#like if it’s mostly gone I get taking the rest off but it’s people who are like mildly prematurely balding

[alliluyevas]

what’s up w this trend of the minute millennial men’s hairlines start receding they shave their whole damn head. You literally looked fine.

[clockwayswrites]

Orange, City Pigeon, Danny & Batfam @roanawayspoons WC: 864 CW: Blood, injury

“I’m just saying, you shouldn’t get to be Red by default.”

“Well I can’t be Robin and Hood is a unique identifier.”

“No, nope, just because you weren’t creative enough to come up with something other than Red Robin you shouldn’t get to just claim Red.”

“Creative enough? Oh that’s rich from the man who ripped off the Joker.”

“It was poetic!”

“It was lazy.”

“Look here, bird bones—” …and Tim was gone, Jason thought with a sigh. He turned back to see Tim still before the last jump, staring down into the alleyway with a tilted head. Jason’s hand went to one of his guns. “Red?”

“Blood.”

“And? It’s Gotham. I think the city is held together by blood at this point.”

“Green blood, Hood.”

“How do you know it’s blood then?” Jason asked, but stalked forward to look. Alright, maybe the splatter was pretty distinctive.

That particular shade of green was also concernedly distinctive.

“Well, fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Who bleeds Lazarus water?”

“No clue,” Tim said unhelpfully. “Guess we better find out.”

They dropped silently down into the alley, one after another, and followed the trail of toxic green blood. The trail went cold a few times, whoever was bleeding was clearly trying to hide, but they were inexperienced at it and the Bats had spent enough time stalking through the streets of this city that the cement and stone basically spoke to them. The trail couldn’t hide from them.

Without warning, Jason shot his arm out to stop Tim. He tapped the side of his helmet silently; he heard something. Tim nodded and they fanned out to search. A door in this latest alley they were in was cracked open, like someone had tried to close it and it had bounced back off the latch.

A green hand print was smeared down it.

Jason pulled a gun from his holster, but let Tim go through first. While Jason was far lighter on his feet than someone his size should be, there was no denying that Tim was stealthier. Jason would be just a few steps behind ready to provide the muscles and firepower.

It was odd, then, when Tim purposefully let his foot scrape against the ground as he rounded the corner. Jason just cursed silently as the idiot continued forward, cutting himself off from Jason’s line of sight. “Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out.”

Jason couldn’t hear what was said back; he edged closer.

“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”

The person snorted. “Just… over… then?”

Tim laughed. It was one of his many fake laughs, but the one meant to soothe people in trouble. “Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.

“So… interrogate me?”

“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”

Jason’s hand gripped his gun so tightly it hurt.

The person… the kid laughed. It was a broken sound that no kid should have to make.

Jason had heard it a lot on the streets.

“Maybe I deserve it.” Their voice was raspy, like every word caught in their throat.

Jason came around the corner. The kid went rigid, which was the last thing they needed with how blood seeped from their fingers where their pale hand was clutched against a too big hoodie.

Tim leaned casually into Jason's space in a way he wouldn’t normally, putting on a show for the kid that Red Hood was safe. It was at least true for the kid. Jason leaned back, mostly for the comfort of having his brother close in the face of the sight. Seeing bloody kids never got easier.

“You’re what, sixteen?” Jason asked.

“…fifteen?”

“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”

They shook their head. It dislodged the hood a little. The tangled, chin length hair was startling white and splattered with dried green blood. Jason forced himself to take a breath.

“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid. I’ve got places to put you if you need somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”

The kid laughed again. Somehow it sounded worse this time. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”

“Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?” Tim asked.

The kid looked up. Jason felt Tim tense against him. Hell, Jason tensed. They were the wrong color, but Jason knew those eyes, those brows, that slope of the nose. Everything was just a little sideways, but Jason knew that face. He knew what the kid was going to say.

“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

--- AN: Happy Trauma Tuesday~

Feel free to continue this, use it as a prompt if you'd like!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door. 

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.” 

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin. 

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal. 

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.” 

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch. 

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @edszn @theoraekenslover

[ckret2]

please more evil ford please i stare with my puppy eyes for this i am obbsessed

Yeah all right, I've been working on some art. (For context, we're talking about this Evil Ford.)

Evil Ford is Evil as in "cheerfully works with Bill even after learning his full plot" and "is totally ready to conquer and/or destroy the world." But other than the shocking lack of basic ethics and the supervillain objective he's mostly the same guy—which means he still cares about his family. He's hoping to get them to join in on the world conquest plan.

Forty-odd years ago he went off to college promising someday he'd be a big shot scientist who changes the world and he'd make his family a fortune. If taking over reality doesn't qualify he doesn't know what does. The family can join him and his buddy Bill and rule the universe together. Pines Pines Pines Pines!

Unfortunately for him, the rest of the family still has normal moral compasses. And also they've met Bill.

Bill can't currently possess Ford due to Reasons; but even though he can't get in the driver's seat he still has permission to ride shotgun at any time. Ford talks to him pretty regularly. He HAS been caught doing this. Stan thinks he's just gone a little nutty from thirty years of isolation.

Naturally, since he was always on Bill's side, Ford's perception of events during Weirdmageddon is a bit different:

I finally made an official Evil Ford New Costume Character Design, check out his exciting totally different brand new look:

I decided that, since Ford is still basically the same person aside from his terrible life goals, he'd probably have the same fashion sense. And so... nothing changes except two tiny details lmao.

But he DOES have tattoos:

I traced a canon character model and took off its top to get a base to slap tattoos on, and then went dang... they gave him a big head and arms. He looks goofy. Anyway,

His forearms have less incriminating tattoos—just a birch tree and a sunrise. (The sunrise looks like the Journal 3 "The Muse Has Spoken" page.) The red text is the "triangulum entangulum" ritual; if anyone asks he'll go "it's uhh an ancient Sumerian poem about how great science is." It's not until he's topless that it's like "oh so he's a CULTIST cultist." The one exception is an unconcealed Eye of Providence on his right palm—but it's in an ink that's only visible in certain lighting. It's there so at any time he can point his hand at something and go "Bill are you seeing this BS?"

Of course, he still has the "hey now, you're an all star" neck tattoo. I didn't have room to draw it.

As you can see, he's made being Bill's right hand man a core part of his personality. Rather than spending 30 years scrabbling around the multiverse desperately searching for a way to destroy Bill, he spent 30 years chilling in the Quadrangle of Qonfusion as Bill's specialest favoritest Henchmaniac, and only scrabbling around the multiverse occasionally for fun & profit.

Here's a photo Bill & Ford took at a Nightmare Realm house party like fifteen years ago, three minutes before Bill started an argument and set the house on fire.

Most people have their wild party years in college, Ford has his in his 40s.

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part seven.

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yourusername had to take these pictures myself bc apparently angles are “too hard”

view all 1,972 comments

landonorris maybe you should’ve just asked me 🙄

↳ yourusername as much as i love your results you turn what should be a quick 5 mins into a 20 min photoshoot

↳ landonorris yes and?? i’m not seeing what the downside is 🤨

user HOW MANY LETTERS IN SARGEANT???

user literally who needs boys when girls like y/n exist

↳ user REAL

logansargeant i know about angles

↳ yourusername yes logie and your future girlfriends will thank me for it 🫶

user that dress is stunning and i want it but i know it costs more than a month’s worth of my pay 🥲🥲🥲

user ferrari spotted = y/n for ferrari 2024

↳ user get that girl in a formula car and leT HER DRIVE

oscarpiastri in my defense your heels make you as tall as me 🫤

↳ yourusername methinks it’s just bc you only know how to take one type of picture and it’s the awkward dad kind 🫤

user OSCAR??? HAS OUR HUSBAND RETURNED FROM THE WAR???

↳ user mama y papa

user OP81 IS BACK IN THESE COMMENTS WAR IS OVER

With Oscar by your side, time passes quickly. You don’t bring up that the first night you shared a bed, you’d woken up in the morning with his arm wrapped around your waist and his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you certainly don’t mention that he’d practically whined in his sleep when you’d slipped out of his grasp. It doesn’t happen again, but there’s a part of you hoping that it does.

The days blend together into a haze of happiness, laughter, and exploring the beauty of Monaco. Lando shows you the best spots— a garden just off the Monte Carlo marina, a famous nightclub that takes your breath away, and a small cafe at the edge of the city that overlooks it all.

Things are good, great even, but you can’t help but feel like there’s still some distance between you and Oscar despite his reassurance that everything is fine.

When New Year’s Eve— and subsequently your birthday— arrives, you’re awoken to a flurry of texts. Your parents have both sent sweet messages wishing you the best, Sophia has left a voice message with sounds of traffic in the background telling you she’s planning to get wasted and if you do too then you can just pretend you’re wasted together, and Dalton has made a group chat with you and Logan and has spammed you both with pictures of yourselves from across the years.

Oscar’s already gone, and his side of the bed is cold, so you take your time responding to them all and then shoot off a message of your own to Logan before getting up. It’s your first time not celebrating with your brother, and it feels strange knowing that you won’t get to see him today, but you’re excited nonetheless for the plans Lando and the other drivers in Monaco have organized for New Year’s Eve.

The day passes by lazily. Lando and Oscar both greet you with birthday wishes when you make your way down to the living room and then they present to you a feast for breakfast, which you realize is the reason Oscar was awake so much earlier than you. It’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had, mostly because they make fools of themselves retelling how many times they had to scrap the failed waffles until they got it right. You spend lunch at a place close by, joined by Alex and Lily who have flown in for the New Year, and then the rest of the afternoon you wait around at Lando’s place passing the time watching the boys play games on the TV and helping either of them cheat when asked.

You’re happy.

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tagged: yourusername

logansargeant people say twins are like built-in best friends, and if that’s the case then i’m glad i got you as mine. i can’t imagine having anyone else stick by my side throughout all the crazy and wild shit we’ve been through in our lives. it feels like just yesterday we were 13 and acting as each other's lifelines in a place we barely knew, and now we’re 23 and somehow doing the same thing. you’re my best friend forever.

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yourusername love you to the moon and back again logie 🫶 (but omg these pictures are so OLD)

↳ logansargeant love you to the stars and beyond 🫶 (yea well when else am i gonna post them?)

user i thought the only reason i’d be crying today is bc i don’t have a nye kiss but here we are aND THE BABY HANDS OMG

user I CAN’T DO THIS 😭😭😭

user sobbing over a birthday post was not on my 2023 bingo but i’ll be sure to add it to 2024 if this is gonna be a yearly thing

↳ user birthdays are a yearly thing so yea 💀

user i can’t stop thinking about the fact that each other was all they had when logan pursued racing in europe and now logan’s made it to f1 and they’re still all they have 😭

↳ user the sargeant twins are genuinely gonna be the death of me one of these days

user Y/N HAS BEEN THERE FOR HIM SINCE THE BEGINNING OMG

williamsracing Happiest of birthdays to Y/N! We look forward to seeing you out on the paddock more in 2024, and can’t wait to see what the new year has in store for you! 💙

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tagged: logansargeant

yourusername 23 + 23 = 46. 4 + 6 = 10. 10 - 2 = 8 and that’s what we’ve done for the last 23 years 😎 but real talk, i’m genuinely so honored to get to be your sister, and to share so much with you. when you win i share that joy, and when you lose i share that grief, and even though we’re an ocean away, i’m with you today and always for the rest of our lives. you’re my best friend, and even if i don’t have anything or anyone else, i know i have you and that makes me the luckiest girl in the world ❤️.

view all 934 comments

user ATE ATE ATE

logansargeant went through all the stages of grief as i read that caption

↳ yourusername i do try

↳ logansargeant i know

user HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARGEANT TWINS

user these pictures of logan are SENDING ME

↳ user y/n always feeds the ppl the low qual pics

alex_albon adding these to my folder of embarrassing pictures to blackmail logan with

↳ yourusername happy doing business with you sir 🤝

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user my mental health is dependent on the friendship between y/n and logan and it is STRUGGLING today lads

user can’t wait to see more of them in 2024!!

Lando finds you as you’re getting ready, putting the final touches on your makeup. He enters when you tell him to, and then leans against the bathroom counter for a moment just staring at you before you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“How are things going between you and Oscar?”

You lower the mascara wand and shrug, “I mean, it’s good.”

“But?” He prompts.

“But I feel like he’s still… being weird?” You slip the wand back into the mascara tube and then tuck it back into your bag. “I don’t know. Maybe we were a bit too realistic with the whole ‘making him jealous’ thing, and now he believes you’ve stuck your claim and he’s distancing himself because he doesn’t want to step on your toes or something.”

Lando snorts, “As if. I made him share a room with you, how does that in any way imply that I’m trying to stake my claim on you?”

You run a hand through your hair because you can’t run it down your face without ruining your freshly done makeup, and heave a sigh. “Then maybe he just isn’t actually interested in me at all, and I was right about him wanting to pretend the kiss never happened.”

He hums, then nods once, twice, a third time, and finally leaves the bathroom without another word.

When you finally follow him down, a number of people have already arrived— Alex and Lily are among them, and you greet them again with smiles and hugs. You’re introduced to Max Fewtrell, one of Lando’s close friends, and then you’re dragged away by Lily to hang out in the corner of the living room as the house begins to fill with current and former drivers alike.

“It’s a sausage fest,” she jokes, and you laugh beside her.

You both make conversation for a while, catching up on her and Alex’s holiday spent in California with her family and then talking about your own in Florida with yours. She asks how Logan’s doing, and you tell her that he’s well, but he’s really motivated and wants the chance to prove himself in the 2024 season already.

“I think the online discourse about whether or not he deserved a seat got to him a bit,” you admit. “But I know he can show them that there’s a reason he was chosen.”

Lily nods. “Me and Alex have faith in him too. It was his rookie year and he was in a Williams of all things. Like you said, there was a reason he was chosen, he just needs the opportunity to show the world that.”

You jump from topic to topic for a little while longer, until you excuse yourself to go find where Lando and Oscar have run off to. The guests have all arrived from the looks of it, and while a number of them all know each other already and have split off into groups to stay entertained, you’re not sure exactly how you’re meant to handle things on your own when it isn’t even your house—

“I mean, it’s fine, yeah? It’s just awkward with her, I guess.” You pause. The door to you and Oscar’s shared room is ajar and Oscar’s voice is just barely audible over the sound of music and chatter filtering up from downstairs.

