl in other ways, but it was deflating to see them have such a natural relationship with each other and not have to overthink it all.

“Karl,” Sapnap said, eyes on him. Karl looked up with half-lidded eyes and yawned. Quackity was curled up in the crease of Sapnap’s neck, sound asleep. Karl’s eyes softened at the sight, and his gut churned and protested.

“Hm?” Karl hummed, shuffling so he was sitting up. Tire lulled at him, but jealousy was prominent. 

“Are you okay?” Sapnap adds swiftly. The mini-giant shuffles up, his head kept at an awkward angle to avoid disturbing the sleeping avian. Karl’s heart flutters and he grips the crack between the couch cushions.

“Yeah, I think.” 

Sapnap carefully stood up and walked around the coffee table to sit down on the mini-giant accessible side of the couch. His struggle to keep Quackity secure lightened Karl’s mood slightly, though his slowly-growing grin fell as he heard Quackity faintly groan into Sapnap’s skin and tighten the ball he curled himself into. Sapnap props his arm on the higher couch cushions that were specifically for Karl’s human size and Karl strides there, only losing his balance a few times to the unstable surface. “I guess you don’t look well,” Sapnap remarks. Karl shrugs and tugs on the maroon sleeve of Sapnap’s hoodie before using it to ascend to his shoulder, where Quackity is.

“I was just–woah–you guys were being romantic,” Karl says, steadying himself. Sapnap stays still and watches Karl from the corner of his eye, just in case.

“You’re saying you’re jealous?” Sapnap asks, and Karl shrugs.

“Yeah.” Karl stops moving and looks at Sapnap, who in return has turned his head and is looking at the soft brunet with gentle eyes. Karl nearly lets go at the sight. “I’m telling you though, I’m fine.”

Sapnap’s hand appears behind him and forcefully pushes him the rest of the way to his shoulder. Karl gets situated, then gently slides Quackity—who looks positively awake and asleep at the same time—onto his lap. His wings flutter slightly and Karl stays wary of them while he leans into Quackity’s body and Sapnap’s neck at the same time. His legs fall over each side of Sapnap and he closes his eyes. Something about this is okay, but Karl knows that this would never compete with storing Quackity. 

—

The following morning, Karl can’t recall falling asleep. But, he wakes up in Sapnap’s bed, cradled against the mini-giant’s chest. He can’t feel Quackity in his arms anywhere. He’s been stored, his mind urges towards him painfully. He shivers at the thought. There is jealousy boiling inside of him and soon it will overflow.

The doorbell rings.

Karl’s attention turns to the cat flap they’d installed for Karl and Quackity to have easy access into the raven’s bedroom. He moves, limbs skidding against the sleek bed sheets. He wriggles from underneath Sapnap’s arm and finds his footing at the edge of the bed, staring down at the wooden floor. He sits on the edge and slides off, landing roughly on the ground. His socked feet slid along the floor but he didn’t fall, just kept his balance nicely and started across the bedroom. 

Karl looked over his shoulder at Sapnap, who’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, and he narrowed in on Quackity. The hybrid was draped across Sapnap’s head and his wings were neatly folded. He smiled sadly and turned back around, ducking under the flap that was just an inch too short for him. The clear material rose above him and fell as he left the room and entered the body of the house.

The air is cooler than the bedroom, but Karl is guessing that it's really because of the absence of the mini-giant. He always emitted heat, it was a given with his size and his fire-born origin. Karl shivers and draws his fingers along his opposing arms. Maybe it's not just because of the cold that he's hugging himself. The only thing on his mind is Quackity, looking so tiny against Sapnap’s so large body. They’re perfect. 

He reached the front door and the melodramatic ideas of being excluded silenced. He pushed through the cat flap in the door and stepped onto the rough welcome mat that pierced through his socks. He winced and kept his footsteps soft and quick. He held eyes on a small package that rested half-on-half-off the mat. He curled his fingers around it and peered over the top curiously, hoisting himself awkwardly over the top of the cardboard. He steadied and walked, crouching by the white tag settled in the middle.

Karl Jacobs, he sees above the shipping information. 

The door makes a noise and Karl looks up as it opens. Sapnap is looking down with tired eyes with underlying excitement, but it's nothing new, Sapnap always looks like that. 

Quackity is perched on the raven’s shoulder like a bird. He can’t exactly fly well with his wings, but he definitely acts like he can. Karl finds it adorable and a little pathetic. “What is this?” Karl asks immediately. 

Quackity looks to Sapnap, who looks to the avian with a small nod, then Quackity urges, “Open it!” 

Yellow wings obscure his vision for a moment as Quackity finds his way beside him. Sapnap kneels and places both his hands on either side of the box and lifts it. He maneuvers the door with his foot and shuts it when he’s inside. “I was thinking about last night—well, actually, I guess we both had the idea that you were jealous,” Sapnap starts and sets the package down on the counter. With his now-free hands, the raven searches drawers for a pair of scissors. Karl looks at Quackity, who’s staring up at Sapnap. 

“I told you not to worry about it!” the brunet frets. 

“I don't care,” Sapnap hums. Karl stands out of the way as Sapnap pulls a pair—a mini-giant pair—of scissors out of a drawer and draws it to the tape sealing the box. He slices it with a satisfying noise, and Karl’s heart thumps. It’s warmed by thoughts of them caring enough about his own terrible, warped, jumble of emotions, and he can honestly say that whatever is in the box he will adore. Sapnap gets the other sides loose, and Karl moves around the top of the box to avoid getting cut. The mini-giant steps back and lets Karl unravel his gift, but the brunet can feel the fire-born’s scarlet eyes plastered on him, and he can feel a set of smaller, dark maroon eyes on him too. He situates himself and pushes open a flap on the box. He slips inside after Sapnap cuts in to hold it open for him. 

He messes with the mounds of bubble wrap and then focuses on the thing placed in the middle of the box. It’s small, he’s not sure why it came in a package like that. It was human-sized, definitely. He squints at it and scrambles for a better look at what it is. It’s a small glass bottle, with the words DRINK ME wrapping the frontmost of it. Karl stares blankly at it and breaks into a grin, giggling at it. Quackity clambers into the box and falls onto the wrap with a yelp. Karl doesn’t notice it, really. He’s wondering if the bottle does what his mind tells him it does. Quackity reappears, standing upright. 

There are tears picking at the fold in his eyes.

“Sapnap,” he begins, looking up with garbled eyes.

“Yeah?” Sapnap says, slightly smirking and leaning over the two of them.

“Is this what I’m thinking it is?” Karl asks coolly. 

“It is, man! I bought it, and—” Quackity cuts in, and is promptly cut off.

“Shut up, Quackity,” Sapnap hisses. Karl laughs and chokes on tears. The avian appears behind him and wraps his arms around his leg, squeezing like he does to Sapnap’s finger. Sapnap dips his hand into the box and pulls the two up carefully, Quackity making the effort infinitely harder.

“Can I actually shrink with it?” Karl asks finally, the weighing question delivered to the right person. Sapnap nods,

“We wouldn’t buy that for you as a joke, Karl. Actually, we totally would. But this is real, one-hundred percent-ly genuine.”

—

The rest of the day carried on. Something in Karl lightened a bit. Sapnap said there was no deadline for using it and theoretically he could keep it for the most special occasion he could think of, and he’d agreed in the moment. But now, the three of them are curled up on the couch, with Karl in Sapnap’s lap and Quackity in Karl’s hair, and he can’t stop eyeing the kitchen. DRINK ME replays in his mind tenfold, taunting him before he’s fed up with the compelling urge and fesses up.

“Hey,” he says, catching Sapnap’s attention. He looks up at the man just so, and continues, “I’m just gonna say this, I think we should do it now.” 

Quackity gasps in a breath of air like he’s been half-asleep. 

“Okay, sure,” Sapnap says easily. Karl shifts up and finds a seat on the human-designed portion of the couch again. Quackity drifts down tiredly and sits beside Karl, still looking like he has a foot out in dreamland. 

Sapnap leaves, then returns with his hand outstretched. Karl holds his hands out and the fire-born rolls the vial carefully into his ready hands. Quackity’s eyes widen, and Karl’s heart twists in a way he can’t pinpoint. He unscrews the lid off of the bottle and draws it to his lips. His hands shake for a moment, his eyes hazy with uncertainty, but it’s a good kind. Karl takes a sip, and one more for good measure.

—

Karl can’t have been out for long, because everyone is exactly where they were before he’d taken a sip of the shrinkage potion. His surroundings have shifted drastically, and for the first time in a long while, Karl can comfortably say that it feels familiar. He looks to his left as he stirs, and Quackity is nearing the same height as him. Karl notices immediately that he seems just a bit taller than him right now. Perspective might be playing with him, but he really hopes he’s right. On his left, Karl sees through slightly-blurred vision—product of side-effects—Sapnap. He seems feet taller than when they’d last spoken. His heart warms, it feels like summer even when the flowers are still recovering from the cold season. He shuffles up when the room stops spinning. He can see Sapnap mouth “hello” to him, and Karl returns it with a soft “hi”. 

Sapnap stares at him. “Can I touch you yet?” he asks. Karl nods eagerly, and in a smooth blink, he’s being pried from the couch, which now felt just as the mini-giant side often did, and pushed into Sapnap’s hands. He feels warmth he’s never felt before and sinks into skin he’d never been able to sit in. It’s a parallel of moments he’s seen with Quackity, and finally his mind isn’t waxed in jealousy. 

As he stares at the now-giant, there is one thing on Karl’s mind, but he’s too anxious to ask. 

But, being a tiny among a tiny must come with some intergalactic telekinetic ability, because Quackity is making a noise like he’s come up with a bright idea. Quackity’s small body, but now pleasantly equal in size to him, is struggling up the side of Sapnap’s hand after using what little wing strength he has. “Dude, you should store him! And me too, man!” Quackity bursts. Something in Sapnap’s eyes shifts, and he’s looking down at Karl. Karl returns the awkward gaze, but really he does want to feel what it’s like to be swallowed and stored, he’s craved it for months now.

The brunet gives the raven a look that lets him know that what their boyfriend is suggesting is not out of his comfort zone and the reality is that he’d prefer that be his use of this opportunity, and that the “special occasion” has just presented itself to them.

“Okay,” he says, still unsure. Karl grins, and so does the pushy avian. Sapnap nods to himself, then brings the hand housing the two closer to his mouth. Karl is entranced by how close Sapnap’s face is and how much detail he can detect. He’s washed with a warm gush of air, calming him in a way he didn’t know was possible. He’s felt relaxed breaths on the top of his head or his cheek before, but this coated his entire body.

Soon after, Sapnap’s lips and teeth part and Karl’s heart is racing, and he can’t help the smile creeping on his face and the eager-ness of his body. “Is this okay?” Sapnap asks, and Karl gives an instant reply. He pushes himself past Sapnap’s incisors and past his sharp, predatory teeth that don’t startle him in the slightest. 

Quackity slides in too, just as quickly as he had. Impulsively, Karl is thinking in the future and is wondering what will happen when he is no longer tiny and is out of the remaining potion. Maybe he’ll grow jealousy that’s too strong to contain, but Quackity squeezing at his hand keeps his conscious in the frontmost of his brain and he doesn’t think too hard on the future, but instead embraces the dark, moist, humid, pleasant present. Sapnap’s tongue moves now that his mouth is shut. His heart flutters and his mind is satisfied. 

The giant coats them gently—mainly to avoid harming Quackity’s wings and to not startle new-comer Karl—in a layer of saliva. The distasteful feeling doesn’t bother him in the slightest, he’s covered in Sapnap and he can fairly say that it’s better than anything his mind had ever tried to replicate. 

And then gravity shifts and the two of them are brought to the back of Sapnap’s mouth and to the opening of his throat. Even in the dark, Karl can tell that Quackity wants to go down first, most likely because in reality, he’s just as eager for this as Karl is. But the avian squeezes his hand before he lets go, just in time for Sapnap to swallow. His heart pings and his stomach goes nearly to his heart at the quick fall, but it’s slowed as he’s pulled down the gullet. Time slows down. He can hear Sapnap’s entire body and it calms him so much that the pulsing walls around him that quickly pull him down into Sapnap’s storage feel just as okay. The fire-borns' organs churn, and he can hear the fast heartbeat that is so loud but so appealing that it nearly puts him to sleep. But he’s pushed into the small, but comfortably spacious storage before he can get too settled. It’s nice, it’s so relieving to finally find out what happens and why both Quackity and Sapnap enjoy it so much.

He can feel a wall of the storage push in and he settles against it contently, not even bothering to wait for Quackity. It’s him and Sapnap right now, and right now there’s something in his mind that isn’t telling him it’ll go away, but telling him that he should enjoy it.

And he will, because Sapnap checking on him every now and again and having yellow wings that feel phantom because of the void he and his boyfriend are in wrap around his body as they both enjoy something that Quackity openly admits felt lonely without Karl is something that the future couldn’t destroy.

────────────────────────────────────────────

[sunrisefairy]

Annoying

Paring: Remus Lupin x fem!reader Warning: NSFW! MDNI 18+ unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of oral sex. If I’ve forgotten anything let me know! Summary: Remus finds the reader so annoyingly distracting.  A/N: for the anon that wanted a mix of enemies to lovers and Remus losing control near the full moon. I hope I did it justice.  Requests are open!

tag list: if your name is crossed out i couldn’t tag you :( @theweasleyslut @anxiousblanketqueen @midnightgremlin @babyjordy @widowdays @inglourious-imagines @garbdump @star-sunshine-sage @weelittleweasley @starlightkell @omghufflepuff @weasleysprincess @harrysboo28 @j-amespotter @woodxweasley @gryffindorgirl @siriusbarnesslut @joytce397 @thegirllostinthelibrary @layaaaa @nuttytani @horrormoviebitch @j-weasley-lupin  @sunflowerdarlingx @touchdeprivedwh0re​ @melonoptimist @iamnibbsi  @thebiggestsimponearth​ @impulse-anchor​ @lilytheally​ @familydisappointed @alinor-padfoot

To be added to the tag list click here

Remus Lupin isn’t one to hate people, sure there is only a select few people that he actually likes spending time with and considers his good friends but that doesn’t mean that he dislikes everyone else, he just doesn’t have time for a lot of people, especially annoying people. And some people are just more annoying than others and most times those people don’t even realise they’re acting as such. Except for the girl who is basically in every one of his classes, you. Remus is certain you know how infuriating you are, especially when you shoot your hand up to beat Remus to answering a question or how a smile will stretch across your pretty lips when you finds out you scored higher than Remus on a test or how you always seems to giggle a little louder when you knows Remus is nearby. Remus finds it irritating how you seems to know exactly how to get on his nerves, you know precisely how to make his cheeks heat up in anger and make his blood boil and his cock hard, okay maybe you don’t realise you’re doing the last one but still. But the thing that annoys Remus the most is you don’t seem to care.

Being friends with James Potter and Sirius Black, Remus has learnt to obtain the patience of a saint. He finds no trouble in zoning out their constant chatter and ignoring their mindless bickering. However, as it gets closer to a full moon, Remus’ tolerance wears thin and the marauders quickly learnt to simmer down and be wary of Remus around a full moon, unless either one of them wanted a smack to the back of the head. As it gets closer to his transformations Remus’ senses are heightened tenfold, it’s as if he can hear every sound, smell every scent and everything he tastes is 10 times more intense.

His joints were aching more than usual last night so that combined with Peters constant snoring ensured minimal sleep which resulted in Remus being extra irritable today which would have been manageable if he didn’t have a class first thing with you. Beautiful, cute, annoying you.

Remus thought if he could just spend the lesson concentrating hard enough on the professors dull voice that you sitting in the same room as him wouldn’t be an issue, it wasn’t like he sat next to you anyway, James or Sirius always occupied the desk next to him eager to ‘share’ his notes. Expect this day was different, because Remus got little sleep last night he slept through his alarm and somehow even slept through the booming voices of the Marauders when they were getting ready this morning. Remus started off the day jumping out of bed and rushing to get ready, having no time for breakfast (which added to his already foul mood) and practically falling through the classroom door only to find his usual seat was pre-occupied by some girl Sirius was trying to woo and James was sitting next to Pete.

“Ah, Mr. Lupin. How fantastic to see you have finally decided to join us. Please find a seat so I can continue on with my lesson,” the Professor states before continuing his lifeless lesson.

Remus quickly scans the room for a free chair to rush to, he spots one in the far corner of the room but falters in his step when he notices who is seated next to the free space, you. Remus groans when he realises this was the only free chair and very obviously drags his feet before plopping down beside you, he can only hope you decided to not be annoyingly distracting today.

“How scandalous that Mr. prefect is late to class,” you whisper, chuckling when you see Remus roll his eyes, a usual reaction of his.

Remus comes to the conclusion that the best point of action is to just pretend you don’t exist, which goes according to plan until 3 quarters of the way through the lesson. The thing is, Remus hasn’t sat in such close proximity to you this close to a full moon before and he’s struggling to keep his focus on the jumble of words in front of him and not on the way you’re obnoxiously twirling your hair between your fingers. Whatever perfume you sprayed on yourself is suffocating Remus’ nostrils and he can’t get enough. Within no time Remus thoughts are straying away from his textbook to more filthy thoughts surrounding you. The main image that is burning a hole in his brain is the thought of burying his face in your neck and inhaling your scent and sinking his teeth into your perfect skin, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Remus manages to write 2 more messy sentences down before glancing in your direction and noticing the way your lip is pulled between your teeth and he can’t help but fantasise about biting your annoyingly pretty lips himself.

