#trying to restrain himself from yelling

[rafesyangel]

What happens when rafe accidentally yells at reader?

The sun was starting to hide behind the trees, casting a warm golden light over the driveway Rafe had been working under his truck for the past two hours, covered in sweat, grease staining his forearms and the front of his shirt. He was on his back beneath the chassis, grumbling under his breath every time a wrench slipped or something clanked against metal

You stood a few feet away, arms crossed, shifting from one foot to the other like a restless child. You’d been watching him forever—first from the porch, then closer and now, completely ignored, you were growing bratty.

“Raaaaafe,” you sang out, dragging his name like a child teasing a tired parent
He didn’t answer

You walked over and squatted beside the truck
“Come ooon. You said we’d go out ” you pouted. “You’ve been under there forever”

Still no response. Just the sound of a tool clicking into place

Your fingers twitched, and in your irritation, you picked up a small pebble and tossed it” lightly” so it tapped against the side of the truck
Clink

Then his hand froze

Rafe slid out from under the truck slowly, his face streaked with grease, sweat dripping from his temple.
He sat up, tossed the wrench down, and looked at you with barely restrained fury

“What did I say earlier? Huh? I said I needed to get this done,” he snapped. His voice was louder now, sharp like the crack of thunder


“And you just keep pushing. Keep nagging. You never just listen.”

“Do you EVER stop?Do you EVER just—LISTEN for once He bellowed, voice cracking like a whip through the room

The sudden explosion in his voice made you shrink back

Your mouth opened but nothing came out. Your face twisted, and the tears came fast

faster than you expected, hot and painful
“I—I wasn’t trying to bother you,” you whimpered, backing up a step. “I just wanted to spend time with you…”

Your voice cracked at the end
And that broke him

And then your face crumpled.
Your shoulders trembled and tears spilled, fast and hot, your hands balling into little fists at your sides.
“I just wanted you to notice me…” you hiccuped

Rafe's rage dissolved in a blink
He stared at you, the guilt hitting him like a truck his features softened instantly, as if the anger had been sucked out of him by your first tear

“ baby—no, no no…”

He stepped in front of you, gently catching your wrist before you could turn away

“C’mere. Come here, little one,” he muttered, pushing himself up and dusting off his hands, voice ragged, full of regret


You didn’t even have to move as he came to you, wrapping those strong, calloused arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest

“‘M sorry, baby,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “That wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that.”

You clung to him, silent sobs shaking through your small frame
He picked you up gently like you weighed nothing and carried you to the old porch swing, settling down with you curled up in his lap your body curled in his like you belonged there like you always had

Rafe rocked you slowly, the chains of the swing creaking rhythmically.
One arm held you close, the other ran up and down your back in soothing strokes.

“You know you’re my girl, right?” he murmured, voice low and full of guilt. “Even when I’m mad, even when I’m tired, I don’t ever stop loving you. You hear me?”

You gave a tiny nod against his chest
He kept rocking.
Back and forth, back and forth, the creak of the swing and the steady thump of his heartbeat lulling you toward sleep.

“I got you now,” he whispered again, more to himself than to you. “I’ll always got you.”

You fell asleep tucked into his chest, your cheeks tearstained, his shirt still smelling like motor oil and sweat but it didn’t matter. You were safe

And Rafe? He didn’t move an inch with you in his hands

[p1astr81]

very random but could you do one where reader is a ferrari heiress and her and oscar have a secret thing going on and they try to see each other during race weekends (with some fluff please)

This was a bit angstier than I anticipated 🙈

Y/n Ferrari. A name that carried status wherever she went. A name that came with expectations.

One of those expectations being to not fraternize with the enemy. Which was easy.

Until he came along.

Sauntering into the paddock with his stupid floppy hair looking like a prince that just walked out of a Disney movie. And his ridiculous laugh that sparked humor in other people even when nothing was funny. And his chiseled face like it was crafted by michaelangelo himself.

It all started as genuine hatred between you two, kicking off after he nearly crashed Charles out.

“Touch one of my drivers again and I swear to you Piastri-“

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know the trust fund princess ran the team.”

You scoffed. “Are you the pot or the kettle?”

“What?”

“I’m calling you a hypocrite.”

But it slowly turned into a playful banter.

“Where’s the princess off to this time?” He called out to you as you passed him as he was exiting his hospitality.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Prince Charming?”

His brows raised at the new nickname. “Calling me handsome now?”

“No you idiot. I’m making fun of your ridiculous hair.”

“What? Should I cut it then?”

“Absolutely not.” You looked horrified at the idea.

A smirk curled his lips. “Ah, so you like it then?”

“Ha! Only in your dreams would I ever like anything about you.” You didn’t let him get another word in, walking off too quickly.

And then the banter slowly turned into tension.

“That dress is going to have a lot of eyes on you.” Oscar commented, taking note of your bright red sun dress with a low v-neck.

You hummed. “Eyes like yours?”

He shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“Saying I look good?”

Oscar shook his head. “Whatever the Ferrari princess wants.”

And the tension soon transitioned into a restrained pining.

Your paths crossed after taking the grid photos for the 2025 season. “Your hair looks… slightly more put together today than it usually does.”

He felt like an object of study under your gaze. “Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.” He chuckled.

“I think it was.” A pause, then, “It looks good.”

Oscar froze. Then swallowed, and found his words again. “Did someone put you up to this? Charles? Lewis? Was it Ollie? Are you feeling okay?”

You laughed. A genuine laugh. “No, no one put me up to this, and yes I’m feeling okay.” You laughed again.

Fucking hell, Oscar enjoyed that sound. It made him feel like he was walking on clouds. This was dangerous. “Okay,” he started and wavered. “Thanks.” He muttered.

You took note of the blush on his cheeks, but you didn’t mention it. You sure as hell made sure to get him flustered every time you saw him, though.

And then the pining turned into… something. A situation of sorts.

You rushed into his room in the hospitality, tearing the hood off your head.

He was on you in seconds. Hands wrapped around your waist and his lips devoured yours. “Did anyone see you?” He rasped into your mouth.

“No, I don’t think so.” You confirmed in a whisper.

His hands slipped under your hoodie and he tore it over your head. He paused, caught off guard by the low-cut shirt. “God, you’re unbelievable.”

You grinned, shoving his shoulder. “Ah, c’mon charming it’s just a bit of cleavage don’t lose your head.”

He ignored your teasing, picking you up by the waist and carrying you over to the small sofa. He let you fly from his arms and you hit the cushions with a dull plop. He kissed the exposed swell of your breasts, sucking on the skin.

“Quit! Someone will see there!” You yelled in hurried whispers, and gave his head a small push.

He pulled back, gazing up at you with a dazed look in his eyes. “Good. Maybe then everyone else will stop trying to make moves on you.”

He dipped his head again, but before his lips could attack your chest-

knock, knock, knock. “Osc! Do you still have my charger?!” Lando shouted from the other side of the door.

Oscar’s eyes went wide, as did yours. You both swapped glances between each other and the door.

Say something, you mouthed.

“Uh, yeah.” He hesitated. You wanted to face palm yourself.

“Great! can I have it back?”

He looked to you in panic. You gave him a look that basically said, ‘this is your problem now’.

“Uh, yeah.” He grabbed the white cord while you did your best to hide.

He opened the door just enough to poke an arm out.

“What’s that about?” Lando asked in reference to the cracked door. “You got a girl in there or something?”

“No!” He answered far too quickly. “I’m, uh, I’m naked.” He covered.

You heard lando laugh. “Alright, mate.”

You both let out sighs of relief when the door clicked closed.

“You’re helpless under pressure if it’s not out on the track.” You shook your head.

And when he asked you out, options for a date location were very limited.

“I didn’t know where to go that we wouldn’t be seen so…” he gestured to the homemade full-course meal laid out on his dining room table.

You smiled. “I didn’t know you could cook, charming.” You took the chair he pulled out for you.

He shook his head. “That damn nickname.” He muttered, sitting across from you.

“You don’t like it? I think it suits you.”

“I know, because of my hair.”

You tilted your head at him. “Well, that is a factor.” You conceded. “But I think your pretty face lives up to the name too.”

His face flushed immediately, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Didn’t you say you’d only call me handsome in my dreams? Am I dreaming now?”

You shook your head. “Maybe you’ve hexed me.”

After that, it became official. Now both of you were concerned with not getting caught.

Singapore was scorching hot. Even inside the lobby of the Hilton as you tried to collect more towels for your room.

As you waited at the front desk, you felt a hand slide across your back. Not a lot of pressure to the touch, just… there. You jumped, ready to fight, but you gasped when you caught the eyes of the perpetrator. “Oscar! I didn’t know you were staying here!” You cheered in hushed tones, glancing around for prying eyes.

He looked just as happy to see you. “I could say the same.” He laughed. “What floor?”

“Five.” You answered.

“Two.”

You let the silence float between you. “I could-”

“Yes.” He anticipated your proposal. He had since the moment he caught you. He was just waiting for you to say it.

You smirked at his eager reply. “I’ll take my towels back to my room and I’ll see you then? Just text me your room number.”

Oscar nodded as the lady came back with three towels in her hands. You gave Oscar a small smile as you parted.

Too focused on you, he’d forgotten the reason he came down to the lobby in the first place. Awkwardly, he shuffled from the front desk and to the elevators.

Shit. His room was a mess.

He frantically threw things in his suit case and shoved stuff in the closet. Three hurried knocks landed on the door just as he zipped the suitcase closed.

“Hey,” he greeted, red in the face and slightly panting from all the running around. He waved you into the room.

Finally alone, you stand to your tip toes and place a sweet kiss on his cheek.

It wasn’t enough for him. He held your face in his hands, capturing your lips in his. It wasn’t hungry nor hurried, but a tender reminder that you belonged to each other.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You confessed with a soft exhale.

“You just saw me earlier?” He wasn’t stupid. He knows what you meant by that.

You shook your head, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. You kicked off your shoes and stepped from your leggings. You went for his suitcase and unzipped it, ignoring his protests. “I know you, Os. I know you’re not this clean.” You chuckled, gesturing to the spotless floors.

Plucking one of his shirts from his suitcase, you took off your own shirt and replaced it with his. The covers of the bed welcomed you, as did the embrace of his arms. You snuggled your head into his chest. “This. This is how I’ve missed you.”

The next weekend you attended was Abu Dhabi. Safe to say, you were both having intense withdrawals.

Oscar more than you.

You stared at the messages, guilt pricking your skin. Your sweet Oscar. Cast to the side because of your own fears.

After qualifying had long passed, you sought him out. The paddock was relatively empty by then, only the few stragglers of team personnel. Your hospitalities being right next to each other’s was certainly an advantage, one you used to its full extent. You sat outside, scouting for Oscar. You jumped up when you spotted him, quick feet making your way over before he could spot you.

When you reached him, your fingers closed around his wrist and dragged him between the buildings and around the back. There were no cameras. No people. Just solitude.

He looked drained from the day. “I’m sorry.” You blurted. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?” You took hold of his hands. “I’m just so afraid of him breaking us up.” You shook your head.

Oscar pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you. He held your head against his chest. “Of course I know that.” He stroked your hair. Dull nails scratched your head. “Like you said, there’ll be a time.”

You pulled back enough to see his face. “I want it to be soon. Like maybe during break?” You suggested. “You’re right. I don’t want to keep living in secret.”

“What?” He panicked. “I don’t want to force you to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head repeatedly. “No I want to do this.” Your eyes darted around, and then, “actually I want to do this now.”

“Wait what?”

Oscar didn’t get a response, you were already dragging him.

“No, wait. Like right now?” He panicked.

“Yes.”

Jesus, he was about to die and he only gets thirty seconds to prepare.

Hand in hand, he trailed behind you as the cool air from the Ferrari hospitality welcomed you. Your father was there, talking with Charles. He had yet to see you.

“Papa?” You called, standing in front of him.

He turned, brows furrowing when he saw Oscar. And then his eyes went wide when he saw your interlocked hands.

“I’m dating Oscar. And I’m happy. He makes me happy. And I know he’s not Italian or a Ferrari driver, but I think being with someone who makes me happy is better than both of those.” You rambled in English, ensuring Oscar would understand.

Your father looked between the two of you. The silence stretched, making Oscar more nervous by the second.

And then Charles started laughing.

“I know. Everyone has known for months. You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.” Your dad spoke, clapping Oscar on the shoulder and squeezing him. “I’m just happy it was him and none of the others.” He smiled.

Oscar let out a heavy sigh of relief, earning a laugh from your dad.

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

[sh4nksslvt]

Giant Duck Incident

When Luffy mistakes a giant duck for dinner and ends up getting a kiss instead

LUFFY X GN!READER ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs a bit cringe

masterlist | ko-fi

words count: 1.1k

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The sun was high, the sea was calm, and there were absolutely no signs of trouble.

Which, on the Thousand Sunny, meant one thing:

Trouble was coming.

“LUFFY, NO—!!”

Too late. You watched in horror as Monkey D. Luffy, your idiot-slash-sweetheart captain, launched himself full-speed off the ship.

“THAT’S A HUGE DRUMSTICK!!”

He landed with a wet splat on what you now saw was not, in fact, a drumstick, but a massive, living, very not amused yellow blob.

A duck.

A giant duck. Towering, glistening, waddling angrily in the shallows.

It honked—a sound that felt more like a roar—and thrashed its wings wildly, trying to throw the rubbery parasite off its back.

Luffy clung to its neck like a child to a carnival ride, cackling madly. “SHISHISHSHI IT’S THE SIZE OF A WHOLE BANQUET!!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This man has the survival instincts of a particularly reckless bread roll.”

You glanced at the rest of the crew.

Zoro was asleep.

Sanji was busy sculpting carrot roses for Robin.

Robin was reading, obviously not surprised.

Nami looked up from her map just long enough to yell, “Not it!”

Usopp and Chopper screamed something about curses and jumped into a barrel together.

Which left you.

Of course it did.

—

The duck, still honking its fury to the high heavens, stomped in circles while Luffy attempted to bite its side. You sprinted down the ramp and into the shallow surf.

“LUFFY, GET OFF THE DUCK!”

“I’M TRYING TO TASTE IT!”

“IT’S A SENTIENT CREATURE!”

“BUT IT LOOKS SO CRISPY—”

The duck, insulted on a deeply personal level, launched itself upward in one majestic leap and sent Luffy flying through the air like a flailing meat meteor. He landed beside you, face in the sand, limbs splayed in defeat.

“…Ow,” he mumbled.

You sighed and knelt beside him. “You good?”

He gave you a thumbs-up, still face-down. “YUP! SHISHISHI”

You helped brush sand off his hat as he sat up.

“Luffy,” you said, trying to be calm, “you can’t eat random animals just because they’re big and vaguely drumstick-shaped.”

“But look at it!” he whined, pointing. “It’s got those golden thighs! The rotisserie energy! The juicy potential!”