“Why d’you say that? It’s just Y/N.” Lando’s voice follows.

You press yourself up against the wall, heart pounding in your chest at the sound of your name. You can’t see anything, and that almost makes it worse— imagining what their faces look like as they talk about you.

“Just that it’s weird sleeping next to her, and I feel like I’m always having to walk on glass around her. I’m trying to make things normal again, but I don’t think I can. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep being friends with her. How can I look her in the face, knowing what happened?”

You can physically feel the dread settle into your stomach. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest and it’s like your blood has turned to ice in your veins. Your face feels warm, but the rest of your body feels cold, and suddenly it’s as though your ribcage has become too small for your lungs.

As quietly as you can, you scurry away from the door, across the distance of the hallway, and then down the stairs. Instead of turning into the living room where everyone else has gathered, their laughter and conversations a jumbled bubble of noise that makes your chest feel even tighter, you leave through the front door just as you feel tears begin to fall.

It’s worrying how frequently this has become an occurrence for you— crying because of Oscar.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel

━━ a/n: ahhhh i'm sorry i cannot let them be happy!! also, wrote this really fast and struggled a bit because i genuinely couldn't decide if it was just too fast paced or not, so i apologize if it seems rushed or if there are any mistakes editing wise that i missed!

[disillusioneddanny]

If It Makes You Happy (then why the hell are you so sad?)

Tim took a bite of his ravioli and looked around the table at his family. It was Sunday dinner. A monthly tradition where every member of the family adopted or otherwise came to spend a few hours together. It didn’t matter who was arguing with whom, or how estranged from the family you were at the time. You still had to attend the monthly family dinner. However, there were times when Tim wondered if anyone would notice if he stopped attending. If he no longer came to the dinners where he sat mostly unnoticed by the rest of his family. Where he typically sat in silence, having not uttered a single word throughout the entire event. Would they ever realize he was gone? Did they even realize he was there in the first place? 

A part of Tim truly doubted it, if he was being completely honest with himself. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to share with the family his upcoming exhibit. 

Tim was in his fourth year of college. Where he was getting a degree in Art, Technology, and Culture. It was a major that allowed Tim to immerse himself in photography, video art, creative coding, and so much more. He had gotten to work in traditional analog and digital photography. Played around with film and art in ways he had never thought of before while also learning about cultural theory, the expression of ideas, and cultural practices which gave him the chance to truly discover himself. It was the first time he had ever chosen something for himself. 

His entire life he had been groomed to run a business. To at first take over Drake Industries one day and then later Wayne Enterprises where he was unfortunately CEO. But then he had learned about the ATC program at Gotham University and he had fallen in love with it.  He had always been obsessed with photography and even film later on as he grew older and spent his days alone in dusty old Drake Manor. And he had always loved to learn about cultures, he ate up the stories from his parents and their trips abroad. Had spent countless nights watching the people of Gotham and how they did things, and had absorbed it all like a sponge to make up for the fact that he was just a lonely boy living in a manor by himself. 

Even when he had joined the Bats and had made his tiny little place with them, he still fell back on his love for learning about others and his desire to tell their stories. It had just become an intrinsic part of Timothy Drake. 

And now here he was, slowly creeping to the finish line. He had his senior showcase coming up. A requirement for all students who were receiving a bachelor of fine arts. He was to show off all of his best work from the last four years. It was a chance for him to show everything he had learned, and to display his work with pride. 

He had toyed with the idea of inviting everyone to it. To let them see the love that Tim had cultivated over the last four years. He was set to graduate in just a few months and the pride he felt for himself was tremendous. And if Tim invited the Wayne family to his senior showcase, then maybe they could come to his college graduation and share the achievement with them then too. 

It was a big time in Tim’s life and he wanted to share it with them. 

He listened as a lull came in the conversation and carefully cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others. 

“I have a senior showcase this weekend for my BFA. It’s at six in the evening in the Wayne Arts Center on Gotham Campus. I would be happy to see you all there,” he said hesitantly, eyes firmly trained on his plate of food. 

“That sounds nice, Tim. I’ll try to be there,” Bruce said politely before going back to his conversation with Jason and Dick. Tim felt eyes on him, though, and slowly looked up to find his little brother giving him a curious look. 

“What?” He asked, still trying to calm his heart just a bit. He still wasn’t sure why he came to these things, why he was even here. Just talking to the Waynes gave him anxiety. Just being here reminded him how much he didn’t belong. How other he was compared to the rest of the kids that Bruce had adopted? 

Damian tilted his head to the side. “I was not aware that you were getting your Bachelor's in Fine Arts. Will you tell me about your degree program? I have been thinking about getting an Art History degree but have been torn between that and a business degree.”

Tim gave him a small smile and rested his chin on his hand as he started to tell Damian all about his degree and how he was enjoying the program at Gotham University. The rest of the family went on to their own conversations while Damian listened with rapt attention to Tim describing the ATC program at Gotham U. 

The rest of the week was a whirlwind as he prepared for his senior showcase, he had sent out invitations to everyone he wanted to come see his work. The Team had already made a reservation to take Tim to lunch before the showcase before helping him get everything ready. And as the day came to be, they had made good on their word, taking him to his favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Gotham before taking him to the gallery. He blushed as he listened to his three best friend gush over his artwork, as they listened to him explain each piece. They asked questions and made remarks about what their favorite pieces were and even tried to buy a few pieces only for Tim to promise to give each of them prints of his photos. 

The three had left with quick goodbyes, each one giving Tim a hug and congratulating him before they made their way from the gallery. The rest of the evening dragged on as people came by and asked Tim about his photos and the small films that played on the movie screen on one wall. He smiled and explained each photo to anyone who asked. He had wanted to showcase his vigilante photos of the bats and birds but it had been too much of a risk to do so. 

Instead he had shown off his photos that showcased all of his favorite parts of Gotham. From the beautiful gothic architecture, the gargoyles that looked out over the city. He showed the photos from the last time Ivy had thrown a fit in Robinson Park and covered the entirety of the grounds with flowers. He showed the pictures of community from Crime Alley and the beauty of the strength of Gothamites who had managed to survive the worst of the worst. 

He also featured pictures of his family, of Dick hanging from a chandelier, of Damian training Titus to do a trick. He had a picture of Bruce, Alfred, and Jason sitting side by side as they each read a different book. One showed Cass as she posed for the camera in her favorite ballet form. They were some of his most treasured memories, there for everyone to see and enjoy. Tucker between the one of Damian and the one of Dick was a photo of Tim. He had taken forever to set up the camera and get the timer right. Alfred had simply chuckled the entire time as he continued to offer to take the picture for Tim but no one was meant to be behind the camera for that picture. It was the only family portrait of his entire family. Cass, Damian, Tim, Dick, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, they all sat smushed into a single couch together, wide smiles and laughs on each of their faces as Tim beamed from the far side, leaning into Alfred’s side. 

The gallery was meant to showcase culture that was important to Tim. To showcase the life that he loved and treasured. And even if he never felt like he quite fit in the Wayne Family, even though he knew that he was the expendable one, the replacement, he still treasured his family. It was why he had invited them, he had wanted them to see just how important they were to Tim. And maybe they would realize he was important to them too.

Only, the rest of the evening seemed to drag on, and not a single person from his family ever stepped through the door. He waited, shoulders tensed and smile polite. Every bit the gentleman that Janet Drake had trained him to be as he stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He kept glancing at the clock, waiting for Bruce or Dick or someone to walk through the doors, to say hello and look at all the work that Tim had put in the last four years in college. The hours ticked by until it was nearing ten pm and the gallery started to clear out, custodians came in and started to clean up around him. 

Tim cast one final look at the doors before he turned to his photos and started to take one off of the wall. 

“Master Timothy! I am so sorry that we are late,” a voice said and Tim quickly to find Alfred and Damian walking through the doors of the gallery. A small smile spread on Tim’s face as Damian bound forward. 

“I apologize,” Damian said softly, staring up at Tim with disgruntled eyes. “I got into an argument with Father and then Titus scared Alfred the Cat and we spent the last three hours searching for that blasted cat and when we realized the time we came straight here,” he said. “What did the others think of your exhibit?”

Tim’s smile fell and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “They uh, they didn’t show up,” he said quietly. “But if you’d like, you guys are the last ones to show up. I’d love to show you everything.”

Alfred’s face fell at that as he stepped forward and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “That is their loss, my dear boy. I would love to see your work,” he said. Before he could stop himself, Tim pulled Alfred in for a tight hug, burying his face in the old butler’s chest as he held him close. 

“Thank you,” he whispered before pulling away. He glanced down at Damian and smiled. “How about I show you my work and then if my advisor is still here you can meet her and talk to her about the ATC program.”

The fourteen-year-old nodded his head once. “I would appreciate that,” he said before grabbing Tim’s hand hesitantly. He followed quietly as Tim showed them his pictures of Gotham, explaining the stories behind each one before he showed them his favorite pictures. His pictures of home and both men let out soft gasps as they looked at them. 

“Master Timothy, these are beautiful,” Alfred said, stepping forward to take in the picture of him, Bruce, and Jason. 

“The lighting for this is amazing, I did not know that I even smiled like that,” Damian said softly as he took in the picture of him smiling at Titus. 

“Oh Tim,” Alfred said quietly, losing all strict politeness that Alfred held so dear to his heart as he took in the family portrait. “This is amazing, Timothy. So absolutely perfect. I remember when you took this photograph. It was right after Thanksgiving dinner last year.”

“I was so irritated, Todd had gotten mashed potatoes in my hair,” Damian said with a huff, a small smile tugged on his face. 

“I did not even realize that Master Richard and Master Jason were hugging in this picture,” Alfred said, a soft smile sti on his face as he took in the way Dick had his arms wrapped around Jason’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face as he laughed at something Jason had said. A small smile sat on Jason’s face, his eyes brighter than Tim had seen since the older man had come back from the dead. 

Alfred tore his eyes from the picture. “How much?” he asked. 

Tim blinked. “What?”

“How much for the picture?” Alfred asked him, turning back to the family portrait. 

“For you?” Tim asked, blinking again in surprise. “Free of charge, considering it a thank you for coming to my senior showcase.”

“I would like this one of Titus and me,” Damian piped up. “It would be lovely on my desk in my bedroom.”

Tim sniffed, his chest tightening slightly. “I would be more than happy to give you both the original copies.”

“Timothy,” Alfred said, turning back to Tim, that soft, kind, smile on his face once again. “I am so incredibly proud of you.”

The vigilante’s eyes burned furiously. “I-I thank you,” he said, a soft sob slipped out of his mouth before small arms wrapped around him. Damian hugged him tight, his face pressed against Tim’s chest. 

“I am so sorry that our family forgot to come to your showcase, Timothy,” he said stiffly. “You are incredibly talented and it is their loss for missing out on this.”

Tim pressed a hand to Damian’s back, feeling tears building behind his eyes that threatened to spill over. “Thank you,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he looked around and spotted his advisor. “There’s Professor Maheshawen. She’s my advisor. We can go talk to her and you can ask your questions, okay?”

Damian nodded and pulled away carefully, smoothing down the front of his sweater before he followed after Tim to meet his professor. Leaving Alfred to continue staring at the pictures with a kind smile on his face.

Alfred Pennyworth looked at the smiles on his charges faces and let out a breath. One of these days, Bruce and the others would realize just how important Timothy was to their family, how he was the one who held them all together. He only hoped that they would not realize that lesson too late in life. At the very least, Damian was now starting to understand just how wonderful Timothy Drake was. 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Tell Her You Love Her 3/4 (Word count 4.5 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

A/N: Finally I can share the rest of this crazy story with you guys! Chapter 4/4 will be posted right after this one. Also if you haven't yet seen @shizukaay0 's amazing fanart for this fic, go take a look, it's steamy!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She wakes up next morning only to find König gone.

The restless night nearly makes her sleep in, and when she notices that the man has left while she was still sleeping, something twists like a blade inside her stomach. She throws the covers off, scours the room with her stare, and notices a note and a small sunflower on the bedside table.

He has left his knife – or one of them – here too. Another gift.

The steel is dark, nearly black; the handle olive green, with sturdy finger grooves and a heavy guard to protect the fingers. The saw-toothed portion on the back of the blade gives the knife a look that most people would probably deem ugly. The blade is wide and ends in a vicious, fat tip that looks sharp enough to puncture flesh without having to apply much pressure.

She doesn't know what a Glock knife looks like, but this is exactly how she sees König: petrifying, big, and brutal. In her eyes, beautiful… Stunning.

The knife juts from the table and holds a note in place although there is no risk of wind to take it off.

Flower for my Engel

I'll see you tonight

The clumsy, hurried message immediately makes her smile. The disturbing thoughts from last evening are only an odd memory – his offerings make her insides glow with warm milk and honey, she feels silly, like summer – and the promise to come to her every night doesn't feel like a threat anymore, it feels… magical, a secret romantic meeting, something wild, something she has always avoided from fear of trying new things.

The floral dress on the floor doesn't appear as evidence of her ruining anymore. It's fairytale-like: that he leaves flowers and knives wherever he goes. The destroyed bra makes her almost giggle. When has a man ever done something like that to her in the heat of passion?

The night feels like another odd dream: König had barely fit to sleep in her bed, and she had barely fit to curl around him. He had slept like a baby, motionless and peaceful, while she woke up every few hours to admire him: to watch the slow pulse between his collarbones barely revealed by the hood and listen to the faint snore that stopped for the smallest moment when she brushed her fingertips over his stomach.

Her muscles ache from lying half on top of him all night. Changing position was out of the question because he held an arm of steel around her all night. Luckily, it prevented her from falling from the bed. But now her muscles were coated with pains of not getting enough sleep while being held in place by a giant for almost 9 hours. Not to talk of the fresh aches born from their activities before getting those precious few winks of sleep…

She goes to work that day with such an everlasting beam that people notice her. She's not entirely sure what has happened, but she is suddenly wildly alive, and blooming.

No one knows about her secret man, her secret, sturdy weapon. No one knows she is the one he comes to every night: the shy, invisible cleaner who has seduced the man whom everyone fears.

And they can keep their boring normalcy and dull decency. She has found something infinitely better.

He's her most precious secret from now on.

He comes to visit her in the break room in the middle of the day, and she's slightly surprised. She thought they would see each other only at night from now on.