“Stop doing that,” Remus grits through his teeth as he speaks.

You meet his gaze confused, “stop doing what?”

“That!” Remus whisper yells, pointing at your lips as you once again pull your bottom lip in between your lip. “It’s distracting.”

You mumble an apology and go back to writing your notes. You’re so engrossed in reading the selected chapter you don’t even notice you’re bouncing your leg up and down rapidly until a rough hand stills your movements. You’re expecting Remus to remove his large hand once your movements stop, however to your surprise he keeps his hand resting firmly against your bare knee. Mouth agape and staring down at where Remus is touching you, the way his thumb is stroking at your skin seems innocent enough, so why is your stomach in knots?

Remus leans dangerously close to your ear, which thankfully goes unnoticed by the rest of the class given the fact the two of you are seated at the back of the room. “You are being very distracting right now bunny, it’s making me angry.”

A visible shudder runs through your body, feeling Remus’ hot breath fanning the side of your face makes your mouth dry. Remus’ low teasing voice makes you whimper immediately a heat rushes up your cheeks because even though your whimper was quiet Remus is so very close to you right now, you know he heard.

“Come with me,” Remus squeezes your knee and moves to rise from his seat.

You halt his movements by grabbing onto his bicep, “we can’t just leave, we’re in the middle of class.” Your eyes dart to the front of the room to see if your professor has witnessed Remus’ half standing and planning his escape.

“What’s life without a bit of risk bunny, now c’mon.” his tone demanding and firm. Without even a second glance Remus walks out of class, making you wonder if he’s done this before. The odds are high, given that he’s one fourth of the infamous marauders clan.

You look away from the door Remus just so carelessly walked out of and to the front of the class at your professor, he’s sitting at his desk reading over papers and very obviously trying to stay awake. The chances of him catching you are slim but that isn’t what you’re nervous about. You’re nervous about what will happen if you do make it out of the classroom unnoticed, you’re nervous about what Remus will do to you. The endless possibilities are both thrilling and exciting. There’s no way you could stay seated not when there’s a wetness pooling in your panties just from Remus’ hand on your knee.

Carefully you slip out from your seat and rush to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you successfully make it out into the corridor. Looking around you notice the corridor is empty and there’s no sign of Remus, you begin walking down the hallway in search of the boy.

“Remus?” you’re met with nothing but silence. Just as you’re about to turn and head back to class you feel a strong arm grip yours and tug your harshly into a tiny room.

“Ooft,” your body slamming into someone’s hard chest; if only there was a light source in this closet? yes it’s definitely a closet, if only it wasn’t so dark in here you would be able to figure out who decided it a good idea to scare the shit out of you by pulling you in here with them.

“Took your fucking time,” the other person grunts, Remus you thought, you knew that voice.

“Remus, what the hell? Care to explain why your dragged me out of class and into this dark broom closet?” Although there is no light in the tiny closet you can vaguely see Remus’ outline towering over you, you gulp realising how close the both of you are standing to each other. Remus’ hot breath fans your face and you’re very aware that if you were to angle your head further upwards and stand on your tiptoes you could connects your lips. The thought itself has you shuddering.

“Couldn’t wait.” Remus replies, stepping closer, invading your personal space even more, not that you minded.

“Couldn’t wait for what?”

“Merlin you’re dumber than I thought if you don’t know.”

You scoff defensively, “I am not dumb, do I have to remind you I bet you on the last Charms essay? and on the transfigurations one so-”

The words die in your throat, Remus cutting you off by connecting your lips in a needy and desperate kiss. Immediately you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer by the hair. Remus rests his hands on your waist pulling your hips flush against his, you whimper feeling his hard cock pressing against your stomach.

Remus breaks away from your mouth and starts sucking and licking down your jaw and neck while his hands move to grope at your breasts over the top of your school shirt. “We don’t have much time before class ends.” Remus mumbles into your skin, his mouth is salivating when he breathes in deep, his nostrils filling with the sweet scent of you, it’s so intoxicating and immediately images of you are accompanying his mind, some more sinful than others. Remus wastes no time in sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of your shoulder, his cock twitching at the sound you make.

“Then you better hurry up and fuck me Remus,” you smirk, loving the way Remus groans and narrows his eyes at you. His pupils have seemingly expanded and darkened, his eyes are scanning over every inch of your face leaving you feeling vulnerable.

Your pussy has been throbbing since Remus firmly rested his hand on your leg back in the classroom and you know your panties are soaked by now with the way Remus is rutting his hips against yours but it’s not enough. It won’t be enough, not until you know what it’s like to have Remus’ skin against yours and his cock inside you but even then, you think you will always be wanting more of him.

Your hands are fumbling at Remus’ pants trying to get them unbuckled as quickly as possible, Remus understands the rush and helps you, skilfully undoing his pants and pushing them along with his boxers down his legs with only one hand, the other creeps under your shirt and rests delicately on the small of your back. Just the feeling of Remus’ skin on your back makes you melt further into him, your desire to have him fuck you hard and fast is becoming unbearable. Remus’ cock is sitting hard and angrily between your bodies, desperate for any sort of attention and Remus wishes you had more time because he would love to push you down to your knees and finally force you to shut up by pushing his cock into your sweet mouth and make you gag and choke around his length until you’re crying. But time isn’t on his side right now so instead Remus wraps his strong arms around your arse, silently signally you to jump which you do with no hesitation and lock your legs around his waist.

Remus reaches his hand down to flip your skirt up, he be damned if he couldn’t see the cunt he’s spent way to much time thinking about. Remus pull your panties to the side groaning when his fingers graze your wet dripping core, another thing he wishes he could do is to taste you. He just knows you taste sugary and sweet just like the sounds you’re making as he teases your entrance. He wants to bury his face deep in your cunt inhaling your scent while he licks and sucks until you’re screaming his name, maybe another time.

“You gotta be quiet for me kay bunny? Think you can do that?” Remus’ voice is thick with lust and a condescending tone is laced throughout it.

“You think that highly of yourself?” you retort trying to rile Remus up like you normally do, it seems to be working judging by the way Remus pinches the flesh of your arse.

Without breaking eye contact Remus lines up his cock and drags your hips down until he’s deep inside you, his balls pressed flush against your skin.

Remus isn’t sure if it’s because it’s close to the full moon but he hasn’t even started moving yet and the way the soft velvet walls of your cunt is gripping and hugging at his cock feels so intense and heavenly, he thinks he might cum right there.

Along with a lack of patience around this time of the month Remus also struggles to control himself and his urges. It takes every ounce of self-discipline in him to hold you against the rough wall of the broom closet and slowly rock his hips into yours, feeling the need to control the situation. Remus is very conscious of not gripping your hips too hard and not slamming his hips up into yours too roughly, he doesn’t want to let go mentally and hurt you.

You can tell Remus is holding back, the authoritative tone used in the classroom is vastly different to his actions right now. He’s supposed to be fucking you hard and fast and making you scream, not this.

Although the pleasure from Remus’ rocking into your cunt is great you know he can do better, can fuck you better. “Remus,” you whine, pulling his face away from your neck, forcing him to look you in the eyes. There’s clearly an internal struggle behind his eyes. “Remus, I need you to fuck me properly. I can take it, you won’t break me, promise.”

Remus does pick up the speed slightly, but you can clearly tell there’s still some hesitance on his behalf and you asking nicely didn’t seem break that. You’re desperate for Remus to let go. A smirk breaks out onto your face, an idea forming. Based on your previous interactions you know exactly how to get under Remus’ skin, what to say and do that would have him clenching his jaw in annoyance, after all it was a hobby of yours, annoying Remus Lupin. “Guess we don’t have to worry about me being quiet if you fuck like this. Pity, was kinda hoping you’d have me screaming.”

Something deep and primal in him snaps, blame it on the full moon or how you’re silently challenging him, he doesn’t care, all he cares about right now is proving you wrong, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had you trembling and shaking.

His grip on your hips tighten, nails threatening to break skin as Remus pushes your further into the wall behind you so hard for a second you think you might go tumbling right through it. You’re grateful for the material of your school top slightly soften the rough texture of the wall behind you. With no warning Remus starts slamming his hips harder and faster into yours, clearly set on making you squirm against him. Each thrust is harder than the last and his cock is poking your g-spot repeatedly. The sounds you were making were positively indecent and only fuelled Remus on. Neither of you cared that anyone walking by the broom closet could possibly hear the sound of skin slapping together or yours and Remus’ moans. None of that mattered, not when the two of you felt this good.

The vigour of Remus’ pace was unmatched and all you could do was hold on tight to Remus’ shoulders and take every powerful thrust. You were hypnotised with the feeling of Remus’ cock inside of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what other parts of his body like his fingers or tongue, would feel like when fucking you.

“Fuck Remus, so good. I-I” you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say, all your thoughts were jumbled and bouncing around in your brain, all you knew is you never wanted Remus to stop.

“You feel amazing,” Remus’ body was on fire, every inch of him alight and burning, his annoyance of how his day started was far from his mind. All he could think of was you and how you were clenching around him. He chokes out a strained sob when he hears you chanting his name in time with each rough snap of his hips, you sound both angelic and sinful at the same time, Remus’ wishes he had one of those muggle voice recording devices so he could record your whines and listen to them when he’s alone in his dorm room.

Using his free hand Remus reaches down to rub tight circles on your clit edging you closer and closer to your release. Your orgasm is fast approaching much like a freight train heading straight for you, sirens blaring but you can’t move, the pleasure is too intense and too powerful to do anything except take it.

Remus’ face is pressed back against your neck and he quickly decides it’s his favourite place to be, if someone offered him 1,000 Galleons to never bury his face in your neck, he wouldn’t take it. Remus can hear the squelching sounds of your soppy cunt as it helplessly takes his fat cock. He’s leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys wherever he can get his mouth. It’s right when Remus’ digs his teeth into your neck and bites down hard do you fall apart, your pussy clenching and spasming around him, right in this moment you’re thankful for Remus holding you up against the wall, your legs are shaking and tensing and you know if you were standing the intensity of the orgasm would have brought you to your knees. Remus’ name is the only word you seem capable of saying as the coil inside your stomach snaps and rapidly unravels as you come undone.

“Remus, Remus, Remus!”

You connect your lips with Remus’ in a lame attempt to shut yourself up, the kiss is rushed and your teeth clash together but you don’t give a fuck. Remus’ name is still spilling from your lips and into Remus’ mouth as your body begins to come down from the high.

The boy holding you up hasn’t faltered in his movements at all, determined to fuck you through your orgasm. There’s beads of sweat dripping from Remus’ forehead, his mind is whirling and thoughts of you are spiralling around his brain, he thinks he might pass out and he’s certain he does for a second when you whisper and bite his earlobe.

“Want you to cum inside me Remus, fill me up,” half a thrust later and Remus’ hips stutter and he’s spilling into your cunt groaning your name as he does so. His vision blurs around the edges before he closes his eyes and he lets out a moan so deep, primal and loud. Remus continues to rock his hips milking his own orgasm until the last drop is squeezed from his soften cock. He stills his movements but doesn’t dare pull out just yet, relishing in the warmth of your pussy and the way your hand is brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead. You rest your forehead against Remus’ sweaty one, pecking his lips, once, twice then three times.

“That was…” you drift off unable to find the right words to describe what just happened.

“Intense?” Remus offers breathlessly.

You nod, “in the best way.”

It wasn’t until you hear the sounds of students outside signalling the end of class do either of you move, Remus helping you clean yourself up. And it wasn’t until the two of you were certain the coast was clear did you exit the closet with the promise of doing that again very soon.

[luimagines]

He Accidentally Hurt You pt.2

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the group Part 1

Hyrule

Your blood was pounding as your feet carried you across the battle field.

Your hearing was rendered useless by the cause, you only thoughts were on Hyrule and getting to him before the hoard of monsters did. He had somehow gotten separated from the group in the struggle and was left to fend for himself.

You made contact.

The sword in your hand followed through your practiced movements, slicing all and any between you and your target.

You could hear him in the distance, you were close, you just had to get- just a little-

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and the air changed. The split second static was your only warning before lightning struck.

Monsters fell all around you but you failed to pay attention to that. Your attention was instead on the blinding, scalding twist in your arm that held your trusted blade. You couldn’t even find it in you to let go of the weapon, your muscles incapable to receiving orders.

The pain traveled through your arm and across your chest until it encompassed your whole being.

Screams tore through your throat without your knowledge and when the attack subsided, your whole body went rag doll and your vision went black.

“Please. Please. Please.” A voice whispered through the darkness. It was soft. Pleading. A blessed chill seemed deep into your bones and you found it within yourself to open your eyes.

Hyrule was crouched above you, tears in his eyes with shallow cuts across his tunic and exposed skin. Not a lot of blood though, your brain supplies. You take a relieved breath.

“Hey.” You croaked out in greeting. “Glad to see you’re ok. I was worried.”

“I didn’t know you were there.” He blurts as if he didn’t hear you. Maybe he didn’t. “I thought it was only monsters nearby. I don’t think I have enough magic to heal you completely. This is all my fault.”

“Fault?” You attempted to sit up. You succeed. Mostly.

A grunt leaves your mouth at the stiffness in your joints and you force yourself to power though to reach into your inventory.

A sniffle leaves your Traveler when you push his hands away when you find your target. The red liquid glints in the dying sunlight and you hand it out to him. “Think you can open it?”

He nods and pry's it open before you can even think about getting into a better sitting position.

You don’t think twice about taking the potion when he hands it back.

“Save your magic.” You say. “I’ll be fine.”

And you know you’re right....It’ll take a little more than that to convince the rest of the group when you get back though. Hyrule plans to smother you until not a single blemish is left. The others? Well... They’ll keep an eye on you.

Twilight

“Ten rupees says you can’t make that throw.” You hear Warriors say.

“Double it and I’ll gladly prove you wrong.” Twilight responds.

The book in your lap calls for attention more than whatever those two are doing for the sake of friendly competition. You don’t look up, trying to keep your eyes on the page but you can’t help the growing curiosity in the back of your head.

“What are we using to aim with?”

“That?”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes and keep your head down.

“I’ll be twenty rupees richer and it’ll shut your mouth. Just watch.” Twilight grumbles.

There’s a tap and a growl before something comes at your head full throttle. It’s dense but not enough to keep it from exploding all into your hair and it knocks you over slightly.

You closed your book to protect it from the falling matter and reach at the spot. By your feet laying the offending object.

An apple.

They threw an apple at your head. Correction. Twilight threw an apple at your head.

The thoughts in your head spin a bit. Your whole head is throbbing but you doubt there’s any blood. You look up just in time to see Warrior and Twilight running at you as fast as they can. Twilight reaches you first and kneels next to you. “By Ordana, are you ok?”

His hands hover over you, trying to take in the damage without actually touching you.

“Who are you?” You blurt out, very quickly realizing that it was the wrong thing to say.

His face drops and Warrior wears a similar expression.

“Kidding.” A pained grin covers your face. “Take me to Hyrule please.”

“I’m so sorry.” Twilight reaches for you and you comply. Once you’re on your feet he speaks again. “Warrior messed up my shot and it hit you by accident.”

“That’s a weird way to say you lost a bet.”

You kick Warrior as payback.

Sky

“So...” You sit next to Sky during the break. “What are you planning to make this time?”

The boy next to you already had his whittling knife out and a decent sized chunk of wood in his lap. He picked it up and spun it a few times, staring into it as if he could already see the form inside it. It was just his job to take it out.

“I don’t know yet.” He admits. “Maybe it’ll come to me.”

You nod and let him work in relative silence, the faint but consistent sounds of Sky working next to you create a blissful and serene atmosphere.

The others are off doing their own thing, each keeping to themselves for the most part.

It’s nice.

“Actually, can you help me with this real quick?”

Your attention is back on Sky. He’s trying to get his knife out of the wood block, the outline of the shape he’s making already starting to form.

You don’t recognize it.

Sky picks up the knife and the whole block follows. “It got stuck.”

“How?” You raise an eyebrow and try to keep the smile off of your face.

Your response is only a shrug and the wood being thrust in your direction.

You grab it and instinctively tighten your grip on it when you feel Sky pull.

You both use your strengths to your advantage and pull in different directions. You feel the knife begin to slip out and adjust your grip. Within seconds the blade is free and you feel it cross the tip of your finger.

Instantly, the wood is dropped and you cradle your hand close to you, putting pressure on the injured digit.

“Ok, got it, thank- What happened?” Sky scoots closer to you and pulls your hands out.

A thin red line follows the length of your finger and it only seems to grow as the moments pass. It doesn’t feel deep but it certainly won’t let you flex your finger for a while.

A quite hiss leaves Sky’s lips. “Well that could’ve gone better. Sorry about that.”

“It could’ve gone worse too.” You press a little on the injury, trying to will the pain away.

It doesn’t work, but hey, you try.

“Hold on. I think I have some bandages in my pack.” Sky gets up and jogs to where most of the others are sitting. He picks up his bag and looks inside for a minute or two before jogging back to you.

A small role of bandages sits in his hand and when he reach for your hand, you don’t hesitate to give it to him.

As he’s working on your finger, you feel mild irritation bubble up in your throat. “This better not scar.”

“Why’s that?” Sky replies.

“It’ll be the lamest story.”

He laughs and finishes his work.

Time

Sometimes it surprised you how short everyone in the group was. You weren’t sure if it was a Link thing or one of the biggest coincidences of the universe because it certainly wasn’t just because they were Hylian (but that probably didn’t help).

