#I think he would die of mortification though

[nomsfaultau]

There’s a spot beneath Techno’s jaw where if someone scratches it he’ll reflexively begin thumping his hoof against the ground. He’ll try to insist it’s just an adhd stim, but also won’t let them stop petting him.

#technothepig #technoblade #technoblade headcanon #I couldn’t find anything that says pigs have scratch reflexes but they will flop over and roll on their belly for scritches #I think he would die of mortification though #I bet Philza would give him belly rubs if he wasn’t so awkward about it #scp technoblade #fault au #something to nom on

[towriteloveontheirarms]

There is a first time for everything (Osferth x barmaid!Reader)

synopsis: They say there is a first time for everything, yet never in a milion years would Osferth have thought he would lose that specific first time to someone as gorgeous as you.

warnings: Osferth being teased for being a virgin, basically pwp, p in v, oral m receiving, flirty reader, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

“Are you going to stay a virgin forever, baby monk?” One teased, boisterously handing him a cup of ale, just as you passed to fill up their drinks. Osferth’s eyes landed on you almost immediately to, what you assumed, make sure if you had heard that. Only to visibly come to the conclusion that no delusion in the world could convince him that you hadn´t. His ears were pink and his cheeks burned cherry red. He looked immensely uncomfortable with the teasing, almost like he wants to drown himself in the cup, which gains him a sympathetic look, before you move on to serve the next table. From afar you can still see him take a sip of his drink, trying to appear unbothered by the comments. Just as one of his friends slapped him on the back, causing him to spill some of his drink on his robes. "Monk boy needs to get laid!" he laughed, causing Osferth to further blush and want to die of mortification.

As you pass the table yet again, you give Osferth a small wink and a reassuring smile, though you also make an effort to let your hips sway a bit more than before. You felt yourself weirdly drawn towards his seemingly sweet nature amidst the chaos and depravity of his friends. Osferth felt his face heat up even more, he couldn't help but stare at her ass. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Instead, he just continued to wish his friends would stop embarrassing him in front of you already.

Later that night, after closing time, Alenna found Osferth sitting alone, nursing yet another mug of ale. She walked over to him and sat down beside him.

"Where did you leave your loud friends, baby monk?" You lean in teasingly with her elbows propped up on your thighs and a lazy smile on your lips.

Osferth looked up at you, he noticed how close you were sitting, and he could feel the warmth of your body close by. He also noticed how your breasts pressed together against your tight blouse, and he couldn't help but feel aroused despite himself.

"They... left." he managed to say between sips of ale. He looked away, feeling his face grow even more crimson. "I think they went to visit some brothel or other... They wanted me to join. Said I needed to get laid or something..." he trailed off, not wanting to continue the sentence.

“Hm, it was hard to miss that." You giggle at the memories of their earlier antics. Then you become calmer. "And what do you want?"

He looked at you, his eyes wide and innocent. He had no idea how to act around someone so beautiful and confident.

"W-what do you mean 'what do I want'?" he asked. He had never been approached like that by a woman before, and he didn't quite know how to handle it.

You chuckle and reach out to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers. You lean closer to him, taking note of his scent before speaking softly.

"Desires. You want something don't you?" Your breath is hot against his ear as you whisper the word. "Or maybe you're tired of those loud friends telling you what to do?”

You pause to let the words sink in for a moment then you speak once more. “To ask in more plain language... Do you want to lose your virginity or are you content keeping it? It is all up to you. No one else should make that decision for you."

Silence settles over them. The choice truly is up to him and whatever it would be, she would respect it. Osferth felt his heart race as you spoke softly into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to speak.

"I... I don't want to keep it," he managed to say, his voice barely audible. He could feel the stiffness growing between his legs as he thought about losing his virginity.

"Aren´t you sweet?" You coo against his lips, teasing a kiss, before you lets your lips wander down his neck. Never once actually letting them touch his skin. "Just remember, should you ever wish to stop or want me to do something specific just tell me. I want this to be as pleasant for you as it possibly can be."

As you began to tease him with kisses along his neck, you also remove his robes, listening the soft moans. The blond shut his eyes tightly for a moment, he had always been taught that sex was something shameful and dirty, yet he found himself getting harder and craving the touch with each passing second as you undressed him.

When you reveal his cock, he watched as you admired it, your hand moving gently over it. Applying soft pressure to make it leak even more of the pearly precum, which collected at the tip of his member, from your place on the floor between his legs. He felt a surge of pleasure throughout his entire body.