She greets him with a smile, and he answers her delight with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He looks far more normal now that the tension is gone. It's suddenly easy to be in his company because they share a secret nobody else knows about.

"Hi… What are you doing here?"

Her shy smiles and the soft whisper should tell him that she doesn't object at all to this sort of intrusion. She might be a little obsessed now too.

"I had to see you," he says as if she's his priority from now on, and her heart feels lighter and lighter. He's equally as lovestruck as she, then.

"You look so beautiful."

She's walking in a dream again: this man calls her beautiful even when she's hidden in her cleaner uniform, stripped from her dresses and flowers and makeup. The only thing she has is her smile, really, but he's not any less adoring. She's being worshiped during her sleepy coffee break, in broad daylight, when she's dressed in dull, grimy working clothes… Who would've thought?

“Thank you,” she gives him another smile, and he moves to her; so close that she has to crane her neck to look up at him.

The kiss that follows is stolen but thoroughly consensual. She disappears inside his hood and smiles on his lips, which are far gentler now. It's a chaste little kiss that happens in darkness and in secret, like everything else between them.

"Will you come to me tonight…?" She asks as if the note wasn't promise enough that he would. He's far too decent, not even groping her this time, and it drives her crazy.

"Nothing could keep me from you," he answers straight into her mouth. His musk and the soap he uses – something breezy and pungent, tea tree, perhaps – surround her much like the hood.

"You can be on top this time. I want to see how you take it–"

"Shh…" She smiles, almost laughs at his libertine whispers. He's smiling, too.

"Don't worry. I'll do the heavy lifting if you're tired."

He retreats, the hood is taken away and her sight is filled with light and decency, but then his hands go around her waist and lift her from the ground. It's like she's flying, floating through the air before he sets her gently on the coffee table.

"Except that you're not heavy at all," he says, voice dark and thick from arousal. He moves to her neck, the hood-coated face roams up and down her throat as he moves to whisper more suggestions in her ear.

"Or you can take it in your mouth… Have you ever had a man in your mouth?"

Something tells her that if she were to say yes, it would deeply upset him. The hair on the back of her neck starts to tingle, and when she doesn't answer him, he continues.

"I could eat you at the same time. Would you like that?"

His voice is darker still, and it makes her bite her lip and grab his arm for support. Even the idea of a 69 with him is dizzying. She can barely breathe from the joy and wanting.

How is she supposed to continue her day when he pops up out of nowhere and talks such sweet filth in her ear?

"König…"

"And after that… We'll fuck until your legs shake."

"Stop," she laughs a hushed giggle in the fabric of his hood. "This is inappropriate…"

"Oh ja. I'm hard again."

Mmh.

"All your fault, Engel."

"You are incurable," she laughs.

"That's what they say."

Perhaps it's a joke, but the word they makes her briefly wonder if he has had this kind of affairs with other women, too. Perhaps she's not so special after all. The image of him fucking other women with abandon breeds a stale, bitter putrefaction in her stomach.

Has he called them angels too…?

Her hands are about his neck, but she has no memory of throwing them there. She wishes she could just dangle from him the rest of the day until he carries her to bed and does all the things he just promised he would do. Let her do all those things to him while he gets to watch – watch how well she can take him, ride him, suck him.

She makes a silent promise to herself and to him that she will be the special girl, no matter the cost.

"Do you want coffee? I just made some," she asks in hopes that he would stay for a little while longer even if he isn't supposed to be here in the social spaces of the maintenance personnel.

"Sure. I would love that."

The man wants his coffee dark, and it only makes her smile as she pours him that minimalistic, unsweetened beverage. She likes his knives dark, his hood dark, his shirts dark… Perhaps she should start wearing black dresses.

"You left your knife in my room."

"For you," he tilts his head a little, wanting to know if she likes his gift. Has he given knives to other women, too, after he's fucked them…?

"Thank you. It's incredible."

"Good combat knife," he nods. "Doesn't reflect light."

If someone was here with them right now, they would probably roll their eyes at how deranged this conversation is. What rotten lunatics they both were.

She’s completely flushed, and smiling like an idiot from receiving a fat, vile knife as a present after having been fucked into oblivion twice last night.

"Well, it reminds me of you."

He looks at her, searching for deceit or ridicule, but there is none.

"That's how you see me..?"

"Mm-hm," she hums with sudden lightness. "Incredible."

His eyes betray the same look he had when he came inside her last night: brief, fragile, naked hope. Her next smile is sadder because obviously, this guy didn't receive compliments often. She's watering a dry desert plant with a single, simple word, and his eyes light up like he's just received years and years worth of good care.

He steps forward and looks like he is finally about to sit at the table. The obsessed look has melted into pure adoration: it's even more knee-buckling than the possessive stare that has followed her for weeks.

One of the maintenance officers arrives to get a cup of coffee in a hurry; a man whose name she doesn't even care to remember, whose world seems to consist mainly of stress. He’s a typical, middle-aged, burned-out man who doesn't appear to remember how to cherish the little things – such as a good cup of coffee – but rushes by everyone and everything and blames them for his stress. She always feels pity for both people and inanimate objects that get to suffer from this man’s exhaustion.

But she doesn't even see him now: all she sees is the fierce operator who is not supposed to be here. The giant who looks at her equally as mesmerized, like everyone else has ceased to exist in this world.

The air is teeming with naked lust and barely contained, sweet hunger, but the poor officer is blind to all of that. A sudden warmth gushes on her chest as the man bumps into her while rushing by with his overfilled coffee mug. She might as well be invisible again, and the hot liquid burns, but it has no power to make her angry or sad.

“Oh–excuse me,” she chirps with a dreamy smile on her face when it’s all his fault that she has coffee all over her shirt.

Before the man gets to the door, König grabs him by the collar and hurls him against the wall. She doesn’t even catch the knife before it plunges inside a round stomach like the worker is merely a balloon to be punctured.

The blade comes away all red, then disappears into the flesh again, and again and again… She loses count after six; the knife sails inside the same hole like he’s fucking the man with the blade. The slick sounds remind her of their intense love-making last night, they taint the passion in the most twisted way.

More hot coffee ends up splashing on her thighs before the sound of a mug smashing into tiny little pieces on the floor tells her that all innocence is lost.

Her gaze is glued to the black and red mush that used to be a polo shirt and a stomach: the man stays upright only because he is not allowed to collapse to the ground. But after a few seconds that seem to last hours, he is shoved to the floor in a sad heap.

She’s still staring at the now dead man when König takes a small step toward her. It occurs to her that both her palms are over her mouth only after she raises her eyes to his, and sees that he had expected some other reaction than this.

Her hands won’t descend; they try to keep all her horror inside, try to reassure her that this is only a dream, she hasn’t woken up yet, and the relief will be immense once she does.

But that never happens.

It’s real, and she would give anything to go only a few minutes back in time where the man was still alive and König was not everything she always feared he was.

He is looking at her with bewildered confusion, then the corner of his eye twitches, just once. He forces the blade back into its sheath without wiping the blood off: a telltale sign that he is more than thrown off balance.

Her horror and disgust escort him out the door in a tornado-like state, and she is left alone with two spilled coffees and a bleeding corpse, wondering who will clean the mess because she cannot for her life do it.

. . . . . .

The shock leaves her body cold and weak as she sits on a bench in the hallway, too distracted to carry on with her day, too afraid to go into her lonely room. It feels safer to remain in a public space, even if people who pass her by look at her with pity and confusion.

She cried her eyes and heart out after the shaking receded. She understands now why shock is such a dangerous state to be in. She always thought it a lie that people could die from shock, but not anymore.

Other people cleaned the mess, after the investigation. How she was able to stay so calm and collected during the questioning is a miracle on its own. What came after was an empty, bleak abyss.

She’s still staring at the floor after the buzzing around her quiets down. Minutes or hours pass by, the work day is over, steps fade away, doors close, people leave.

“Now now… What's the matter here lass?”

It’s the Scottish dude, unbearably benign, and looking like he’s actually caring about why she looks so devastated.

So, the other operators haven’t yet heard.

She doubts if König will receive much more than a scolding for what he did, high-ranked and fiercely dedicated to his work as he is. The man’s simply too valuable to be thrown away. They will just blow enough money to cover this shit right up.

This is not a regular army, and these are not regular people.

Soap sits down next to her, and she doesn’t even mind. At least he’s normal. At least something in this world is still intact, and smiling kindly.

"König did–König did something terrible."

She snobs and snivels, nose clogged and numb, eyes still burning from the tears. Soap looks at her with unadulterated concern, then pity. His brows knit together and he swallows before sighing profoundly.

"Right. What did he do now?"

When she only continues to stare at the floor, Soap raises a hand and starts to rub her back. Rather forcefully, to make it clear that he's not making a pass at her.

“Did he do something to you?”

She shakes her head slowly, because technically, it’s the truth. He didn’t knife her down.

Soap doesn’t ask any further questions. He must know without telling that König has done something bad, something fucking foul even if she hasn't been at the receiving end of it.

"Wanna hear my advice? Just stay away from that guy. Don't talk to him, don't pay attention to him."

The hand on her back stops as he thinks of more advice to give her while her heart grows cold and lonely.

"Just pretend that he doesn't exist."

It’s another punch in the gut to hear that she, the invisible girl, should simply return to her invisibleness and condemn König to nonexistence, too. To cast him out and send him even further into exile. To pretend that he had never been inside her, never brought her gifts.

The hand disappears, but then she feels padded gloves on her chin. She's too tired to flinch, and the hand gently coaxes her to turn her head and look back at the Scottish sunshine.

"Now… Give me a little smile, lass. It can't be that bad."

He’s not flirting with her.

She’s far too plain for Soap.

Or at least, that’s how she feels: unattractive, to men like him. To twinkling brown eyes, a perfect jawline, good jokes and outgoingness… She's had a few admirers but König is the only man who has looked at her like she’s nothing short of a goddess.

Soap, however, is the only one who came to clumsily cheer her up from the slump that witnessing a violent stabfest has sent her in. Everyone else just rushed by with feigned hurry. Every kindness she receives, she usually returns tenfold… But kindness is also a burden. Under the surface, she mainly wants to get rid of Soap; wants just to be left alone. Finally go back to her room and cry herself to sleep.

So she gives him a smile, shy enough to make him believe it’s genuine.

"There we go," he smiles back like an innocent sun, and behind him, in the darkening hallway, she catches the approaching giant: a black hood and under that, a bone-searing blue gaze.

"Wait–wait, wait!"

She darts from the bench, between Soap and him, like her lithe little body is enough to shield John MacTavish from a murderous titan.

If a man who spills coffee on her deserves to be stabbed more than a dozen times, what will happen to a man who has dared to touch her and make her smile?

"Don't,” her hand meets the steel of König's chest, and the blood drunk Goliath actually stops.

“Don’t, König, please."

The ice-cold gaze drops to her, and there’s such a range of emotion behind those blues that she has a hard time catching even half of the storm raging inside her maniac.

Soap rises from the bench behind her: the rustle of clothes and the squeak of gear tell her as much.

"Caught the girl crying,” he says with poorly disguised trepidation in his voice. “Now I don't know what you have done but maybe you should apologize."

Soap’s bravery is admirable. The flash of rage that is sent behind her could scald flesh from bones.

She presses herself against König, hugs his middle, tries to guide his attention elsewhere.

Just let the him go, please, no more…

Soap could perhaps defend himself for a while, but she doubts if the Austrian war machine would stop even when he’s shot full of holes.

Gargantuan arms go around her like a cage: she’s his, and forever will be. The true cost of being cast out from heaven is heavier than she had ever imagined; the tears that arise are born from a deeper trauma than that of witnessing a homicide in her quiet little break room.

. . . . .

König waits as she goes to have a shower. He follows her like a dark cloud as she goes to throw her work clothes, stained with coffee and the memory of blood, to the washing machine. He waits with statuelike composure as she finally sits on her bed, hair still dripping wet and leaving damp stains on her cute little white dress.

Wearing white seems like an abomination right now.

"I told you I don't want you to hurt people," she says quietly while watching how the water gathers at the tip of the strings of hair and tip-tip-tips on her dress and hands.

The man says nothing to defend himself. All the rage and fury is gone, his shoulders are tense, high up in the sky, almost in his ears. He’s shielding himself, and it makes her confused – clearly, he feels empathy, so why is he like… like this?

"I don't think you understand,” she swallows, heart beating more calmly now. He’s not going to plunge a knife in her, that much is certain. But still…

"I'm afraid of you."

She raises her stare: a powerful accusation, a woman's weapon. His head pulls back – he's surprised at this newfound nerve.

"I'm afraid of you, König," she emphasizes, much louder now. The declaration rings so true that it leaves her breathless and free, even powerful.

He, on the other hand, is a paralyzed beast. A golem stripped of the magical word that makes him a soulless robot. His eyes betray fear of loss for the first time, real, actual fear. He steps toward her, and when she doesn’t stop him, walks slowly to where she’s sitting.

He falls to one knee, slowly, so slowly – like she's a bird about to fly off. It pulls at her heart, it rattles the cage of her ribs. The frigid padding of his gloves touch her cheek, and she surrenders an inch or two. Maybe more than that.

She doesn’t know who lifts the mask, he or she, but her lips meet his desperate ones under all that black.

"I'm afraid of you…"

She whispers it on his lips, in his mouth, although she’s not afraid anymore. She’s pissed, and somewhat in love, and addled, shaken, ruffled to her core.

The kiss turns into a hungry one when he notices she’s not meaning what she says. Before long, she's on her knees too, and he's devouring her until she finds herself in his arms, being gently set on the floor. A trembling hand disappears under the hem of her dress, and the fabric comes up with it as he travels up her thigh.

But the only thing that’s wet right now is her hair, everything else is parched dry, locked up, sealed like the tomb of Tutankhamun, and there are curses in store for the one who will try to enter with force. Hell, even with a trembling, delicate hand.

And it’s not because she can’t get aroused – she could, in mere minutes with him – but because she’s not wet at the very instant he’s in her presence, that makes her grab the hand currently trying to get some solace from her.

"No."

He stops but doesn’t move that hand away. He’s panting in her mouth: needy, and in a whirlpool of despair. The only thing that can make him feel better is her wetness, which she cannot provide him.

The hand probes; it forces its way up just an inch.

"No."