“It has a name, probably. A family. A job.”

He squinted. “Maybe it’s an orphan with a deep desire to fulfill its destiny as dinner.”

You blinked then laugh at this. “… pftt! did you just create a duck backstory to justify your cravings?”

“Yes!” he said proudly. “That’s called empathy I think! SHISHISHI”

You stared at him, completely deadpan. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He blinked. Then beamed. “You think I’m cute?”

“…That was supposed to stay in my head.”

“TOO LATE!” he yelled, springing to his feet and throwing his arms in the air like a victorious meat wrestler. “Y/N THINKS I’M CUUUUTE!!”

“Luffy!”

“I’M CUTE! I’M CUTE! EVEN CUTER THAN THE DUCK!”

The duck, now perched like a war god on a rock, glared at him with pure malice.

You sighed. “We’re gonna be hunted by poultry assassins. I can feel it.”

—

Back on the Sunny, after Luffy was physically restrained from offering the duck “one little nibble,” peace was finally restored. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in soft golds and purples.

You sat on the deck’s edge, feet dangling over the sea. Luffy flopped beside you, hat tilted back, grin wide.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said suddenly.

You braced yourself. “If you ask me to cook duck—”

“No, no,” he chuckled. “I was gonna say... I like when you laugh.”

You turned to him, surprised.

He was watching you. Not in the usual Luffy way — not like when he spotted meat across the room, or stared down an enemy. This was the kind of look that made your chest feel warm and your brain do a little somersault.

“Earlier,” he said, “you laughed when I said something about empathy”

“Thats not... I was mocking you!,” you replied. “I thought I was about to watch you get pecked into a new time zone.”

“But you still laughed,” he said, all sunny and smug. “You always do.”

“That’s because you’re ridiculous.”

“You like it,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

You bit back a smile. “I tolerate it. Barely.”

He tilted his head, expression soft. “Zoro said it’s obvious.”

“…You talked to Zoro about me?”

“I asked if I could kiss you,” Luffy said bluntly. “He said ask you, not him.”

Your brain fizzled. “Wait. What—”

“So,” Luffy continued, turning fully to face you with that open, earnest joy you’d come to adore, “can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Kiss you,” he said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath caught. This was the same boy who just tried to eat a duck like it was a buffet item. Who once got stuck inside a vending machine trying to retrieve a stuck candy bar. Who sometimes forgot his shoes and didn’t notice for an hour.

And yet.

Your heart fluttered like it hadn’t gotten the memo about logic.

“…Yes,” you said, quiet.

His face lit up like a festival. “Yeah?!”

You nodded.

He scooted close—awkwardly but gently—and cupped your cheek, his hand warm and calloused. The kiss was clumsy, sweet, quick. His nose bumped yours, and when he pulled away, he had that stupidly big grin that made your stomach flip.

“WHOA,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you whispered back.

He leaned back on his hands, practically glowing. “Gonna tell Zoro it worked!”

“LUFFY—NO��!”

Too late.

“ZORO!! I KISSED Y/N!! AND THEY SAID YES!! YOU WERE RIGHT!!”

You groaned and dropped your head into your hands as Zoro’s muffled “I don’t care!” echoed from the crow’s nest.

Sanji’s head whipped up from the kitchen door, his cigarette dangling dangerously.

“WHAT?!”

Luffy turned mid-skip. “I kissed Y/N!”

Sanji's eye twitched. “I leave you alone for ONE romantic sunset and you SNEAK AHEAD?!”

You, now partially hiding behind the mast, groaned. “Oh no.”

“Luffy, you absolute—! That was supposed to be MY kiss! I was going to bring you a fruit parfait! HOW DARE YOU KISS MY Y/N~CHWANNNNN!”

Luffy skipped back to you, unbothered and beaming. “Wanna kiss again?”

You peeked through your fingers. “If you promise not to announce it like a seagull with a megaphone.”

He nodded. “Fineee!. But I will write it in my logbook shishishi.”

“…You have a logbook?!”

“It’s mostly meat sketches and battle doodles. But now it has you.”

And your heart, traitor that it was, somersaulted again.

You sighed. “Fine. Just… no more trying to eat ducks.”

He tilted his head. “What if it asks nicely?”

You groaned, flopping back dramatically.

And somewhere in the distance, a vengeful honk echoed over the sea.

[mintmatcha]

I so understand this would be so far off, but I’m imagining reader’s son being 13 and a couple months old, he’s cordial with Shinsou, for his mum, but he’s trying to come to terms with why his mum didn’t stay with his dad. Until monoma doesn’t show up for something and maybe one of his friends is like ‘hey, I’m really sorry your dad is always doing that. It must really suck’

‘My dad always shows up usually, just later. He’s busy.’ And the look of pity from his friend and it just CLICKS

Has to call his mum to pick him up and shinsou picks him up because maybe it’s late at night, and shinsou has always respected that he shouldn’t talk shit about monoma in front of your son, but when your son starts asking about things, about the lies and twisted truths monoma has told, shinsou won’t lie to him. Just gives him yes and no answers.

Monoma doesn’t understand why all of a sudden his son isn’t responding to his messages or answering his phone calls, and there’s no way he’s calling you to reveal to you that he’s no longer the golden father figure in your son’s eyes

I LOVE THIS IDEA AAA

I think, leading up to that, the more your son is angry at monoma, the more he's disrespectful of you. it's displaced, but he just can't bring himself to think that his dad is the problem.

the only time shinso has ever REALLY yelled at him was after school one day. monoma was supposed to come for his weekend, but it's shinso standing at the curb waiting for him.

"Whoa, that's your dad?" a friend asks. oh, he had been bragging all day that his pro hero dad was coming to take him on vacation and now he's face to face with the realization that he's not going anywhere.

"He is not my dad." There's so much angst and anger building up in his gut. you must have done something to piss his real dad off- it's always your fault when he doesn't arrive- "he's just some guy my mom whores around with."

Shinso's jaw flexes so tightly that he can see it from all the way from across the street. He uses his whole name, biting out every syllable with a barely restrained anger. your son trudges across the street with his pack dragging on the ground.

"Say that again." It's been years since he's thought Shinso was scary, but the cold grind of his voice makes him freeze. "Say it right here, to my face."

They both know he can't. He doesn't have the guts. Shinso bends over just a bit, bringing himself face to face.

"You do not have to respect me. You don't even have to like me." Shinso's voice breaks with the sheer volume he's using. your son looks back at his friends, who look equally horrified. "But you will not talk about your mother that way."

The man jabs a finger towards the school bag.

"And pick up your fucking bag." He's never cursed at your son before. "Your mom worked extra shifts to pay for that."

He had begged for this bag, the full leather one. it was expensive. too expensive to ask you for. It came as a holiday present with no name, so he had always assumed his dad was the one who bought it. Monoma is the one with money-- you're just a waitress. The scuffed bottom suddenly feels embarrassing.

Shinso hasn't stopped his ranting. "All she has ever done is loved you. Your whole life! All she's ever done! And I will not let you treat her the way your father treats her, got it?"

Your son doesn't reply.

"I said- did you fucking get that?"

His real dad never yells. No, he just laughs when he says things like that. Your son sniffs and slugs his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah. Whatever."

"And if you ever say that to your mother's face-" he can't finish the sentence. "Get walking."

[tyunized]

PDA WITH TXT~ (thoughts)

PDA - Public Display of Affection.

fem!reader

Warnings :: fluff, kissing, hugging, PDA lol, holding hands, fingering, teasing, heartwarming, needy!beomgyu perv!beomgyu (minors dni).

note :: I was giggling so much while writing this, Especially at beomgyus! Let me know if I have missed any warnings or let me know whos part did you giggle at as well hehe! 1

my rules

🌱 :: Soobin.

Soobin is unapologetically affectionate, and he doesn’t care who’s watching. Whether it’s holding your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, or pulling you in for a kiss in the middle of a crowded street, he’s always showing his love for you. The side eyes and whispered comments from strangers? He doesn’t care. When someone yells, “Get a room!” Soobin just laughs, his carefree chuckle echoing loud enough for everyone to hear. Sometimes, he’ll even throw in a playful response, like, “Nah, we’re good right here!” before turning back to you with a grin.

🌱 :: Yeonjun.

You have to hold Yeonjun’s hands at all times, If not he will be afraid of losing you because he walks very fast due to his long ass legs LOL, so he doesn’t want to leave you behind. He tries, he really does, to slow his pace and match yours, glancing down every now and then to check if you’re keeping up. But he walks so fast that even his “slow” feels like a brisk walk to you. You can’t help but laugh when it starts feeling like he’s gently pulling you along.

🌱 :: Beomgyu. (nsfw)

Beomgyu thrives on PDA―not just because he loves you, but because he loves stirring up chaos. He’ll kiss you in public, and if he catches someone rolling their eyes, he’ll kiss you even more, grinning against your lips while you remain blissfully unaware of his reasoning. You don’t question it, though; you’re too busy enjoying his affection. Of course, beomgyu doesn’t stop there―he loves messing with you too. At dinner with your friends, his hand will wander beneath the table, slipping to your inner thigh, unbuttoning your pants, and teasing you in ways where it's nearly impossible to keep a straight face. He lives for the way you squirm, pretending to be annoyed while secretly loving the way his cold fingers toy with your sensitive areas. Between his “games” and your friends asking casual questions, you feel like you’re about to crash out.

🌱 :: Taehyun. (suggestive)

Taehyun doesn't mind PDA at all, he’ll hold your hand, steal a kiss, or even wrap an arm around you in public without hesitation. When you get a little too playful or lean in too close, you can see his frustration, trying to control himself because in public he knows that he has limitations. It’s humorous to you when you see this type of look on his face, but once you guys are home and in private, he has no rules, no restrictions, and no one to stop him from taking things as far as he wants. And judging by the way he pulls you closer, smirking like he's been waiting all day, you know he's ready to make up for every second he has to restrain himself.

🌱 :: Hueningkai.

This man loves to make you sit on his lap especially when seating is scarce, you sometimes hesitate out of shyness but he always insists. And when you actually give in you can feel the occasional glances people give to you both and it makes you very nervous. Hueningkai will put both his hands on your waist and tell you that it's okay and not to worry about people’s facial expressions. He also likes to rest his chin gently on your shoulder to calm you down but it makes you even more flustered than you already were lol. Feeling his breathing on your neck make you panic on the inside.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Hannibal Lecter Alphabet

❝ 🔪 — lady l: The more I wrote, the more I felt sorry for whoever would be the object of Hannibal's obsession... Anyway, I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! Good reading. 🤎

❝tw: yandere themes, obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, cannibalism, mention of death, mention of non-consensual drug use, manipulation, gaslighting, punishments and murder.

❝🔪pairing: yandere!hannibal lecter x gender neutral!reader.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Hannibal likes to touch you, although his touches are more subtle. A hand on your shoulder, holding your face and looking you in the eyes, as well as holding your chin to make you look at him when he's talking to you.

He also prefers gifts and words of affirmation. Although Hannibal isn't great at expressing his feelings for you, he likes to talk philosophically as a show of love and to give you gifts. Lots of gifts.

Hannibal is not very intense in his affections, unless he is feeling jealous, otherwise, he quite soft about it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Hannibal is willing to get very messy. He has been killing for decades, ever since he was a young boy, so brutal murders are nothing new to him.

His modus operandi doesn't change by itself, but if you are threatened or if he is jealous, Hannibal can be much more cruel and savage. Much more.

Hannibal will kill, torture, and collect some organs and meat for a romantic dinner between you later.

Blood doesn't bother him, none of that bothers him.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Hannibal will try to be patient with you. He understands that it is stressful for you to be in an unfamiliar environment and will be as gentle as he can. However, if you are rude or yell at him, Hannibal will be more stern.

He does not want to hurt you (much), but will restrain and hurt you if he feels it is necessary. You need to behave and control your tongue if you don't want to lose it.

Hannibal can indeed mock your fear and he probably will, it is in his nature. He will imitate your voice in a mocking tone and even whisper as a form of mockery.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Hannibal is a cannibal and you will follow his diet and that is non-negotiable. The most he can do is not tell you about the type of meat you are eating at first, lying that it is pork.

But if you really ask him, he will not lie. The faster you get used to him, the better your life will be. And well, Hannibal cooks very well, doesn't he?

Cannibalism would be the only thing he would force you to do. He is a monster, yes, but he would never force himself on you or anything that could traumatize you too much.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Hannibal will hardly show his heart to you, at least at first. He doesn't trust easily and even then, he still has mistrust.

He could be kinder and more open about his affections for you but never expose himself too much. He doesn't want to give you a chance to use it against him. But you wouldn't be this stupid, right?

However, Hannibal could open up to you about his past little by little and tell you about his sister, for example. The most vulnerability you would get from him would be his eyes slightly teary and his lips trembling as he tells you about her.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Hannibal wouldn't be surprised by this, in fact, he would be surprised if you didn't fight back him when he kidnapped you.

He wouldn't be annoyed or particularly bothered. He's already expected this behavior from you and he's already prepared to correct it. However, if this isn't resolved quickly, Hannibal will use more persuasive methods on you, such as flashing light therapy.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It's not a game to Hannibal. He didn't kidnap you because he was bored and wanted something to play with, but because he's obsessed with you and wants to keep you with him.

But he'll have fun watching you try to escape him. He knows you won't make it, that he'll always be ten steps ahead of you. You can try all you want, but you'll fail. And Hannibal will be watching while he sips a glass of thousand-dollar wine with a grin on his face.

Run as much as you want but he will always catch you in the end.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Cannibalism and flashing light therapy.

Hannibal will eventually tell you the truth about the origin of the meat you consume. Since it is from a close friend you had, perhaps a member of your family, he will appreciate your reaction to it. He is so cold and calm about it, as if it is no big deal and to him, it is not.

Hannibal will subject you to flashing light therapy with his own cocktail of drugs to manipulate and gaslight you and you will only have memory lapses. Not knowing what he did to you, what he made you do, is scary in itself.

Only he knows what he did, the things he does to you. Just as he has complete control over you.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Hannibal is a man who lives in the present, and doesn't usually think much about the future. Well, he was like that until he met you and discovered that he wants to think about a future with you.

He likes to imagine the two of you killing together, enjoying and sharing the meat of your hunt with a good wine while exchanging affectionate glances. A big house in Florence, his favorite city. And, perhaps, a family of your own one day.

It sounds like a perfect future with you for both of you, don't you agree?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

When Hannibal Lecter gets jealous, people die. It's that simple.

He doesn't know how to handle his feelings for you, but that doesn't mean you have the right to give your attention to someone else, to an unworthy pig. How dare you? How dare they?