That being said, and what you could gather from The Captain, it boggled your mind further that Time was the biggest of everyone. Warrior made it seem like he’d stay small forever, implying that Time was smaller still when he first defeated Gannon.

That didn’t seem very fair.

For him and you....well everyone, only Twilight and Warrior were the ones exempt from having to look up at the old man. But you didn’t like the idea of someone so small fighting such a beast, so Time is included in your sympathy list.

Despite his size, he seemed to move as silent as a mouse. Only Wild would be quieter than him.

After some time of traveling with them all, you realized he was just as much as a gremlin as the rest.

He was not above pranking the living daylights out of poor unsuspecting teenagers.

And the thing is, no one could catch him. Somehow he managed to get them to in the blame on each other but you knew better. You swore it had to be him. There was no way. There was no way he could count as a Link and not get into this kind of stuff.

But no one believed you.

It definitely wasn’t fair.

With the stage set, it’s safe to say now that you were calmly, peacefully and quietly minding your own business. You weren’t bothering anyone.

You were writing in your journal under a tree with some low branches. Nothing too bad but in terms of shade and angle, you found it to be the perfect resting place.

You took a deep breath in and let it out.

Yes, it was nice.

“BOO!”

You jumped as high as your reflexes you take you and spun around, but you had forgotten where you were in the moment.

With a solid thunk, your head hit the branch above you and sat back down, with a curse.

While there was laughter in the your reaction, it was cut off abruptly at the first sign of pain. “Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. How bad does it hurt?”

A whimper escaped your mouth before you could stop it and you closed your journal, choosing to furiously rub your hands against the now tender spot on the top of your head. “Ow Time. Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d move like that.” He moved your hands away and inspected the area for himself. “No bleeding. Doesn’t look like it’ll need a potion...”

“I blame you.” You grumbled. “This is your fault.”

“I can accept that.” He nodded and stepped back. “There’s not much we can do about it in terms of healing, but perhaps Hyrule would be willing to lend a hand.”

“No way. He’d ask how it happened and I’m not going to lie to him.” You pouted. “No one will believe me if I told them the truth.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you!” You glared at him.

A tiny giggle escaped from the so called Old Man of the group, Mr. Stick in the Mud. Senor Buzzkill. “And why would that make a difference?”

“I cannot believe you... Actually yes I can, you were doing this on purpose the whole time.”

He laughed more fully this time and didn’t seem to let up.

With a pout, you picked up your book and marched away.

One day you’ll get back at him. You just had to figure out how and when.

Four

“So, how do we play this game again?” You picked up the ball one of your companions took out. It was almost the size of your head and had crisscrossing lines. It was white and weighed less than you originally thought.

It was a relatively slow day and no one felt in the mood to dampen it by looking for trouble.

While Twilight and Warrior set up the net that was supposed to go with it, the rest were waiting and going over the rules.

“Just hit the ball over the net. You can’t the ball twice in a row, someone else has to hit it and if it touches the ground you lose the point.”

“Seems simple enough.” Wild takes the ball from you and tosses it a few times.

It takes a while for all the appropriate moves to be demonstrated but you all play the game with ease.

You were having a good time with your friends. Everyone was actually getting along for a change. With a smile on your face, you waited for the moment that would inevitably change.

You swore you could almost pin point when it happened.

With Four right across from you, his sudden change in stance gave away the glint in his eyes.

The ball came to him and he jumped up, higher than you thought he could and spiked.

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground, stunned and slightly disoriented and your face was hurting.

Four ran to your side as the game was halted. “That... was not what I was intending.”

“You don’t say... Can I step out for a minute?” You asked, trying to get your feet. Four helped you get away from the battle field- I mean, the game area and helped you sit back down against a nearby tree.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled apologetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

You looked up at him hopefully. “Lose the game?”

“Not a chance.”

[otomefoxystar]

Facing the Truth

Fandom: MLQC

Suitor: Victor

Warnings: SMUT and mentions of break up.

Written for @fandom-collective-writers request event

Time could be a tricky thing, there were only so many hours in the day. _ _ _ knew Victor was a busy man, and she had been understanding. She didn’t exactly have a lot of free time herself, running her own business. Lately, though the work hours have gotten longer and the nights shorter. The time they spent together was becoming less and less. Even though they shared a home, a bed. The distance between them had never been greater. She was asleep by the time he came home, and she was getting ready for work by the time he got up. The only time they spent together was a kiss on her way out the door.

As the weeks went by her heart grew heavier and heavier. She had always heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder. She didn’t know if there was any truth to that saying, with how much her heart broke every day.

There wasn’t anything special about that day, nothing different had happened. She had decided enough was enough her heart couldn’t take the loneliness any longer. She pulled out a large suitcase from the closet and threw it on the bed in between sobs. She unzipped it, opening it all the way. She opened her dresser taking out all her clothes and throwing them in the suitcase. She then proceeded to the closet ripping her shirts and dresses off the hangers and throwing them into the suitcase without so much as folding anything. She put as much in the suitcase as she could, thinking she would figure out how to get the rest of her things another day. She zipped it up while putting as much pressure as she could on the suitcase to get it to zip.

She lugged the suitcase to the front door ready to leave when Victor was standing at the door with his keys in his hand ready to unlock the door.

“ _ _ _” then he looked at the suitcase beside her.

“ Don’t you think it’s kind of late to be going on a trip?” She took a deep breath, her nerves at an all-time high.

“ I’m not going on a trip.”

“ Where are you going with that suitcase?”

“ I’m leaving.”

“ What?” His heart felt like it dropped into his stomach.

“ Someone has to do it. It’s been a long time coming, we haven’t been together for a while now. It’s more like we are roommates that sleep in the same bed.” He bowed his head, he knew he’d been neglecting their relationship. He had put work first.

He never thought she would actually leave, that it would blow over. Here they were though; having the breakup conversation. Victor pushed his way into the house locking the door behind him. Making it impossible for her to leave without going through him.

“ Did something happen?” She bit her lip.

“ Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He was losing her, she was slipping through his fingers and for once he felt powerless.

“ I just want to understand”

“ Understand? Victor, it’s been months since we’ve actually spent time together. Do you know how lonely it is being alone in this big house? Not to mention do you know where my thoughts go? I wonder are you actually working? Or are you out having an affair ?” Tears rolled down her cheeks

“ I have never, and would never be unfaithful to you! We can fix this, It doesn’t have to be this way, please…Stay.”

“Victor” He had never lost control of his feelings, but in this moment when the love of his life was about to walk out on him, he couldn’t control the panic starting to come forth.

“ It’s my fault too. Don’t blame yourself.”

“ Don’t leave.” He said feeling desperate

“ Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave?” He raked his hair back with both hands and his beautiful face contorted into something of a mix of anguish and worry. The crease between his eyebrows deepened.

“ Do you love me?” She sighed.

“ That doesn’t matter; sometimes love isn’t enough to make a relationship work.”

“Just answer the question.” He said sternly.

“Fine. Yes, I love you.”

“ Do you want to be with me?” She looked irritated

“ Victor, don’t do this.”

“ Answer me!”

“ Yes, but this isn’t working!”

Victor took a step forward and looked down on her. If she didn’t know how gentle and caring he could be she would have been intimidated.

“ If you love me and want to be with me, why are you leaving me? You don’t want to fight for us?”

“ I’m tired of fighting.” He glared at her in exasperation.

“ You’re tired of fighting? You haven’t even tried! The one thing you’ve always lacked was a voice. You never speak for yourself, I’m not telepathic I cannot read your mind. How am I to know how you are feeling if you never tell me?!” She knew it was true, it’s something she always struggled with. She crossed her arms

“ Yes, sure I know this and you know that I know it, but how am I ever supposed to talk to you when we see each other for less than ten minutes?! This right now is the longest we’ve seen each other in weeks!” Victor exhaled

“ Okay, enough yelling and enough blaming. We both have our faults, but that’s what a relationship is. Working together to find a common ground. We can’t give up before we try.” She stared at him in silence. Was he getting through to her? Were her motives dissipating?

“Don’t you know I’d do anything to be with you?” He stated in a half-whisper

Unable to resist in a moment where her mind seemed to have shifted ever so slightly. He took one small step and put his lips on hers. She tensed at first only to relax a moment later, and if by instinct she put her hands onto his shoulders and he pulled her close by her waist.

Once they deepened the kiss _ _ _ felt wetness falling onto her face, as tears of her own streamed down her face. She broke the kiss to see his tearful face. She apprehensively reached out, pausing before wiping his tears away.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Victor.”

“We’ve hurt each other, but... We can move forward, we can learn from this and be stronger.” He said as he wiped her tears away.

He didn’t say anything more, only crashed his lips back to hers in a needy kiss. She wrapped her arms around him as he pushed his tongue against her lips. Obediently, she opened her mouth letting his tongue conquer her mouth. As their tongues entwined and explored each other’s mouths. He pulled away from her biting her lip gently as he released her lips.

“ Don’t leave, don’t make this be goodbye.” He placed his forehead against hers.

He moved his hands to the back of her thighs and lifted her making her yelp. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he began walking eagerly up the stairs, down the corridor to the bedroom. He kissed her once they reached the bedroom walking her over to the bed and crashing down upon it. He lifted himself off of her placing his suit jacket over the back of the reading chair.

Once he made his way back over to her he climbed on top of her lifting her to a kneeling position and lifted the hem of her shirt pulling it over her head. He started kissing down her jaw and neck while reaching his hands behind her back and unhooking her bra. He gently slid it off her arms revealing her breasts to him. He laid her back down with her head sinking into the pillows; he began his attack on her collarbone sucking at the skin there leaving a red bruise. Then proceeding to brush his hands along her curves and give her feather-light, barely there brushes over her nipples with his thumbs.

He took his forefinger and thumb and began rolling her nipples in between them. He kissed between her breasts back up to her lips. As he teased her tongue with his hand he reached down between her legs and pressed on the hem on the crotch of her jeans stroking her clit. She shifted, trying to get more friction. He removed moved his hand and unbuttoned her jeans slipping his hand under her panties. He took two fingers slipping them between her folds and pinching her clit between his fingers and moving it side to side. Then tapping at the hood quickly. She arched her back, and he took her nipple his mouth tugging at it, and she let out a loud moan.

He moved his hand lower teasing at her entrance.

“ You are so wet, have you been wanting this? For me to touch you like this?” He pushed a finger inside of her.

“ How long has it been? Two months, maybe three?” He added a second finger, plunging them into her.

“ Tell me when you want me. Dummy”

He withdrew his fingers, and she groaned at the emptiness. He stood up and proceeded to pull her jeans and underwear off her body, then discarded his own clothes. He climbed on top of her baring his weight on her as he devoured her mouth and the tip of his cock pressed against her thigh. She reached down and wrapped her hand around the base. She began slowly stroking his length; making his hips twitch. She took her thumb and rubbed at the sensitive spot underneath the head, then continuing to stroke him a couple more times before she lined him up with her entrance. He pushed himself into her in one strong stroke. Once he was fully inside of her he looked into her wanting eyes and brushed her hair out of her face and kissed each of her eyelids.

He started slow savoring the way her breathing got heavier, and the feeling of her walls squeezing his cock in all the right ways. She grabbed the back of his shoulders digging her long nails into his skin He grunted. As their lovemaking continued and their bodily fluids mixed starting to make a squelching sound. She put her hands on his buttocks pushing him in faster and tilting her hips with every thrust.

Victor pulled out till the sensitive head of his cock was sitting just barely inside of her, and he slammed back into her. Perspiration ran down his back in tiny droplets His hair began to stick to his forehead. Still connected o her; he kneeled back and lifted her hips so her lower half was elevated.

"Wrap your legs around me," he said breathlessly.

She did as asked and he began pounding into her going at a fast pace. She felt him deep inside her, at a new angle. Making her nearly lose control right there and then.

“ Are you close _ _ _?” He asked between pants. Her whines and sighs got louder and increased in frequency

“ Y-yes.” He put her hips back on the bed and hovered over her shifting his position with her legs still wrapped around him.

He pinched her nipples and ran his hand down her sweaty torso to where her clit was. He pressed down gently rubbing it in a circular motion.

“ Ahh, Victor!" She panted "Faster, harder! I’m so close.”

At her request he rammed into her faster, rubbing her clit with more pressure, and her legs started to tremble uncontrollably.

“ I’m going to cum so hard!”

Finally, she arched her back, lifting her hips off the bed and stilling her body as her release started consuming her. The feeling of warmth from her head to her curled toes washed over her; with a generous amount of fluid releasing out of her. As she saw a bright white light and her body stilled. She scratched at his back leaving red marks in their wake.

He gently thrust inside of her, helping her come down so she wasn’t overstimulated As he continued to thrust her walls clenched around him. He felt his testicles contract as the coil in his belly began to loosen as his cock became overly sensitive. Realizing they hadn’t used any protection, he immediately pulled out and she stroked his length quickly while using her other hand to squeeze and massage his testicles. It didn’t take long before he spilled over her stomach. His eyes were closed tight and when he finally caught his breath, he opened his eyes and rolled off of her.

Grabbing a tissue on the nightstand, he wiped his release off of her. They laid there catching their breaths with their chests heaving. He rolled to the side looking at her and sweeping her sweaty hair away from her flushed face. Finally, she smiled at him and placed her hand on his cheek.

Victor placed his hand over hers.

" You're staying right?" She stared into his dark eyes for a moment, before her face relaxed.

"All I want is to be by your side.”

[a-n-conrad]

Painting (Steve Rogers x Reader)

[Summary: You decide to paint your friend, Steve Rogers, realizing that no one had ever painted him without his uniform. However, things start to get heated after you start to daydream during your painting session. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT (18+, but with emotions), Not Canon Compliant (Because fuck you, Marvel.), Swearing, unprotected vaginal sex

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/D9rsJtkERoBPaKvv8)]

You and Steve Rogers were widely considered to be an unlikely pair. There were a lot of things that you didn’t exactly agree on. Steve was a lot more social, being bold and outgoing. You were a bit quieter, preferring to avoid the company of a crowd. Steve was prone to waking up early to exercise. You stayed up into the quiet hours of the night, choosing instead to get a majority of your sleep in the morning. You weren’t exactly fond of Steve’s workout routines either, though you would join him on a short jog on occasion.

While you were technically considered an Avenger, you were really only brought out to fight for emergency circumstances. You had some incredibly powerful, incredibly volatile powers, but you really had no interest in using them unless it was completely needed. So you ended up making a few deals. You’d be treated like an Avenger, but you were basically benched unless some drastic, world-ending issue came up. So until then, you were kept on hold in Avengers Tower, spending most of your time painting in the studio that Tony had gotten set up for you.

Despite this power, and despite your title as an official Avenger, you were still a bit of an outsider among the team. You tended not to talk to them a lot, becoming a bit easily overwhelmed by the chaos that the team seemed to radiate. But surprisingly, you and Steve got along incredibly well.

You had originally bonded over your love of art. You loved Steve’s drawings. You admired the linework and shading in his drawings. He could do so much with just a pen, let alone if you gave him a few colors. He admired the amount of emotion you managed to instill into every single painting that you made. No matter what you painted, whether it was a portrait, a landscape, or something entirely different, it was always filled to the brim with the emotion that you had felt while painting it. It was like looking through a window into your soul. It was so honest and refreshing.

Eventually the two of you started to talk a bit more while you worked. It started pretty tame, just discussions of how your day was or general questions about each other like “What’s your favorite color”. But eventually you moved on to the harsher topics of your lives. Steve would talk about how exhausting it was to be the face of America, to be held on such a pedestal while also being expected to sacrifice everything at the drop of a hat. You talked about how cold and dehumanizing it felt to be seen by the American government as nothing more than a weapon, a walking nuclear bomb.

Your struggles overlapped at certain points. You both spent a lot of your time being used by the government. You were both seen as tools more than you were seen as people by a lot of the general public. You were a weapon and he was an idol, some sort of trophy. So you bonded a lot over your shared struggles as you talked to each other and worked on art side by side. And when the hard stuff got a bit too heavy, you’d sit and talk about art. About subjects that you just loved to add to all of your work. About what each shade of every color meant to you, about the emotions that you saw in every tiny color shift.

It was so nice, for both of you, to have something like that. The studio that you spent time in was so safe and peaceful for both of you, since the other Avengers tended to avoid it. And the two of you had started to see through each other’s masks enough to truly get to know each other. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had known him as Steve Rogers more than they had known him as Captain America. He had Bucky, but Bucky was far too busy with his own issues for Steve to even consider burdening him with anything else. But with you he could truly be himself, even if that meant getting angry, sad, or frustrated.

So the two of you had become incredibly close, despite your differences. And every day that you had some free time without any big meeting or mission, you would be in the studio helping each other with art. It was a good way for you to relieve stress, just relaxing with each other. It was one of those days that you came to a realization.

- - - - -

“Has anyone ever painted you?” You asked suddenly one day as the two of you sat side by side in the art studio. He looked a bit surprised, and then he looked confused.

“Of course. There are murals of me up all over the place, (Y/n).”

“No, there are murals of Captain America,” you responded, shaking your head, “They don’t really look that much like you. You really only look like that when you’re working as Captain America. So has anyone ever painted you? As Steve Rogers?”

He looked surprised again. And you could tell as the emotions cycled through his face that he didn’t really know how to respond. You supposed it was a bit of an odd question. And you knew that it was a bit odd to think of someone and their superhero persona as two different people, but Steve couldn’t disagree. He wasn’t Captain America all the time, and he loved that you understood that, “I suppose I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess not.”