She's relentless, and he finally draws his hand away, only to place it hesitantly and with an immense amount of grief, on her waist. She feels tiny under that giant palm.

"I'm not your plaything," she whispers, even finds the courage to shoot a tiny glare his way.

The hand does not apply pressure. If anything, it grows lighter and lighter with the fear of scaring her away.

"I made a mistake, Engel," he breathes. "You're not a toy."

Her eyes must betray both her hurt and longing because the man ups the stakes immediately.

"I'll give you anything you want," he tries: so desperately, so seriously that it sounds quite ridiculous.

"Can you just go," she whispers while a tear or two push out from the corner of her eyes. They’re hot as hell because they’re born of odd love.

"Engel–"

"Just leave."

The fingers on her waist curl, they grab her dainty little dress like it’s his only gateway to heaven. He releases the fabric soon enough, then grabs it again and lets out an agonizing sound.

Just go, go, please just leave me be…

She wants him to understand that there are consequences to his actions, and at the same time, she wants him to just hold her, to fix everything and fix her. It doesn't take the bitter taste of betrayal off her tongue to realize that she always knew what he was. She knew.

He rises to his feet, paces around a few times, more and more confused, distressed like a tortured animal. She sniffs and curls into a fetal position, hoping that he would just leave, and at the same time, hoping that he would brush off her demands and just hug her.

"I can't," he finally wails as if he can hear even her thoughts. "You're crying…”

It breaks her heart into million pieces – how can the same man stress and fuss about her tears when just hours ago, he had murdered some innocent man in cold blood?

He comes to the heap of her again, falls to his knees, then caresses her arm so softly that at first she thinks she’s just imagining the touch.

"Little angel," he tries.

Her following sob is like that of a child's. Why does he have to be so perfect and at the same time, such a–

"I know that I'm a monster."

Her eyes want to fly wide open, but she keeps them shut. He's self-aware, so much so that it hurts. He pets her more neurotically now; it's almost as if he's comforting himself and not her.

"Don't send me away," he begs, then curls behind her in an awkward spooning, holds and rocks her gently as she cries some more. After the catharsis that lasts for good long minutes, he gathers her like a doll in his arms and carries her to the bed so she doesn't have to lie on the cold, hard floor.

"I'll make it better," he says again and again as he caresses her and strokes her hair, "I promise I'll make it better…"

“Just go,” she cuts him off with a whisper.

He leaves eventually, after some more pacing and a few sighs, and she understands that he actually cared for her all this time: otherwise, he would've just taken what he wanted.

She slips into a dream, a soft oblivion where everything is well and summer is at its peak. They hold hands and stroll through the freshly cut grass, birds are singing, and he has no mask.

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.8 PLANET PLACEMENTS 101

Aries Placements - Have the ability to drive anything into fruition. They can have a goal and see the plan through with an interesting amount of imagination and practicality in place. These aren't the type to sit down and 'wait' for things to come to them, they will simply be stubborn enough to do it themselves. Everything may not have gone as planned on the first go, but with time and stability they will come out greater and gain a sense of self-mastery in their craft.

Venus Placements - People with venusian aspects like sun/moon/rising have a gift that contains a higher amount of charm then most. These individuals can utilize their personalities in a way that will get them favored. Like their gemini friends, they can be a lil tricky to figure out. It is because they are able to use their beauty as a shield (as well as an illusion) to get what they want in life. It is only when they are self aware of this gift, they can use it to get whatever it is they desire.

Neptunian Placements - Neptunians have a gift in being the muse of creation. They are splendid in their craft of creating safe spaces for their imagination to dwell in. Whether its through art, fashion or just simply existing, like their aquarian buddies they have this gift of connecting to the stars way before everyone can catch up. They can come off a bit crazy to others, but in hindsight they are deeply aware of self and have a mass amount of empathy that allows them to read reality the way it is, and share that insight with the rest of the world.

Pluto Placements - Plutonians can undergo a lot of stress when they allow things to fester without bringing attention to the matter. These are the individuals to suffer in silence and by not saying a word they can cut out any forms of emotional support if they are not aware of themselves to escape the astro-cities that can sometimes be the danger of their own mind. (Moon/Pluto Placements - Outlets for your emotional expression is a necessity.) When there is no guidance for your emotions to thrive you will end up rageful and continuing to feel the lesser dense emotions hiding in your body. It will eventually way on you and it'll take a toll on your spirit. The power beneath this placement is to hold on tightly to that powerful entity you know is divine no matter what they tell you.

Plutonian Individuals may find themselves in the arms of people who are testifying their gifts right in front of you. Some wish to belittle and do harm to you because in the mirror they do not see the same light or dark power that you continue to see in yourself. So these people will always try to bite you to get a piece of it themselves, but in the end it never turns out the way they think. It turns sour.

Sun Placements - So I noticed the more sun placements an individual has, the more difficult this energy can be to surrender to. A person with sun/neptune may have a difficulty with expressing their empathic nature because the world isn't connected to their astral body like they are. When they express themselves, its like their connecting to their soul that feels out of the human experience. They have a different connection to the world then most, so they'll be often misunderstood. But in general, sun placements can feel a bit off in society because the world is always saying their cocky or arrogant when really they are free of the world and its restraints. Sun placements (no matter how big or small the aspect) have to deal with a lot of people taking themselves for granted. When they are sent to be a light, others are horrified by their shadows being shined on (sun/pluto). The more placements (especially conjunctions you have) the more you'll be tempted to stop the light since others will attempt to bring you down with them. It's a path that builds for a leader to take ship, not to dim down.

Uranian Placements - Ahead of their time but mostly because the world isn't ready for change. When these individuals get a hand on how society operates, they become powerhouses who are the tyrants ready for newness.These brainiacs are capable of being connected to the cosmos where receiving divine information on how to move and where to go gives them great benefit. They only thing I can say to them is, you have to be mindful of the company you keep. Because not everyone can see the vision. Do not allow any and everybody to take up space for whatever it is you claim as yours. Just because THEY can't see it doesn't mean its not real. Again, the things you see come through in your mind is a gift that the cosmic connections of space gave to you. You know the true concept of time more than anyone else, and with that you are able to gather up the right information, make your abilities/skills stronger than ever and than boom. The big bang. It all works in the end, dont force yourself to know everything. Just focus on the stars.

[eddiesxangel]

Kiss Me Underneath the Mistletoe | Mechanic!EddieMunson x Friend!Reader

Cw: Eddie and you share your first kiss. Fluffy goodness. Implied smut (Mentions of a car accident but no injuries) Eddie and the reader are both in their 20’s. Use of nicknames for reader. GN Reader :)

WC: 1.5k

The party was in full swing when you pulled up to Steve’s driveway. Eddie offered to pick you up because your car was still at his shop. Your card had gone into a tailspin on some black ice and got stuck in a ditch a few days ago. You were okay; only some minor damage to the bumper had to be fixed. Thank god you had your mechanic friend's phone number memorized.

“There you are!” Steve sounded exasperated. There were about fifteen cars parked outside his house, and music and laughter filled the home. It was warm and comforting, but Stevie looked stressed.

You really had only been half an hour late. You had to rush home from work with no car, so you had to take the bus, which took ten times slower. Only to get ready, and then you and Eddie had to rush to the bakery before they closed for the evening to pick up the Christmas cookies you promised to bring tonight.

“Sorry Stevie, I had to pick up the goods.” you wiggle the box of Christmas cookies you had picked up. And Eddie wiggled the bottle of bourbon in his hands to show you brought gifts.

“Yes!” Dustin said as he zoomed past you, swiping the sugary treats out of your hands.

“Hey!” You placed your hands on your hips.

“Sorry! But can’t wait any longer! You’re late enough; we only get these once a year.” Dustin was not sorry.

“Whatever, just save me at least one” you giggle.

“I’ll sneak you some, don’t worry,” Eddie whispered in your ear as a fantasy of his lips touching your neck comes to the forefront of your mind. Your body shivered from the proximity, and only Eddie noticed. He knew he got you. You would be his tonight whether you knew it or not.

The night continued without a hitch; dinner was excellent, and there were games, music, and many more drinks afterwards.

There were a lot of people here you didn’t recognize. Mostly Steve’s coworkers from the office. You had gotten separated from the group when a few of them cornered you with the most god-awful conversation about trades and charts and who knows what.

You finally spot someone out of your group, thankfully Eddie, who can read your face better than anyone. You made the save me eyes, and he beelined to your rescue.

“Hey, there you are! I need your help in the basement. Steve needs us to bring up more booze.” he rests a hand on the small of your back.

You quickly and politely excuse yourself from the conversation, and as soon as the basement door closes, you let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god! I don’t think I could stand another moment; I don’t know how Steve does it!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll always be here to save you,” Eddie smirks, his big hand still on your lower back, guiding you toward the cold cellar.

“Oh, we are actually getting drinks?” You question.

“Yea, babe, what did you think we would be doing down here?” he playfully wiggled his eyebrows before passing you a smaller case of beer while he took on the heavy load. You were a little disappointed; you thought you might get some alone time with Eddie before returning to the party.

You make your way back up to the sounds of cheering and laughing, unsure what’s going on. You both make it into the kitchen, restocking the cooler and fridge, oblivious to the crowd following Steve, who came running in, waving around some green and red plant while simultaneously spilling his red cocktail on the floor.

“Kiss!” Steve pops up behind you and Eddie, startling you both.

“What the fuck, man”—“You scared me!” You both say simultaneously.

“Too bad, you gotta kiss,” he says, wiggling mistletoe above your heads. You scan the group behind Steve; all your friends stare at you like zoo animals.

“Wha-” “Come on-“ you and Eddie were cut off.

“My party, my rules, you’re standing under the mistletoe. You gotta kiss,” he smirks like he knows what he is doing. It wasn't a secret to your friends you had a crush on Eddie.

“Steven!” You scold. Did you want to kiss Eddie? Yes. Did you want to do it forced in front of all your friends?! No.

As you stood your ground, it became more apparent that Steve wasn’t leaving until Eddie planted one on you.

You look to Eddie to gauge his feelings, but his poker face is not helping.

"You really don't want to kiss me that bad, sweetheart?" he raises a brow to you. Maybe he had read your situation wrong.

"What? No. Yes. No! I just want-" You were cut off because you heard your friends begin to chant behind Steve’s stupid, smug face.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!”

“Fine!” You succumbed to the peer pressure. You turn and grab Eddie’s head in both hands, pull him down, and plant one on him.

If you were paying attention, you would have heard the cheers from your friends. A minute later, you would have heard the gags and them scurrying away when Eddie stuck his tongue in your mouth. You would have heard Steve mumble “atta’boy” before leaving you two alone, but you didn’t hear anything other than your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

All of your senses were consumed by Eddie. His mouth was soft and gentle like he didn’t want to break you. He tasted like cranberries and bourbon. His tongue broke through, and you let out the slightest whimper as your hands moved from his cheeks to his waist…. His tight little waist that you have been drooling over since you saw him in that tight black tank top with his coveralls hanging off his waist, sweat dripping down his chest and grease-stained skin. When you walked into his work for the first time all those months ago. He was pure sex appeal that day, and you hadn’t seen him the same way since.

Eddie’s hands crept up from the waistband of your pants, slipped up under your shirt and grazed the soft skin of your back. Goosebumps spread throughout your whole body as Eddie continued to pull you closer to him.

You could have been there for a minute or an hour, you didn’t know, but the moment finally broke when Dustin walked back into the kitchen for those special cookies you’d brought.

“Oh my god! Get a room” he rolled his eyes, and the two of you broke apart, not realizing you were sucking face and feeling one another up in the middle of Steve’s kitchen like you were two teenagers.

A rush of blood spread across Eddie’s face. His lips were just as red as his cheeks. Your face was also just as hot. You could feel the rush of blood travel up your chest to your throat and across your cheeks as you took in what had just happened.

An uncomfortable giggle left your lips, and Eddie swore he heard angels singing. A smile broke on his face, and you felt at ease.

“You wanna get out of here?” Eddie reaches out a hand. You grab it while frivolously nodding your head. Eddie pulls you through the crowded house, trying to slip past everyone.

“Get it, Eddie!” “That’s my boy!” “Finally!” “About damn time!”

All your friends shout, and you hide your face in Eddie’s chest while he pulls your coat out from the closet.

Eddie giggles as Steve approaches the both of you, blocking the door.

“So when’s the wedding? Do I get credit? Or does Eddie? 'cuz he asked me to set up this elaborate ruse?” he wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you.

“What?” You looked at Eddie, and he chuckled uncontrollably.

“I’m going to have to cut you off, man. No more Christmas cocktails for you.” he swiped the crystal glass from Steve’s hands and chugged the rest.

“Hey!” Steve drunkenly protested.

“What’s he talking about Ed’s?” You giggle.

“Ol’Eddie here asked me to help divide a plaaaaan to get yo-” Eddie cupped a hand over Steve’s mouth and smiled at you with the biggest grin that said he was guilty.

“Real smooth, Munson,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He stepped closer and lifted your chin up to him. He was so cocky, but it made your stomach do a summersault at his touch.

“Ok, turtle doves, get out of here already and make a little drummer boy,” Steve winked.

“Ew, you're gross Steve! Ed’s right, no more cocktails for you.” Robin grabbed Steve by the arm and whisked him away while you and Eddie giggled out the door.

“So you’ve been wanting to kiss me?” You bite your lip as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Yeah,” he sighed as he pushed up against the car while looking into your eyes.

“You know you didn’t need to drag Steve into it” you giggle.

“Well, where’s the fun in that baby?” He whispered before leaning in to kiss you again. Your body felt it was on fire even though it was below freezing outside. You didn’t care. Eddie’s warmth was enough, and his warmth was indeed the thing that kept you warm for the rest of that night.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Henlo! If it's alright, could I request some headcanons for Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, Micah, and Kieran being told that their S/O has been killed by the O'Driscolls? But nobody can find their body because it turns out they survived and took care of the worst of their injuries before making it back a week or so later. I am a sucker for hurt/comfort content. Thank you for your time and hope you're doing well.