Hannibal will make sure to give a very painful and undignified death to whoever made him jealous and the two of you will have a lovely dinner later.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Hannibal likes to watch you. He always has his eyes on you, even if he's paying attention to something else, whether it's reading, cooking or playing his harpsichord. And he loves to watch you sleep; there have been countless times when you've woken up with him looking at you like a predator.

He's always watching you and nothing goes unnoticed. If you sigh differently, if your posture is softer or sterner, he'll notice and know something's wrong.

Hannibal is gentle with you, in his own way. He won't hurt you unless he deems it necessary. His hugs are always protective and possessive, as are his kisses. There's no reason for him to be cruel to you if you don't give him a reason to.

Just behave and you'll be rewarded.

Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Hannibal will prefer to approach you without having to kidnap you at first (but he is not against doing so).

His courtship of you will be in the most traditional and chivalrous manner possible. Hannibal is a gentleman. He will take you on romantic dates, cook for you, read to you, draw elaborate and perfect pictures of your beauty, give you flowers, pull out your chair for you, open the door for you... Hannibal will not let anything go unnoticed. He wants to charm you and he will succeed.

His approach to you will not be subtle. Hannibal is very confident and he knows how to gain people's trust, even if he seems and acts strange. And he knows that with you it will be no different.

Hannibal will make it clear from the beginning that he is interested in you. And he will do everything to court you and, if it doesn't work for some reason, well, he can always be more direct and kidnap you. Whichever comes first.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. Hannibal wears a person suit and his true nature is very different from what he shows to the world.

Only you are allowed to see it and be alive, you are the only one he has allowed to know the real him. Anyone who has caught a glimpse of the monster beneath has ended up at his dinner table. How lucky of you.

He may look like the typical "weird European", but that is part of his image, carefully polished over the years. Hannibal is monstrous, cruel, and a sadist beast beneath his person's suit.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Hannibal's punishments are usually very elaborate and calculated. He doesn't do anything on impulse or without thinking it through, and this is also reflected in the way he punishes you.

Hannibal doesn't usually use physical force to do this. He can tie you up and gag you if he thinks it's necessary, but he'll be as loving as he can. However, this doesn't stop him from choking you or holding your face so tightly that one movement could break your neck. Wordless threats are his favorite form of punishment; just seeing the fear, the recognition in your eyes of his control over you, over your life, is enough for him.

In more extreme cases of disobedience and disrespect, he can drug you and use his famous flashing light therapy to correct your bad behavior.

Opression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

All he deems necessary.

Hannibal doesn't want to degrade you, but he will take away your rights if you are disobedient and try to fight him. Although he is a very patient man, he also has limits and will have no problem taking everything from you.

Your basic rights will become privileges. Except for food, don't worry, Hannibal won't let you go hungry. But the rest? He would take away everything from you.

Your freedom, your privacy, your safety. Everything.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient.

Hannibal is a very patient man, he can wait years to kill someone for a simple offense, so why wouldn't he be patient with his darling?

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die, Hannibal will spend the rest of his days in melancholy and missing you deeply. He will honor your body in whatever way he sees fit, whether it be eating you to keep you with him forever or preserving your body so he can still talk to you even though you are no longer alive.

If you managed to escape, Hannibal would hunt you to the ends of the earth. He has plenty of time and money to do so, and he knows he will eventually find you, even if you flee to another country. It is just a matter of when and what he will do to you for daring to try to leave him.

Perhaps amputating your legs would be a good way to start. But don't worry, you won't feel any pain.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No. Hannibal doesn't feel guilty, and if he does, it's not much. He may have regrets, but he definitely doesn't feel guilty about kidnapping you.

You've always been his, and taking what's rightfully yours isn't wrong. He's just taking what's always belonged to him.

And Hannibal would never let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Hannibal cannot be defined by a trauma. He was always a monster, he was always destined to become one, he just repressed it before his sister died.

Nothing happened to him. He happened.

He has always been this way and he has no problem or shame in admitting it.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Hannibal is a sadist in every sense of the word. He doesn't necessarily need to cause physical pain to someone to enjoy their pain, their suffering.

But with you... He tends to be softer, although his nature doesn't change. He may enjoy seeing you cry, just so he can be the one to dry your tears. And he will definitely draw you crying afterwards. And only he can make you cry.

Anger is an emotion of yours that he can handle well, only if you are not rude or disrespectful to him. Otherwise, Hannibal will have to punish you for bad behavior.

He will not let you isolate yourself. Hannibal will leave you alone when you need him, but he will not let you isolate yourself. You will still have to talk to him and be around him when he wants you to.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

His curiosity.

Hannibal is not much different from the classic yandere, just more curious. His curiosity is motivated by several reasons and this can make him much more cruel to you.

Out of pure curiosity, Hannibal can simply kill someone you love and then serve you that person's organs and then tell you the origin, the truth, just because he is curious to know how you will react to it.

And he certainly will not be dissatisfied with your reaction.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Hannibal doesn't usually show his weaknesses to anyone, not even you. He is very careful and meticulous in everything he does and says.

However, you are his main weakness. Hannibal doesn't know how to deal with his feelings for you healthily and if anything were to happen to you, he could react very badly to it. Hannibal has even thought about killing you several times just to get rid of his main weakness but he cannot bring himself to actually go through with it.

If you tried to kill yourself or something like that, he might be a little disconcerted and more reckless in keeping you protected. Hannibal's strange emotions can be a weakness, but remember, he is always at least ten steps ahead of you and he can easily tell if you are planning something.

Wit's End: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes. Hannibal has no problem hurting you to make you behave.

He will not leave visible marks on your body or face, though. You are a work of art to him and he does not want to ruin you.

Art is supposed to be beautiful to look at and any marks destroy its original value.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Hannibal would rather be adored than worship you. He wants you to see him as your protector, as the only person who can fully understand and accept you.

However, he always compliments you and touches you in a more reverent way, as if he were touching something fragile that could easily be broken. Hannibal would love to show you off to others, to have you in his arms, perfect and immaculate, while he introduces you to the elite.

His care in touching you is the ultimate in adoration he shows you, as is showing you off.

He doesn't do well with boundaries and always goes beyond them, so Hannibal has no limits on what he would do to win his darling. Everything is within his acceptable range.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

As mentioned before, Hannibal is a very patient man, but he won't be so patient when it comes to getting you for himself.

If his courtship isn't working, or worse, if you are interested in someone else, Hannibal will drop everything he was trying to build with you in the right way and kidnap you.

I'd say a few months, depending on the situation.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes.

Hannibal would have no problem breaking you, making you a shell of your true self. While it is not his ultimate goal, if you give him no other option, he will do it without hesitation.

He would rather have you as a broken doll than not have you at all.

But don't worry, he will take good care of you. Hannibal always takes good care of his belongings.

[bambiens]

LIKE A TATTOO .☘︎ ݁˖ – 09 oh shit, WORLDSTAR!

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previous | next chapter | masterlist

warnings ⟢ alcohol and weed consumption, profanity, physical violence, mentions of blood and wounds, flawed character(s), a little angst.

[word count: ~2k, 7 screenshots] ignore timestamps!

heeseung wasn’t used to this kind of scene.

the loud bass vibrating through his chest, the smell of intoxication wriggling through the air, drunken bodies packed together – it was all too much.

and that’s how he ended up in the corner of taehyun’s condo – taking swigs of jack straight from the bottle to “help” curb his overstimulation. 

soon enough, the light buzz he once felt had suddenly turned into an uncomfortable sense of disorientation.

jay’s palm met heeseung’s shoulder for a light tap, “you okay champ?”

heeseung nodded, “yeah, just a bit stuffy in here,” he clumsily shoves the bottle of jack – now half-empty – into jay’s chest, “think i just need some fresh air, or a joint, or maybe both.”

heeseung swayed past jay and the others, entering the crowd of people trying to find a way to the balcony.

attempting to navigate past the sea of party-goers made heeseung feel like he was about to drown.

he had never felt so overwhelmed in his life – and the swishing alcohol still settling in his stomach only made things worse.

sliding through the last wave of sticky bodies, heeseung finally made it outside.

taking a deep breath in, heeseung reached for the joint he had rolled in his back pocket.

to be completely frank, he only came here to see you. 

heeseung probably wouldn’t have drank all that much if you had just come to taehyun’s on time. to him, you were already intoxicating.

there was just something so alluring about you that he couldn’t manage to put his finger on.

he lit the joint and took a long drag –  turning his body to people-watch through the screen door.

as the joint escaped his lips, heeseung’s phone lit up with a notification,

1 new message from "lucky charm"! sorry to keep u waiting, i'll be there in liekkkk 10 ish mins?

he smiled at your text, before turning his gaze back at the sight in front of him.

the joint met the curve of his mouth again – letting it sit there when a familiar face caught his eye.

he was sure that was him.

soobin choi carried himself in an arrogant manner; arm hung sleazily around some random chick, chugging his beer – all with a stupid cunning grin on his face.

heeseung furrowed a brow, watching soobin like a hawk – sharing his beer with the chick beside him, laughing when a little spilled on her dress.

he dropped the joint on the floor, clenching his jaw tightly.

one flaw about heeseung lee is that; he doesn’t think, he just does.

so when his two feet drag themselves back inside, he doesn’t do anything to restrain himself.

inching closer to him, heeseung yelled confrontationally, “soobin choi?”

soobin’s smile remained, “who the fuck are you?” he laughs, taking his arm off the girl’s shoulders.

any kind of coherent thoughts had disappeared – all heeseung knew was that he was angry, that soobin is a complete asshole, and what he’s about to do is totally justifiable, right?

but it wasn’t even like you and him were dating – in fact, you two were far from that. there was no real reason to even confront soobin in the first place.

and maybe this was just all the intoxication doing the work – but soobin’s face just elicited a violent reaction from heeseung.

a drunken heeseung could’ve sworn his face kept screaming, “punch me heeseung! just fucking punch me!”

so he did.

all soobin could quickly spit out was a, “what the fuck?” before heeseung lunged at him.

the two were now toppling over the coffee table, stirring up attention from the rest of the party-goers.

heeseung had just kept landing punch after punch in a fit of rage.

amid the fight, he heard a voice called out his name, “heeseung!”

.☘︎ ݁˖

you and your friends had just arrived at taehyun’s not too long ago.

upon entering his condo, you all were taken aback to see that a fight had broken out.

it wasn’t until you had gotten closer to the scene that you realized that soobin was one of the people involved.

you couldn’t really make out who the guy landing punches on him was, before you saw a familiar “luck” inked on the knuckles of the perpetrator.

you stare at his fist in the air before it swiftly jabbed soobin’s face.

it didn’t really register to you at the moment, you were just in shock.

all you kept thinking was – what the fuck is happening? and why the fuck would heeseung and soobin be fighting of all people?

it was only after you saw an angry taehyun run up towards them had you decided to call out his name.

“heeseung!”

he doesn’t look at you just yet – you couldn't even tell if he heard you in the first place.

taehyun pulls heeseung away and a couple of his friends that you’ve seen at his shop help him get off.

soobin rolls off the coffee table, “this guy is fucking crazy!” grabbing his face and pointing directly at heeseung, “i don’t even fucking know who he is!”

at that moment, you just wanted to shrivel up into a ball and hide out of shame.

was this because of you? how else would heeseung know who soobin is – he doesn’t even go to nyu.

you can’t help but feel a little annoyed now – why would he do that? he had no place to meddle further into your business and take matters into his own hands.

taehyun pushes an intoxicated – and now wounded, heeseung to the ground, “dude, get the fuck out of my property.”

you watch heeseung get up and roll his eyes before storming out of taehyun’s condo.

a few of his friends try to follow him out, but he just shrugs them off.

giselle looks at you, mouth gaped open, “what the hell just happened.”

all in visible shock and confusion, yeonjun, beomgyu, yunjin, and sunoo all turn their attention to you.

you curse under your breath and decide to run after heeseung.

.☘︎ ݁˖

you’d been looking for heeseung for a while now until you finally found him leaning against a streetlight.

the air was cold and the streets were quiet compared to the inside of taehyun’s building.

while approaching him, you called out his name sternly, “heeseung.”

with his head still down, you begin, “what was that all about?” your brows furrowed in confusion and anger, “was that because of me?”

heeseung looks up at you straight-faced but doesn’t say a word.

you go on, “seriously, what were you thinking!?”

he reeked of weed and whiskey and looked visibly intoxicated – not to mention the small cuts on his face.

“i’m sorry heeseung but you can’t just meddle in my business like that.”

heeseung finally spoke, looking frustrated now, “you don’t understand.”

“oh, i think of all people i’d understand.” you chuckled in annoyance.

he didn’t want to tell you the real reason why soobin had ghosted you two years ago; he didn’t have the heart to, and knew you’d be better off not knowing the truth anyways.

“he’s – fuck, you don’t get it, he treated you like shit!” 

“you think i don’t know that? of course i fucking know that heeseung! but still, you can’t just go ahead and do something like that!” 

heeseung looks away from you now, “wow okay – fuck me then for trying to help you.”

you pause and stare at him in disbelief.

heeseung covers his eyes out of shame, “fuck, sorry, i didn’t mean it like that – i just got carried away in the heat of the moment.”

he looks at you apologetically now, “i’m sorry lucky, i didn’t mean it like that really. i just thought – fuck, i don’t know, i thought i would’ve been doing you a favour.”

you don’t respond yet – you just continue listening to him, “i realize how stupid it was now. i’m sorry – really.”

after a beat of silence, you let out a deep exhale, “okay."

"it’s okay," you assured him, "i forgive you, you had pure intentions.”

heeseung refuses to look back at you out of embarrassment.

you stare at him for a while; this is the first time you're seeing him properly.

heeseung’s hair was ruffled and messy, eyes low, red, and watery.

he was wearing a plain black t-shirt that exposed his tattoos; a sleeve connecting from his hand to his upper arm, tattoos peeking through his collar – the ink slowly creeping to his neck.

you examine him for a while before you notice his knuckles reading, “luck,” are all bloodied up.

you grab heeseung’s hand gently, bringing it closer to your face for further inspection, “you should get this cleaned up or else it’ll get an infection.” 

you shift your attention from his knuckles to his face – heeseung finally looks at you now.

you lightly brush your thumb on the small cuts on his cheek and lip, “these too.”

heeseung's eyes follow the movement of your thumb tracing the cuts on his face.

seeing your genuine concern, he reassures you, “yeah, i know. I’ll probably clean it up tomorrow morning or something – ”

“let me take care of you,” you quickly interject.

heeseung softens his gaze.

“it’s the least i could do – i mean, i guess i was basically the reason why you’ve got all these cuts on you,” you look down at his knuckles again, “plus, you did me a favour. i’ve always wanted to punch soobin myself anyways,” you joked.

“okay," heeseung smirks, "i’ll let you take care of me.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

when you arrive at your apartment, you immediately drag heeseung to your bathroom.