You hummed a bit, “That’s a shame. It feels like a waste that everyone paints a costume. You should let me paint you sometime.”

You said it in a way that he wasn’t sure if you were serious. Your face was entirely serious when you said it, but you said it so casually, not even really looking at him, “Really?”

You finally looked up at him, noticing the pure confusion on his face, “Of course. I mean, you’d have to sit still for a while, but honestly, you could probably just sit and sketch for a while. You just seem too good of a subject to not be painted without the costume.”

Steve wasn’t really one to blush, but it was quite the compliment coming from you. He had women trying to hit on him all the time now, being Captain America, but that never really felt heartfelt. It had been a fairly long time since he had actually felt a real connection with someone. But to hear you compliment him, thinking of him as Steve Rogers instead of Captain America, made his heart flutter a bit. And the fact that he knew that you were rather picky about the subject you painted only made it more effective.

“I, uh, think that’d be cool,” He responded as soon as he was sure that he could trust his voice not to crack, though he couldn’t hide the slight stutter. It was honestly endearing how much his personality changed when he wasn’t working. While he was still headstrong and stubborn, he was a bit less confident. He knew he could win a fight. He knew that he looked good on television. But he didn’t really know how to interact with people in the new modern age. He was lucky to have the friends that he did. At least, that’s how he felt about it.

“Wonderful,” You hummed, starting to put away all of your supplies, “Why don’t we pack it up for the day and I can start painting you tomorrow if we aren’t too busy?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

- - - - -

The next day was surprisingly slow. You had to say that you were thankful. You had been looking forward to getting to paint Steve, even though you knew it was making him a little nervous. You were honestly excited to have a new project, and part of you was excited for the opportunity to stare at Steve for a bit without it being considered weird. He was easy to admire, both physically and on a personal level, so you found yourself staring more often than you’d like to admit. You were pretty sure that you had been lucky enough to avoid being caught though.

He was physically gorgeous. Obviously. But something about the way that he looked when he was drawing was nearly angelic. The way he furrowed his brows just a little and turned his paper at odd angles to make sure that the proportions of his sketches were right was adorable. The look in his eyes when his work started to come together made your heart melt. When he got a bit frustrated and would run a hand through his hair you could feel your heart skip a beat. You felt a bit dumb to be drooling over your friend, but you had to admit you were falling pretty hard for him. So you’d use this painting as an excuse to admire him without any questions.

He was already blushing a bit when he came into the studio, and you had a feeling that part of it was from Tony teasing him. He had a habit of giving the two of you a bit of a hard time about how much time you spent together. But the blush was still adorable. Something about Steve when he was nervous stole your heart. He was surprisingly soft when he had the space to be.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” He asked as he strode over to your work station that you had already gotten set up.

“Just pull a chair up in front of me. You can get comfortable, start sketching, and I’ll get a base outline and block out as much as I can. Just let me know if you need a break and try not to change your pose too much. At least until I can get all of the base shapes right,” You instructed, trying to keep your voice even. You were surprised at how well you managed to hide the fact that you were completely lovesick.

“Alright, sounds good,” He responded, pulling up a chair and getting himself situated. He crossed one of his legs over the other, resting his ankle on his other thigh to give himself a place to set his sketchbook. You tossed him his pencil once he got himself settled, and then you got to work.

You had to admit you had started to get a bit frustrated with how easily you managed to get distracted by him while you were trying to paint. You had hoped that maybe painting him would help. You had no reason to get distracted from your painting when you were painting him. At least, that’s what you had thought before you started sketching out the form.

You felt yourself losing focus as your brush moved smoothly, the incredibly thin, light paint building a form that you found yourself wanting to know a bit more intimately. You tried your best to stay focused on the canvas in front of you, but you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting. You imagined what his body looked like under his clothes as you blocked out the lights and shadows of the fabric that rested over his abs. And the vivid image in your brain, the detailed picture of his body that you had conjured up in front of you, followed your brush as you worked.

The brush slid smoothly across the canvas, outlining his muscles, almost all of which showed through his thin t-shirt. Your brain almost instantly conjured up a matching image, the fantasy becoming more and more dynamic as you went on. It shifted from regular images of what his abs looked like when he was shirtless to more detailed images. Thoughts of his biceps flexing a bit as he held himself over you, his arms covered in sweat. Thoughts of his hands sliding across your skin. It only got worse as you moved down, eventually reaching the point between his legs.

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” Steve’s voice finally broke you from your thoughts, his eyes which had been focused intently on his drawing when you had last looked were now trained on your face, scanning for any sign as to what was causing you to space out, “You don’t normally get distracted when you’re painting, is everything alright?”

“Oh,” You tried your best to pull yourself back to reality, though the fantasies seemed to be burned into your brain, “Yeah, sorry. I was, uh, spacing out a bit.”

“Do you want to take a break for a bit? Maybe we should get up and stretch,” He suggested. You nodded in response, hoping it would help you refocus on your painting.

It didn’t help much, though, as Steve stood, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted up just enough to show some skin, and his pants were riding fairly low. Your eyes almost involuntarily moved to look at him, landing right about the button to the jeans that he was wearing. The muscles in his hips and stomach formed an almost perfect V shape leading into his pants.

“(Y/N)?” You had been caught staring. You tried your best to look casual, relaxing your posture. Your mistake was to try to lean on the table, setting your hand directing on your palette, which was covered in paints.

You froze, and Steve’s eyes landed on your hand, the red and blue paint gushing out from the sides. You felt like an awkward teenager, doing stupid ridiculous shit in front of your crush. You watched intently for a reaction from Steve, not really knowing what to do and hoping that the way that he reacted would give you something easy to respond to.

He raised one of his eyebrows at you, a look of confusion, with a small hint of amusement under the surface painted across his face, “You seem to have set your hand in your paint.”

“Uh, yes, it would seem so,” You responded awkwardly, finally lifting your hand out of the paint. You still really weren’t sure what to say, and not knowing where to put your hand so that you wouldn’t smear any paint anywhere wasn’t really making you feel any better. You cleared your throat a bit, trying to think of something smart to say, something that wouldn’t signal exactly how far gone you were into your fantasies, but instead you just signaled to Steve how flustered you were.

You knew that Steve had never been the biggest ladies’ man. From what he had told you, he was actually pretty awkward growing up, but the confidence that washed over him as he finally figured out what was getting you so flustered was visible. He walked closer to you, standing close enough to emphasize how tall he was, “Got something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Oh, uh,” You stuttered, not sure what to say. You could tell that he knew from the smirk on his face, but you could feel your face heating up as you thought about explaining your fantasizing to Steve. He smirked even more as you got visibly flustered.

“It’s okay, honey, I don’t mind if you stare a little,” He said, standing a bit closer, his hand moving to hold your chin. You swallowed deeply as his fingers brushed against your skin softly. Your eyes locked with his as his hand tilted your chin up just a little.

As much as he was keeping up his confident, masculine persona, you could see the complete warmth in his eyes. He softened completely when you looked at him, pure admiration in your eyes. He had to admit it warmed his heart to see you looking at him like that, like he was your whole world. And maybe it was because he felt the same way. He had been falling in love with you slowly, and as he looked at you, he wanted to find every way possible to express it.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his voice soft.

“Please.”

His lips were much softer than you thought they’d be, but you didn’t think about it too much as his lips moved against your own. It was soft at first, but it began to escalate quickly, getting rough and more passionate. His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body into his own, and your hands moved to his face, too focused on the kiss to notice the fact that you were smearing paint across his cheek.

He pulled back, allowing you to get a breath of air. That was when you noticed the red and blue streaks across his cheek, “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about,” He brushed it off, before pulling you into another kiss. He truly didn’t seem to care at all about the paint, choosing instead to focus on you.

This kiss started off much more passionate, building even further. Before long he pulled away again, pulling a groan from your mouth as you instinctively wanted more. Your complaints were silenced, though, as he began to kiss down your neck, nipping slighting at a few select spots, leaving marks for you to see later.

“If you want me to stop, just say it,” He said, as his hands started to move towards the hem of your shirt. He was moving slowly, giving you the chance to stop him at any point. You didn’t.

Before long, your clothes were entirely discarded, scattered haphazardly across the floor. Steve’s followed shortly. Neither of you could keep your hands to yourself, feeling the curves of each other's bodies as you continued to kiss. Both of you were desperate, the tension that neither of you even realized had been building finally crashing to the ground around you, any sort of restraint being thrown out the window.

However, you had to take a few moments to admire his body. You knew that it was perfect, he was a super soldier, of course it’s perfect, but you didn’t really know how perfect until it was right in front of you. There was no way you could’ve imagined it in a way that did it true justice. The warmth under his skin, the pace of his breathing, the firm feeling of his grip on your waist. Those were things that you could never have imagined fully.

He lifted you up without any issue, placing his hands under your thighs, carrying you to the work table and setting you on a clear section of the table without breaking the kiss. His hands slid across the tops of your thighs before grabbing your hips. Yours moved from his cheeks to rest on his bare chest, smearing a bit more paint across his scalped chest. You could feel his erection brush against your leg as he leaned over you, the two of you trying to get as close to each other as possible.

You were breathing heavily, your brain clouded with need, both new and left over from your earlier fantasies. Fantasies that were coming true, “Please, Steve.”

“What is it, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, looking down at you, his pupils blown wide with desire, “What do you want?”

You began to grind against his thigh without really thinking about it. He had to admit that something about you needing him this much turned him on, but he wanted to wait until you said it before he did anything, “Please fuck me.”

He would’ve liked to have a bit more foreplay, but both of you were so needy, having built up to this for so long with so little release until now. So he complied with your request. He pulled you quickly to the edge of the table. You were forced to lay your upper body down completely so that he could pull your hips to hang over the edge a bit. He took a few moments to rub himself against the entrance to your pussy, coating the head of his cock with liquid that was practically dripping from your pussy. Finally, he pushed himself into you slowly, making sure to monitor your reaction for any sort of discomfort. You were indulging in the feeling of him slowly stretching you out, completely enjoying the feeling of having him as close to you as possible.

He started moving after he was sure that you were comfortable, his hands beginning to wander your body, squeezing at your hips and breasts, basically any part of you that had a bit of squish, something for him to grab. His mouth latched on to the base of your neck, leaving a deep, dark hickey. You could feel every movement of his hips, his cock brushing against your internal walls again with each thrust.

You couldn’t hold back your moans as he found the perfect spot to hit, one of his hands gripping one of your hips tightly to hold you in place as his thrusts gained momentum. He started picking up speed a bit, taking care to continue to hit the spot that made you moan the loudest. His other hand slid down further, his fingers making their way between your folds. He was surprisingly quick to find your clit, not that you were complaining. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as he started to rub small circles over it, keeping pace with his thrusts.

You were practically putty in his hands, falling apart as he found every way to make you moan. Touch, squeezing, kissing, and biting exactly where you needed him to. You had no idea how he knew exactly what you wanted, but you didn’t really care as a knot began to build in the pit of your stomach.

You practically screamed his name as the knot finally snapped, Steve continuing his motions, continuing to rub your clit, as you rode out your climax, your whole body feeling as though fireworks were shooting through your veins. Your walls tightened with the waves of your orgasms, the fluttering feeling clear to Steve as he continued to bury himself inside of you. Soon after your climax finished, you could feel his thrust begin to get a bit sloppy, focus clear on his face as he tried his best to hold on longer.

He couldn’t hold on that long, though, soon giving in to the building pleasure. He came hard, his hips snapping into your own and his head being buried in your neck to hide his curses as he came completely undone. You could feel the thick hot ropes of his cum coating your insides as he finished. You both stayed like that for a few moments in order to catch your breath.

As you started to come back to reality, you finally noticed the mess you had made. Steve’s hair was a mess, blue paint sticking some of the tips together. You couldn’t even remember when you had grabbed his hair, but the paint smears left a clear map of where your hand had wandered. The blue and red stripes across his face and chest were clear, too. In fact, you had gotten paint all over his sculpted body, the blue smears outlining his muscles.

“We should probably clean up and get back to work, huh?” He eventually sighed, his eyes never leaving your body.

“I suppose.”

(A/N: Thanks for reading! If you want to send me a tip for my writing feel free to tip me over venmo! My venmo is Al3x13l. Tips aren't required, but as a broke college student, they are appreciated.)

[doctenwho]

Talk Me Down

Oof, not me disappearing for like a two months. I’m so sorry! I have the attention span of a goldfish and I’ve been fandom hopping. I sadly hyperfocus in and out, and then I’m back (currently stuck on Prodigal Son again, if anyone’s interested!).  D: Still working on the prompts in waiting, if I haven’t gotten around to yours yet!

Anywho! Thank you so much for the prompt! It was a lot of fun to work on, and I’m sorry it took so long! Hopefully this was what you were looking for, I thought it was pretty fluffy! 

Warnings: Panic/ Anxiety attacks, light angst

Word Count: 2,731 (Sorry it’s a bit short!)

Summary: Read the prompt above!

(Gif is not mine! All credit goes to the creator! :D)

You hated when you and the Doctor would get separated. It always filled you with a sense of dread. You knew he didn’t mean it—he'd never try to intentionally hurt you, but the two of you always somehow broke apart.

It wasn’t as bad when you were on earth—defeating whichever alien decided that earth and humanity was an easy target—but in space, when the Doctor would get carried away and leave you to fend for yourself like he tended to do with companions, you always felt like you were suffocating whenever he did that.

You loved travelling with him, and you were confident in your ability to fend for yourself, but you were just filled with a sinking feeling of doubt whenever he’d leave you alone on a planet you didn’t know. 

Today was no different than any other day. 

Then any other adventure. 

You couldn’t for the life of you remember which planet the Doctor had been raving about when he’d landed the TARDIS. You’d followed along like you always did, excited for the adventure, but with that small inkling of doubt in the back of your mind.  

He’d taken your hand with a wide smile and led you along. He talked your ear off, telling you of the planet’s history, the inhabitants. His personal favorites about the planet. You liked listening to him, listening to him ramble and gesture enthusiastically about what interested him.  

And then you were running.  

You were starting to think that there wasn’t a place in the universe where the Doctor wasn’t at least one person’s target. Where he hadn’t accidentally wronged someone.  

He’d dragged you along by your hand before you’d come to a fork in the road. He’d looked both directions calculatingly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before chancing a glance back at you. Then, his eyes seemed to go through you and to whomever happened to be chasing you, which seemed to make some sort of decision for him if the way his eyes hardened was anything to go off.  

His hand broke away from yours, and then he was giving you the slightest push towards one side of the fork with flustered order of “Go!” falling from his lips as he turned hurriedly and shot down the other road.

Your feet moved on autopilot as you sprinted down the path he’d directed you towards, instantly missing the warmth and comfort of the Doctor’s hand in your own. You weren’t sure how long you continued down the road. How long you ran—how far you got.  

You were sure no one was chasing you. You couldn’t hear any other sounds besides your own feet pounding along the gravel, and you heart thrumming in your chest in both exertion and anxiety.  

They wanted the Doctor, not you. Whatever it was the man had done to wrong these people, it had been long before you’d started travelling with him. Long before you’d even met the man.  

That still didn’t stop the clawing worry in your stomach. Was the Doctor okay? Would he come find you? Would he find you?  

What if he wasn’t okay? What if you’d be stranded here forever? Not only did you not think you’d ever be able to make it back to the TARDIS, but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to get her to fly even if you did somehow make it back.  

You weren’t a Timelord. The TARDIS wouldn’t fly for you, even if you tried.

You’d be stranded here.

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind a tiny voice was whispering to trust the Doctor. He hadn’t gotten the two of you into any serious danger yet. He took care of you, and you’d never been injured beyond bruises and scrapes. He always came for you. Always found you and swept you back into the TARDIS and far away from the threat.  

He’d always taken care of you--

But the larger, louder calling in your head shouted your fears. He wouldn’t find you. He was dead. They’d captured him. You were alone. Alone on a planet you didn’t even know the name of. You’d never see the Doctor again. You’d never see your friends and family, or planet again.

You were stranded.

Your movements slowed, and before you could fight to keep yourself up, your knees buckled under you. You fell to the dirty road below; your knees and hands scraping on the gravel.  

You were stuck here. On this strange planet. Without the Doctor.  

Alone.

You crawled to the side of the road, hiding yourself the best you could manage in a bush of some sort. It dug uncomfortably into your body, but you couldn’t be bothered. What did it matter?

A gaspy cry fell from you lips as you coiled in on yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as you buried your face in the fabric of your pants. It was a sinking feeling of loneliness—fear of the unknown environment.

You could barely force in any air. It felt like you were dying. This was it. You were going to die of lack of oxygen—which was weird considering the Doctor had told you this planet had the same atmosphere as earth. There was plenty of oxygen, but you couldn’t manage to suck any in.  

You struggled for each gasp of air you got.

Your head was an uncomfortable mix of lightheadedness and pounding headache, and you were sure you were crying. Tears slipping down your cheeks as your thoughts consumed you. The bigger, louder voice washing over the tiny pleading one like a title wave.  

How were you going to make it out of this? How would you survive this strange alien planet without the Doctor by your side? Your fingers subconsciously dug into your forearms where they were wrapped around your legs, holding your knees snug against you.  

“(Y/N)!” You heard, but it sounded far away. Far away and drown out. Why did it feel like you were underwater? You struggled to suck in another breath as a foreign touch settled on your hand, curling to just slightly grip around yours, “you need to take a breath, c’mon, deep in...”