HC For VDL Boys Being Told Their S/O Was Killed By O'Driscolls Ft. Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Micah Bell, Kieran Duffy

Ohhh nice and angsty

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of violence, angst

Arthur Morgan

He would be absolutely broken

I don't think he'd go as far as to go out and kill O'Driscolls for revenge

But a new cavity in his heart would open up, and his hatred of the O'Driscolls would intensify

He wouldn't be able to get out of bed, would be incapable of taking care of himself, needs people to remind him to eat

Constantly scribbling in his journal about you

Probably the first time anyone in camp has seen him cry in a long long time

Only thing he'd get up for was to go in searches for your body

Is incredibly anxious the entire time they're looking for you and tries to mentally prepare himself for the sight of your body in who knows what state of decomposition

Once you return he'd think you're an apparition

He would be absolutely over the moon and crying tears of joy and relief

Interrogates you about your time gone but doesn't push it if the memories are too painful, you can visit that later

Helps mend any of your remaining injuries

Incredibly protective of you now and refused to let you go off on your own for a while

Holds you so so closely in bed the following nights, absolutely blots out the rest of the world with his body because he's scared if he lets go you'll disappear again

Dutch Van Der Linde

Like Arthur, he'd be destroyed as well

His mourning would cause him to jump to the anger stage immediately

Colm has already taken one lover from him, and now he's done it again? Tensions between the two gangs would be higher than ever before

He'd use the presumed death as an excuse to target Colm and the O'Driscolls for the week

Used the search for your body as an opportunity to interrogate and torture O'Driscolls. For once, he tells Arthur to back off so he can get blood on his hands

Despite everyone else's warnings, he just keeps on going and killing more O'Driscolls

When you finally return, he feels like he's hallucinating you because of his grief, and anger

Allows everyone else a moment to check over you before ushering you over to the privacy of his tent

Allows Ms. Grimshaw to follow so she can clean you up while he talks to you

Holds your hand the entire time and looks into your eyes while reassuring you that he'll never allow that to happen again

Insists you don't lift a finger for weeks afterward

Does NOT tell you about what he did while you were gone and simply speaks of his grief and his now relief that you're back

Hosea Matthews

He'd be grieving, but silently

He wouldn't be MIA like Arthur, and he definitely wouldn't be blinded by rage like Dutch

But he'd be a lot quieter, understandably, and you'd be able to see the deep sadness in his eyes

He didn't expect to lose a second lover, and his heart is heavy with feelings of loss

Would spend a lot of time talking about you to anyone who'll listen, mostly good memories

Turns down any of Dutch's suggestions to go out and take revenge, sees right through his attempts to use your presumed death as an excuse to kill a bunch of O'Driscolls

When you return he is all over you and is overjoyed by your presence

Takes care of all your injuries on his own and holds you sooo close the entire time

Reminds you how much he loves you because he feels like he didn't do it enough before he thought he lost you

Spends so much more time around you. If he wasn't attached to you by the hip before, he definitely is now

I don't think he'd doubt your ability to handle yourself; in fact, it'd probably be enforced by the fact you kept yourself alive for a week. But there'd be a lingering anxiety every time you go out

Micah Bell

Similar to Dutch, he'd go out and kill a shit ton of O'Driscolls

His grief translates to anger, and because I can't see him as a very sentimental person besides in terms of anger, that's the only way he'd express it

Probably wouldn't cry or show moments of vulnerability, but he'd be a lot more brutal in his killings

He'd spend a lot of time away from camp with Dutch probably looking for your body

Wouldn't return to camp for days

So you'd probably return to camp while he's gone, so everyone else tends to you before Micah can

When he returns he insists everyone else get away from you so he can take his own look at you

I wanna say you wouldn't receive a big welcome back gesture from Micah besides a rare shred of vulnerability where he tells you how happy he is to see you back

Don't get too mushy over it or else he'll backtrack

Kieran Duffy

He'd be HYSTERICAL

On his knees crying and wailing in the middle of camp while people try to comfort him

Would be the same level as MIA as Arthur and wouldn't talk to ANYONE

Spends all his time around the horses and doesn't talk to anyone

If anyone does try to talk to him he just stares off silently in the opposite direction

The gang could probably hear him sobbing silently at night while trying to sleep

Drinks himself half dead because he doesn't know how else to cope

Drinks so often that when you come back he doesn't think you're real for a few minutes

It's a huge moment of vulnerability between the two of you where you see each other at your lowest

But it would definitely bring the two of you closer! After the two of you have cleaned yourselves up and taken care of yourselves, you'd have long, deep conversations about what you went through and how happy you are to be back

Lots of reaffirming his love for you, never leaves your side

Insists he comes with you every time you go out. Thinks he wouldn't be able to do much in terms of protecting you, but the sentiment is so so sweet

Becomes more of a way of comforting himself and quelling his own anxiety

[suuuupernovaaa]

'eveng- Part 2

‘eveng [ˈʔɛ.vɛŋ] n. child

Request from @rainbowsocks: Can we have a part 2 where we see the family’s reaction to neteyams daughter?

Neteyam returned, having secured peace for your people after a year of war, to find you had a very big - and also very small - surprise for him; now, his family gets the same surprise.

Picks up right where Part 1 left off. Part 1 is probably necessary before reading this. Go ahead and read it - this will be here for you when you're done.

Part 1, Part 3

590 words.

"Parul," you said with a contented sigh. "Perfect."

Your mate held you close to him, your sleeping newborn daughter between the two of you, and you had everything you could possibly want.

"My family! They need to meet her."

Eagerly, you nodded. As if on cue, as you both turned to find them, the rest of the Sullys were already arriving - probably having followed Neteyam.

They had a similar reaction to your mate - excitement as they charged towards the two of you, and then absolute shock when they saw the small bundle in Neteyam's arms.

Lo'ak was the first to speak. "Holy shit. Who's baby is that, Neteyam?"

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh.

"She is mine, Lo'ak. Ours," Neteyam replied, his voice absolutely booming with pride as he looked down at your daughter, and then over at you. "This is my daughter. Your niece."

"Oh, Great Mother!" Neteyri rushed past her family straight to you, bringing you into her arms. "Tell me how you are doing, Y/N. How was the birth? The pregnancy? How do you feel now?"

You felt overwhelmed at the attention from Neteyam's mother, and so oddly grateful that she had rushed to you, and not your daughter. It made you feel special, not overlooked as new mothers so often did.

"The pregnancy was easy, the birth was really hard, and I'm very tired," you replied honestly, and she gave you a knowing smile.

"We are here now. May I hold my first grandchild?" She finally turned her attention to her son, arms outstretched, and he placed the tiny child safety there. "What is her name?" Neytiri asked quietly, not taking her eyes off the baby.

"Parul," you and Neteyam replied in sync.

Jake approached, putting an arm around his wife to gaze down at your child. "Wow. Look at that. Looks just like you when you were born - all wrinkly and beautiful."

He reached out, clapping his eldest son on the back. "Well done."

Neytiri scowled up at him. "Your son has done nothing. Congratulate Y/N, she did all the work."

Jake laughed, and pulled up in for a rare embrace. "Good job, girl."

You hugged him in return, and the rest of Neteyam's siblings gathered, cooing over the baby and asking so many questions about how it was to be pregnant, and what the baby was like now.

"Well, mostly she sleeps and eats. And poops. Do you want to change her next diaper, Uncle Lo'ak?"

He wrinkled his head, but smiled down at his niece in his arms when she cooed and smiled in her sleep.

"How could someone as ugly as Neteyam make something so..." Lo'ak trailed off.

"Gorgeous," Kiri finished his sentence for him, and then smiled at me. "I can't believe we missed everything."

"There will be another, someday," I said, and Neteyam looked at me with wide eyes.

"I just met this one," he said, and his family laughed.

That night, Neytiri stayed nearby so she could help with the baby at night, and allow you a little bit of sleep. You were so grateful for her - and so tired - that you cried a little bit when she told you. Your own parents were gone, and you had felt so alone through your pregnancy and birth.

You prayed to the Great Mother, thanking her for returning your family so soon.

That night, you slept peacefully in your mate's arms, knowing that he and his family were back to take care of you.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Hi hi!!! I just found your blog and I love how you wrote Astarion. I have a small request if you're still taking them!

Because of Halsin's one line about how his wildshape is hard to repress I have a headcanon that certain druidic animal forms get triggered by certain emotions. So what if a druid Tav was hurt or scared and got stuck in animal form, and Astarion had to calm them down long enough for them to shift back/get healed

Aww, I like this. But some TW: The reason for them being hurt/scared is fucked and involves dead children. I killed off some NPCs for this one (but they live in the real game I swear!) Also set in Act 2, after he confesses. Just so you know! Don't trigger yourself for this.

~

There was a reason that Astarion always tried to convince you to not leave him behind at camp. Mostly because it could be dreadfully boring, doing nothing but sitting there waiting for your return. But also because he didn't like being out of the loop. There had been many moments, too many, where he had been the sole reason you were still standing. Whether that be stabbing someone in the back who held a dagger to your throat or being the one to help you back on your feet from the brink of death, Astarion had gotten very good at keeping you alive.

He didn't trust anyone to watch out for you the way he could, a belief that was instantly strengthened when the group came back. With you nowhere to be seen. It was only Halsin and Shawdowheart, beaten and bloodied as they limped their way forward.

The sight of them had Astarion on his feet in an instant, an awful feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he waited for you to slink out of the tree line to join them. But nothing.

"Where are they?" Astarion asked, his voice loud and fraught enough to cut through the others questions on what happened, "Why isn't Tav with you?"

Neither of them answered, instead they swapped a knowing grimace. The silence was enough for Astarion's blood to go cold, the worst jumping to the forefront of his mind. B-But that couldn't be. The two in front of him wouldn't just leave her to die, would they? He would hope not, otherwise he'd be forced to bleed them both dry. Astarion was so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even realized how heavily he was breathing, how his hands were trembling at the very thought of your being gone. Your corpse just left behind for the wolves in the cursed Shadowlands.

"Astarion, breathe," Halsin said gently, the behemoth of a man suddenly standing in front of him, his hands gently resting on his shoulders, "I know where they are, they're okay. They just... aren't exactly themselves right now, or at least not the version you know."

"If they're okay then why in the hells aren't they here?" Astarion seethed back at him, swatting his touch away before steeping back, "You just left them out there? Alone?"

"It's not that simple," Halsin started, right as Shadowheart piped up, "Karlach is with her. We aren't that incompetent."

"Well considering that our leader is missing, I wouldn't exactly call you capable," Astarion barked back at her, already turning back towards Halsin, "Take me to them. Now."

The venom in his voice would have surprised Astarion himself if he was capable of thinking about anything but you dead in the middle of nowhere. He barely even had the patience for Halsin to get adequate healing, but it was better than having to wait for him to limp the entire way there. He felt antsy and off center for the entire journey, completely foreign emotions taking over him. He didn't care about people like this, for the precise reason that it led to these horrifying moments of uncertainty. He didn't know what he would do without you anymore. He didn't want to ever find out.

It figures that you would go and almost get yourself killed right after he admitted a portion of his feelings to you. And now everything he wished he'd said was invading his every thought.

"Oh come on now, don't make that face! You know me!"

The sound of Karlach's voice was enough to bring him out of his own head. She was up ahead, kneeling next to a small cave opening as she spoke, "For something so cute, you're being a bit of a pisser right now. Aren't you?"

Astarion didn't miss the bodies littering the way between where he stood and the cave, a mix of homely gnolls and dead tieflings, some that he unfortunately recognized from the grove. He didn't take the time to examine them closely, but... he was aware that many looked young. Much, much too young to have died here.

"There they are," Halsin sighed as Karlach cooed at the cave opening, "They've been in there since we stumbled upon all of... this."

"They've gotten less scratchy at the least," Karlach added, standing up with a stretch, her gaze pointedly avoiding the massacre in front of them, "But they won't stop hissing up a storm. I tried to pull them out by the scruff and almost lost a hand, so I'm thinking we may have to wait this one out."

Astarion ignored her as he got closer to the cave, his eyes widening at what he saw. It was you, or at least he was thought it was. He was well-aware of your druidic abilities and he had seen you polymorph into a ferocious beast many, many times. But never like this. No, you always had a human air about you when you shifted, the reality of your true shelf always shining through your eyes, never without perfect control.

But now, you were cowering in your panther form, your eyes daring back and forth, your coat so covered in blood that it nearly looked like you had been swimming in it. You even hissed at the sight of him of all people, your teeth bared as you backed farther against the cave wall, nothing but pure animal fear and rage behind your eyes.

"It can happen sometimes," Halsin explained with a frown, "Tav is very connected with this form, perhaps too connected. Enough so for it to take over when they're particularly distressed. It used to happen to me even, many, many moons ago. It can take hours to change back, maybe even days. And it can be very... difficult to remember your life outside of instincts."

Well wasn't that just fucking awful? Figures there had to be a drawback to such a powerful advantage. But he'd be damned if he'd leave you out here alone for days. And he doubted that the extra audience would help with anything.

"Leave us," Astarion ordered, his eyes still on you, "I'll find a way to bring them back to camp."

Halsin and Karlach exchanged a glance, obviously weary at the idea. Karlach cleared her throat, "Astarion, I know that the two of you are, um, close, but I don't think you can do anything-"

"Watch me," Astarion said, his words petulant even to his own ears. But he meant it. If anyone could help you through whatever this was, it was going to be him, "If I'm not back before the sun rises feel free to look for me. Now leave."

"But she could kill you on accident! And if my best friend had to wake up to that-" Karlach tried to argue, interrupted by Halsin putting a strong hand on her shoulder, "Just because part of them is lost doesn't mean all of them is. Astarion can handle himself."

Astarion was a bit surprised to receive the druid's support, but he wasn't about to argue over it. He nodded at them, "I'll be fine. Now go, I don't think the crowd is helping with their nerves."

Astarion watched them walk away, only relaxing when they were out of sight. It felt like he could finally breathe again. There you were, safe and sound if not a bit... changed. But he could work with that.

Astarion sat cross-legged to the side of the cave entrance, his voice soft but scolding as he spoke, "'I'll be safe Astarion, don't worry about me Astarion, you're such a little overthinker Astarion.' And now look at you, trapped in a cave with a cat's body. Darling, I think it's high time that you start listening to me."

Astarion hadn't been expecting an answer, but the pitiful little chirp you let out brought a smile to his face. He scooted a bit closer to the entrance, careful not to actually cross the threshold as he spoke, "I'm serious Tav, do you know how horrible it was to see them come back without you? I'd say a punishment would be in order, if you weren't too busy giving it to yourself that is."