“eager much?” heeseung jokes.

you roll your eyes smiling and push him onto your bathroom counter.

even though he was sitting, heeseung still managed to tower over you – you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him.

you pull out a first-aid kit from your bottom cabinet; taking out antiseptics and bandages.

heeseung leans back on your wall, grinning, “aw, i thought you were gonna kiss it better.”

grabbing his right hand, you teased, “you’re making me regret taking care of you right now.”

“sorry lucky.” he chuckled.

you quickly wrap his hand with a bandage and move onto the cuts on his face, “come closer to me.”

heeseung listens and moves forward, tilting his head down a bit so you could reach him.

you place a hand on his jaw to steady him – you two are so close now, you could feel his breath on your skin.

heeseung doesn’t do anything – just watches you intently.

you felt so much pressure; your heartbeat thumped a little too loudly, standing together a little too still – if one of you were to move, your lips would touch.

were you waiting for something? waiting for heeseung to move closer and fill the gap?

you two froze there for a minute –  no one dared to move, before you finally decided to break the ice, “okay, your cuts are pretty small, i’ll just clean them up and put some vaseline on it.”

heeseung nods while you cater to his wounds; a cut to his cheek and another on his bottom lip.

when you reach the cut on his bottom lip, you tilt his head further down to get a clear sight.

here you two were again; unspoken and a little too close.

heeseung suddenly tucks strands of your hair behind your ear – this makes you falter a bit. 

he notices and chuckles softly, “thanks for taking care of me.”

you finish up and take a step back, “no problem, hee.”

he checks the time on his phone: 3:46 AM.

heeseung hops off the counter, “guess i should get going now, yeah?”

“yeah, it’s getting really late.”

there’s a pause of silence, before heeseung begins again.

“sorry about the party and stuff… those are all your friends too – you must be embarrassed. i’m sorry.”

you wave your hands in disagreement, “no, don’t worry!” you hesitate, “i just… wanted to see you tonight.”

"me too," heeseung smiles, “goodnight, lucky.”

“goodnight, hee.”

and for the first time, you watch heeseung leave.

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author's note: listen… i’m sorry for the upload delay but i hope this update makes it up to u🫣 i actually did write this chapter a lot earlier but i hated the draft so i rewrote the entire thing🤓 alsoooo yn got a text message from soobin what could it be???👀

bonus ⟢ soobin’s pov before heeseung swings at him:

TAGLIST [CLOSED]

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copyright © bambiens 2025.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Hii, i saw your prompt post and wanted to make a request - i don't have anything specific to ask for except 214 and 208 with Mingi - thank you in advance if you choose to write this 🙂‍↕️

➯a/n: dinner is serrrrved🙏 or breakfast depending on when tumble decides to post this lol this is my first time writing mingi kind of mean / darkly (besides Cornflower Blue — yurrr shameless plug kkkk) aaaaand im not gonna lie i loved it

Pipsqueak

❥Song Mingi x fem reader

208 + 214: size difference + cnc

✫彡wordcount: 1.5k

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: cnc (meaning dark content !!) including struggling/restraining/begging/"stop"/ect, using a non verbal sign that cnc is on the table, sore sex, forced orgasm, slight degradation (calling reader a pipsqueak and insinuating she's weak), fingering, dumbification (maybe?), unprotected, pet names, big dick mink !!, i might have a fixation on mingi's hands and his rings, little bit of whimpering towards the end as a treat lolol

everything is previously agreed upon and consensual ! if you do these things, be safe about it. consent is sexy !!

♡masterlist !♡

18+. MINORS HIT THE ROAD.

✦ . PIPSQUEAK⁺

"C'mon, Doll," Mingi chuckles from above you, pinning you to the bed with only his forearm across your shoulders, "give it your all, I'm not convinced. It's almost like you do want me to fuck you right now. If you don't want me to, you're gonna have to try a little harder."

"No!" You yell with a pout, "Mingi, please! I'm still sore from yesterday." You pause your thrashing and look up at him, breathing heavily while he's completely calm. His pupils are blown way out of proportion, it almost looks like his eyes are completely black as his hair casts a shadow over his face.

"And?" He asks with a 'so what' tone in his voice, fingertips sliding under the strap of your pajama top. His cold rings creating goosebumps on your skin. He didn't even bother to take them off before crawling over you and waking you up with a rough kiss.

He came home a bit late, saw the pretty little necklace he gifted you around your neck — and all of his exhaustion from the day was gone. Replaced by the primal need to have you.

That particular necklace with his birth stone on it means that you want to play rough and mean.

"And... so use my mouth instead?" You know he's not going to go for that, but it gives you the time to trace your hand down his stomach and towards his bulge; about to make contact when he grabs your wrist and slams it back down to the mattress.

"Your mouth isn't as good. I want your pussy."

"I can take it all this time," you plead with a squeal while he uses his free hand to rid you of your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop, "I won't gag! I've been practicing with the-"

"You know what doesn't need practice?" It's a rhetorical question, maybe. Not meant to be answered as he answers it himself by cupping your entire heat in his hand. "Her."

His chunky rings make you jolt, feeling like ice against your heated lips. "St-stop it!"

"I can always fit my whole cock inside your little pussy," he grins as you subconsciously rock your hips into his grasp, "even when you say you don't want it~"

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he sinks two fingers inside of you — deep and fast. "Min!! Please, you fu- you fucked me so hard yesterday, be gentle!"

"You can handle it." He smiles sickly sweet as your wet, lewd noises start filling the air. "I know My Doll can handle it."

His words make you gush, they always do. Especially when he's got his fingers curling and scissoring like he knows exactly where to hit; because he does. "Fuck! Fuck youuu," you trail off your cursing in a moan as you grab the headboard, trying to pull yourself away from the torrent of pleasure.

"Mh? I thought you didn't want to~" He laughs lowly as you groan, your eyebrows creasing together as he targets your g-spot. When he slides another finger inside of you, you slump on the bed. Your chest heaving and your lips pressed together as you whine at the stretch. "Is that really all the fight you have in you? All it takes is my fingers to make you all docile?"

"Shut up, you jerk," you bite back weakly, focused entirely too much on the heavenly feeling of his thick fingers slipping in and out of you so rhythmically and the slightly torturous feeling of your sore walls being stretched again less than twenty four hours after he'd fucked your brains out.

"Hm," he pouts dramatically while giving a particularly rough thrust of his fingers, keeping them as deep as they'll go and making you shiver. "Maybe next time I won't be so nice to stretch you out." You clench around his digits, a loud cry coming up your throat as he curls his fingers in a way that makes your body light ablaze — and he doesn't move them. "I'll just take what I want without worrying about making you cum."

"Mingi! Min- ple- oh, fuck, stop, stop!" But he knows by that look in your eyes that you want him to do the exact opposite. You pull your legs together, knees knocking against one another as you dig your feet into the bed and slide up — his fingers following you the entire way. Nowhere for you to go. Nowhere that Mingi won't follow and pin you down again.

You moan loudly, eyes clouding with tears at the intense and unwavering pleasure.

"You're fucking soaking my hand for someone who doesn't want this," he bites his lip, nearly purring with delight as he easily pries your knees apart and gets a good view of your sopping heat. "Just let it go, angel. I know you want to, get nice and ready for me."

"I d-don't! Please!" Really, you're pleading to cum — not the other way around. He knows just how to make you feel like you're on cloud nine. "I don't want to!"

"Yes, you do." Yes, you really do.

There's something so unbelievably hot in the way he looks down at you like a predator, about to snap and take what he wants.

And what he wants is you. To force you to cum, yank your orgasm from you whether you say you want it or not.

"Please, I don-" You pant, managing to lift one of your legs and press your foot against his chest; pushing him back weakly.

You yelp as he grabs your ankle and pulls it over his shoulder, leaning over you and driving his fingers deeper. "Is that all you got, pipsqueak?"

Your walls clamp down on his digits, giving neither of you much warning before you're creaming all over them with a defeated and trembling moan of his name.

"Fuck, that's it Doll," he rubs down your shaking leg gently while slowing his fingers; his eyes scanning your blissful face, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, your hands gripping the sheets. "There you go."

Still dizzy and gone from your brain with your pleasure, you hardly register that's he's pulled his fingers out and is licking them clean as he turns you over effortlessly with his other hand, sucking your juices off of his rings like it's syrup.

He would be a gentleman and give you another orgasm with his tongue — you are his favorite meal, after all — but he's painfully hard and needs nothing more than to pound you as hard as he can.

He was rough with you yesterday, so he goes slow at first. Bending one of your legs and slotting himself between them. He barely fits, and the fact of that makes his member twitch.

He doesn't give you a warning before he's sinking into you, leaving you completely breathless all over again as he pushes every thick inch deeper at a maddeningly slow pace.

When you grind your hips back impatiently, you're rewarded with the rest of his massive girth slamming into you. "F- sweet mother of fucking- ah!" Your cursing turns into yelled moans with every quick and brutal thrust of his hips. "Slow d-ahh! Down! Slow down!"

But the pace at which he's pummeling your sore cunt feels too fucking good for either of you to actually want to — let alone be able to.

Nothing in the world could make Mingi slow down. Nothing expect you genuinely pleading; and your moans are nothing but ecstasy, even as you beg for mercy on you pussy.

"Min!" You scream as you fist the blanket, your body thrust further up the bed with every one of his ruthless actions until his large hands wrap around your waist and hold you still.

He leans over your back, long leg hooking over yours and fingers digging into your sides. "You feel so g-good," he nearly whines as he keeps up his rough in-and-out. "Who knew a pipsqueak like you could take me so well?"

If you thought you got away with your reaction to the nickname earlier — how it made you cum — you were sorely mistaken.

All you can do is moan, held under him and no possible way to escape from the onslaught of pleasure he's fucking into you.

He bites back a whimper as your sensitive walls clench and flutter around him, his lips parted with his deep moans. "I wonder how many loads my little doll can take before we ruin the blanket again. You w- fuck!" He slams into you rougher, skin slapping against skin and echoing on the walls. "Wanna find out?"

"Yes!" You nod quickly, bringing your hand to wrap over his as he presses it down by your head for leverage.

"Yeah," he chuckles breathlessly, "I thought so, pipsqueak~"

You're in for a long night.

✦ . PIPSQUEAK⁺

[apricot-blossomss]

Heyy.. would it be alright if to request more Apollo? Specifically exploring more on his fear of potentially losing you just like he's lost all his previous lovers? 😔

☛ apollo insists to be in the delivery room when you birth your child, afraid of what might happen

☛ sfw; tw: childbirth, blood, fear of dying, fear of losing someone; mortal!fem! reader; inspired by the comments on this post

When your mother had taught you about pregnancy and childbirth, she had left out quite a lot. Like the fact that a human being pushing out of you was a very painful and potentially deadly experience. When another contraction wrecked you, you screamed, thankfully drowning out the worried hushes of the doctors surrounding you.

They were the best in the city, assembled by your father, the king, and the fact that these famed and gifted men were sneaking such unnerved glances had anxiety shoot through you almost as badly as the next contraction. You were probably yelling at some poor midwife that had offered you a cup of water, but you really couldn't tell, because the pain, hot and white and stronger than any you had felt before, clouded your vision with tears.

More than anything, you wanted him with you now, but that was unthinkable. Fathers, much less unmarried ones, could not be in here. And so, only the light of a bloody sun offered you comfort, shining through the thin curtains of your chambers, illuminating your writhing figure. It felt like you were being teared apart, and neither doctors nor nurses were gentle with you, shouting instructions you couldn't decipher. Instead, another scream escaped your hoarse throat and you squeezed your eyes shut.

More than anything, you wished to escape your body, flee to a happier memory. A few weeks ago, Apollo had picked you up from your palace and taken you to his gardens, impossibly beautiful and divine. He had layed you down, barely letting you walk because he insisted you let him do everything, singing to you and the baby gently, engulfing you in his soothing arms. At some point, he had leaned down, smoothly transitioning from singing to whispering endless love confessions into your ear, not even stopping his poetic ramblings when you turned your head to kiss him.

You let the feeling of his warmth, the memory of your happiness and the glory of his gardens wash over you. Imagining a golden hue taking over your body, flooding over your limbs, down to the tips of your fingers. Almost, you could smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers. For a few moments, the pain was but a faint memory. Then, it hit you again. Doctors were scrambling above you, they looked worried and you squeezed your eyes shut, desperately trying to escape to the garden but failing as the reality of the situation overwhelmed you. Somewhere far away, there was a loud bang.

Apollo pushed open the palace doors with such force that they threatened to crumble under his might. The guards that had assembled to investigate the noise retreated just as hastily, falling to their knees in front of the god who had just blessed the palace with his presence. Human sized but otherwise unmistakably divine, his golden eyes tracked over the soldiers, and the ones they fell on were shook, trembling and covering. A golden halo adorned his locks, the fabrics of his tunic floating around him, moved by an invisible force.

His eyes found the officer under the soldiers and with few strides, he walked over to him, his hand gripped the man's jaw as he made him look up. The man's skin burned from the divine touch and he whimpered, not daring to meet the god's eyes. "Where is she?" His voice was surprisingly calm and restrained, though heavy with meaning and implication- and a subtle threat that didn't need to be heard.

The guard gave the directions and Apollo let go of his head, making him slump into himself. He didn't even look up when the god took off, crossing the entrance hall in a matter of seconds.

The closer Apollo came to your chambers, the louder he could hear you and he thought his heart would shatter at the screams that now guided him through the halls. He barely registered the servants and royals kneeling before him, the guards hastily opening doors for him, all he could hear was you, all he could see flashing before his waking eye were the images from his nightmares.

The sound of your screams seeped into the dark corners of his mind, a horrifying symphony. It was underlaid with images of you, cold, bloody, in the bed where he had made love to you for the first time, staring up at him with empty eyes whose joy had been forever trampled by his doing. Gilded halls flew by and their flashes formed more images, not fears but memories. No, not you, too. Not you.

Suddenly, he realized he had reached the doors to your chambers, had unconsciously stopped in front of them. It was so silent. Though they threatened to tear him to pieces, he longed for your screams, a proof that you were still breathing and fighting. He realized that he couldn't move, couldn't go in. But he had to. There he stood, all powerful and frozen, until he heard you let out a muffled cry. Apollo released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and wanted to burst through the doors when they opened and a small, old man emerged, closing it behind him and falling to his knees. He recognized him as a doctor, and two others followed.

"High lord Apollo," the first one inquired, hands raised like in prayer. "Please, remain behind closed doors. It would be improper for a lady of her station to have the father in the room."

Likely because he saw the god's eye twitching dangerously, the second doctor spoke up pleadingly. "High lord, we will do all we can to extract your child from the womb, but there has been some trouble. Please, bless our labours and remain here."