You tried to steady your thoughts, taking a stuttery intake of air like the voice suggested, and it was quick to cool your lungs down. That suffocating feeling eased the slightest amount. The soft voice talking you through this was steadying you—anchoring you back, “good, good, my dear, now out? You’re doing perfect.”

It took a second before you let yourself blow out the air in your lungs, “perfect,” the voice told you, soft and comforting, “very good, another one? Nice and slow, alright? Breath with me, in and out.”

You sucked in another breath, waited for the hand around yours to tighten just the slightest before blowing that breath out too. Now that you could breathe through the mist of anxiety, you were desperate to pull in more air. You weren’t sure how long you’d been lost—unsure how long you’d gone without a decent breath.  

“Good,” the voice whispered lowly as a second hand settled on your forearm, thumb rubbing softly along your arm, “you’re doing brilliantly, (Y/N). Come back to me now, alright?”

You weren’t sure where you’d gone, but you’d try for the voice.  

You forced your eyes open, unsure when you’d really shut them. You couldn’t remember squeezing them shut, but it was almost a relief when you let your face relax. You continued with the deep breaths, replaying the words that had been spoken to you in your head—in and out.

Before you, dropped in a panicked kneel, was the Doctor. He looked out of breath, and frantic. Worried eyes searching your face for... you weren’t sure what he was looking so intently for. The worry didn’t look quite right on the usually so confident and narcissistic man.  

It was definitely the Doctor though.

“Doctor?” you wheezed out, uncoiling just enough to settle a hand on his chest to test if he was real or not. You hand flattened against him, and then one of his hands was pulling away from you to settle over top of your hand.

“I’m here,” he promised, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I’m here now. You’re alright.”

You let yourself fall forwards into him with the confirmation that it was him. That the Doctor was real before you. Alive. Here. You weren’t stranded. You weren’t alone anymore. A rush of that suffocating separation anxiety flowed out with your next heaving breath.  

You buried your face in his suit jacket as his arms wrapped tightly around you, “keep breathing, love, alright? Deep breaths for me.”

It was easier to suck in the breaths with the Doctor in close proximity. Even if it really should be harder to get any air through his clothes. You managed to wrap your arms around him too, holding him close.  

The two of you were at an awkward angle, the Doctor still on his knees in front of you, and you in an awkward mess of desperate limbs. Neither of you seemed to mind the odd position much. The longer you sat, the stiffer you got, but it was the furthest thing from your mind.  

“You’re doing so good,” the Doctor whispered into your hair, “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“You’re okay,” you whimpered out against his jacket.

“I am,” the Doctor agreed tenderly, “it was a misunderstanding. I’m okay, and you’re okay. We’re both okay, alright? Deep breaths.”

You just curled yourself in closer to him, afraid that you’d lose him if you let go. Your thoughts still ran rampant in your head, anxious and panicked, but the longer you forced in breaths, and sat in the Doctor’s arms with his hands trailing along your back and petting down your hair, the more everything eased away.  

The Doctor didn’t say much else as you slowly calmed down in his arms. With your breaths finally starting to even out, he didn’t keep reminding you. But whenever you slowed, or swallowed a shallow intake, he’d calmly remind you again.  

You didn’t know how long the two of you sat there on the ground, on some planet you didn’t even remember the name of. The Doctor made no move to get up, to move, and to speak until you’d calmed. Until you were okay, and breath steadily.  

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor told you once more, his chin settled on the top of your head as he held you close.  

“What for?” You finally asked when it no longer felt like you were fighting for every breath. His heart beats below your ear calmed you down, focused your attention. Reminded you he was here. That even if your head was telling you that you were alone, that you definitely weren’t.  

“We shouldn’t have split up,” the Doctor told you, “I should’ve kept you with me, but I needed you to be safe, and I knew they were after me, and not you, so I sent you away.”

“I thought you were gone,” you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing another breath just because you could, “I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know where I was. I... I thought I’d be stuck here forever. I was alone.”

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your head, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. We should’ve stayed together. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). It was stupid, I know you’re different from other companions, and I still thrusted you into something that made you uncomfortable. I just needed you to be okay.”

“I’m okay,” you breathed out, but you weren’t sure if that was his sake, or a reminder for yourself. You’d never had a panic attack quite as heavy. Never one that broke you down like this one had.  

“You’re okay,” the Doctor repeated, tightening his hold. You didn’t know if he really believed your words—his tone was pretty neutral. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you. I’ll always come for you okay?”

“Okay,” you swallowed, letting your forehead settle against his chest.

“Think you’re okay to stand? You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“No,” you shook you head, pulling away enough to look up at the Doctor, “I’m okay... you were right, no one came after me. I... I just, I tripped, I think.”

You pulled your hands away to look down at them, frowning at the scratches from the gravel. The Doctor took your hands into his own, leaning away just enough to look down at your palms. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you told him with a small laugh that didn’t sound quite right. Not as okay as you’d hoped it would’ve. You ignored the kicked-puppy look the Doctor shot in your direction as you pushed yourself up, using the Doctor’s shoulder as support before offering a hand to help him up too.  

It wasn’t his fault—he'd been protecting you. You’d always been a bit clingy anyways. The separation anxiety wasn’t new either—you'd just... never expected it could get so much worse on a planet that wasn’t your own. Being alone on a planet that you didn’t know; one not even in your own galaxy had hit you harder than ever.  

The Doctor took your offered hand, accepting the help up, but he didn’t look convinced by your words.

The need to not let go was clearly just as evident in him as it was in you. You went to pull you hand back after he was standing, but he didn’t let up his grip. You didn’t mind though, just squeezing his hand in return.

He pulled you closer by your hand, only letting go when you were close enough to wrap his arms around. This hug was a lot more comfortable, standing instead of whatever odd sitting thing you’d been doing before. You could push closer, and he held you tighter.  

You tucked in against his body much easier.

You melted into the embrace, letting him hold you. You weren’t sure if it was for your sake at this point, or his own, but you didn’t question it. Whether for him, or for you, it was a tenderness you needed right now. Comfort and protection from the Doctor.

“You scared me,” the Doctor whispered against your head.  

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmured.

He pulled back enough to cup your face in his hands, thumbs trailing under your eyes with a feathery touch, wiping away the tear tracks with a frown, “I didn’t think my plan through, and it put you at risk, even if it wasn’t my intention. The need to make sure you were safe was stronger than the logic that you don’t know this planet. That I was pushing you into the unknown.”

“I know you were trying to protect me, I just...”

“Not the right way,” the Doctor decided. You felt him gave a light shake of his head, “it’s not protecting you if it manifests like this, (Y/N). It was the wrong choice because you panicked, because of me. I won’t do that again, I assure you.”

“No more splitting up?” You tilted your head at him. It made you feel very clingy, and you were sure your voice sounded more relieved than you would’ve liked, but the Doctor just gave you a tiny smile, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.  

“No,” he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, “no more splitting up—especially not on planets you don’t know. I can’t promise we’ll never get separated again, but I can promise I’ll always keep you safe, and I’ll always find you again.”

“I know,” you swallowed, nuzzling up against him and pulling him back into a tight hug. “I trust you.”

“I’m glad,” you could hear the playful smile in the Doctor’s voice, “now, what do you say we head back to the TARDIS and get off this planet. We can clean your hands up too.”

“Sounds good,” you returned the small smile. You wiped your hands against your pants halfheartedly.  

The Doctor wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side easily. You curled in close, pressing the side of your face against his side. His thumb swept along your shoulder, arm keeping to tight and sheltered against him.  

Protective, but comforting all the same.Comforting to the both of you.

<><><><>

Heyy! Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hoped you liked it! As always, if it wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again!

Hopefully the anxiety/panic attack was realistic enough, I’ve only got me to go off, but I know it’s different for everyone! Also, alternative title suggestions would be appreciated if you’ve got one!

[theartofdreaming1]

Here is my attempt at portraying Peeta’s camouflage skills convincingly 😅😅

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 19-21 are below the cut.

heart

While I love all the banter between Katniss and Peeta, I think my favorite of these three chapters is: “Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this,” I say. “Although for all I know, I am killing you.” “Can you speed it up a little?” he asks. “No. Shut up and eat your pears,” I say. A classic 😄

mind

I always imagined that Cato went after Thresh before coming for Katniss and Peeta because a) Thresh took the backpack for District 2 (which contained the body armor that would make dealing with Katniss’s arrow so much easier) and b) Thresh killed Clove and Cato wanted to avenge her... Although I have no idea how Cato ended up killing Thresh... he was doing pretty well for himself in his grass-y area... Maybe the Gamemakers wanted to punish Thresh for not killing Katniss and generated that thunderstorm and rain to force Thresh out of his refuge, which would give Cato a fair chance to kill him, I guess...

soul

Lol, honestly, since Peeta just generally seems to be motivated by kindness and love/caring, I don’t think it took much for him to keep the star-crossed lovers angle alive (I could easily imagine him actually noticing Katniss in the willow tree early in the Games and offering to take care of the District 8 girl, so the Careers would get the hell out of there, away from Katniss)

Chapter 19:

Peeta, who’s been wounded, is now my ally. [...] I’d loathe any tribute who didn’t immediately ally with their district partner. Besides, it just makes sense to protect each other. - Honestly, this just highlights what a kind person Katniss is, despite her aloof front; her innermost instinct is always to stick together and to protect. Because it doesn’t really make sense for her to team up with Peeta - she knows he’s wounded and won’t be of much help to her, her chances of survival are way better if she stayed on her own, but it’s not something she’d ever consider now that they are allowed to form a team (and only then does she even factor in the whole ‘star-crossed lovers of district 12′ -angle)

Peeta, it turns out, has never been a danger to me. The thought makes me smile. - Aww 😊 (but also, how heart-breaking that the Capitol will do everything in their power to change that, to make Peeta become a danger to Katniss 😢)

He’s very hard to predict, which might be interesting under different circumstances - Okay, but this just makes me think of that exchange in Gilmore Girls when Paris and Rory talk about how you know a guy is right for you:  “Someone who’s compatible but not compatible.” “Yeah, kind of. I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes, but I don’t know – there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s gonna do at all times that’s just really exciting.” - fits these two to a T 😏

In fact, I’ve just about decided I’m on the wrong track entirely, that a wounded boy would be unable to navigate getting to and from this water source, when I see the bloody streak - Okay, but how flipping tough is Peeta?! He’s severely injured, with multiple tracker jacker stings and he drags himself to this terrain that is almost impossible to navigate for someone in his condition - a sturdy dandelion, indeed!

“You’re here to finish me off, sweetheart?” - What an entrance after having gone AWOL for quite a couple of chapters 👌🏼👏🏼

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.” I jerk my head back but end up laughing. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” [...] “Katniss?” Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words “How about that kiss?” I burst out laughing - He’s lying in a river bed, slowly dying, and he can still make her laugh 😊

“You know, you’re kind of squeamish for such a lethal person” - It’s such a small comment, but I can’t help but think that Peeta is just kind of intrigued to discover all these little idiosyncrasies that make up the ever-elusive Katniss Everdeen ;)

Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. -  Aww, she doesn’t even want to consider him dying, so she spontaneously decides to cut him off with a kiss👀👀 Honestly, at this point Peeta has elicited 2 (!) spontaneous kisses  (the kiss after the chariot ride and this one) from Katniss, who generally isn’t that big on touching people

“You’re not going to die. I forbid it. All right?” - Stubborn, protective Katniss... But also reminds me of their rooftop “date” in CF and the “Then you’ll allow it?” “I’ll allow it” - exchange

I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he’d be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He’s great at this stuff. - KaTNisSs, gurl... 🙄🤦🏼‍♀️

Chapter 20:

But I knew he was injured. And still I came after him. I’m just going to have to trust whatever instinct sent me to find him was a good one. - The very best of instincts, Katniss, don’t you worry😉

Peeta’s struggling to get up when I reach the cave. “I woke up and you were gone,” he says, “I was worried about you.” - Gah, why are the both of them so good?! They just care for and worry about each other 24/7

“How do you feel?” “Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud,” he says. “Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you.” Oh right, the whole romance thing. - Oh Katniss...😐 I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. - Where did Peeta pick this up? From a time his family was less dysfunctional? Observing couples in the town square? Or is he a fricking disney prince and these things come natural to him? Questions, questions...

“You didn’t sleep,” Peeta says. “I’m all right,” I say. But the truth is, I’m exhausted. “Sleep now. I’ll keep watch.” [...] I test his cheek. Hot as a coal stove. He claims he’s been drinking, but the containers still feel full to me. I give him more fever pills and stand over him while he drinks first one, then a second quart of water. - These two are just too stubborn to take proper care of themselves - good thing that each of them is adamant to force the other to sleep/drink/eat when necessary

“Besides I like watching you sleep. You don’t scowl. Improves your looks a lot.” - When presented with the choice of being flirty vs being a cheeky little shit, Peeta will choose being a flirty cheeky little shit every time 😂

“I’m going to make soup,” I say. “Don’t light a fire,” he says. “It’s not worth it.” - Okay, but what he’s actually saying is “I’m not worth it” 😭😭

Katniss telling that story about buying Prim’s goat😊... A young buck, probably a yearling by his size. His antlers were just growing in, still small and coated in velvet. [...] Beautiful. - We are all very much aware of Peeta’s appreciation for beauty, but the same does apply to Katniss, too (she’s just overall more pragmatic)

“Was it [the goat] still wearing the pink ribbon?″ he asks. “I think so,” I say. “Why?” “I’m just trying to get a picture,” he says thoughtfully. -  Peeta is so detail-oriented! I have this theory that this is actually something that enables him to overcome his hijacking; we catch glimpses in MJ of how he inches himself out of his condition by asking/focusing on small details or things most people would dismiss as trivial (Katniss’s favorite color, the color of her dress visiting District 7, her Dad singing the Hanging Tree when Peeta was 6 or 7 years old...) and I feel like it makes a lot of sense - his tormentors in the Capitol either wouldn’t have access to distort these moments or not even consider them to have any significance (since they are all about big, flashy gestures in the Capitol), so these memories would remain untouched. Luckily, Peeta seems to live by Robert Brault’s words: “Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. “

“Really? What did you cost me again?” I ask. “A lot of trouble. Don’t worry. You’ll get it all back,” he says. - Well, he’s going to cost her a lot more trouble in the future - but we know he’s going to make up for it and bring her much happiness, too 😊

“You’re not risking your life for me.” “Who said I was?” I say. [...] “Of course I’m not going.” [...] “You’re such a bad liar, Karniss.” [...] Anger flushes my face. “All right, I am going, and you can’t stop me!” “I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I’m yelling your name I bet someone can find me. And then I’ll be dead for sure,” he says. - Soo.. their love language is offering to sacrifice their life like it’s nothing, huh?! 😳😅 

Peeta eats without complaint, even scraping out the pot to show his enthusiasm. He rambles on about how delicious it is, - lol, sounds like a husband trying to get back on his wife’s good side after they had a row 😂

I clamp my hand over his mouth and nose hard, forcing him to swallow instead of spit. He tries to make himself vomit the stuff up, but it’s too late, he’s already losing consciousness. - Ah, the most important indicator of true love: having person A force-feed person B a sedative so they can run off to get them life-saving medicine ;)

Chapter 21:

I lie next to Peeta in the bag, trying to absorb every bit of his fever heat. It’s strange to be so physically close to someone who’s so distant. Peeta might as well be back in the Capitol, - Reminds me how in MJ she’s going to be so close to Peeta (mentally/emotionally) while he will be physically so distant (in the Capitol!)

a tiny orange one [backpack] [...] that must be marked with a 12 - Interesting how that backpack is orange, huh? Why is that? Are smaller backpacks generally orange (like the one Katniss already has) to be more visible or is this simply to connect the backpack to Peeta (though we don’t know his favorite color at this point)? Do the Gamemakers care whether Katniss gets a matching backpack? It just seems like an unnecessary detail to throw in🤔

The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off. Foxface! - Honestly, this was a truly brilliant move; kudos! 👏🏼

[Clove] carefully selects an almost dainty-looking number [knife] with a cruel, curved blade. “I promised Cato if he let me have you, I’d give the audience a good show.” [...] “I think...” she almost purrs. “I think we’ll start with your mouth.” [...] she teasingly traces the outline of my lips with the tip of the blade. - Okay, but the idea of Clove cutting off Katniss’s lips is just all kinds of terrifying and disturbing 😨

“No! No, I-” Clove sees the stone, about the size of a small loaf of bread in Thresh’s hand [...] Thresh brings the rock down hard against Clove’s temple. [...] and I know she’s a goner. - Interesting how Katniss describes that rock that basically saves her life (or at least kills her assailant) as bread-sized, huh? “Your district... they sent me bread. [...] Conflicting emotions cross Thresh’s face. He lowers the rock and points at me, almost accusingly. “Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl.” - Katniss mentions the bread from District 11 as a proof of her alliance with Rue (and the recognition of D11) and Thresh spares her; bread keeps saving her life (while it keeps representing acts of kindness)

Cato kneels beside Clove, spear in hand, begging her to stay with him. - I appreciate this small, humanizing moment with Cato

The last thing I remember is an exquisitely beautiful green and silver moth landing on the curve of my wrist. - I don’t know much about North American insects (not that I know that much about European insects either - just recently came across a relatively rare moth on my walks that I had never seen or heard of before) - is Katniss describing a special/noteworthy species of moth? Or is this a more literary symbolism kind of moth? (Just looked up some symbolism meaning of moths: change/transformation, seeking light; power of regeneration in some Native American mythology, hmm...)

[debiteful]

Are you still doin' writing requests? If so, could you write about a giant finding a borrower, with some unintentional fearplay on the giants part?