Another small, dejected noise, but it sounded closer this time. Astarion glanced at the entrance, smiling when he saw you sitting there on all fours, your tail twitching as you peeked outside. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to do but Astarion slowly brought his hand up, hovering it right in your face while praying that you wouldn't take the chance to bite it off, "It seems like you haven't lost the faculty for understanding language yet. Lick my hand if I'm right."

You did, your large sandpaper tongue gliding over his palm before retreating. You looked... different than before. In a good way, but not a whole way.

"That's a good kitty," Astarion praised, laughing at the way the pet name made your brows scrunch up. Perhaps you weren't fully yourself, but enough of you was there for him to know you'd be getting him back for that little quip, "Oh don't look at me like that. You're the full-grown adult in the body of a glorified housecat."

The little growl you let out at that just made him laugh harder, "A very pretty housecat. Does that help my love?"

You didn't answer. Instead you turned with a huff and retreated back into the cave, your demeanor much more relaxed than before. Relaxed enough for Astarion to venture in there after you. It was a small space, just large enough for a panther to lay and a man to sit. You didn't hiss or growl as he settled in, just watched him with sharp eyes.

Astarion didn't like it. You were usually so tactile with him, always finding reasons for touch, even if they were simple. Standing shoulder to shoulder, intertwining your fingers together, hugs and kisses innocent enough to make Astarion melt. Even in your animal form, not touching you just felt... wrong.

But Astarion also wasn't trying to get mauled. He kept his hands to himself, his head cocked as he stared at you, "Are you honestly going to stay all the way over there? We might be here all night darling, you wouldn't want me to be cold would you?"

Perhaps that was manipulative phrasing, but at least it worked. You shuffled closer, resting your head in his lap while staring up at him with those big eyes.

"See?" Astarion cooed down at you, taking the chance to pet your head, "Isn't that better?"

You didn't answer, instead you closed your eyes, a light purr coursing through you. You really did make an adorable panther, even when your fur was crusted with blood and the tiniest bit of gore. Perhaps you didn't smell that best at the moment, but you sure were cute. You fell asleep there, right in his lap, your body finally fully relaxed.

This wasn't exactly how Astarion intended on spending his night, but there were plenty of worse things. Like having the bury the love of his life for example. Or watching a gnoll tear into their corpse. But luckily enough for him that didn't happen. No, he had you with him, safe and sound. Panther or not, he loved you, and one of these days he would get the courage to admit it out loud. Hopefully sooner than later, considering how easily you could be taken from him.

Astarion hadn't planned on falling asleep with you, but you were so warm, and the sound of your happy purring was nearly hypnotic. The next thing he knew he was out, awaking hours later to a dark cave and a different weight set in his lap. But not an unfamiliar one.

Astarion glanced down, breathing out a sigh of relief when it was you back to normal, seemingly shifting in the middle of the night. You were laying in what seemed to be an extremely uncomfortable position, your cute face smooshed against his leg as you slumbered.

"There you are," Astarion murmured, the quiet sound of his voice still enough to jolt you awake. You blinked your eyes open, sitting up with a start as you frantically looked around.

"Hey, hey, calm down. Everything's okay," Astarion said gently, tugging you back to him, "You just had a little... incident. That's all."

You nodded, the memories from the day seemingly hitting you all at once. He could see the tears start to well up in your eyes as you stared at the ground, "I... I remember the tieflings. We found them too late. And I saw one of those things gnawing on... on Silfy. And another on Mattis and I just... lost it."

Oh gods. Astarion didn't exactly have a soft spot for children, but the thought of seeing one of the ones you had saved, eaten alive was horrifying. Even against the things he had seen.

"Come here love," Astarion murmured, holding his arms out; his heart breaking at the look on your face.

You went to him, nearly collapsing in his arms as you cried into his shoulder, "I didn't save them. I- they were right there. And I didn't save them."

"You can't save everyone," Astarion said as he stroked your hair, "Not every life can be your responsibility. It just can't."

"Why not?" You sniffled, looking up at him with tired eyes, "Why does this have to keep happening? Why can't I do something about it?"

"Because the world wasn't made for people like you," Astarion said honestly, "It is cruel and horrific and it doesn't deserve you. But it needs you anyway. It needs someone who cares, despite everything that proves you shouldn't. And that's not fair, but it's true."

Part of him could scarcely believe such words were even his own, let alone that fact that he believed them. But he did. You couldn't save everyone, no. But that didn't stop the fact that those you could mattered. That your kindness and passion for good did mean something, it meant enough to help hundreds of people. And enough to change him. Astarion would never be the same after meeting you. He didn't want to be, but even if he did the change was irrevocable. Because that's just the effect you had on people. And he felt so damned lucky that he was one of them.

You nodded against him as you let all of your tears out, his words meaningful but not enough to stop the pain completely.

But that was okay. Astarion wasn't going anywhere.

[abditorial]

You def fed the people with the dry humping post LAWD 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

May I humbly request a continuation with inumaki 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

The song says lady boner gone but tbh lady boner is definitely still here…

Since you asked so humbly! 🤭

YOUR ACTIONS ARE DOING ALL THE ASKING,

I CAN FEEL YOUR BODY TREMBLING.

More dry humping ♥︎

FT. Toge Inumaki

X READER

WARNINGS: 18+, AFAB reader, Toge says actual words that aren’t verbs like “yes” “okay” and so on, semi-public sex, eventual penetration, creampie, not proofread (i’ll do it later leave me alone…)

It was just like Gojo to make a big deal about his own birthday. Plan a huge surprise party for himself at one of, if not the, most expensive restaurants in Tokyo and offering to pay for everyone who showed up as well as inviting all his students and co-workers. While he was rather charming, most of his friends tended to come from work or were his students and half of them found him annoying so he basically had to bribe you all to show up.

As expected you were sitting at one end of the table with the rest of the second years, which really only consisted of your boyfriend, Maki, and Panda. Yuta was still overseas… Lucky bastard getting to skip an awkward dinner party that was mostly just Gojo and Itadori having loud conversations about nothing important while the rest of you whispered amongst yourselves.

“Toge, what do you plan on getting?” Communication was hard as his lover, because you had to be careful what you asked and he had to be careful how he responded. Verbs weren’t allowed in day to day conversations because he feared he’d accidentally end up using his cursed speech on you. This was a simple question, though. He could answer truthfully without consequences. But he didn’t; Your boyfriend fell silent.

This piqued your curiosity and you lifted your gaze away from the menu to make sure everything was alright. However, you found yourself blushing profusely when you were met with a look that could only be described as hunger. Hunger for you. He was nearly undressing you with his eyes, letting his gaze drift all over your body and take in how gorgeous you looked in your nice low cut top and jeans that hugged your hips perfectly. The way the necklace he got you rested on your collarbone and dragged all his attention to your chest.

“Toge!” You whisper yelled at him, glanced around the table to make sure nobody was watching, and then gestured to the obvious tent in his pants. He finally looked away to where you could only see the tips of his ears going red. “Really? Now?”

“Salmon…” The way he said it was very pathetic, because he knew he should be slightly ashamed but all he could think was the dirtiest of thoughts.

“…” You gave a huff and leaned in to whisper, “I’ll meet you in the bathroom in like five minutes.” Don’t forget the light smack on the arm and a “hurry up!”

Exactly five and a half minutes passed when you were excusing yourself from the table and rushing off to the bathrooms. You had never been to this restaurant, and to your dismay the only options were bathrooms with various stalls, meaning you were very much at risk of being caught. After successfully sneaking you inside the men’s restroom, Toge had pulled you both in the furthest stall from the entrance. He had no problem finding out what he wanted from you, because he was also positioning you just right.

Your ass flush to his crotch, which was still raging hard and seeming like it didn’t plan on ‘deflating’ any time soon. You pressed your palms up against the stall door to keep yourself steady while you bent over because if anyone knew how much Toge enjoyed seeing your spine arch to amplify how plump your bottom was it was you. As expected, he was already giving a low groan of his approval.

Starting off at a slow pace, his hips were moving just like they would if he was really inside you, feeling your warmth. Shit, if it weren’t for the fact you guys were at your teacher’s birthday party maybe he wouldn’t have hesitated to take what he wanted. But since he was such a gentleman he figured he would avoid making such a big mess around all your guys’ friends.

A whine fell from your lips, and almost instantly he had leaned over your bent figure to cover that pretty mouth with his hand, grunting a low “Roe,” in your ear that was pretty clear it meant ‘shut up’. Of course he couldn’t really say that, Toge was too addicted to the soft moans you made to make you silence yourself entirely.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his hard on poking at your ass, or how his cold hands were pressed against your tummy, sliding up your shirt to make you shiver and squirm. He was damn near panting in your ear, trying to keep his mouth shut about how badly he wanted to be inside you or to feel your mouth around his cock to keep it warm.

“Toge,” You whined as quietly as you could. You didn’t want to get caught. How embarrassing would it be for a friend to walk into the bathroom and catch you two in the act, hearing your voice and knowing automatically what was happening? He grunted as a response, another way to tell you to keep your voice down. “Please, Toge…” But on the other hand, your begging was so cute. “I want you inside me so bad.” Well, if anything this night has told you how easily you can make him hard.

He pressed his lips to your neck, trying to resist your request and instead just focus on leaving you sweet kisses. Yet he couldn’t hold back from the way you grinded back onto him, your every movement clearly desperate. With a huff, your boyfriend straightened himself out and made quick work of your clothes. Fingers carefully yanking your jeans down by the belt loops, hissing when he noticed the circular stain in your panties that told him everything he needed to know. He teasingly brushed his hand against you, cupping your sex and letting his hand drag upwards over your ass and to the waistband of your underwear, taking his sweet time to slide them off and let them drop to your ankles.

You were trying to be silent when he initially slid himself in, but good god did you miss the feeling of him being inside you. The feeling was clearly mutual too, because he was, once again, hunched over with his face buried in your neck to stifle his little, pathetic whines. As much as he wanted to lose himself and just rail you like it was all he knew how to do, every thrust was slow and passionate to avoid making so much noise.

“Can I-?” You didn’t let him finish his sentence, because you already knew what he was going to ask and what your answer was going to be. With the nod of your head, he was pulling back to hold either side of your ass, rutting his hips forward as far as he could before painting your insides white.

It was quite awkward shuffling out of the restaurant with only the excuse that “something came up” while you were trying to not let his cum spill from your panties. That ‘something’ being your boyfriend’s dick. Again.

If Inumaki was talking with someone and he told them to go fuck themself as a joke would they actually do it??

It’s a little hard to write for Inumaki because I have to avoid phrases that can be seen as instructions or taken literally. But it’s worth it because I love him

As always, requests are open!!

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-one of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“Sure,” Tim says in a mostly-reasonable imitation of a normal person who is not in a good ten feet over their head, taking the seat Kon left him. Kon flashes him another grin and unzips his jeans. He is still wearing his suit underneath them. It still does not even slightly matter to Tim’s stupid idiot hormones. 

He tries not to stare at Kon stripping off his boots and jeans, but absolutely, undeniably fails. The situation is not improved when Kon turns his back towards him and smirks back over his shoulder at him. 

“Unzip me?” he asks, the bastard. Tim does not in any way believe he needs the help unzipping his suit, but also Tim is a stupid idiot with stupid idiot hormones and he does, in fact, lean forward on the bench and reach up to do so. He pulls Kon’s zipper down his spine and, miraculously, does not spontaneously combust in the process. 

New information: Kon doesn’t wear any kind of underlayer under his suit. At least not over his torso, anyway. Which Tim supposes shouldn’t be a surprise, but certainly is something he’s noticing right now. 

He can’t even decide if he’s hoping for him to be wearing underwear or not. He should be hoping for him to be wearing it, given they’re here to try on clothes and that’s therefore kind of necessary, but . . . 

Kon strips the rest of his suit off. He is, unfortunately, wearing boxer briefs. Very small and very tight boxer briefs, but boxer briefs all the same. Tim tries not to stare at Kon’s ass and then immediately encounters the larger problem of accidentally looking at Kon’s reflection in the changing room mirror, which offers the opportunity to stare at other things that belong to Kon. Like his chest. And his abs. And his Adonis belt and–

Fuck his life, Tim thinks feelingly, barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes before he can embarrass himself. He’s already embarrassing himself; it is way too damn late for anything like that to help. 

“What should I try on first?” Kon asks. Tim, in mute panic, grabs the first thing off the top of the pile and shoves it at him. Kon, unfortunately, accepts it. 

More unfortunately, it turns out to be a very clingy black T-shirt with a very deep V-neck. Kon doesn't have actual cleavage, obviously, but that T-shirt has not gotten the memo. 

And apparently neither have his pecs. 

Fuck, Tim thinks with great feeling, still barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes. Fuuuuuck. 

“Hmmm,” Kon says, tugging at the dip of the V-neck with a finger. “What do you think? My color or naw?” 

Tim is suffering. There is a hell and he is currently in it, right here and now. 

“Black isn’t a particularly daring color choice, most people look good in it,” he says, clearing his throat. “The fit’s nice, though.” 

“Fair enough,” Kon says, plucking at the collar again and then stripping the shirt off. While facing Tim. Directly. So Tim therefore has a front-row seat to his bare abs stretching and flexing and–

Jesus. Just–Jesus. 

“Next?” Kon asks, holding out an expectant hand and smirking at him. 

Bastard. 

Tim, in vengeance, hands over the leather pants. It immediately backfires, because Kon just smirks wider and steps right into them, and in fact the process of watching Kon get into leather pants is . . . well, it's a fucking process, alright. And then Tim is alone in a changing room with a shirtless Kon in very tight leather pants and absolutely no one else around to interrupt. Not a single convenient supervillain attack to be seen. 

Fuck, Tim reflects with great feeling. 

“Guess this still isn’t a very daring color choice, huh?” Kon asks, tugging casually at his own waistband. Tim's teeth would also like to do that, please. Like. He has never done that to anyone's waistband in his life, but he would like to start. Right now, ideally. “Maybe I should've gone for something else.” 

“They look alright,” Tim says, desperately trying not to choke and die. He may or may not have had to put one of the shopping bags in his lap. Kon seems unconcerned and just twists to check out his ass in the mirror. His ass which is in very tight black leather. With belts. And buckles. 

And straps. 