"The labours I am blessing are not yours," Apollo scoffed and approached the doors, the mortal doctors scrambling to the side and out of his way. They were not fit to treat you, they weren't looking after you, and they were trying to keep him out? Suddenly, he turned around and the doctors instantly fell to their knees once more, but his eyes didn't fly by them once, instead searching the corridor as if he was waiting for someone. All mortals jumped when his voice roared.

"EILEITHYIA!"

The midwives swarming you froze, and so did you, when a man's loud voice echoed through the room, not just jumping in between the confines of the walls but penetrating every cell and bone, making everyone jump. The worried whispering increased and fell dead silent the next moment, when something- someone- broke through the doors and stormed into the room in a ray of fire and godly might.

As soon as he saw you on the bed, drenched in sweat and probably some blood, too, his furious expression softened, crumbled before your eyes. In the blink of an eye, he was kneeling by your side, wrapping his larger hand around yours and brushing sweaty strands of hair out of your face. Apollo. His soft, soothing hand came to cradle your face and you leaned into it, suppressing a wince. "You're here"

"I am so sorry I am late," he said sincerely, caressing your cheek. His voice hardened when he addressed the midwives. "What are you waiting for? Go on." Then, his eyes found yours again. Though he gave you a reassuring smile, you could see the panic lurking in the depths of his golden irises. "How are you feeling, sunshine?"

The concern and barely concealed fear in his eyes made your heart clench and you forced a smile, despite the growing pain. "I'm fine," you tried to reassure him, smiling through the pain, "I promi-" Your own scream cut you off mid sentence when the next contraction hit, even worse than the last ones, nearly splitting you in two. "Shit- Gods- Curse you, Apollo, for putting a child into me!"

He was all over you, cooing, peppering your face with kisses and stroking your hair as you sobbed. Even in your clouded state, you saw the pain behind the facade of reassurance. "I'm sorry," he breathed, he sounded almost broken, as if he could feel your pain tenfold, and your fear was nothing next to his panic. Quite unfitting, seeing as nothing could happen to him in this situation.

"You're going to be okay," he said, but he sounded everything but convinced. In moments like these, you wished you couldn't see through him quite so well, that you could ban the knowledge of his prophetic abilities out of your mind. Because your breath constricted in panic over your own fate and that of the struggling baby. Even the best physicians had been clueless what to do, and who could possibly know more than them about childbirth?

Just then, the midwives froze once more as another person entered the room. A goddess, without any doubt, in flowing pink robes, indescribably beautiful. "Go," Apollo said, it was an order and directed at the mortals, who didn't even grab their medical instruments but scrambled out of the room in a haste. The young woman let them pass by and then approached the bed, frowning. "Sunshine?" Apollo said softly, grabbing your attention. "That's my sister Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth."

Oh Gods.

Apollo seemed to misjudge your shocked and upset expression, wincing in guilt. "I couldn't find Artemis, that's why I took so long, or I would have brought her. But Eileithyia is also an expert-"

"Apollo!" you interrupted him, staring at him wide eyed. "Please tell me you didn't bring the goddess of childbirth to my- you can't, that's too much effort for just me-" Another contraction hit and you weren't able to muffle the piercing scream, your fingers burying themselves into Apollos arm so deep you were vaguely surprised he didn't bleed golden ichor.

God and goddess shared a look, with Apollo's looking like a what-on-earth-are-you-waiting-for, and Eileithyia elegantly settled at the foot of the bed, placing a hand on your bump. Her fingers drew circles as she mumbled under her breath in a language foreign to you, then she met your gaze. "Push, dear."

Despite the pain, you did as she said, hiding your face in your lover's hand where it was warm and dark and smelled of better days. It was like his hand alone drowned all other noise out, but still, you could hear him frantically ask his sister what he could do. What you didn't register was her answer, but you had a pretty good idea when the sun god leaned closer and brought his arms to cage you in and hold you close.

It was better. The pain was still greater than anything you had ever felt, but the goddesses presence eased your nerves, reassuring you, and your lovers touch soothed you even more. It gave you the strength to push, again and again, only wanting for it to be over as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Suddenly, you heard the god whisper in your ear, frantic, as if he was caught in a horrible nightmare, hallucinating. It was incoherent, but you were able to make out some of the words. "Please... no, no, no... not again.... not her, I can't take it this time, not her, please... I'll do anything, just not her..."

A new fear closed around your heart like an icy fist, not for you or the baby but for him. What would it do to him if you died? Over the last months, he had declared again and again that his love for you was different than with almost all the mortals he'd loved before, that he couldn't let you go or lose you, that he wanted to spend every second you granted him with you. And you hadn't believed him. How could you? There was nothing that made you special, nothing that would justify a god's devotion to a mere mortal like you were. But his voice in your ear sounded so genuinely and utterly terrified that you couldn't help but ask yourself if you had been wrong, had misjudged him and underestimated his love for you.

"I see the head," the goddess chimed in, interrupting Apollos feverish ramblings, and his hold on you tightened. It was as if he had just awoken from a dream and his voice got clearer as he kissed your temple and cradled you in his arms. "You hear that, sunshine? You're doing so well, you're so strong. Almost there, love, almost there." Your breaths were high-pitched and your eyes burning with tears, but you squeezed his hand and pushed, throwing your head back in another guttural cry.

And that was when you heard it. Another one's cries mixed with yours, but they were higher and undoubtedly- Eileithyia emerged from the foot of the bed, cutting the umbilical cord with one hand and holding a slimy, squirming little thing in the other arm. Apollo next to you grew uncharacteristically quiet when you reached out and the goddess placed the little bundle in your arms with a small, gracious smile. "It's a girl."

You hadn't even really thought about this moment, and for a second, a wave of anxiety hit you as you stared down, drinking in the sight of your child like the sweetest nectar. What if you didn't do it right? How should you hold her? Should you stay still or rock her in your arms? But suddenly, it didn't matter anymore because you realized the little bundle fit into your arms like a puzzle piece. You didn't even really have to do anything, or rather, your body seemed to know what to do and you let your instincts take over, rocking the little one gently in your arms.

You barely registered when the goddess left, unable to stick around. When the little girl took notice of you, her cries subsided and she blinked up at you curiously, cooing softly. "H-hi" Your voice was unstable and cracked, hoarse from all the screaming. "Hey there." With widened eyes, the little one observed you and you felt like she was looking right into your soul.

The bed creaked when Apollo moved closer, holding you up against his chest. Your daughter saw him and started crying and you let out a teary giggle at his slightly piqued expression. His eyes met yours and they were so warm, so soft, so full of love you could have drowned in them right then and there. "What do you want to call her, sunshine?"

Resting your head against his shoulder, you smiled at the little girl in your arms. She had quieted down once more, looking quite sleepy. This had been an ordeal for her just as much as you. "Phoebe," you said softly and heard Apollo sucked in his breath sharply behind you. His ragged breaths were hot against your sweat-coated skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "That's..." He was out of words, which had to be a premiere.

Another long breath. "May I?" You handed your baby to him carefully and he took her as if she was made of glass, holding her with the utmost care. His golden eyes were shining and you were pretty sure they had tears in them. Rocking her in his arms, he looked back at you. "I thought... I was so scared..." He knew that you knew what he meant, and his chest swelled with emotion when you brought your hand up to his locks and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. "I know."

Apollo handed little Phoebe back to you and grabbed a towel, cleaning her carefully and wrapping her in it before giving her back to you and kneeling at the bedside once more. As his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, you felt the exhaustion of several hours of labour weigh your bones down. But in that moment, there was an array of female voices coming from behind the door and you heard Apollo let out an exasperated sigh next to you.

When he saw your puzzled look, he attempted to explain. "I'm afraid my frantic search for my sister hasn't gone unnoticed by anyone on Olympus- those are the muses, they wanted to be the first to see the baby." When you raised a brow, he fumbled over his words quite uncharacteristically. "They know what you mean to me. They know the second you give me confirmation, I'm going to take you up to Olympus and marry you and make you immortal."

"You are?" you interrupted, eyes widened. "Why didn't I know about that?"

"What have I been trying to tell you?" the god exclaimed truly desperate and wringing his hands. "Did you think all those promises and plays and songs and poems and operas were just for show?"

"I mean... a little," you admitted. Phoebe had fallen asleep in your arms and you were glad about that, because it meant her innocent eyes weren't going to be tainted by Apollo biting down on your shoulder in frustration and huffing something about 'obliviousness' under his breath.

"Do you really mean that?" you said and couldn't help but imagine it. Living with him, raising your daughter together with nothing keeping you apart. Not looking over your shoulder anymore, searching for him, if he was still there or had just been a beautiful dream. You had considered yourself his for months now, but what if he was yours, too?

Apollo opened his mouth to answer when the doors flew open and a group of women hurried into the room. All beautiful in a way that had you grow very conscious of the fact that you were currently a sweaty, bloody mess, all with striking smiles on their faces. The tallest of the nine saw you first and her smile widened. "How are you, m'lady?"

You had never been addressed as m'lady by any immortal and didn't really know what to answer, but you didn't have to as the nine ladies swarmed the bed, cooing about the baby in your arms.

"The second it's too much, I'll throw them out," Apollo whispered into your ear but you shook your head, giving him a smile. You had a feeling that your daughter would come out of this encounter blessed with all sorts of gifts.

☀️

Apollo had given Phoebe into the trustworthy arms of Calliope to let you rest for a while. Sitting next to you on the bed, he personally cleaned you as you were snoring peacefully. His gaze got caught on your face and he knew he wouldn't get it back anytime soon, so he set the cloth down and propped himself up on one elbow next to you, observing the slight movement of your lips, the flutter of your lashes, the rising and falling of your chest.

He could see it all, even without prophetic powers. You, in a wedding gown, moving into his palace, being his wife, his lady, his queen. Raising your daughter, teaching her how to play the lyre. How would it be to no longer look over his shoulder in paranoia, if you were still there, hadn't been snatched away or stolen from him or- The god let out a long sigh.

When you mumbled something in your sleep, he couldn't help the smile taking over his lips. How could you have been so oblivious as to think he would just leave? Surely, the third romantic opera he wrote for you must've convinced you? Did you even know that you had become his only muse, the person his whole body of art revolved around?

In that moment, he swore to himself to never stop trying to convince you. Eventually, you would have to believe him. After all, you had all the time in the world.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[yandere-daydreams]

How do you think divorcing any jjk man or genshin character would go? Like straight up just leaving them cold when you had the chance.

tw - non/con, controlling relationships, abusive themes.

hmmmm i've never actually written a divorce fic have i. anyway we're going jjk with this because i've thought long and hard and come up with neat and concise categories that encompass all of their freak needs.

some less controlling men, like gojo and nanami, might let you go through with it, less because they understand why you want to leave them and more because they don't fully believe you ever would. you're their soulmate, the love of their life, the light of their existence, and even if you're a little angry now, you'll come to your senses eventually. sure, they'll talk to your little attorney and go to your little court dates, but the moment you actually start to physically remove yourself from their vicinity, try to strip them of the parts of yourself that they've already taken ownership of, they'll put a stop to your temper tantrum with a few more locks on the front door and a long night or reminding you why you got married in the first place, followed immediately by burning those silly papers you brought home and sliding the ring that you tried to return back onto your finger, where it belongs. they'll let you have your fun, sure, but at the end of the day, they're your husband, and they'll remind you as many times as they have to until it sticks.

others, like geto and yuuta, never present divorce as an option. geto's a special case - if you got married legally, then there's a very, very good chance that he's got you locked away too tightly to so much as see a courthouse, let alone step inside of one long enough to file for something as time-consuming as divorce. if you ever get away from him, you should be fleeing the country, not hiring an attorny. you know better than to waste your time on something so petty.

as for yuuta, there's only a small chance you consented to marriage in the first place. it's much more likely that you simply woke up with a ring stitched surgically onto your finger and a strange man calling himself your husband in your bed, and 'divorce' just isn't a word in his vocabulary. he's going to be your husband until the day he dies, and no scrap of paper you might show him is going to change that.

and others still, like toji, are going to panic. you can't leave him. i mean, you can - it's not like he's around often enough to stop you - but you can't leave him. you can say that you're sick of him crashing on your couch, that you don't like how often he comes home covered in blood, that you concerned about the well-being of his kids, but that doesn't mean you have to start yelling about ""restraining orders"" and ""calling cps"". you two are good together, and he's sure you'll see that after he gives you a good reason to stay with him - namely, a broken leg and his cock shoved deep enough inside of you to push every other thought out of your mind. you're lucky he loves you so much. if you're lucky, he'll even recite his vows as he fucks the concept of divorce out of your head entirely <3

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Someday

Synopsis: The day of the Knight's Festival has come, and as it comes, secrets are revealed. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess (not so) Secret Relationship, Princess and Aemond thinking of their future, Fluff, PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I'm baaack!

“Seriously, Aemond… you must be more cheerful! You’re acting as if we are welcoming just mere nobles instead of your family, who you had not seen for moons— surely you miss them, do you not?” You sighed as you could feel the quiet contempt in your knight as you two stood by the castle gates waiting for the wheelhouse of House Targaryen. “Now you’re making me wonder if you would react so coldly if you did not see me for a long period of time,” You muttered and straightened your stance as you saw horses in the distance. “I will have no chance to miss you— I’m always by your side.” 

You turned to your sworn protector, who finally spoke after he had held back his tongue the past few days as he had grown quite annoyed with your insistence on inviting his family. He knew you came from a place of love— that you only wished for him to be surrounded by his kin as he was to receive such a great honor, so he held back his words as he did not want to unjustly pour out his grievances on you. 

“Able to speak again, now are we?” You questioned with a raise of your brow as you had practically been speaking to a brick wall days prior. You did not take it to heart as Aemond stayed silent in your presence— he did not ignore you, nor was he indifferent. You understood that he was just reigning in his frustration at your insistence on inviting his family to court. “Look… I’m sorry if I had pestered you with this matter and did not truly take your reluctance to do it seriously. But I just fear that if you do not invite them, you’ll regret it and…” You trailed, not wanting to list your second reason, but Aemond’s lilac eye implored you. “And what, princess?” He questioned as he slyly stepped closer to you. 

“And because I wish to know your family— more about you… I wish to know more about the man I love.” You whispered, and Aemond felt his heartbeat in his ears. Gods, he wanted to kiss you. To pull you flush against him and feel your lips dance their familiar dance. But as you two were exposed to the prying eyes of the court, Aemond could do nothing. He only took a mental note that when you two were once again in the privacy of your chambers, he would need to kiss you and show how much he loved you as well. Aemond took in a deep breath, restraining himself from doing something untoward, settling for the fact that it was him that you loved. Replaying the words you uttered in his mind to sedate himself. 