Content: apparent threat of harm, size difference (Giant/tiny), fearplay, hand held, crying, trapped under a bowl, ends on a positive note

Taking on a renovation by yourself was a monumental task. Thankfully the boundless strength of a giant made it much easier. Will spent weeks planning everything before he was finally ready to begin.

He started with the floors, tearing them up bit by bit. Beneath the boards there were scraps of fabric, bits of metal that seemed to have once been staples, and even an old cereal box. At first Will assumed whoever had built the place had been careless. As he progressed and found more trash, he began to see patterns. Strategic cuts in the cardboard here, nails running in a diagonal line without securing anything, and other such seemingly intelligent designs. 

Though it was odd, it helped click some puzzle pieces together. Rustling in the panty, socks disappearing, and soft yet shrill noises in the night. Something tiny was living in his home. By the looks of it they were taking things for their own purposes too! Nothing important of course, or he might've noticed sooner.

Now he had more planning to do. After all, he was tearing apart their home too!

Skip berated herself for the hundredth time for sticking around after that bean began tearing the place apart. Safe hiding places were growing fewer by the hour it seemed. It was impossible to predict where it would go to next, meaning she had to move all the borrowed things hastily. Already she had left a lot behind, and, to make matters worse, it had been found. Thankfully the bean hadn't seemed to catch on.

On the bright side, the renovation left lots of building scraps. Most helpful was the chunks of insulating foam. They were easy to cut and carry, and they could be used to build all sorts of things.

Presently Skip was trying to move them into the shed across the back lawn. She'd never lived out there because the temperature fluctuated too much. With insulation it might be bearable, and it would certainly be safer than in that madbean's house!

Unfortunately, the main house was still the best place to get food. Skip would wait somewhere secure in the evening until she heard the bean go to bed, then sneak out to get what crumbs she could. 

Tonight, a fallen cracker tempted her, but it was the crushed cereal on the counter that would be doable to bring home. She darted out from behind the toaster towards it, but she didn't get far.

Something caught her leg. As she fell, there was a grating sound. Then darkness. Something had landed atop her! A bowl? Probably.

Skip walked slowly with her arms out as feelers. Upon reaching the edge she tried to get her fingers under it and lift. That failed, of course.

She tried to fight back panic. Her shim and pry bar lay securely at home- this was supposed to be a quick in and out job! Essentially equipmentless, there were very few options. 

She took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Mind a little clearer, she searched her memory for what direction she must be facing. Slowly she walked around the edge of the bowl to the side closest to the edge of the counter. At least, she hoped it was. 

Pushing with all her might got her nowhere. Getting a running start for the shove did about the same. Soon, Skip was throwing herself at the bowl in desperation. 

Battered and exhausted, she sunk to her knees. Body and tears fell to the countertop.

The rest of the night was spent filled with tension. Every sound was certainly the giant coming. Paranoid thoughts spiraled, centered around what the giant would do to her.

When at last Will did come, the sound was unmistakable to the trembling borrower. She had heard those thunderous steps a thousand times.

Skip envied the ease with which the giant lifted the bowl which confined her. Tilted up on one edge, it could now shove its gigantic hand beneath. She couldn't help but utter a little shriek as fingers as large as her groped around blindly. She didn't dare try to dart through the gap lest the bowl snap back down on a limb.

Dodging the fingers was difficult with no sleep or breakfast. The tip of one brushed her leg. The whole hand rushed her. A massive thumb pinned her to the pointer finger.

The bowl lifted slowly, so she had ample time to imagine the look on its face while she struggled. Her heart was racing wildly. Tears threatened to well up, but she had spent most of them through the night. Stinging eyes locked on to the enormous face.

The giant had quite the satisfied grin splitting its features. Its eyes flicked side to side as the giant took in its captive.

Likewise, Skip's eyes darted frantically. No sign of a weapon. Then again, with teeth and hands like these, it wouldn't need a weapon. Gracious it was absolutely gigantic up close, larger than she had ever thought.

The thunderous voice she had heard dozens of times was deafening at such a close range.

"Hello there," Will said in awe. The borrower was silent and flinched. He frowned and spoke more softly, "Who are you?" 

Even at a dull roar the sound was too much. Skip growled like an animal and bit at his knuckles. He inhaled sharply and adjusted the hold to pin her head. It wouldn't take much for those fingers to crush it.

Will put her in the jar he had for this purpose. Being moved through the air was a disorienting and unpleasant experience. If she was lucky, she would be too dizzy to see whatever killed her coming. Skip was genuinely surprised when she landed on something soft in the bottom of the glass.

Left on the counter, she didn't dare take her eyes off of her captor. He bustled around the kitchen humming softly. She was familiar with this habit of his- the sound echoed through the walls in the evening. For the first time she heard the lyrics of his little ditty, "Gonna cook you up, gotta cook you right up! First I gotta chop you up, then plop you in the pot to cook you up!"

Hearing the giant narrate his process sent a dreadful chill through her. He was going to cook and eat her!! 

More vigilant than ever, her gaze never left him. Eyes locked onto the shining blade of a knife pulled from the block. Watching the vegetables get chopped up brought to mind terrible images. The ease with which the bean could toss a heap of food into the pot brought to mind just how small she was.

Finally, the tears spilled out. Where they had been held in reserve, she had no idea. Frantic little hands rubbed one eye at a time. Delicate fingers brushed away tears without obstructing her view too much.

By the time the food was filling the air with its aroma, she still hadn't stopped crying. She watched through bleary eyes as he filled a ladle with the sauteed vegetables and brought it over. So she wasn't to be cooked: he was going to heap scalding food onto her! 

Skip scrambled to one side of the jar and slid her back up the wall. That one scoop wouldn't be enough to bury her here. 

Her warped upturned face looked back down at her as the ladle lowered. The giant stuck it right into the jar, then let go. What was its angle? 

Tearing her gaze from his intent face, she eyed the handle of the ladle. Yes, it should be doable. Three bounding steps took her to the ladle. Using her momentum she vaulted over the bowl of it and grasped the flat handle. Like she had done hundreds of times before, she shot up the metal beam.

Just as she reached level with the lip of the jar, the giant reacted. He shouted, a deafening thunderclap. Those enormous fingers engulfed her momentarily, then they knocked her back into the jar. Now one hand lay over the mouth of her prison, effectively sealing it.

Will crouched, bringing the jar to eye level. He spoke gently, "Hey, aren't you hungry? I don't know how long exactly you were stuck on the counter." When she didn't respond he pressed on, "I promise it's good. I didn't know if you ate meat, but I figured veggies would be a safe choice. Hope it's okay that it's cooked- do you cook? Oh nevermind, it doesn't matter. Hey- can you understand me?" As his eyes scanned for any response, he finally noticed the red eyes and wet cheeks, "Oh no, have you been crying? Why? I didn't hurt you did I? Oh- I might've scared you… I'm really sorry little one."

Skip listened to his continuous ramble. It almost sounded good natured… Could she have been mistaken? A small bubble of rage rose up and erupted, "Wouldn't you be terrified if some gigantic brute trapped you and started singing about cooking?!"

Will frowned in dismay, "I didn't think about it like that."

"Beans never think," she screeched, "They just kill."

The frown deepened then flashed to a smirk, "Bean? Is that what you call us? Why?"

Skip rolled her eyes. What a dumb question! ….why did they call them beans? That didn't matter right now. 

She walked over to the ladle and picked up a spear of carrot. One eye still on the giant, she took a bite of the tender veggie. 

He gave a big grin, "Is it good?"

She nodded, honestly a little surprised. "So, why did you catch me? Why feed me too?"

"Well, as you've probably noticed, I'm doing a little work on the house. I found some of your stuff and I worried I might accidentally hurt you. Considering you've never introduced yourself, I figured just asking you to come out wouldn't work. I wanna help you move somewhere safer- whether it's temporary or not is up to you."

"My name's Skip," she piped up.

"Oh, mine is Will," he said with another big smile. His teeth were hardly threatening now.

She smiled back. "Oh! Actually I was already in the process of moving most of my stuff."

"Really? Where?"

There was a moment of hesitation; her distrust of beans ran deep. "Your shed, outside."

"All the way out there?" His eyes widened. 

With a barked laugh, she nodded, "Yeah its pretty far. Not ideal, but I haven't a clue where you're going to strike next."

The harsh choice of words made Will frown a little. He recovered quickly though, "Well now you have the inside scoop! The entire upstairs is going to be left alone. There's also the kitchen. I- well, I still don't know what sort of places you like to live, but I'm sure there's some somewhere around here.

Skip considered her options. The upstairs was rather far away, but it was a big area so safer. The kitchen was prime territory for food and other bits n bobs, but the giant would frequent it. He seemed nice enough, but one encounter couldn't undo a lifetime of learning.

"Up the stairs should do nicely," she trailed off, already scheming on how to move all her stuff.

"Alright! Sounds good. So, is there anything I could help you move?"

The response was an absent nod before she realized what he asked. What was his angle? "Oh! Um, I guess."

They discussed what exactly needed to be moved and where. Though she was on her guard, Skip didn't notice anything untoward. The move went just as smoothly. Soon she was settled into a secluded gap beneath the floor, where she had moved all her stuff herself after he brought it to a nearby location.

By the end of it, Will was very pleased with himself. He had begun to make a new friend. What's more, she was his neighbour! He felt more at ease knowing she would be safely out of the way of the renovation.

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 3

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

“Going off the information I have listed here, it appears as though you’ll be receiving subject N-45, today. She’s a healthy 22 year old female. Her short, but muscular body weighs 95lbs with a childish height of 4’10” tall. She possesses primarily Romanian and Filipino ancestry, with some Dutch or Finnish or... whatever, thrown in there as well. And according to the various items we found on her person when she was first brought in, she’s apparently a graduate student at the University of Bucharest, or, at least she was, before she drove her car into a tree while driving up the mountain and was recovered by Heisenberg” Miranda explains robotically, reading aloud from a piece of paper held inside a thick manila envelope. “Of the 4 remaining test subjects, N-45 is easily the most violent and difficult one to work with, having to be either anesthetized or restrained every time I wanted to so much as take her vitals or stabilize her condition. When given smaller doses of sedatives she-”

For the first time in his entire life, Salvatore completely ignores whatever unimportant nonsense Mother Miranda is going on about, continuing to take in and analyze the strikingly unique appearance of the young woman before him.

Upon first inspection, N-45 appeared to resemble that of a normal woman in just about every way possible. Her hair was scruffy and very short, barely long enough to reach her eyes, and a deep black color that looked so soft and luxurious that Salvatore ached to run his fingers through it. Her face was slightly round, giving the young woman a very youthful appearance, with her sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones being some of the only things keeping Salvatore from mistaking her for a child. And lastly, her... figure, if Salvatore had to put such an embarrassing idea into words, was similar to that of Mother Miranda, only shorter, more compact even. It reminded the hooded man of those small packets of candy Duke occasionally gifted him that said “fun sized” on the label, in reference to them being much smaller than the standard sized candy bars and yet somehow being… better, despite technically giving you less candy.

She was already perfect as she was, but it was not just N-45’s beautiful human features that pulled Salvatore in and refused to let him escape the stupefaction he’d been placed under, but also her mutations.

A soft royal blue coated her from head to toe, giving way only to a large patch of solid white located on her chest and stomach. Her skin catches the light in a way that reveals areas of tiny overlapping scales, glimmering like stars in the midnight sky, or freshly polished armor, perhaps, along the bony ridges and tender curves of her figure.

Small white dots distributed like paint splatters across the colored sections of her flesh give a similar visual effect as freckles, starting from her hairline and extending all the way down to the very tips of her toes. These galaxies of white were invisible only on the white patch along the front of her torso, as well as on the lighter blue hue taken on by both the palms and webbings of her hands and feet.

Long Fin-like extensions grew along both her forearms and lower back. The former extended outward and inward like a windshield wiper, likely used to decrease water resistance. The latter, however, perhaps used to increase fine motor maneuverability while swimming at greater speeds or in tighter spaces, grew straight downwards from her lower back in an overlapping fan configuration that marginally covered her rear end, though not by very much. The fins looked like a soft, delicate material that was probably very flexible but very durable, if Salvatore had to guess just from looking.

And to top everything off, N-45 even appeared to even have gills, 2 different sets by the looks of it. The first set of 3 breathing slits was located horizontally along both sides of her neck, while the second set could be found on both sides of her torso, following the downward angle of her ribs but stopping just underneath her soft, plump-looking breasts.

Salvatore feels a sudden wave of heat cascade over his body and he turns his face away in shameful embarrassment as he suddenly realizes that N-45, much like every test subject undergoing cadou treatment, was still very, very nude at the present moment.

“I can’t make any promises regarding her disposition, but physically speaking, she’s ready to be released to you whenever you’d like. I’ll have some of the villagers transport and release her into the reservoir later this week” Mother Miranda says, pressing a button to close the pod now that Salvatore was no longer staring at her.

“W-wait just a m-moment” Salvatore calls out, prompting Mother Miranda to halt the closing of the pod.

“Yes? What is it?” The woman asks curtly, clearly not wanting to stand here and watch Salvatore any longer than she has to.

Wringing his hands together nervously, Salvatore meekly asks, “C-could… could y-you wake h-her up… s-so that I can s-speak with her… j-just for a m-moment?”

Mother Miranda remains silent for a moment, blank face staring directly at Salvatore as she contemplates what to do.

“No, Moreau,” she says finally. “I’ve had a very busy day today and I'm quite tired. N-45 is a menace that I struggle to deal with even on my best days. The last thing I need is something going wrong and her getting out and causing all sorts of chaos.”

Salvatore’s shoulders slump in disappointment, but he makes no further attempts to argue.

Mother Miranda rolls her eyes at the incredibly childish display, walking over to place a gentle hand on Salvatore’s head. “Would it make you feel better if I agreed to have N-45 be the first of the subjects to be dropped off? It’ll be more difficult than my original plan, but I suppose it was a bit unfair that you were the only one who didn’t get to “pick” their gift.”

“Yes, M-Mother Miranda… I-I’d like th-that very… very m-much” Salvatore says, leaning into the touch as Mother Miranda begins guiding him back toward the hallway leading to the exit door.

It wasn’t until after Miranda had exited the lab and begun walking down the long hallway toward the exit that Salvatore dared cast another glance back at the pod that contained N-45, wistfully thinking of how amazing her hand had felt in his, and how much he wanted to speak to her.

Just as the disfigured man was about to turn back and follow Miranda out of the laboratory, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, prompting Salvatore to tense and snap toward the 4 pods, frantically trying to figure out what it was he saw. A few seconds of stillness pass before Salvatore sees movement again, not freely moving about the room like he originally expected, but from within one of the 4 pods, his pod to be exact.

His curiosity momentarily outweighing his nerves, Salvatore slowly approaches the metal capsule, trying to get a look through the small pane of glass that allows visual access into the holding pod.

Another flash of movement has Salvatore flinching, jumping back as though he’d been advanced upon. After several seconds of stillness, however, the hooded man regains his confidence and once again inches his way toward the capsule, moving his head up and down to try and get one more glimpse at N-45 before he has to leave. One last look before she lays eyes upon his vile and disgusting body for the first time, screaming and calling him a monster as she runs away, leaving him alone and without anyone to call his own. Just like always.

“ Hello ?”

Salvatore froze dead in his tracks, his heart pounding and his lungs refusing to take in air, as a soft, muffled, questioning voice reaches the deformed man’s ears, followed by two golden orbs with narrow black slits running vertically through the center, that slowly peek into view from the bottom of the glass window. Salvatore’s eyes widen in shock as he quickly realizes that the orbs of gold are not, in fact, just spheres of color, but rather a pair of eyes, staring intently at him from inside the pod.

“Uuuuuh… u-u-uuum… I-i… I w-was just…” the disfigured man stuttered as he struggled to move his body, seemingly paralyzed by the bewitching gaze currently locked onto him, looking at him with an intensity that makes Salvatore wonder if this is what it feels like to be a cell put under a microscope.

It isn’t until Salvatore notices the golden orbs moving and shifting from one corner of the window pane to the other that the hooded man realizes, to his immediate horror, that he might not be the only one trying to get a better look at the figure located on the other side of the pod door. Panic and fear immediately fill Salvatore from deep within, growing strong enough to allow him to finally overcome his temporary paralysis and skitter away from view. Pulling his hood even further over his petrifyingly grotesque face in shame of himself, Salvatore flees the laboratory as quickly as his hobbled limp would allow.

His heart pounds to the beat of the soft, but desperate pleas of protest coming from N-45’s pod in response to Salvatore’s rapidly retreating form, yet the hooded man cannot bring himself to believe what he hears as true. Perhaps believing that the siren-like voice he hears echoing off the metal laboratory walls to be nothing more than a trick of his sick and lonely mind, Salvatore does not stop, nor does he turn back around until he’s met up with Mother Miranda at the exit to the surface, lungs burning and legs aching from running for so far and long.

“Oh, there you are, Moreau,” Mother Miranda says suddenly, stopping just before they are about to exit the laboratory. “I’m glad you chose this time to finally catch up, because I just realized a second ago that I’d forgotten to give you N-45’s previous name. You can name her something else if you’d prefer, of course, but I offered the information to your siblings so I suppose I should offer it to you as well. Would you still like to know N-45’s name, or would you rather abandon her given name for one of your own choosing?”

After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Salvatore lifts his head, “I… I-i would like to k-know… her n-name… please...” the mutant man says softly.