Tim is disproportionately fixated on the straps, maybe. 

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Kon tells him with a smug grin. 

“I . . . kinda want to?” Tim admits helplessly, then winces at himself. Oh, that was the literal opposite of smooth. Kon laughs anyway, though.

“Oh do you now,” he purrs teasingly. “Is that why you were so concerned about getting me a phone with a good camera, pretty boy?” 

“. . . technically it only matters if my phone has a good camera in that situation,” Tim points out, and Kon actually pouts at him. It’s clearly a put-on, since he’s still half-smirking, but it’s a pout all the same. 

“Aw, you don't want me to send you any pics, Tim?” he asks. 

Tim might be, like, dead now. That might be a thing. He might just be dead. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking rapidly a few times in a desperate attempt to make his brain do literally anything but go down that particular avenue.

“These are a little tight, though,” Kon muses casually as he looks back down to the pants in the mirror, and then smooths a hand down his thigh because he apparently wants Tim to die. The bright fluorescent lights glint across his earring and make those inhumanly blue eyes even more undeniably inhumanly blue, and also make all his muscle definition all very, very visible. 

Technically, Kon has muscles like these because he's a genetically-enhanced half-alien who's all jacked up on solar power. Tim is perfectly aware of that fact. A normal unenhanced human being built like this would probably need an assist from steroids and a ridiculously-specialized diet and to basically never leave the gym. And also probably they'd be at least a little bit dehydrated, to look this cut. 

Tim can tell himself all that all that he likes, but Kon still looks like the bodybuilder edition of Playgirl right now. 

“Since when do you mind tight?” he asks. 

“I don't,” Kon says, sparing him another smirk. “But if I didn't make sure to keep my TTK on them 24/7, they'd probably rip. Leather's a little less forgiving than spandex, you know?” 

Tim is fairly sure Kon said some words after “rip”, but fuck if he could tell anyone. He couldn't tell anyone with a gun to his head. He couldn't tell Batman. 

Fucking hell. 

“Then I'll buy you another pair,” he says reflexively. Kon laughs, ducking his head. He is still shirtless. Very, very shirtless. 

“Man, I don't care what you think you owe me, you cannot possibly wanna buy me this much stuff,” he says. 

Tim tries to figure out how to say “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need” without actually saying “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need”. It's difficult, mostly because the alternate and equally true answer is “I think I'm kind of getting off on this, actually”. Which is actually kind of weird and questionable of him even if Kon is flirting with him and acting kind of–

Yeah, he really needs to stop being weird about this. 

“I have the money,” he says reasonably. “It’s not any harder for me than using your powers is for you. And I like doing it.” 

“You like doing it?” Kon says, tilting his head. Possibly Tim should’ve phrased that differently. Or just not said it at all, more like. 

“Yeah,” he says, then quickly changes the subject in self-defense. “And you did me a favor. I want to pay it back.” 

“There’s ‘paying it back’ and there’s ‘signing a lease’, man,” Kon says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, you offered me an apartment.” 

“If you’d let me I’d give you a fully-furnished apartment, bills and expenses, and an allowance,” Tim says wryly, and belatedly realizes that last one maybe sounds a little bit patronizing or weird when Kon–pauses.

“An allowance?” he repeats, just barely frowning. 

“Yes,” Tim says, because fuck it, he’s committed now and trying to backtrack would just make it more awkward. If he acts like that was a normal offer to make, maybe Kon will buy it. It’s not like he doesn’t know his initial socialization and education came from a bunch of weird nerds in a lab. “You know, rent and bills and groceries and a little extra, so you don’t have to call me up every time you want something.” 

“Because I saved your life?” Kon says, fidgeting with the button of his pants for a moment. Tim pretends not to notice. Pretends very hard not to notice. It’s . . . arguably a success. Maybe. 

“Yes,” Tim lies. Kon’s saved his life plenty of times; it’s really not relevant to wanting to see him actually properly taken care of and not just ditched in a lab without any damn windows in it. 

Seriously. Kon is solar-powered and Cadmus is underground. What advantage-taking idiots thought he belonged there? 

“Just that?” Kon asks, biting his lip. Tim . . . pauses. 

That’s a weird question, he thinks. It is, right? 

He’s not sure how to answer it. He lies to Batman, so that’s not a concern, but . . .

But. 

“Not just that,” he says after a moment, and just . . . doesn’t elaborate. Kon reddens a little, and then, weirdly, smiles a little. Tim does his damnedest to deal with the sight of him half-in civilian clothes and looking very, very touchable. Just–very close and touchable. He could just . . . reach right out. And touch him. 

Kon’s just . . . very close right now, is all. Like . . . very, very close. 

Fuck. 

“Hi,” Kon says with a little smile, then steps forward right in-between Tim’s knees still half-dressed in black leather and belts and buckles and straps. Tim almost falls off the bench. 

“Hi?” he tries. He very suddenly feels like he might be cooking in his own skin and maybe needs a couple decades to recover before he actually does die here. Because he definitely feels like he's about to die right now, oh god. Did Ivy pollen the mall? Maybe Ivy pollened the mall. Maybe–

Kon leans down over him and into his personal space, and Tim ends up with his back pressed against the changing room wall. 

Nope, never mind. This is all him. This is exclusively a Tim problem. All Tim all the way. All Tim all the time. 

Fuuuuuck.

“Uh,” he chokes in mortification, feeling his face absolutely burn. Kon braces a hand against the wall and very literally bats his eyes at him, the fucking bastard. He is . . . so attractive. So, so attractive. Like every kind of attractive Tim can currently envision and then some. Why is he so attractive? Why is he this far up in Tim’s space? Why is he–

Oh, fuck, Tim thinks. 

“Oh my god, I in no way meant to make you think this was, like, a condition or–!” he starts to sputter in horror, and Kon cuts him off by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him up tighter against the wall with a very, very pleased smirk. 

“Shut up and kiss me, you weird little nerd,” he says, and then leans in close enough to be kissed, his eyes soft and half-lidded and mouth still curved into that same pleased smirk. Tim’s brain shorts out entirely. Tim’s brain effectively electrocutes itself, actually. 

Oh god, he thinks feebly. 

He can’t kiss Kon, obviously. That would be a very stupid thing to actually do. Flirting and joking around is one thing, but actually kissing him . . . 

Kon bites his lip, a little flicker of uncertainty reflecting in his eyes. Tim has been in literal death traps that were less upsetting than that little flicker. 

“Okay,” he manages, useless and breathless, and then–like an idiot–kisses him.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hmm I wonder if Crowley and the school staff, Riddle, Dence, Ruggie, Azul, Jamil, Epel, Rook, Idia, Malleus, Sliver and Sebek found out that some certain people skipped the school and went to the amusement park? Also how would they react?

I’d imagine they'd mostly have the pretty normal and expected initial reaction of being shocked that the others snuck out on a school night to a sketchy theme park and managed to come back from a human trafficking operation in one piece. To give a little more detail to each:

Riddle would collar Trey, Cater, and Ace, then lecture them for breaking various school rules, putting themselves in danger, disobeying his command to not sneak out and skip school, etc. He especially lays into the seniors for "not setting a proper example" for the Heartslabyul students.

Deuce awkwardly stands off to the side and watches as they get berated, occasionally nodding and going, "That's right!" in response to their dorm leader. (Ace gets annoyed and tells Deuce off, probably saying something like, "Don't act like YOU weren't interested in going earlier, dummy!")

Ruggie wails about how he would've enjoyed hanging out at a place that offers free everything. He makes jokes to cope with the situation, like poking fun at how the "straight-laced" Jack has a rebellious streak and how Leona's soooo responsible and selfless for chasing after his juniors. Ruggie also jokes about how he's glad his walking wallet "best" employer Leona-san made it back safely... and hey, he wouldn't have happened to have brought back a souvenir for his ever-so loyal hench-hyena, would he?

Azul tries to present as cool and uncaring to the twins; he tells them that if they fucked up and lost their autonomy because of their poor decisions and giving into their curiosity... well, that's their bad and they deserve the consequences of their actions. Jade and Floyd pal around with him, draping themselves over his shoulders and teasing him about how "It's okaaay, just admit that you missed us, admit that you were worried!" Deep down, Azul really was (but he'll never say that out loud and let the twins have an upper hand over him).

Jamil has a fucking heart attack knowing just how close he was to a dead and/or missing Kalim. Not because he cares or anything, but because his own ass would be grass if anything happened to Kalim. Jamil looks him over like five times to make sure not a hair on his head is harmed (all while Kalim is laughing, reassuring Jamil that he's fine, and telling him stories about all the fun times he had at Playful Land). When Kalim starts to suggest inviting Fellow and Gidel to their next banquet, Jamil silences him with a firm, "ABSOLUTELY NOT!!"

Rook waxes poetic about how he's so relieved that their beautiful Vil has returned to them. He'll faithfully fetch Vil whatever he needs to rest and recover from such a heart-pounding adventure!

Epel grumbles about how he wishes he could have gone too ("'N shown those puppets what fer!!"), only to get bonked and told off by his dorm leader. (Ace will tell him stories later, which makes Epel super envious.)

Idia tells Ortho that "touching grass" does them no good, it only brings misery and suffering like what he went through at Playful Land! The worry dies down and is replaced with keen interest the more Ortho tells him about the island's operations. They have a jammer that prevented Ortho's normal functions from working? Idia takes it as a personal challenge--who do they think they are, trying to trump this genius inventor? He'll show them what he's made of by powering up his little brother!

Sebek loudly insists they need to go and dismantle the shadowy organization responsible for attempting something so foolish as to entrap and sell THE Lilia Vanrouge off! Who do they think they are?! Man's absolutely appalled and enraged but also choking back tears at what he perceives is Lilia's nobility, so willing to throw himself into the heat of battle to save others!! Sebek tells Ace he should be "grateful" that Lilia saw it fit to save "such a pathetic lot of humans" from absolute destruction.

Silver frets over his father, but he's ultimately proud of him for acting the role of a reliable senpai and looking out for his underclassmen. (This is the reason he assumes for Lilia going to the shady park.) And, of course, he's glad to have his father back home with him. He insists on looking after him the day of his return, saying that Lilia has gone through a lot lately--and as the triumphant hero, he deserves to relax!

Malleus isn't worried about Lilia (he knows that Lilia can handle himself just fine) so much as he's disappointed that he wasn't invited to go along. He's curious about all that Lilia experienced in Playful Land and listens to his tales with wide eyes. Malleus is not really paying attention to the dangers present (after all, he is confident he could blow it all away if it dares to encroach on his autonomy). Lilia laughs and says they should take a trip to another amusement park sometime.

The staff would be collectively sad that their students would act out like they have. This is especially true of Trein, who is more disappointed than mad. He chastises the boys in a way that makes you feel bad for making like... a grandfather upset. He wonders if he has somehow mentored his students incorrectly or instilled the wrong values in them.

Crewel expresses his disappointment in a different way. He's harsher with his students: "Since you bad boys thought it fit to skip Crewel-sama's lecture, you must have already mastered the materials. Pencils out for a pop quiz!" That's his tough love out on full display, stemming from the desire to ensure that his students can survive on their own out there in the cruel wide world.

Vargas tries to not linger on the negative feelings for too long. He'll encourage the boys to get back on their feet and moving. Movement means more blood circulation, and less of a reminder of the stiff puppets the kids almost turned out to be. Vargas never vocalizes his intentions for fear that him having a negative outlook might influence his students. So instead, he wears a grin and belts out a hearty laugh to keep their spirits high.

Sam will listen to his customers' woes, just as any good shopkeep would! There's a lot of useful information to pick apart from the people who drift in. A strange business like Playful Land? It piques Sam's interest in the mysterious and the unknown--he's delighted with such fantastical tales, and invites his customers to tell more. Sam's always here to lend an ear! And hey, if you get thirsty from all the gabbing, why not buy a drink from the Mystery Shop since you're already there? :)

Crowley wipes his brow and sighs in relief... What could have been a massive PR nightmare was just narrowly avoided!! (He still crows at the students that snuck off though, since he's suuuuuch a caring instructor that deeply cares about their education!!)

[toruro]

hhu + you being jealous

tags/warnings: jealousy, sexual content (mostly non-explicit), oral (both m and f receiving), light angst (it's resolved)

w/c: 3.8k

seungcheol

he's just so hot and so charming that you can't even get mad at him when you see one of the girls at this party you're at come just a little too close, bat her eyelashes just a little too much, laugh just a little too hard. cheol may not notice anything wrong with it but you're a girl and you definitely do, sending death glares from across the room. cheol isn't looking your way right now—you know it's because he's talking to a group of people but one of the people happens to be her—and you're suddenly overwhelmed with a nasty feeling in your stomach.you aren't sure if you want to go up to him and kiss him smack on the lips in front of everyone or resort to ignoring him for the rest of the night (you know it's not technically his fault but you're in a bratty mood and the scene in front of you makes you want to burst into tears). jealousy coursing through your veins, you choose the latter. you don't look his way (although it is very hard with the way he looks so good tonight), you don't go up to him—frankly, you don't do anything. you're left alone for your jealousy to bubble up in it's own isolation, morphing into some kind of ugly sadness that's lingering in you when you come to notice that yes you haven't gone up to cheol in the past half hour but he also hasn't come up to you either.

eventually you'll end up on the sofa leaning into one of your girl friend's arm, finding solace in a person who you wished was cheol. that's when he'll come up to you (fucking finally!) with concerned eyes, "you wanna go?" he'll ask softly and for a moment you almost cave—almost. that's when you hear that girl's name (what's her fucking name...jiwoon?) calling for him, asking him when he'll be back. when cheol just calls back, "one minute," all traces of your forgiveness wither away. one second you were about to take his hand and ditch this party, but the next second you're sinking back into the arms of your friend, shaking your head. "go" you try to come off as cool but the venom is seeping through and cheol gives That Look. "baby—" you'd cross your arms over your shoulder, closing him off. "no," you say with a shrug, "go." he'd sigh, shoving his hands in his pocket, "i don't wanna stay if something's bothering you." you'd think this is your chance (about time!), "then we should've left an hour ago." he's giving you That Look again but you think you've suffered enough tonight—you won't relent. "what's that supposed to mean?" you feel slightly guilty when he says that because you know he's being genuine but you've been too upset for too long. "dunno..." your voice would trail off while you pretend to examine your nails, "maybe you should as jiwoon." he'd give you That Look times ten. "baby—" you shake your head, putting your hand up nonchalantly. "no, i don't care," you tell him, looking over at her. "you should go, she's calling you."

cheol would have his hands fisted at his sides, contemplating if he should be angry about you being so petty or upset with himself for neglecting your feelings. he'd try to get you to leave the party but it seems like you have your mind set. he'd try one more time: "no, we're going." you'd scoff at him—holy shit you scoffed at him! "no we are not," you'd shoot back, but this is when you start to feel your resolve crumble. the emotions you've been feeling for the past hour are catching up to you at record speed and having cheol stand in front of you and not sitting by your side is enough to have the familiar, stinging knot tie up in your throat. "okay fine," he'd reply, turning on his heel so fast that it'd have you spinning and reaching out to grab the hem of his jacket before he gets too far away. you won't meet his eye when he turns around, looking at the ground when you speak, "fine, let's go." you're barely audible but cheol would get the message, locking his fingers with yours to pull you up and out of this house. you won't say anything as he leads you outside and into the car, and cheol doesn't speak either as he climbs into the drivers seat. his expression would be unreadable, making the sinking feeling in your stomach plummet even further.