You placed a pleasing and welcoming smile on your lips as House Targaryen’s wheelhouse came into view, a bit nervous as you would meet Aemond’s family. You waited silently as squires brought out a platform, and the wheelhouse doors opened, revealing a man dressed in fine green fabric with an embroidered gold dragon on his chest. “Brother!” Aemond’s sibling yelled, his words almost in a drunken slur, but as he drew closer to your side and went to embrace Aemond, the smell of wine was prominent enough. “Let go, Aegon,” Aemond gritted as his drunken brother hugged him tightly. “Still resisting affection, I see— though I’m glad you have not changed,” He laughed as you stood by the side, chewing on your inner cheeks to hinder your amused smile. 

Aemond held a look of contempt, but from the side of his eye, he saw you trying to hold back your amused smile. “Princess, my brother, Lord Aegon Targaryen.” Aemond introduced his brother, who only now seemed to realize you were there. His violet eyes widened, and a smirk rose to his lips, a smirk that Aemond knew all too well and was not at all pleased about. “Your Highness,” he bowed and took your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Aemond resisted the urge to pounce on his brother as he had the gull to touch your skin. “Tales of your beauty are not at all lies— now I understand why my brother is so insistent on never leaving his post to pay us a visit,” He smiled, and Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened. You glanced over your knight, unaware that he was requested home and had been using his post as a reason not to leave. You could only smile at his brother as you could not think of a reply.  

Thankfully, the others that housed the carriage came into view. Your eyes first landed upon a woman with auburn hair that was wholly different from Aemond’s and his brother's. “Mother,” Aemond greeted, and you were shocked to find out that a lady who looked so young and with such different features was the woman who birthed Aemond. Aemond was not given a reply, his mother only cupping his cheek. “It’s good to finally see you,” She said quietly and slowly removed her hand from her son’s scarred cheek. You averted your eyes; in truth, you expected Aemond’s mother to show him a touch more affection, but you suppose each person had a different expression to show their love. Surely, you should have known that well by now. 

“Helaena,” Aemond then uttered, a ghost of a smile on his lips that only you could detect. You turned to the last person to exit the carriage, a girl a few years older than yourself with the same features as Aemond and their brother. There was a constant look of sadness in her eyes even though a slight smile was placed on her lips. You smiled as her violet eyes landed upon you, a slight nod of your head as an acknowledgment. “Princess, my mother, Lady Alicent Targaryen, and my only sister, Lady Helaena.” Aemond introduced as the two of them curtsied before you. “It is a pleasure to meet you all,” You smiled charmingly, and you hid your excitement as they returned it. “I’m well certain that you’re all weary from travel; if you’d like, I can escort you to your chambers,” You offered as you glanced towards the squires who unloaded their trunks. “It’s fine, princess; one of the maids could assist them,” Aemond said coldly as he passed his judging gaze towards his brother, who unshamelessly eyed you. 

“Nonsense! These are your most esteemed guests; we shall at least escort them to their chambers,” You say and lift partly the skirt of your dress to turn towards the castle, Aemond, and his kin quickly following behind. 

Aemond looked over you from behind as you walked with his mother and sister, touring them around the castle and introducing them to the other nobilities you passed. He forwent his usual place by your side so he could walk and watch over his drunken brother. “I must say, brother, you made quite a name for yourself even if you had only left home barely a year ago.” Aegon hummed as he followed the gaze of his brother, who was consistently close to the princess. “Could you believe it? A mere second son, set to inherit nothing— threw away the comforts of his life to become an impoverished knight and less than a year later is to be bestowed the highest possible recognition for a knight of the kingdom! My, my, brother… how is that even possible?” 

“If you don’t simply just sit on your ass and drink your weight in wine, anything is possible, brother— even if you are just a second son.” Aemond gritted as you glanced behind and smiled at him, as always. He could never understand how you did that— how, with just your smile, you could make him forget the anger and rage that was always constant in his veins. You had a possibility to calm his mind and body while barely moving— how is that? Aemond breathed out and bit his cheeks; maybe he shouldn’t wonder why and seek the question… perhaps he should just be grateful. 

“I am quite fond of your sister,” you suddenly said as it was only the two of you roaming the halls, having just left his kin to rest in their chambers. “Hm, Helaena is the kindest and most gentle of us… though her shyness does prevent other people from knowing her more,” You nodded and threaded closer to your knight, earnestly trying to dissolve the damned gap. “You’re kin is very much quiet… “ You observed and Aemond felt a smile twitch to his lips. “And I am well certain that that would not be a problem for you… you have a gift for making even the most stubborn and tight-lipped individuals speak— I should know.” You bit your lip and smiled widely at him. 

You and your knight were to proceed to your chambers, but as your name rang out through the halls, Aemond had a remembrance that that scene had happened before. You turned behind you, and your wide smile turned wider if it were possible, quickly holding onto your skirt and running to leap into your half-brother’s arms. Aemond stayed rooted in his spot as you were spun around while in the arms of your half-brother. Resisting the urge to grow jealous as he held you close, reminding himself that he was your brother. “You need to stop coming unannounced! We have not prepared your chambers!” You exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm, a cross look on your face. “I’m fine anywhere, cousin. You could place me by the stable for all I care.” He smiled, and you shook your head, glancing behind only to realize your brother had yet to be introduced to your knight. 

“Cousin, this is Ser Aemond— he is to receive the Medal of Valor tomorrow.” You smiled and guided him closer to your knight, who bowed. “I know… everyone has heard of your heroicness in protecting the princess. Congratulations, Ser Aemond.” Your brother smiled, and you turned to Aemond, who looked like he was having difficulty returning it. You widened your eyes and implored him to remember decorum and that his coldness was certainly most unwarranted. “Thank you, my pr— my lor— I mean— thank you, my lord.” You bit your cheeks as your brother raised his brow as Aemond slipped with the deepest secret of your family. “Yes, well… I should find the king. I did promise to meet him the moment I arrived, but I knew you’d prefer to be the first to know that I am here.” You smiled further as your brother placed a chaste kiss on your temple before going about his way, leaving you and Ser Aemond. 

“I really thought you could keep a secret,” You sighed as you two continued on your way back to your chambers. “I can! I—I…” He stuttered and pursed your lips as if you had never witnessed him this flustered. “I got confused! I just noticed how similar he looks like the prince and how you have the same eyebrows,” He defended as he opened the door of your chambers for you. You breathed out a laugh and turned to him, flushing your body as you circled your arms around his neck, him taking the initiative to seal the gap between your lips. 

“You know, you are granted the days off during the feast; why are you still here?” You questioned as you two parted for air, Aemond’s eye still on your lips that had a nice hue of pink and was quick to grow slightly swollen. “Are you complaining?” He questioned as his arms around your waist pulled you closer as if it were still possible. “No, but I do wish you would rest.” You sighed, lowering your gaze as you toyed with the buttons of his armor. “I don’t need rest— I’d rather be with you,” You breathed out a laugh again, he always knew what to say to make your heart still and your knees weak. You smiled and rose to the tip of your toes to place a kiss on his cheek before parting from his arms, but he was quick to pull you back and kiss you again. 

Aemond could go on forever— could spend all of his days with you in his arms and his lips against yours. In fact, he intended on it. However, there was always something that pulled him out of his fantasy, this time, it was the knock on your door. You quickly parted your lips and ran to your sitting area. You took a book into your hands and opened it to a random page, pretending as if you were reading, and Aemond shook his head at how quick you were to act. “Come in,” you say distractedly as the second knock sounded out. 

“Ser Aemond… might you excuse us for a moment?” Your brother asked as he opened the door, your half-brother behind him, waiting for the knight’s response. Aemond glanced towards you, who gave him a nod as you straightened your back. “Of course, my prince,” He bowed, and your brother replaced his presence inside your chambers. Ameond stood closely stood by the door, eavesdropping on the conversation taht was to take place between you and your brother. 

“I hear you’ve been telling secrets,” The prince smirked as he stood before you. “I have not!” You quickly defended, looking in between your brothers. But they only raised a brow at you, a family trait, it would seem. “Fine! But it was only Ser Aemond! And we can trust him… he has been sworn to secrecy!” You defended. “Are your lips swollen?” Your other brother suddenly asked, forgetting the matter at hand. “What?” You felt your heart drop to your stomach. “Your lips… they’re bigger than usual.” He said, but luckily, your other brother intervened. “But why did you need to tell him?” 

You sighed and traced the embroidery of your dress. “He thought brother was a suitor, and it concerned him how all of you just let him walk me back to my chambers without an escort… I had to explain to him the situation and that nothing untoward was afoot,” you reasoned but the prince only shook his head. “Then say that he is our cousin!” 

“Even so! Cousins get married, I had to tell him that he was our brother… and I do not like lying…” you pouted. Your brother sighed and pinched his nose, “You must make sure that no one else knows, and Ser Aemond would not slip up again,” He warned, and you nodded your head fervently. 

You let out a breath as the matter came to a close, but you quickly felt anxious once more as your brother eyed you in question. “Your lips are swollen,” The prince observed, and your fingers consciously covered them. They felt warmer and plumper than usual. “Did you eat anything that does not agree with you?” He asked in concern, turning to your other brother, who had been studying to be a maester in the citadel. “Perhaps, maybe the cooks accidentally added shellfish to my soup,” you fibbed, already contradicting your earlier statement as you lied to your brothers.

“But do you not usually break into a rash when you consume shellfish, sister? That does not explain your swollen lips,” Your other brother remarked, going closer to you, and you traced the embroidery of your dress in nervousness once more. “I—I don’t know, perhaps it has taken into different effects,” You reasoned, and the prince shook his head, “I shall call the maester,” he muttered and moved towards the exit. “What? No!” You protested, not wanting to make a big fuss. 

“Sister, the last time you consumed shellfish, you were itching for a week! Your throat almost closed up— we cannot risk it. Especially when we have the feast later this week, I shall return quickly.” The prince said and quickly left, you only saw a quick glance of Ser Aemond waiting by the door as your brother left before it was closed once again. 

“You’re lying,” Your other brother suddenly remarked as it was only now the two of you. “W-what?” You asked in clear anxiousness. “Why would I lie about such a thing?” You questioned him, trying to be rid of the tone of guilt in your voice. He breathed out heavily and took a seat next to you. “Because you’re hiding something— look, sister, I have been studying the human body for years now, and I have seen all the ailments there are— the swelling of your lips is not at all an ailment.” He remarked, and you had no word of reply or defense as you were on the brink of being found out. 

Your brother sighed at your silence, glancing towards the closed door. “How long?” He questioned, and you took a moment to think about his words. “How long what?” You asked quietly. “Do not even try to deny it, sister… I’ve noticed it ever since the ball— I must say, he is quick to get jealous… which explains why you had to tell him our family secret.” You fisted the fabric of your dress at the knowing tone in your brother’s voice. 

“Tell me, how long?” He questioned again. You debated if you should tell him or deny the allegations. You knew the threat that would come if you told the truth, but at the same time, you were dying to be free of this secret, even if only one person knew. And it would seem it was only fair for your brother to know since you had told Ser Aemond about his own secret. “The day after father’s name day…” you whispered and lowered your head, fearing for his reaction. You hear him sigh. You could not even look at him; there was shame looming inside you, for you had been reduced to sneaking around and stealing kisses with your sworn protector. 

“I will not tell a soul… you have my word, sister.” Your brother then said, making you look up. “Really?” You asked, searching his eyes for any falsehood. He smiled, “You two can trust me— as I trust you both to keep my secret as well,” he said, taking hold of your cold, clammed hands. You let out a breath and embraced your brother tightly. “Thank you, brother. And I truly am sorry for revealing to him your secret,” He shook his head, “It’s fine, sister. But I must warn you to be cautious— overly cautious, in fact. If any of the courtiers came to know… gods forbid, your mother, you’ll be married to the closest lord she sets her eyes on!” You nodded fervently, already knowing the risks if ever you and Ser Aemond were found out. “I know, brother… and we are!” You say, but he only looked at you unconvinced as it was quick for him to realize what was happening between you and your knight. 

“You caught us on a bad day— but I swear, we are extremely cautious.” You defended. “I must say, you do surprise me. I wouldn’t think you would think him agreeable… certainly not enough to win your favor. Overly quiet and cold, and didn’t you say before that the man you wished to marry would have brown, curly hair and warm, kind eyes?” He mused, and you shook your head. “I was a child, brother; outward appearance does not matter much to me anymore, and he only appears as such, but once you get to know him… he’s kind, good-humored, and I…” You trialed. “You love him.” He finished your thought for you. You nodded, “I do.” You confirmed. “It’s easy to see, though it does concern me how easily I have realized it, but the court seems blind to the obvious… especially brother and father— which I suppose works in your favor.” He hummed, and you smiled. At least now you know someone will be on your side when the truth comes out. 

You stood by the right hand of your father as the ceremony began. Knights across the realm line up in order of seniority. Kneeling before your father as he knighted them with their new titles and bestowed them the Medal of Valor. Aemond was at the back of the line, those before him had served the realm for years, yet he had barely a year of service. All clamored before this fact, and you could plainly see the ladies of the realm eyeing your knight, with Ser Aemond being the youngest and, in your opinion, the most comely of all. You felt a persistent twinge of jealousy in you, but you had to disregard it and place a pleasing smile on your lips as it could not be obvious that you and your sworn protector had a deeper understanding, and you did not want to dampen the mood of this joyous day. Your legs were starting to grow tired as you waited for Aemond’s turn, and when there was only one knight between you and him, you straightened your stance and discreetly met his eye. 

As Aemond walked down the aisle, knowing at the end line you were waiting for him, he could not help but fantasize that it could be your nuptials. Even though you two stood at the opposite of the traditional way of a wedding, he disregarded that. He knew in himself that one day, it did not matter how— may it be a grand wedding with the whole kingdom’s eyes upon you two, or may it be a secret ceremony; he would marry you one way or another. He intended upon it, in fact. Everyone be damned, it did not matter that you were the princess and he was only your knight. One day, you two would be man and wife. But, of course, he’d have to wait. He’d wait all his life just as long at the end of it you would be his. 

Aemond smiled to himself as he realized his thoughts. Never had he thought he would act as such. To be so… sappy and sentimental, especially when it came to a girl. But here he was, in less than a year, you had changed him. And he must admit, though it was first an unwelcomed change, he was now quite fond of it. Because if it weren’t for you, he would never know such profound love. 

When it was Aemond’s turn, he bowed before the king and kneeled. You waited for your father to say the words and bestow him his new title and the medal of valor, but his silence made you reluctantly turn away from your knight. “I think it best you do it, my darling… he is your knight, after all,” The king smiled, and your eyes widened at the suddenness of his decision. You glanced towards the hall, expecting gazes planted upon you as your father tried to hand you the sword. “I—I don’t know the words,” You reasoned, still not memorizing the phrases he had repeated the whole afternoon. Your father smiled at you fondly, “It’s fine, I shall recite it once more.” He said, and you hesitantly took the sword and took your father’s place in the middle. Ser Aemond now kneeling before you.