Mother Miranda briefly raises a questioning eyebrow at Salvatore’s nervous body language, but ultimately rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, all but tossing the Manila envelope containing N-45’s information at the hooded man before disappearing out the large metal door.

“If you’re going to read that now, feel free, but return to the meeting room once you're done. And be sure to lock the door to my laboratory behind you” Miranda commands, her voice having grown echoey due to how far away she now was.

“Yes, M-Mother” Salvatore calls after her as he scrambles to catch the thrown file and prevent any loose papers from falling out. Once he’s got a solid handle on the thick envelope, he opens it, casting a quick glance back in the direction of the pod room, where Nadine and the other 3 gifts were being held for the time being.

Returning to the file, Salvatore frantically flips through every page, trying to find the one that held N-45’s personal background information.

After several minutes of desperate flipping back and forth, Salvatore finally focuses on one particular piece of paper that looked to have been in the file for the longest. Pulling out the particular page he’d found, the disfigured man drops the rest of the folder onto the ground and begins rapidly skimming through the information printed on the page, his hungry eyes refusing to stop until they finally zeroed in on the information he’d been looking for.

Project: E.V.A. Resurrection

Subject: N-45

Parasite Administered: Cadou (Series- N; Strain- 45)

Family Name: Bogdan

Given Name: Nadine

“N… Nadine” Salvatore said slowly, feeling slightly lightheaded and out of breath as each individual letter of the young woman’s name rolled off his tongue like Camembert cheese; smooth, creamy, decedent, and likely to keep him up all night with an upset stomach and a racing heartbeat.

Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine.

The name quickly became a broken loop played over and over and over again inside Salvatore’s head, his mind unable, or rather unwilling, to think of anything else as he read, reread, and then re-reread Nadine’s name at least 100 times, before finally setting the piece of paper down.

“Nadine...” Salvatore breathes the name once again, his voice carrying a wistful tone. “E-even your n-name is wonderful...”

An already beautiful woman, made even more perfect through the power of science and Mother Miranda’s grace, only for all that potential to end up wasted in the hands of a desperately lonely and horrifically mangled fish mutant, who was more likely to accidentally dissolve her in stomach acid than woo her like some kind of aquatic Prince Charming.

“Y-ya right... e-e-even with a-another mutant… I’m s-still so disgusting a-an… and horrifying in comparison… n-not even my o-own kind can b-bring thems-themselves to love me f-for who I a-am… not th-that there’s much of m-me that’s worth l-loving to begin w-with” Moreau laments to himself, wondering if it was even worth holding out hope that things with Nadine could go his way. As if one look at his monstrous form wouldn’t be enough to ruin everything Salvatore already has an agonizingly low chance of ever having with that magnificent specimen of a woman.

Even with Nadine’s own external mutations making it clear that she was no longer fully human, her form had still retained such a beautifully strong, yet womanly shape to it, and her face still looked so young and innocent despite everything that she’s been through. Someone as beautiful as her was far too good and pure to be tainted by his filthy hands.

‘Maybe I should just kill her when the villagers arrive with her at the gate? At least then... I could say I put her out of her misery before she had to experience it for herself…’ Salvatore sulks mentally.

However, despite the self degrading thoughts running through his mind, the memory of the curious look Nadine’s shockingly bright and mesmerizing golden eyes held when trying to look at Salvatore through the pod window made the hooded man shiver, having never been looked upon in such an innocently curious manner before. Most people who got that close to Salvatore didn’t even need to see his face in order to start screaming and running away in terror. However, if the deformed man allowed himself a brief moment to believe that it was indeed her who’d been calling him to come back and show himself, then from the tone and rushed quality of her voice, it would seem as though Nadine was unsatisfied with the fact that she hadn’t seen all of Salvatore’s face and body, not terrified.

How strange...

How very strange indeed…

[corysmiles]

prompt: t!tommy is reckless, sure, but sometimes he gets hurt and it's not his fault. he's simply smaller than the majority of the world. -🍀

Awe I love this idea thank you 🍀 anon, of course a lot of the times Tommy gets hurt it’s his own fault but sometimes he gets hurt just because of the size difference. Especially since so many of the people he’s around are so much bigger than him sometimes it’s unavoidable

(Also I’m so so sorry this ones a bit short I’m trying to bust through a bunch of asks at once :])

Little Streamer AU Oneshot: Meeting Niki

————————————————

cw//language

Tommy was ecstatic to get to see Wilbur again a couple months after their first met up. And this time he got to meet Niki too, which was even more exciting. She had been so kind to him when she found out about his size and he couldn’t wait to meet even more of his friends.

“Wilbur!” Tommy heard a familiar high pitched voice yell from his spot in Wilbur’s front pocket. He lifted his head out with a grin to see Niki but all of a sudden he was being tightly pressed against Wilbur’s chest.

Fuck.

Tommy struggled against the tight pressure but there was nothing he could do to avoid it. The hot tight space squished Tommy uncomfortably and made him gasp for breath. The two humans shifted a bit and with a start he felt his leg be bent at a strange angle that left him dazed with pain.

Finally after a minute the searing hot pressure went away and he heard the two quietly giggling above him. He wanted to yell out to remind them he was there when Niki gasped and pushed Wilbur’s chest...squishing Tommy even more.

Tommy yelped in pain as he was batted by his friend’s hand and suddenly the voices above him stopped.

“What was that?” he heard Niki ask before he felt himself topple out of the fabric and into a warm hand.

“Oh fuck,” Wilbur whispered.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry Tommy,” Niki said quickly as she bent down to look at the tiny boy, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Tommy gave her a soft smile and shrugged, trying to play off the pain and fear he felt just moments before. He knew Niki meant no harm, and he didn’t want her to blame herself for hurting him even if his leg still ached.

“No It’s okay Niki,” Tommy reassured, “I’m a big man I can’t be squished that easy.”

Niki looked at him apologetically before laughing softly at the tiny.

“Yeah you’re a very big man Tommy.”

From above him Wilbur scoffed, “Oh please don’t egg him on like that. He doesn’t need the ego boost.”

Tommy grinned at the two human’s and settled back into Wilbur’s palm. Even if the start of the meet up was a bit painful, he knew he was safe with his friends.

[sleephyjhs]

Sleeping Lions (Taehyung One-Shot)

pairing: dad!taehyung x pregnant!reader

genre: fluff ofc!! + family au (?)

summary: a quiet morning in the kim household was very much unheard of. a puppy, three small children and another on the way was constant cause for mayhem. when better to cause a raucous than an early sunday morning?

wc: 1.53K

song rec: stay here - gaho

note: i think this is my favourite thing i’ve ever written here, please enjoy!! <3

m.list | requested

The eventual gush of tepid sunlight through a thin gap between the curtains was the worst part of every sunday morning. Striking across your aching eyelids, the light disrupted your peaceful slumber and forced you to acknowledge the impending sunrise. You took a brief moment to wriggle around in the imprint you’d moulded into the mattress; the arrangement of pregnancy support pillows sometimes gave you more aches than they eradicated.

On lazy sundays such as these, sitting up straight away was more effort than what it was worth. Taking the few minutes that were left before your shared bed would be surely invaded to embrace the chilliness of the sheets were essential. Beside you laid your husband Taehyung who, visibly, seemed much less accustomed to the early morning than you. Bound on your back by the angled pillows and the growing bump you carried, you instead rolled your head over to face him. Cheeks puffy from a good night’s rest, Taehyung scrubbed the sleepy residue from his squinting eyes.

“Morning sleepyhead...” you groaned, harnessing his attention. His hearty pout widened into a toothy smile at the sight of you. Since you were unable to, Tae curled onto his side and reached a hand out to your bump. Smoothing down the crinkled fabric of your cami, he took a few moments to greet his unborn baby before registering you were there also. With his thumb, he stroked the curve where the most kicking activity seemed to be. Sure enough, the direct caressing alerted your baby it was morning time.

Following her first few kicks of the day, Taehyung returned his extended smile back to your face, “She’s getting stronger every week, you know.”

“Oh I know.” Out of all your children, this one definitely packed the strongest punch. Despite your bump being designed to protect her, her main goal was seemingly to escape, “One day she might just kick a whole right through.”

Taehyung chuckled at your prediction, adoring your sly smile that accompanied it. He took a small breath, evaluating which gentle statements were acceptable for so early in the morning, “At least we’d get to meet her a lot sooner.”

For an unborn child, she sure was already loved; beyond adored. Not a single baby of his wasn’t. All of the children you shared seemed to latch onto him differently to you. Being outnumbered by 3 kids to one adult, one might have thought Taehyung would struggle to divide his attention equally between them. Yet somehow, he always managed to make each one release their giggles. With a fourth on the way, it was beginning to look like you’d have to join in on some of their playtimes. Of course, there’d be no need to ask you twice.

“It’s not even two months to wait now! She’ll be here before we know it, Tae.” He chuckled at your sudden burst of enthusiasm. Usually such expression was reserved for later in the day yet for some reason, you couldn’t quite hold back.

Before any more reminders could be dished to one another, the still silence of your bedroom was ripples by a tuning bark. Taehyung turned back to look over the edge of the bed in disapproval of the columbus introduction, “Are you wanting to come up, Tannie? You feeling left out?”

A slight tilt of the head confirmed his suspicions. Without missing a beat, Taehyung offered his hand as a step up onto the mattress and soon enough, you were greeted with a daily lick to the cheek. Ruffling his flattened fur, you soon had Yeontan looking more like the majestic puppy he really was. The couple of you watched attentively as Yeontan approached the bump protruding from the mattress. Having a pet that reacted so gently to the welcoming of your children was more than a relief to you both, but neither of you ever failed to completely melt at the change of character he expressed when interacting with the smaller humans.

Seemingly uninterested in his surroundings, Yeontan stalker back up to the head of the mattress and snuggled between a small gap in the pillows (a spot generally reserved exclusively for him), “Still tired Tannie? I feel you.” Taehyung groaned groggily, making the final adjustments to waking up.

“Lazy day?” You asked. Taehyung opened one eye and furrowed the opposite eyebrow. It couldn’t have been more obvious that that was the plan anyway, “Lazy day it is!”

A few more blinks to really adjust to the light and you were ready to sit up a bit, “Can you just help me a second?” Before you could finish, Taehyung was already propped up on the bed, ready to roll onto his knees should the extra support be needed. Basic actions such as sitting up and climbing the stairs were becoming increasingly difficult with every passing day. Assuming that all the changes would be second nature by the fourth pregnancy was a regrettable mistake.

Huffing slightly as you scooted back into the pillow chair you’d recrafted for yourself, comfort was now yours, “Everything good?” Tae assured before realigning himself to match your new height.

Snapping the attention away from each other, the plain panel door to your shared bedroom sweeped open, revealing your second born, Jaehee, sucking his thumb, “What’s wrong little man?” Taehyung asked, leaning forward in order to comfort him, “You never suck your thumb.”

You pouted as Jaehee looked to you for assurance; something wasn’t right. Taehyung was observant. Thumb-sucking was a habit none of your children had really developed. However, it had its benefits at times; it was the perfect indicator of their mood, which was clear to both of you mattered more than most things, “You’re okay in here.”

Soft easings was how to approach your son. Nervous habits had become daily procedures with him and he rarely reacted well to direct approaches before. Taehyung patted the creased duvet, formally inviting Jaehee into your bedroom. Without any hesitation, he shuffled across the ivory carpets towards the foot of the bed. For the sake of your children, you’d previously purchased a small stepping stool for them to be able to climb in with you.

“Come here bub,” Taehyung cooed, wavering his hands to direct him over. Wobbling, Jaehee clambered over your outstretched legs and rushed into his dad’s arms where he collapsed into a cuddle, “wanna tell us what’s going on?”

“I missed you.” He muffled, head buried in Tae’s chest. Your heart could’ve melted right there and them. From the day you became parents, it had been your only goal to raise them with love and affection; seeing that your children had inherited the same love you showered them with was nothing short of a relief.

“We missed you too bud!” You replied, reaching out to tickle his side. His rowdy giggles curled him further into Tae’s chest, earning a bonus hair ruffle.

Just as the ripples of laughter began to settle down, the bedroom door edged open, instigated by a tiny hand, to reveal your two girls holding hands. Minju, the firstborn, clutched onto Somin, the most recent addition to the household. As the oldest child, it wasn’t uncommon for Minju to guide her siblings to where they needed to be. Perhaps the echoing giggles of their brother had guided them towards the main bedroom.

Suddenly, Somin yanked her hand from the grip of her sister and began to waddle towards the bed, “Tannie!”

Increasing in her speed, you couldn’t help but become worried. She still wasn’t the most stable on her two legs, and the last thing you needed was to search for the first aid box you’d slipped away somewhere, “Careful darling...” You warned, already holding out the arm to support her for when she climbed onto the bed.

Following behind, Minju shuffled across the carpet, clearly still not accustomed to the morning light. As Somin fussed over Yeontan, who remained curled between the pillows, Taehyung looked over to Minju, who was unusually quiet, “Everything okay?”

Minju nodded slowly, “Just sleepy!” Thankfully, the cheer in her high-pitched voice hadn’t dimmed overnight, “Mummy...”

“Yes~?” You smiles as she too clambered up the stepping stool at the foot of the bed. She crawled up the side of your legs and crouched at your hips. Her wavy baby hairs plastered against her cheeks; the best sign of a good night’s sleep.

“Is baby sister awake yet?” Minju asked innocently, gently holding her cheek against the curve of your bump. She was, by far, the most excited of your children, particularly after learning she’d have another sister. Being the most capable of understanding what was happening meant Minju frequently offered to help where you were less able. Taehyung had taught her to help make beds and organise shoes on the rack, and strangely enough she rather enjoyed it.

Flashing a quick smile to Taehyung, who watched his eldest daughter with softened eyes, “Well, if you feel around here,” you began, leading her hand slightly upwards, “she might give you a small kick to say hello!”

Along with Taehyung, you chuckled as her eyes illuminated. In all fairness, you too became just as excited whenever your precious cargo decided to say good morning.

^ congratulations! your request is my most favourite post i’ve ever written 🥺 thank you for this!!

[hillnerd-art]

how to draw faces

So awesome human being @smallpumpkinboi​ posted an wonderful WIP sketch earlier and said ‘Can someone please explain to my why, everytime, without fail, my eyes are always too high??’ I offered to give my two cents, and asked if it was ok for me to make it a public post- they said yes :) This ended up going long- but hopefully it’ll be handy for people. :D 

BEFORE YOU DRAW- some tips to keep in mind:

1) do some warm ups! (sketches and drawing exercises)  yup! artists need warm-ups just like athletes! :D)

2) Get the structure drawn first!  don’t get into details, shading, or color until you have the structure DRAWN (Aka, the major features are all placed, the pose is in place etc)

So let’s look at some heads, y’all! :D

what’s with that ball so many people draw before they do a portrait? You know the one:

In and of itself it’s confusing. It’s like,  Faces aren’t shaped like this. Where am I supposed to put the eyes? The mouth? The nose??  HERE ARE SOME HEADS I VERY QUICKLY DREW USING THE ‘CIRCLE METHOD’

Wait a moment! Do you see what’s going on? Do you see how I messed up? OH NOOOO - I wasn’t using the circle method consistently! Look at those proportions!!! Look at the placements! There’s all using different ratios!

Look at how the noses were placed in different ways

Omg! And the eyes too. 

Oh my gosh! What do I do to fix this? How can I do it the same every time? Which is the RIGHT way to draw a face?

Want to know how to draw using the PERFECT ratio?

Here’s THE secret:

THERE IS NO ‘PERFECT RATIO’

Depending on the face shape, depending on the style of drawing, age of the character being drawn etc. you might change up the placement of eyes, noses, mouths etc. But the one thing you need to know is:

Faces and heads are all different.

Some people have tiny little squished faces, some people have LONG faces. They’re all different.

‘AHHHHH!’ HILL- YOU ARE MAKING THIS MORE CONFUSING FOR ME!!!’

I know! I’m sorry! But wait wait wait. I’m getting to stuff that’ll help. I swear!

Even though there’s ‘not a perfect ratio’ there are ratios that play into certain styles better.

Cartoons, especially, can be all over the place on how they do ratios. Like, look at Prince of Egypt and how they place the eyes SUPER high on heads- vs, like, Disney- who likes to place eyes for heads super low (they love to give women the proportions of doe-eyed children.)

            __________________________________

A ratio I generally like is what I use for REALISM/REALISTICALLY PROPORTIONED PEOPLE

Here I’ll be going into a general breakdown of the proportions for an ADULT head.  

Remember- every face is different!!! There is ENDLESS variety to faces. The variety can and does affect every feature- from eyelids, to noses, to brows, to foreheads etc.

These varietes vary person to person, and also there are varieties and commonalities you see more often in certain populations- be it race, sex, or ethnicity. 

I am not giving examples of ALL these varieties here today as this is just a general guide to proportion. However if anyone wants me to go more in depth on this topic I’m happy to. :D Let me know in the comments.

________________________________

THE PROPORTIONS OF A  HEAD

                  __________________________________

NOSE

            ________________________________

EYES AND EYEBROWS

               ________________________________

JAW, CHIN and MOUTH

             ________________________________

EARS

            ________________________________

WE TEND TO THINK ABOUT DRAWINGS IN A 2-D WAY

Which makes sense. It’s a 2-D drawing!

BUT HEADS ARE 3-D

Heads are a three-dimensional object. When it’s a straight on portrait like above you can get away with not thinking about it as much. A bit of shading here and there- and bam! You drew a face! :D 

 But what about when that dang head has the AUDACITY to TURN?