"i wasn't flirting with jiwoon," cheol says after a few minutes of silence, eyes still on the road. you don't say anything for a few seconds, arms crossed over your chest as you look out the window, tears threatening to spill. "well she was," you finally would shoot back, slumping further into your seat. your voice would come out wobbly and you can only pray that cheol doesn't noti—"don't cry, please," he murmurs, reaching a hand out to rest on your thigh. "we were supposed to have fun tonight." you'd think that if he's already caught you there's no point in hiding it, letting your tears fall onto your thighs with some landing on cheol. "seems like you were having the time of your fucking life," you murmur, not daring to look at him. "you know i wasn't," he says, and you reply almost immediately. "then why didn't you come to me?" you cry out, the silent tears gushing out now, not realizing that you've reached the parking lot of your guys' apartment complex. once he's parked, cheol would look over you with a frown, cupping your face with the hand that wasn't on your thigh. "baby, you were with your friends and i was with my friends and jiwoon just happened to be there, i swear i didn't even talk to her that much. if i had known you didn't like it then i wouldn't have done it." he'd wipe away your tears and honestly, him saying that would be enough to wash way your sadness too. "i know," you'd mumble, looking off into the distance. "then why're you so upset baby?" your cheeks would be on fire at the question, suddenly embarrassed by your brash actions. "she made me really mad, cheol," you would confess finally meeting his gaze, not missing the playful glint in his eyes as he plants a kiss on your forehead. "you have nothing to worry about baby, i love you so much, you know that." you unbuckle your seatbelt after that, moving to exit the car along with cheol, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. "maybe you'll have to just how much."

it's no question he basically fucked you into the mattress that night. considering your "party night" got cut early, you both had to make up for it somehow. usually cheol would be a bit of a mean dom, definitely into the idea of 'punishing' you for being bratty but after seeing and feeling your tears, he doesn't have the heart to do anything when this was pretty much his fault. definitely has you cumming at least three to four times, making sure that you understand just how much he loves you.

wonwoo

you wouldn’t know what exactly you’d had in mind for this dinner out with your and wonwoo’s friends, but it definitely wouldn’t be this. if anything, you’re friend(?) coming up to you with a smirk saying, “when did wonwoo get so hot?” would be the last thing you expect. you’d just furrow your eyebrows, shrugging off the comment as the familiar, nasty knot pools at the bottom of your stomach. trying your best to brush off both your feelings and jiwoon’s statement, which you try to justify as an ill-placed but not ill-intentioned comment, you scoot a little closer to wonwoo’s side in the restaurant booth while the ten of you get settled in. he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder instinctively, but if you’re being honest, it does little to quell the cold feeling that comes over you when you watch jiwoon glance over at your boyfriend definitely more than once or twice. you wouldn’t want to bring it up with wonwoo, at least not right now—it’s a nice night and he’s enjoying himself, and you’d be a fool to let a little jealousy try and take that away from him.

of course, a little jealousy turns into a lot and you grow increasingly quiet as the night progresses, eventually causing your boyfriend’s worried eyes to fall on your figure next to him. eyes boring into yours when you catch him staring, you quickly try to turn away before he speaks. “everything okay?” he asks quietly as the rest are eating and continuing the conversation. the grimace on your face is more than apparent—you’d be stupid to try and convince him that there’s nothing bothering you. still, you’re a bit…frustrated. jiwoon has been making off hand remarks the entire night—things like, “wow wonwoo, i didn’t know you were such a gentleman,” or “wow, you must be so lucky to have wonwoo”—and you’re slightly (very) annoyed that wonwoo hasn’t picked up on her not-so-subtle hints yet. maybe it’s the pettiness coming out—no, it definitely is. “nothing,” you’d say in response, giving him a nonchalant shrug which, despite your words, is intended to give him the message that ‘there’s something wrong but i’m going to be a brat and not tell you.’ message received, you’d think when you see the look on wonwoo’s harden slightly. “so are you going to tell me or not,” he retorts. you turn away from him, leaning forward to take a bite out of your meal. “dunno,” you’d murmur with a shrug. you can tell he’s tense next to you but you wouldn’t do anything, hoping it would give him the encouragement to figure it out on his own.

wonwoo would be pissed. he wouldn’t really know what’s got you in this sour but he knows that you only ever be bratty like this when it has something to do with him—any other case and you’d be clinging by his side and pretty much begging for his comfort and attention. he would try to retrace the events of the night, thinking of all the things he said and did to you trying to place where he went wrong. the whole situation only really clicks for him when he catches you glaring hard at jiwoon—well not really. it doesn't make perfect sense to him yet, but when he says something and catches jiwoon looking at him in some sort of way, that's when it fully clicks. wonwoo would be a bit...endeared actually. i feel like he'd love the idea that you love him enough to be so jealous and petty over a girl he couldn't give two flying fucks about, but he also knows that this isn't the time to joke around. you're obviously upset and trying to be stubborn and that is arguably one of the hardest things to deal with. you're pretty much silent for the rest of the night, hardly contributing the the conversation and wonwoo really wants to leave now knowing that you aren't having a good time, but he also knows that you wouldn't want to make a scene or anything by leaving early, so he just settles for keeping a hand on your thigh for the rest of the meal before he excuses the both of you and basically drags you by the wrist to take you home.

you'd still be silent on the way to the car, letting out a small huff as you'd cross your arms over your chest after putting on your seatbelt. after wonwoo starts the engine, he'd look over you with That Look. "baby," he'd say somewhat sternly. you'd look out the window, thinking of things to say. "i hate you," you'd say finally and you don't miss the way wonwoo grips the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are bright white. "for looking so good," you'd add to clarify, sinking into your seat with embarrassment. whatever traces of anger that stemmed from your jealousy withered away, leaving you in a rather pouty and sulky state instead. wonwoo chuckles softly, "jealous much?" you'd frown, finally meeting his gaze so you could confide. "you know what jiwoon said to me?!" you whine. he raises a brow at you at the red light, encouraging you to go on. "she said 'when did wonwoo get so hot?' what the fuck! who says that? especially to his girlfriend?!" you start complaining, throwing your hands in the air out of frustration. "and she kept on looking at you, like who does she think she is? i swear to god if i ever fucking see her again i'll—" wonwoo laughs and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly to shut you up. "baby," he'll say sternly again. "you know you're the only one i love, right? i don't care about jiwoon." you pout. "okay? that won't stop her from caring about you!" wonwoo laughs again at your outrage, and although you're still a little bit upset, you can feel the irritation you once felt fading away, morphing into a more playful sort of feeling.

when you guys get home, wonwoo would waste no time throwing you onto the bed and eating you out until you're in tears and SUPER sensitive. his excuse would be something along the lines of how your brattiness distracted him from dinner, so you should give him a second meal agagaga something cheesy like that.

mingyu

i feel like mingyu would be the type to get jealous easily which means that he definitely knows the signs from the very start, from the way you're huffing with every word you say, your arms crossed over your shoulders, and shooting not-so-subtle glares. he'd honestly find it really...cute. you, on the other hand, would be fuming. you hate the way jiwoon is looking at your boyfriend even though you know she knows he's taken. you catch the way mingyu's looking at you and you would know that he sees your jealousy, but something inside of bubbles up in anger at the way he's...not really doing anything about it. okay, it isn't as if he's flirting back with jiwoon, and he's hardly looking at her, but you would just wish that he'd do something. you're too stubborn, and mingyu may know that you're jealous but he doesn't know that you are definitely going to drag this out. instead of clinging to his side like you usually do at parties, you huff at the sight of mingyu talking with some people (one who just so happens to be jiwoon) and turn on your heel to retreat to a different room when he's not looking.

you aren't really sure what to expect after that—you would be half hoping to just be left alone but deep down you know that you want mingyu to chase after you. to leave all those people and leave jiwoon behind. he doesn't, and you aren't sure if it's because he doesn't care (you know this isn't true, but you can't help but see this as your first option when you're so emotional) or because he's just trying to press your buttons but whatever it is it has you a mess. you lock yourself in some random bathroom after a few moments of waiting for mingyu to follow, leaning against the closed door as you try to focus on anything but the current situation. mingyu would be in the other room slightly confused. he'd see you for one moment, focus on his conversation, and then look back to find you not there. he'd know you're jealous right now but he would just think you went to go grab a snack or something for a moment, so when you don't return within a few minutes he'd have to excuse himself, worrying that maybe you were more upset than he anticipated. he'd ask around for where you were when he couldn't find you in the main rooms, one of your friends begrudgingly letting him know that you told her you were going to one of the bathrooms and hadn't been back since. after that, it takes him hardly ten seconds to find the nearest bathroom, knocking on the door asking you to let him in. mingyu won't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't you opening the door almost immediately, looking awfully tired as there was some stupid game opened up on your phone.

"what are you doing?" he'd ask, closing the door behind him as you wouldn't meet his gaze. you shrugged, bringing your phone back up to your face to finish the game, sinking to the ground. "baby, talk to me," he'd say as he crouched down to be on your level, snatching the phone out of your hands. "hey!" you'd complain, trying to reach for it fruitlessly while mingyu—fucking giant—dangled it above your head. there's a smirk toying on his lips, and you're reminded of the whole situation—the one you'd been desperately trying to avoid—all over again, this time with tears welling up in your eyes. "if you're only going to actually talk to me just to annoy me then you might as well go back to jiwoon," you'd spit out, standing up so you could leave the bathroom that had provided you more solace than your boyfriend in the past half hour. mingyu frowns deeply after that, the smirk vanishing off his face immediately as he grabbed your wrist, pulling away from the door. "i'm sorry, i didn't realize you were actually upset about," he'd murmur, pulling you into his arms, feeling more guilty than anything. "why wouldn't i be upset?" you'd shoot back, your voice wobbly, "she was basically shooting heart eyes at you and you just let her!" now mingyu would start to feel like an even bigger idiot. "i'm sorry, you're right i should have stopped her. i just thought it was cute that you were getting jealous, i didn't mean to actually make you sad," he'd ramble. "you know i love you so much—only you."

you'd be pouting right now, tears not really pouring anymore but still staining your cheek as mingyu would bring up a hand to brush them off. "i'm really sorry baby—so sorry. i didn't mean to make you cry; never wanted that." you'd let out a small huff but lean into mingyu's touch, much to his relief. after you'd murmur your quiet, "i love you," he'd be kissing you so passionately you would think you couldn't breathe. "let me," he'd gasp between kisses as he was feeling up your body and wrapping his strong arms around your thighs to lift you onto the bathroom counter, "show you how much i love you." how could you say no? he eats you out and fingers you hard in the bathroom, and you would be lying if you said you didn't moan his name extra loud when you both heard jiwoon knocking on the door, asking if mingyu was in there. safe to say she didn't bother you or mingyu once for the rest of the night—not that she'd have the chance anyways, since mingyu basically pulled you to the car after making you cum on his fingers so he could fuck you another few times at home.

vernon

vernon is interesting. it would be hard for you to get mad at him out of jealousy simply because he's very perceptive and if there's anything he hates it would be seeing you upset over something that's within his control. if he's ever in the scenario where he even thinks someone is flirting with him, or trying to make moves, he'd tell you RIGHT AWAY! like either text you or let you know personally if you are in the room with him. some things are out of his control, of course, like tonight. you were hesitant to go out with this group of friends since there would be a lot of new people that both you and vernon didn't really know. he seemed eager though, excited to try something new, so you didn't protest, going happily along with him to this day at the carnival. but currently, you were anything but happy. there's definitely a girl who's got her eyes set on vernon and no matter how much you hold his hand, how much you cling to his side, how much you try to show her that he is yours, jiwoon just doesn't fucking seem to get the message.

vernon would pick up on your sour mood right away—like i said, he's super perceptive and WILL make sure that he's doing everything he can to diffuse the situation. he'd direct the both of you away from her, although you can't help but notice how that doesn't really stop her sparring glances. "baby," he'd finally murmur to you, "let's just ignore her," he'd suggest, pulling you closer to his side (honestly, there's no way you can be mad at him in this situation). "you're right," you'd mumble in response, looking over his shoulder to catch jiwoon staring at vernon AGAIN! "fucking hell does she think i'm blind or something? i swear to god if she tries to look at you one more time i might just sock her in the face right here and now!" you whisper-yell. vernon chuckles at your heated response, pressing a kiss to your lips. "maybe you should. that would be funny," he admits. "you're cute when you're mad," he'd add too, and you wouldn't be sure if your face's burning from being jealous or from vernon's compliment. whatever it is, it has you looking away bashfully, causing vernon to laugh some more.

honestly, you won't really be mad at him BUT you would be pouty and sulky the entire day, much to vernon's amusement. when you guys finally get home, you don't even let him get to the living room before you're smashing your lips on his with a year's worth of pent up frustration. honestly, you feel bad for being a bit grumpy all day despite vernon trying to make you feel not jealous so you figure you can repay him with some really good head and let me tell you vernon LOVES head. i said it once and i'll say it again but oral is like his ambrosia and the entire time he'll be praising you so good it nearly brings you to your own release. that and you know that jiwoon would never even be able to imagine making vernon feel as good as you are right now hehe.