You felt your stomach twist as you could not help but fantasize that this was him kneeling before you as he asked for your hand. Your hand held the hilt of the sword tighter. It was a fantasy that you could only hope and pray that would become your reality. One day. You swore to yourself. One day, I’ll be his, and he’d be mine completely… no more pretense. 

You lifted the sword as your father began to recite the words, but the world faded as you locked with Aemond’s lilac gaze. You tried to tone down your smile as he smirked at you, a devilish smirk that only you knew the reason and meaning of. 

Aemond stood straight as he was knighted with his new title. He watched keenly as the sword in your hand was exchanged for the medal. Aemond’s eye never left your frame as you walked towards him and pinned the medal on his armor. Aemond cursed that this was the only acceptable moment for you two to be so close with the eyes of the realm upon you both. But he let go of any frustrations and decided to savor the ever-so-quick moment. 

As you stepped back, the hall erupted in cheers, but you two were deaf as you both were too consumed with the vision that one day, their cheers would be because of your union. Someday. You both swore. 

[stottlemorgan]

hi! Can I please request Arthur Morgan helping us out after we’ve drunk too much? I just want him to hold me 💔💔 thank u sm!!!

Thank you for this adorable request, sweet Anon! <33 I hope I've done it justice, this was written with a very melty brain, so I hope it's cute and funny as I hope for it to be! :]

Arthur Morgan x Drunk Female Reader fluff

“Woah, woah- okay, come on now,” Arthur releases some of the nervous tension in his body through a tight chuckle. His teeth bare awkwardly as he pats his hands over your front, tugging you upwards from the floor on which you had been so clumsily knelt. You squee as he lifts you back against him, and he very almost falls while guiding you through the saloon doors and down the steps, trying ever so hard to make it obvious to the other saloon goers that he isn’t a creep. A goofy yell of surprise sounds from him as you twirl to the faint music from within the saloon. Wide-eyed, he grabs your arms and uses his foot to untangle your legs, preventing you from rolling your ankle in the dirt.

“I got a girl in Barryville–” you giggle, grinning like a madwoman, “can’t get it in her ‘cause she’s too damn ill!” You sing, well, sort of, all he knows is your voice is loud in his ear.

“Alright, Miss. Come on.” Arthur says over the top of your song, exasperated but undeniably mildly amused. He hauls you up onto his mare and you squeal and grunt as your stomach lands against its rump,

“Arthur! I ain’t one’a your bounties! I’m a lady!”

“Yeah, you’re a lady,” he calls out as he swings himself up onto his horse, casting a smirk over his shoulder toward your struggling limbs, “but you’re a lady that ain’t exactly cooperatin’.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Arthur barks out a laugh, grabbing the reins and guiding his mare backwards before turning her toward the road in the direction of camp. He begins to ride and you groan,

“Arthur, you bastard, this hurts.” He keeps the horse in a trot, a tickled huff drawing from him. Setting his mare straight on the path, he glances back only to see you pushing yourself up, trying to adjust into a seated position.

“Woah, hey–! Hey, you can’t just– Miss, you’ll–”

Splat.

Arthur freezes for a moment, just staring at you, face down in the mud, before noticing the growing distance between you both. His horse is still trotting. Quickly and gently, he pulls the reins back, turning her toward a nearby hitching post.

“Arthur Morgan!”

Shrill and breathless, your voice rings out in the night air. It garners the attention of the surrounding nosy townsfolk and makes some of them wince. Arthur squeezes his thighs around the body of the mare, slowing her to a stop with a few gentling shushes. Hopping down, his boots squelching in the mud, he strides towards you, bemusement morphing his expression. You’re panting, glaring up at him, your hair and skin glimmering with wet mud, the dress you’re wearing now a marbling of blue and brown. Crouching down, he tilts his head, a cattish lilt to his voice,

“You’ve really put yourself in it now.”

“You’re not funny, Arthur–” You spit, wiping your face and swatting your mud-caked hands toward the floor, flicking off dollops of chunky filth. Swaying a little, you blink up at Arthur and he can’t restrain the guffaw that he puffs from him. You frown, watching as he starts to reach for you.

“It ain’t like I shoved you, you were bein’ stupid,” he counters with a smile, and as he hooks his arm beneath yours to help you up, you grab at his head. Smushing an obscenely thick and rancid smelling glob of mud into the side of his face. He gasps, eyes piercing as he blinks and just stares at you. You’re not sure whether to laugh, but it bursts from you regardless, rum flavoured spittle sputtering into his face and mouth, adding insult to injury. “You little fuckin–” He grumbles, and you squeal as he yanks you up from the slick floor. Your damp dress tacks to his shirt as he throws you over his shoulder.

“What’re you doin’?!” You squawk, but receive no answer. Everything around you swirls into a warbling sea of colour as he turns and makes off in the direction of his horse. He hikes you up onto his mare, over her shoulders this time, and hauls himself up after. With a grunt, he handles you until you’re sat in front of him, your head heavily resting against his upper arm as he takes hold of the reins. You groan, a shudder of weakness rippling through your body as your sight starts to settle into something less tumultuous.

The ride back to camp is oddly quiet, you seem to have performed a volte-face which causes concern to needle at the nape of Arthur’s neck. He occasionally taps at your face, with a gentle and low “You okay?” and each time he does, the delicacy of your response increases, your face slackening and your gaze aimless. By the time you reach camp, you’ve completely slumped to the side, drooling through his shirt sleeve, eyes closed, seemingly relaxed. A sweet bloom of affection petals the ball of worry that had steadily been tightening in his chest.

Arthur slows to a stop and hitches his mare before getting down, his movements attentive and calculated so you don’t fall from his horse yet again. He keeps his hands firmly around your waist the entire time, and then slips you from the saddle in a few awkward motions. “World’s spinnin’,” you croak, and Arthur raises an eyebrow, a chuckle drawing from his chest.

“Is it?” He asks fondly and you give a slurred and vague word in the affirmative. He brings you to your tent, laying you carefully in your cot and you sink down into it, a little moan leaving you. Different areas of your body begin to ache, dull yet unrelenting. You moan again, louder.

After a long moment of drifting about your inebriated haze, you hear sloshing and the wringing of a rag. You slap prematurely at the air and hear Arthur laugh. He then starts to clean up your face despite your lazy protests.

“Quit grousin’, ‘less you wanna sleep in filth.”

“M’hurtin’ all over.” You huff, your face contorting in discomfort as Arthur tries to scrub away what he can of the dried mud from your face and neck.

“Well, s’not too much of a shock. You did fall off a horse.” He responds quietly, working quickly so as to not receive further batting. Once he finishes with your face and neck, he takes hold of one of your hands. Your eyes flutter open at the feeling. Through your drunken malaise creeps a tingling of fondness. A certain giddiness, and a hope to recall this moment in the morn. You feel the rough skin of his hands brush over your fingers as he parts them and cleanses them of mud also. His focus flits to you as he works, and he speaks softly, intimately, “You’re a silly thing, ain’chu? Gettin’ yourself into all sorts’a messes.”

“Ain’t silly.”

“Ain’t silly?” Arthur echoes you with a wide smile before nodding and pursing his lips in mock thoughtfulness in response to the strop that begins to curl your upper lip, “No, no, you’re right. You’re mighty sensible.” He moves to clean your other hand, his touch consistently mindful. A lull passes between you, the tent filling with a comforting silence as Arthur continues his ministrations and you watch on with sleepy eyes. He pulls away, grabbing a clean cloth, and cleans up his own face. The water glistens over his sheeny, dirty skin and your eyes fall closed when you hear him sigh at the press of the cool cloth to his neck.

On the next opening of your tiring eyes, you’re unsure how much time has passed, but you’re greeted by the landscape of sunburnt skin and thick, dark curls that cascade over Arthur’s bare torso. A lazy but warm coil of attraction curls around the woozy and upset state of your stomach. Arthur’s gaze flits to you, snagging on the shift of your hips and the breath you draw in. His movements slow, but he continues to drag the cold, wet rag across his shoulder, removing the last of the dried mud. “You okay?” He murmurs, tilting his head when his focus lands finally at your face, which is straddling an odd balance of rosy and green. He drops the cloth into the nearby bowl with a soggy thump and scoots the chair he’s sat on closer to your cot. Tucking his hair behind his ears, he leans down, “I said’re you okay? You’re lookin’ a slim bit unwell.”

“M’alright,” you murmur and take another shaky breath, “I jus’...” Arthur scans over your features and with a gentle tut, brushes his fingers over your forehead, pushing your hair back. His tone is hushed, understanding,

“You’ll be fine, s’just the drink. Try ‘n’ drift off, alright?” With a faint smile, he runs his fingers through your hair, though they catch a little in the mixture of damp and clay-clad strands. Your face softens at the gesture, and a flurry of endearment seems to swirl up through the quiet between you. Arthur’s voice leaves him soft and low, “I can check in on you la–” his brow raises and his back locks up straight when you clamber half into his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Your head lands against the plushness of his stomach and you garble,

“Stay.” Arthur blinks for a moment, one hand coming to cup the back of your head, the other starting to rub your back in long strokes.

“Or I can stay, yeah. That– uh, that I can do, instead.”

The longer he rubs your back, the longer you feel his breaths causing his stomach to rise and fall, the heavier your upper half grows in his lap. Arthur finds himself tipping his head down and slouching to get a better look at your fluttering lashes and parted lips. He grazes the pads of his fingers over your cheek and your face twitches. It makes his chest bubble with tenderness and so he repeats the action, chuckling to himself when he receives the same reaction. “Alright, girl. You jus’ rest now.” He mutters, shifting in the chair to get more comfortable, trying desperately not to wake you. Feeling the long night steadily chipping away at his wakefulness, he allows his eyes to slowly fall shut. Tugging you the smallest bit closer as you rest, he positions you snugly, your head to his stomach, your upper half between his thighs. His stroking of your back weakens as he tires, reducing down to just his thumb moving in little circles against the blade of one of your shoulders. He whispers, his head lolling slightly to the side, “Sweet little dumbass.”

After a while, Arthur starts to slump forward over your back, his cheek pressing to your spine. Your gentle snores buzz through you, tingling his skin, and he lets out a drowsy sound, something akin to a laugh. Somewhere amidst the following hours of your shared slumber and the blueish darkness of the night, you fidget and turn and drag him into your cot with you, curling into him. In turn, he smacks his lips and pats your head, gentling you with slurred shushes and a slight crinkle in his brow.

[overwhelmed-alien]

Fire/ER Hangster Headcanons:

🧑🏻‍🚒❤️🧑🏼‍⚕️

- Bradley and Jake met in the Navy.

- Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, former SEAL, is a firefighter at Station 86.

- Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (former Naval aviator) is the fire captain and his godfather. He has a soft spot for the Navy and hires mostly retired members.

- His team consists of the Daggers, as well as Slider, Cougar, Hollywood and Wolfman, and the rest of the “‘86 boys”.

- Callie, Javy, Bob, and Phoenix are paramedics.

- Jake (former Navy medic) became a paramedic right out of the Navy; this is where he partnered with Javy and they instantly became hetero-life mates. They both ugly cried when Jake became an RN and wouldn’t be riding with Javy anymore.

- Anytime Javy brings someone into the ER he makes a point to seek out Jake and they have to enact a brief but intense ritualistic “bro” handshake, even if Jake is with a (stable) patient, complete with a bear hug and a heartfelt “I love you, man!” “I miss you, baby!”

- They do this multiple times a day.

- Rooster and Javy’s wife think their codependency is adorable.

- Dr. Beau “Cyclone” Simpson is head of the emergency department, and Jake is both a thorn in his side and his unofficial adopted child. Beau is more of a stern father figure to Jake than a boss. Although he gets yelled at more often than anyone else, everyone on the floor knows Jake is his favorite.

- Dr. Sol “Warlock” Bates is a cardiac surgeon and Beau’s best friend. Everyone loves it when Sol is doing rounds in the ER because Beau is infinitely more amicable when his bestie is with him.

- Ice is retired COMPACFLT, Mav’s former wingman and also Bradley’s godfather.

- I’m so torn between Ice and Mav being married, or if they’re hetero soulmates, with Ice married to Sarah and Mav crushing on Penny.

- Dr. Penny Benjamin is the best neurosurgeon in the hospital. Everybody is terrified of her. Jake calls her Aunt Penny.

- Jake wears mint green scrubs because they make his eyes pop. He is supposed to wear burgundy. Beau picks his battles when it comes to his problem child.

- Residents are in awe of Jake’s capabilities. He has more than once taken over for a nervous new doctor, especially with things like difficult intubations, traches, and chest tubes. “Now try doing that while people are shootin’ atcha.”

- Jake is equal parts genuinely compassionate and genuinely smug.

- Bradley is a badass rule-bender who flings himself into dangerous situations to save people. He is extremely intelligent and capable when it comes to logistics and strategy.

- He will also faint at the sight of a needle being poked into someone’s skin - doesn’t even have to be his own. He will go down like a sack of potatoes.

- Bradley is a regular at the ER. He hates seeing Jake upset (or mad), but he always gets fussed over, and a long hug and a forehead kiss, so it’s worth being in trouble. He whines and has to hide his face in Jake’s neck if an IV or shot is necessary. Nurses and residents find it endearingly sweet and pathetic, like a nervous German Shepherd at a vet. Sometimes Jake thinks Bradley plays it up a bit too much for attention, but he’s not complaining. He just smiles and holds him and pets his hair, happy that Bradshaw is safe in his arms for a moment.

- Jake stress bakes when Bradley is on long shifts just so he has a reason to drop by the firehouse to see him. When a white jeep Wrangler pulls up in front of the station, a gaggle of firefighters run out to greet Jake like excited children expecting treats.

- Bradley, in full gear, once stole a police cruiser at a scene and sped (with lights and siren) to the hospital when he heard a 911 call over the radio that there was an armed, violent person in the ER making threats and fighting personnel. The person had been apprehended by the time he got there, but Jake (who had tackled the guy), got an elbow to the face and a black eye. Bradley had to be physically restrained from yanking the handcuffed man out of police custody. Ice had to call in a favor from the governor to keep his godson out of jail (and out of the news).

- Their favorite thing to do together is cuddling/falling asleep on the couch watching reality tv like an old married couple.

- People always think Jake is a firefighter because if he’s not in scrubs he’s in Bradley’s stolen “Bradshaw - Station 86” hoodie. Bradley had to train himself early on not to be turned on this, otherwise he’d be walking around every day very uncomfortably. Sometimes he can’t help it. The sight of Jake in soft pajama pants and a hoodie with his own name across his back as he does something as innocent as toast pop tarts, or walking through the grocery store in that hoodie and a ball cap, drives him crazy (in a good, frenzied way). When people ask if Jake is a firefighter, and he proudly replies “no, my husband is the firefighter”, Bradley, who had not yet proposed, has to restrain himself from throwing Jake over his shoulder like a caveman. (This is the exact reason Jake does what he does.)