All of a sudden it’s a whole lot harder to draw.

            ________________________________

3/4 VIEW OF HEAD

ahhhhhhhhh the proportions feel different now!!!! 

DON’T BE SCARED. They aren’t different, they have just TURNED. 

Ron here has slightly different proportions to Hermione up Above. 

He has a longer face, longer nose, a bigger more defined jaw, slightly lower brows, thinner lips  etc.(

I made the ‘circles’ the same size- but in reality- his head is bigger than hers. REMEMBER!!! People have different size heads!)

But even with all that, a ton of his proportions are the same as hers.

When you turn a head, the main things people forget to take into account are:

And some are getting FORESHORTENED- aka- they look all SQUISHED AND SMALL.

a lot of the time with my ‘cartoony lines’ this little sliver disappears altogether.

Even though there’s suddenly foreshortening happening to the features of the face

YOU CAN SUDDENLY SEE SOME THINGS BETTER

BROW BONE

EYELIDS, BROW BONES AND BROWS ARE VERY VERY VARIABLE FOR PEOPLE- LOOK CLOSELY AT IMAGES OF DIFFERENT PEOPLE OF VARYING RACES, GENDERS, SEXES ETC.

Again, this is just a general guide.

So now we’re going to look at  @smallpumpkinboi​ ‘s awesome WIP piece

(gonna refer to them as SPB when talking about them later :) )

LET’S PRAISE THIS DRAWING, BECAUSE IT HAS A TON TO PRAISE

As you can see, they have been VERY SUCCESSFULLY using the ‘circle method.’

They have some wonderful proportion going on! Look at those brows, eyes, nose and jaw! They are very well placed.

Also, look at some of this early shading they started? It’s very effective and really gets across MASS well. :D 

Also, the expression? It’s really well done. Like, super arresting!

You should be very proud of this Work in Progress, SPB!!! 

Earlier SPB said “Can someone please explain to my why, everytime, without fail, my eyes are always too high??’”

Your eyes are NOT necessarily ‘too high.’ 

I think what’s happening here is you are applying ‘straight on 2-d proportions’ to a turned head, but aren’t entirely familiar with how to do this. This is making you struggle a bit with certain features when they are at an angle.

Source images are very helpful, but also remember that source images can be at weirder angles than just a head turning left to right.

The image you were working from was actually INCREDIBLY challenging, as not only is it 3/4 view, but the model’s head is slightly turned UP.

look at all that angle happening! super hard to draw :P

So the artist has a choice here: 1) change the drawing so it matches the pose

2) use the source image as inspiration for color/shading/expression- but find a simpler pose to work from that more matches the angle drawn.

Either choices is a valid one! :D But it’s probably easier to do #2

So here are some things you could edit

And define the brow bone, so that it hits the corner of the eye. That’ll fix your ‘eyes too high’ problem really quickly! :D 

For a drawing of a face, the eyes are correctly placed as far as height goes!- but they are very different from the proportions of the model.

For future drawing keep in mind proportions- like eye distance, mouth size, and think about defining jaw/ear shapes. Getting structures  (like eyes, ears, mouth and nose) firmly in place before you start shading/putting in details will help a lot! :D

HOPE Y’ALL FOUND THIS HELPFUL

If ya’ll would like other tutorials, or want help with your drawings, let me know! :D 

My hands aren’t all the way well, but I’m the road to recovery and love helping people- so while I can’t draw-draw much right now, I can do this! 

[light-yaers]

Prompt idea:

I only like pain, so: something along the lines of “werewolf” by fiona apple. Where Din and Mando have somewhat of a stable relationship but he cuts it off when he takes Grogu as a foundling.

But then he comes back after Luke takes Grogu to train him, and asks for forgiveness. You choose if they get back together or not.

As I said, I like reading sad things lolol

Love your writing too!💜

OP said let’s get angsty. With how angst chapter 7 of No Saints is, let’s continue the train, shall we?

Tatooine Heat - Din Djarin x Reader

You were used to the heat on Tatooine now. It’d been several years of the same grind, the mid-morning heat that singed at your skin, and the sand that littered your entire body; but it was the closest thing to home you’d ever had.

So was he.

He’d stop by occasionally at first, landing his ship in Peli’s bay only to immediately be stubborn about her worker droids. You’d worked with the frizzy haired mechanic since you’d first landed on Tatooine, indulging in the way she always knew how to bite back at the monotonous words of the Mandalorian. He never stayed long; just enough to have his falling apart ship put back together again, to mosey into town on another hunt, and then fly off again.

You’d been tongue tied at first, too afraid to speak to the man with no face, but soon those little attempts as small talk turned into something more. Living on a desolate and harsh world, dealing with the thieves, the grease, the heat; it all seemed to disappear into the background with every conversation you had with him.

He called you by name, which you’d been told was an utter rarity for him. Occasionally, he brought you small trinkets from off-world, small jars of native rocks, a dried flower from the fields of Naboo, a stolen solid-gold wrench that he’d swiped from Canto Bight.

“This thing weighs a tonne, Mando,” You said, lifting the heavy wrench with both hands. You smiled at him, letting out a scoff.

“Sell it then,” He hit back with. His voice was still stern, still reserved, almost as if it was uncommon for him to show anything emotional within his tone. But you’d be lying if you didn’t relish in the small moments that he let it through; the tilt of his helmet, a subtle breathy laugh bursting from his modulator, an extra second of his gloved hand on your hand while he shook it goodbye.

“Please, this is a gift. I wouldn’t do that,” You replied, tracing your finger over the Canto Bight seal on the handle. Mando looked at the soft way you touched it, following your gentle fingers as they propped and swiped over the gold. Stars, it was the most expensive thing you’d ever owned-- touched. It was the most expensive thing you’d ever touched.

“I don’t know why they make solid-gold tools if no one can lift them,” He said, the hint of amusement on his lips at watching you struggle with it in your hands. You perked a brow at him.

“This will act as a reminder for me to do more heavy lifting, until I can eventually use this on the Razor Crest when you come back,”

Come back. You always wanted him to come back.

Mando nodded once, letting out a small huff in approval. “I look forward to the next time the Crest needs a hull repair,” Stars, you’d be lying if your heart hadn’t flipped beneath your ribcage. You nodded back at him, shooting him a soft smile and choosing to ignore the rising blush on your cheeks.

You placed the wrench back in your small quarters, fiddling with the angle it sat on your tiny desk space. It wasn’t a lot, but Peli had taken you in. It was home, and you liked it. The smell of smoke in the air, the slick of grease on your fingers and the satisfying way it swiped onto your overalls. It was enough.

You indulged then, peering out at the courtyard while Mando waited for you to return. He stood stoically, tracing his visor around the bay and fiddling with his gloved fingers. For a moment, just that moment, he was alone. You saw the way he’d slumped his shoulder slightly, the way he wasn’t holding himself up at full capacity, the almost human way that his hips seemed to curve beneath his Beskar.

Stars, it was a sight that you looked forward to every few months; it was one that you patiently waited for every time he left again. Though, recently, he had been returning more often. It was becoming common for the Mandalorian to return to Tatooine once or twice a month now, and stars-- you weren’t complaining.

Maybe you were picking at straws, but the way he treated you was different. Different to Peli, different to anyone else on the planet, different for him. Stars, he brought you gifts. Was that a common thing to do on Mandalore? You doubted it.

You inhaled sharply, striding out of your quarters and back to towards him. You wiped your hands on your overalls, flicking some sweat soaked hair out of your face. That was something you had to live with on Tatooine; the salt, the sweat, the way your face was always covered in the stuff while you worked. It was no matter-- you wanted to guess that Mando had seen people in a much worse state.

“It’s on my desk now. Will probably gather dust before I can put it to good use, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else touch it,” You chuckled. Mando regarded you for a few seconds, keeping his visor on your face. You gasped slightly-- was he looking you up and down beneath his helmet? He could do that, couldn’t he? Not move his head, but just trickle his eyes over you as you stood right in front of him while you were none the wiser.

You cleared your throat, slotting your hands into your overalls, until he finally shuffled on his feet. “Thank you, Mando. It’s a lovely gift,” You said, and you meant it. You laced sincerity within your voice tenfold, trying to get across what it truly meant to have him visit you, bring you these gifts, give you his company, without actually spilling everything you wanted to.

“You’re... welcome,” He said hesitantly. It was like he’d never been thanked before. It only made your heart pang for him. “I’ll be going,” He finished, and you perked up, walking round to the ramp of the Razor Crest with him. He strode onto the ramp, cape fluttering behind him in the Tatooine wind-- but he stopped before he reached the inside.

His back was turned to you, his shoulders tense and raised, his fists clenched, before he abruptly turned round and strode back to you. Stars, you panicked a bit, not used to seeing him like this; unpredictable, almost pained. You raised your hands to your chest in some attempt at defence, not knowing if this man was about to hug you or kill you--

But he did neither.

He grasped your forearms within his large leather gloved hands, tugging you towards him quickly, until you almost slammed into his Beskar clad chest. You were speechless as the breath caught in the back of your throat, as his helmet descended towards your ear slowly.

“Don’t let Peli touch it,” The wrench, he was talking about the fucking wrench. “It’s yours. I got it for you,”

All too soon, he was striding back into the Razor Crest, leaving you down below on the brink of throwing up your heart. Mando smashed the ramp controls, and it slowly began to rise. He stared at you, soaking in your red face, your sweat lined forehead and mess of overalls, unwavering until the ramp had fully ascended. He was encased in metal two times over.

You watched the Razor Crest fly away, praying to some god out there that he wouldn’t die before you got to see him again.

He didn’t come back that month.

He didn’t return with a crumbling ship, or his stoic stance, or his subtle chuckles. He didn’t bring you little trinkets, or get to see the way you could finally use the fucking solid-gold wrench--

He was gone. Like a blip in the stars, meshed in with all of the hundreds of billions of beings that lay beyond your tiny, desolate planet. You didn’t know if he was alive or dead, and stars, your nights were left sleepless; staring at your ceiling, not being able to hold back the tears of the fear and the worry and the fucking pain that bombarded you without the stability of his frequent visits.

As much as you tried to block him out, he plagued you. You saw the glint of his Beskar whenever you strode through the market, the swoosh of him unsheathing his blaster when you heard gunshots at night. You scrubbed at your greasy and sand grated skin in the fresher every evening, trying desperately to forget the way his hands had wrapped around your forearms, your fingers, or the way his cape whipped at you subtly whenever you strode next to each other.

You were foolish to ever find hope within his visits. You were foolish to feel this way about a faceless man, a fucking Mandalorian, a goddamn bounty hunter, who you’d only seen every so often over the course of seven months. You counted the times you’d actually met him on your fingers; twelve. Twelve fucking times.

And you were all but dying at the thought of him never coming back.

There was a time when you believed that he might ask you to go with him. It entered your mind one night, after he’d brought you back that dried flower so many months before. Stars, you all but gushed when he’d given it to you, not knowing how or where to place yourself.

And once again-- he’d taken time to converse with you about the job you’d done fixing the Crest; how you had a mechanic touch that he’d never seen, how he had no idea how you made it all look so new and seamless-- so you.

“So... you,” He’d muttered, before tilting his helmet in your direction. He nodded once upon seeing you were lost for words, before depositing a hand on your lower back and slowly pushing you forward, towards another part of the ship.

You could have punched yourself then, as you fisted your hair in an attempt to shut your brain down. It’d been three months, three entire months without seeing him, without knowing if he was alive or dead, and you were clutching at straws as you tried to stay sane. 

The tears came then, thick and fast as you tried desperately to expel your hurt about him just leaving like that; not asking you to go with him, not coming back for you, not caring at all. 

Well, he is a Mandalorian. 

Yes, he is. 

Peli had definitely noticed your slump, as soon as you’d realised he wasn’t coming back. As much as she teased him, she was fond of Mando all the same. Any attempt she gave to sooth you only fell flat, as you all but rejected her support in favour of simply overworking yourself into the ground, until your fingers bled and your palms were worn away, like you’d been wiping them on sandpaper for three months straight. 

Just as it was starting to ease, as the hole in heart was starting to heal after so long-- almost a fucking year-- the spluttering engines of the Razor Crest descended upon Peli’s bay on Tatooine. 

You ceased to breathe, staying in your quarters as you watched it hit the ground, as your limbs all but stopped working. Peli shot you a saddened look, before wiping her hands of grease and approaching the ramp of the ship while you stayed back, watching from afar. 

When he stepped out, your eyes overflowed. There he was; all glinting Beskar and stoic stances and silent words. Peli conversed with him quietly, sending glances towards you in your quarters, subtly breaking down as not knowing what the fuck to do--

Until you pulled yourself together. As much as you wanted to bombard him, to hug him, to tell him how much you missed him; you felt betrayed. You felt abandoned, and stars, what a foolish thing to feel for a mechanic on Tatooine. No family, no close friends besides your boss, imagining a life with a murderous Mandalorian. Bullshit. 

You wiped away your tears, striding out of your quarters as you shot daggers at Mando, wiping your hands aggressively upon your overalls. Mando and Peli stopped speaking when you approached them, brows stern, frown donned, hurt raging beneath your skin. 

“Damage to the left of the hull,” You spoke up. “Right engine is on its last legs, and I can already tell that the hydraulics are shot to shit,” 

“You--,” Mando began, letting the shock of seeing you again consume you. “You’re still here,” You could have fucking laughed, or cried. 

Yes, I’m still here. Because you didn’t take me with you. 

“Where else would I fucking be?” It was the first time you’d sworn in front of him, besides the odd kriff. It was only a indication of your seething anger, and Mando immediately took a small step back. You could tell he was gulping beneath his helmet. You could tell he was feeling your stare.

“No droids, I know,” You let out, before you pushed past him intentionally, making your way inside the Crest to start working. 

You worked tirelessly, ignoring the way Mando and Peli caught up after his many months away, ignoring the way Mando slowly walked back into his ship after popping into town. With every thud of his boots, you bit harder on the screwdriver placed between your teeth, focusing solely on fixing the inner hydraulics while the days heat was at its worst. 

Mando dropped himself down in the hull, on top of an old box of supplies. His stare burned into the back of your neck, making your hairs stand on end immediately. He didn’t let up, overseeing the muscles beneath your shirt as you reached to tie a cable or screw a nail back in place. 

Stars, it was getting to you now-- until you snapped. 

“What?” You let out abruptly, turning to look at him from your knelt position. He was silent after your outburst, until the fucker had the audacity to laugh. He let out a single modulated chuckle, and stars, you didn’t fucking like it. 

You scoffed, biting down on your lip while you went back to working. Your fingers were trembling now, though, as his stare was becoming unbearable. 

“Your hair grew,” He said quietly. Your heart catapulted into your throat. You stopped moving completely, not knowing what the fuck to say, or do. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

You clamped your eyes shut, feeling the overwhelming sensation to start crying again. You knew he could see right through you, could see the way your shoulders were slowly starting to shake and convulse as you tried not to overflow. 

“A year,” Was all you could let out. And it was pathetic. Fluttering into the air as you pushed the sadness to the back of your throat, your voice sounded weak. It sounded stupid. 

You heard Mando rise, slowly walking over to where you knelt on the floor, feet jutting from your bottom, overalls tied at your waist and tank top soaked through with sweat. He lowered himself to your level, and stars, when he reached out to grab your chin and direct your eyes to his visor, you burst--

The tears came thick and fast, covering your entire face as you wept into his large gloved palm. He didn’t move, bar pulling you closer to him as you let out aching, wracking sobs. He was utterly silent, and you wondered if he was trying not to let out his own sadness. 

“I thought you were dead,” You finally let out, as your tears cascaded to the hull of the Crest. “I thought you were fucking dead, Mando--,”

“I know,” He said in reply, through clenched teeth. Stars, he was torn up. Just as torn up as you. “I couldn’t come back. I couldn’t put you and Peli in that amount of danger,” You looked to his visor, searching desperately for his eyes, despite knowing it was useless.

“What happened?” You asked, and Mando’s grip on you tightened. He brought his other hand to rest upon your thigh, squeezing it as the tears continued to fall down your face. He gulped sadly beneath his helmet, but you saw the pain he felt in the way his head tilted to the floor. 

“Things got complicated. I couldn’t come back and risk you--,” He stopped to let out a shaky breath. “Risk you being in the firing line of my rash choices,” 

You let out another sob, clamping your eyes shut as you tried to calm yourself down. Mando only waited; he waited with you, one hand securely on your thigh and the other cradling your cheek in his palm. You swiped your hand up to his wrist, clutching on for dear life as your fingers snagged upon the fabric of his gloves, revealing the tiniest section of his actual skin. 

Mando audibly hissed, but he didn’t move. He was frozen in place, reeling from a simple touch of your finger against his bare skin. 

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” You let out quietly, as the last of your tears dried. “I’ve missed you, Mando,” You said confidently, simply relishing in the fact that you were talking to him again after so long. The hope of him taking you with him had been just a dream; something constructed to give you a small break from the reality of your life. You wouldn’t indulge in it any longer. 

“I... I was planning on asking you something, way back then,” He said tentatively. “Before shit hit the fan,” He let out a forced chuckle, and stars, he was nervous. This was the first time you’d ever heard him be this way, this open, this tentative. 

Your face softened, as he took a few seconds to collect himself, pushing the words out in his classic modulated drawl--

“Come with me,” 

With those three words, your body set alight--

But this time, it wasn’t from the Tatooine heat.

Oh, OP. Thank you for this. I indulged. I loved writing this. THANK YOU!

Send prompts to my ask box!