- They get married within months of Jake saying that the first time.

This is how they look at each other (or look when they’re thinking about the other) 24/7. They’re disgustingly in love. Gross. 🤭

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE (vampire au!) ★

୨୧ yandere! vampire! alpha! tokyorev x omega! reader (pairing : mitsuya, izana, rin & ran, kakucho, baji, kazutora)

synopsis: when they're vampires in a world that doesn't treat omegas kindly, and keep you as their cute omega pet.

cw : infantilisation, kidnapping, dumbification, double standard, god complex, dehumanisation, blood & blood drinking, auctions, "pet", dark themes, + more.

MY MASTERLIST: ★

𐙚. YANDERE! VAMPIRE! ALPHA! MITSUYA

you were such a cute and precious little thing he had picked up from the streets, trembling and terrified. mitsuya always had a thing for injured preys like you and his instincts instantly pushed him to care for you, snatching you away from that cold and cruel world a cute omega like you shouldn't have to face.

mitsuya thinks you're made of glass and that you need him to take care of you as if you were incapable of doing anything yourself. he keeps you groomed and perfectly pretty for him, with adorable pastel coloured clothes and soft ribbons tangled in your hair.

he likes to keep you on his lap when he comes back from work, tucking your head on the crook of his neck, forcing you to inhale his powerful scent and gently hushing you, kissing your wet cheeks filled with tears and your quiet sobs.

he's kissing the top of your head, dizzy from how sugary sweet you smell. you have such a delicious scent, and to top it all off, your blood tastes as nice as it smells. he promised you he tried to be considerate, to not be too rough and scary, but it's just so hard to restrain himself when you look like a snack ready to be devoured.

he'll dig his fang inside your tender flesh, sucking the blood out of you, caressing your back affectionately while you squirm and try to get away from him. but he's stronger than you and you're stuck in his arms.

once he's done with you, he doesn't forget to tell how much of a good girl you've been. praising you for doing so well for your alpha and kissing you tenderly.

but mitsuya is understanding. he knows this is all a big change for you, who is used to fend for yourself, not used to the caring hand of a strong and reliable alpha like him. you have a hard time trusting him and it's okay, mitsuya will show you that a fragile being like you is better off in the embrace of someone stronger. you'll soon learn to accept that mitsuya finding you was a blessing and he's sure you'll be the perfect little housewife you're destined to be.

and indeed, he never fails to remind you how safer you are now that you're with him. he feeds you well, giving you only the sweetest delicacies the world has to offer. you now have a roof above your head and a sea of warm blankets, shielding you from the cold outside. he's been nothing but kind to you, speaking slowly and softly as if you were a small animal a yell could break. and if you put aside the occasional blood sucking session you have, you're sure you can say that you have it better than the majority of omegas of your time.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. YANDERE! VAMPIRE! ALPHA! IZANA

izana got your pretty and delicate self from a black market that sold unlucky omegas like you. a rare prize that awaited an alpha like a saviour, to come and take you away from here.

and izana was about to do just that, paying a heavy price for your ownership. but it was nothing compared to how deliciously helpless you looked under him. so weak and fragile, made to submit and obey. fear had turned you into the perfect pet and izana knew you'd keep him happy from now on.

he loved to scare and tease you. imposing unfair punishments when you weren't able to complete an impossible task on time, laughing at your cute face and wide doe eyes, looking up at him pleadingly, searching for his mercy as you would with a god.

izana was protective and he liked his things to be marked. the numerous bites decorating your neck and wrists weren't enough, nor were his heavy scent that always clung to you like a sickening perfume.

he made you kneel as he adjusted a new collar around your neck. it was velvet, soft, too soft for how tight it was. he says it’s to help with scent control. but really, it’s a mark. his. and he smiles when he hears you whimper as it clicks shut. "there, that's better. now everyone knows who you belong to".

izana liked to keep you pretty, putting his wealth on display by making sure you always were all dolled up. a pretty sight for him to devour. a pretty face that he could control at his will. he enjoyed how adorable you looked as you cried for him to stop being so greedy, tightening your lips shut when he sucked your blood.

he sometimes forced his pheromones to get to your brain, turning you into a dizzy and compliant mess, all too happy to obey your instincts. that's how izana loves you best; dumb and eager to devote your life to him.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. YANDERE! VAMPIRE! ALPHA! RIN & RAN

how cute! rin and ran love their docile little omega!

they got you in an omega center, where fragile beings who have yet to find the alpha they'll spend the rest of their life with, wait until someone finally takes them home.

upon seeing your clueless and scared little face, big glossy eyes looking at them as if pleading them to take you away from this scary place, they knew they had no choice but to take you with them.

you were sweet and compliant, a nice little doll who only lives to satisfy them, prioritising her alphas above anything else.

you were so eager to please, to obey, graciously taking your place on your knees beneath them and waiting for their command, too grateful to arbour any negative feelings against them. now you were here, with them, far away from that horrible place and the haitani brothers were your whole world, one you admired and worshipped.

you were too scared to upset them, to scared they would send you back to that awful place to pick up another omega. so you made sure to never get on their nerves, to please them in any way they demanded.

even when they took turns drinking your blood, you only muttered soft moans, careful not to appear too ungrateful and risking disturbing their peace.

you were so glad they cherished you this much. when ran had finished drinking from you, condescendingly laughing at you for being so agreeable, rin caught your weak body in his arms, licking the fresh bite his brother had just made and claiming the other side of your neck, all under ran's satisfied gaze.

you were so easy to torment, willingly smiling at them as if they hadn't just humiliated you by calling you a dumb puppy who can only wag her tail at the sight of her masters. while ran found your species endearing for how dependent on your stronger counterparts you were, rin thought he should cage you well so you never get hurt. he would've shackled you to the wall in their room if ran hadn't insisted they should let you roam along with them, loving how cute you looked following them so eagerly.

a day without them, and their little walking meal is crying and searching for them like crazy, how sweet! did they abandon you, did they leave to look for someone else ? ran loved seeing all those stupid thoughts make their way into your little brain, watching the internal conflict their departure had caused.

it did not take long for them to have a soft spot for you, now always making sure they leave you with enough blood so you don't die or develop any serious health issue. they feed you well, enjoying how happy you are about your situation. they maintain you the way they would do with an animal, wishing their little pet's life was as long as theirs...

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

୨୧ YANDERE! VAMPIRE! ALPHA! KAKUCHO

you were a gift. wrapped up in silk and trembling like a leaf, handed to him with a casual smirk and a “thought you’d like this one.”

kakucho didn’t say anything at first, he just looked at you for a long, long moment. tilted his head, like he was trying to figure out what to do with a thing so small and so scared.

you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

good. he liked that.

you were obedient from the start. silent and skittish. a soft little thing with a sweet scent and glossy eyes, the kind of omega that was made to be kept. and kakucho was the kind of alpha who kept what was his.

he didn’t need to raise his voice or chain you to the bed. you learned fast. learned to stay in the corner of the room with your hands in your lap, eyes down, thighs pressed together, like a good little pet.

he took care of you, of course. dressed you in soft nightgowns, brushed your hair when you were too dazed to do it yourself, fed you from his hand like you didn’t know how to hold a fork anymore. you were so helpless, it almost made him laugh. almost.

you slept in his bed, curled up against him while he whispered to you about loyalty, about devotion. about how pets like you were safest in the arms of someone stronger, someone who could protect you from the world, from yourself.

sometimes he’d come home after a long night, blood on his hands, and find you dozing off in the corner of the room. he’d scoop you up, carry you to bed, press kisses to your forehead like he didn’t scare you half to death.

“no more hiding,” he’d whisper into your skin, dragging his fangs down your neck, “pets stay close to their master.”

and kakucho never hurt you. not really. he just held on a little too tight. and fed a little too often. sometimes he watched a little too long. but you were still here, weren't you? meek and obedient, not daring go against his will and accepting everything kakucho had to give you.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚 YANDERE! VAMPIRE! ALPHA! BAJI

he didn’t even want an omega. he didn’t need one, he didn’t trust himself with one.

but you were just there. chained up in some filthy underground ring, put on display like some rare little thing that everyone wanted a bite of. blood-starved monsters surrounding you like hounds and laughing at how small you looked. how broken you seemed.

he actually wasn’t even supposed to be there.

he hadn’t fed in days, pissed off and snapping at anyone who got too close. and then he saw you, you of all things. soft-eyed, barely conscious, radiating heat and fear and the kind of scent that made something snap inside him.

the kind of scent that shouldn’t be up for sale.

he doesn’t remember what happened next. just blood, screaming, cages broken open. and you in his arms, blinking up at him with dazed, cloudy eyes like he was something you could trust.

you never made it back to whoever owned you and you knew they didn’t make it out alive.

baji didn’t speak a word the whole way back. just carried you wrapped in his jacket, your scent pressed into his skin like a drug.

he didn’t give you a choice. didn’t ask if you wanted to stay. he locked the doors, barred the windows, shoved his mattress into a room with no corners, no glass, no exits, and put you inside.

“you’re not leaving,” was all he said.

and you didn’t. you couldn’t leave, couldn't go against him.

he brought you food like you were a skittish stray. and he paced outside your door like a feral beast every time you refused to eat. you didn’t know what scared you more : the rage in his voice when you disobeyed, or the way it cracked when he thought you were sick or hurt.

he didn’t know how to treat something as delicate. he wasn’t built for it. he wasn't gentle or sweet, but his hands shook when he cleaned the scars on your wrists. his fangs had pierced too deeply the first time he fed on you, but you swore the panic in his voice when you cried out was real.

he apologised, scared to break you any further. a weak little thing a single gush of wind could shatter.

baji slept with your scent all over him. he wouldn't let anyone else in the apartment. he kept you wrapped in his clothes with your damaged collarbone bandaged and a warning in his eyes.

“if anyone touches you, if anyone even looks at you... I’ll rip their fuckin’ throat out.”

you’re not sure what you are to him. a mate, a possession, a pet. but you knew that, no matter what, he would never let you go, never let you leave his side.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. YANDERE! VAMPIRE! ALPHA! KAZUTORA

you were locked up in some basement like some sort of trophy, by a group of thugs you didn't even know the names. you were scared, cold and unclaimed, fearing anytime one of them touched you, they would claim you and put their disgusting mark on your neck. it was a miracle they hadn't already used you.

so when kazutora slaughtered every last one of them and pulled you out of that hole, he didn’t see himself as your captor. he saw himself as your savior, your mate, your reward.

and of course, he marked you. fast and deep. you didn’t even get a say, omegas never really do. but he soothed you through the pain, held you close, and whispered “there, all safe now” as his scent drowned your senses.

kazutora is a needy alpha, but he's also very clingy, too demanding to keep up. he gets angry easily and lets it out on you, biting your neck several times until you fall unconscious so that you learn to never rub him the wrong way again. and indeed, you learn fast to never disagree, never talk out of line and never refuse his affection.

kazutora is also possessive to a fault. he gets irrationally jealous when you talk about the past, when you dream out loud or when you seem too happy without him in the room.

and he bites. and when he does, it's hard. he doesn't always do it to punish, sometimes just to remind you who you belong to.

but gods, he adores you. he wraps you in his scent daily, cuddles with you until you fall asleep, whispers about how pretty you are and how lucky he is to have you.

he needs you dependent. he loves how small you are compared to him, how you cling to his shirt when you’re scared, how you cry when he bites you but still call his name.

he wants you scared of losing him. he likes how anxious you get when he leaves for too long. he comes home to you trembling, begging to be held, and he enjoys your fear way too much.

but he’s still obsessed with you. obsessed with how you smell, how you whimper when he bites you, how easy it is to break your spirit then kiss it better. he’ll cuddle you right after snapping, murmuring soft apologies with his nose buried in your neck...

[eclipixels]

You already hah

https://www.instagram.com/share/BAHIzBtq9E

This with sae

AND

Kaiser <3 grrr

Tickle Attack

Character: Sae Itoshi and Michael Kaiser

     Sae Itoshi

      You spotted him lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone like the picture of calm detachment. His expression neutral. His hoodie sleeves deliciously oversized. His guard down.

      Perfect. Heh.

      “Hey, babe,” you said sweetly, walking in with a ruler tucked sneakily behind your back.

      Sae looked up, mildly suspicious. “What?”

      “Just missed you.”

      You sat behind him and innocently slipped the ruler through the sleeve of his hoodie, carefully threading it behind his back and through the other sleeve like a marionette setup.

      He blinked, processing. “What are you doing—?”

      Then you attacked. You wiggled your fingers under his arms, aiming straight for the softest, most ticklish spot you knew. Sae jolted violently but when he tried to raise his arms to defend himself...

      Thud.

      The ruler locked his arms straight out in front of him like he was in a straightjacket made of pure clownery.

      “Y/N.” His voice dropped an octave. “Take it. Out. Now.”

      But you were laughing too hard to listen. “You look like a scarecrowt! I should post this—”

      “Don’t you dare.”

      You kept tickling. He kept twitching, failing to escape, every muscle in his body tensing with restrained fury. His eyes narrowed to slits.

      “I will remember this.”

      “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

      Finally, with a shake and a low growl, he stood up and managed to snap the ruler clean in half by sheer force of annoyed willpower.

      You blinked.

      “...Okay, so mental note, never underestimate an athetes core strength.”

      He dropped the broken wooden ruler. You ran.

     Michael Kaiser

        Kaiser was in front of the mirror, shirtless, doing his hair like he was filming a shampoo commercial. You watched from the bed, pretending to scroll, but really, you were planning war.

      He caught your gaze in the mirror. “Can’t resist staring, huh?”

      You rolled your eyes. “Actually, I was thinking how easy it’d be to mess with you.”

      “Please. You couldn’t prank me if you tried.”

      He'd regret that.

      Minutes later, he was lying on the bed, arms behind his head, completely relaxed. You crept over with a broom handle and threaded it through the sleeves of his loose warm-up hoodie, behind his back like a human coat rack.

      Then…

      Tickle attack.

      Kaiser shrieked. And yes, it was a shriek, not a yell. His arms flailed, but the stick kept them rigid and useless, flapping like a bird trying to fly backwards.

      “WHAT IS THIS? Y/N, GET IT OUT!”

      You were cackling. “You said I couldn’t prank you! Bow before your queen!”

      He thrashed on the bed like a fish out of water, his blonde hair a mess now, blue eyes wide with betrayal.

      “YOU’RE DEAD. I’M—AH—GONNA KILL YOU!”

      “But you look so cute helpless like this.”

      “HEL—LESS—?! I’M AN EMPEROR!”

      “Not right now you’re not.”

      Eventually, he rolled off the bed in dramatic defeat, face-down, arms still pinned straight out like a broken Barbie.

      “…I’ll get revenge,” he muttered into the carpet.

      You kissed the top of his head.

      “Sure, Micha.”