“Is that alright?” you ask in a raspy voice as you feel him shiver.

He nodded silently, unable to find the words to speak. So, he let out a soft moan as Alenna’s hand continued to work magic on his length, driving him closer and closer to release.

"Use your words, baby monk. Tell me what you want." You try to coax an answer out of Osferth. Though it is clearly visible that he is overtaken by the pleasure he had never felt before.

His mind raced as he tried to think of how to express what he wanted but found himself unable to form coherent sentences. All he could manage was a series of incoherent grunts and groans as your hand continued rubbing his cock. The shaft twitched seemingly restlessly in your palm as you move your head down to lick small stripes at his sensitive, flushed tip. Instinctively Osferth´s hand comes to guide your head deeper onto his cock. Slurping and slight gagging sounds fill the room until you eagerly get pulled off him with a desperate whimper.

You know he is close. It is etched into every small muscle and crease of his face and so you let him move you away before you ask. “Where do you want to come?”

"Fuck me... please... fuck me..." He managed to gasp out. “I want to come inside of you.”

And with those words, he surrendered completely to the pleasure of the moment, letting go of any shame or hesitation that he might have felt any remnants of before.

Quickly you move your skirt and any other clothes out of the way and sink down on his lap with his cock buried deep in your tight folds, gasping at how well he filled her out. Osferth´s hands find their way to your breasts, cupping them gently and massaging them as he felt her tightness wrap around his throbbing member. At the same time, you bury your hands in his hair. The pace of your thrusts is barely matched by his desperate strokes, trying to keep up with all the intense sensations. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of pleasure, and he didn't want the moment ever to end.

The slight upwards curve of his cock has Osferth´s length rub against that special spot inside with every thrust, making you see stars as you throw your head back in pleasure.

"So good." There is a drawl to your words from the cloud of pleasure that overwhelms your own brain. "Fuck, you can touch me harder. I won't break."

Osferth let out a low groan and complied with her request, increasing the force of his strokes, and gripping her breasts more firmly as he felt her body trembling above him. He could see the pleasure etched onto your face like you were an open book and he found himself feeling incredibly satisfied by bringing you such joy.

"I'm not gonna last much longer..." You mewl, bringing one of your hands down between your thighs to caress your sensitive pearl, heightening the pleasure that made your walls grip his cock even tighter. Osferth felt your approach to orgasm and increased the depth of his thrusts even further, wanting to give her as much pleasure as possible before you both released. He watched as your hand worked its magic between your legs, committing the movements and your in pure ecstasy contorted face to memory. When he is sure what to do, the blond gently pushes your hand aside to replace your finger with his thumb, rubbing the same circles into your flesh. As he takes over on rubbing circles into your clit your hands go to hold onto his shoulders to keep from slumping against his chest.

It doesn't take long for your movements to falter under his ministrations, waves of pleasure shaking your body as the knot that had built in your lower stomach snaps. Osferth however continues to fuck into you, chasing his own release, which claims him only moments later. Encouraged by your fluttering walls, rolled back eyes and downright sinful moans.

As you let out a long, drawn-out moan and cried out in pleasure, Osferth let out a loud groan and came inside of you, filling your womb with his thick seed as he experienced the ultimate pleasure of release for the first time. He felt like he was on fire, every nerve in his body burning with need even after his peak had stopped overwhelming him.

You stay in Osferth´s lap until the two of you have found your breath again and his cock has softened inside of you. Only then, you stand up to go clean up.

"How was that for a first time?” You ask him with another lazy smile and hazy eyes that glow in the light of your previous orgasm as you fix his messy hair with gentle touches and clean his cock with a damp towel. Osferth looked down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion, his member still throbbing under the gentle, lukewarm towel. He nodded in response to your question, unable to speak for the moment due to lack of breath.

"I do not feel like I've done justice to how amazing you felt around me." He answers once he regains his mind, a weak grin grazing his lips.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. A bell like giggle escapes you at his statement.

"Well, you could always come back tomorrow..." You invite him in a sultry tone, eyes falling half close to give an equally seductive look.

The next day you hear his friends before they even enter the tavern. Smiling to yourself as you go to greet them and take their orders of assumingly more ale, it becomes more clear that they remained unaware as to what happened to their friend after they left the prior night. So, Alenna gives Osferth a wink and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. "I cannot wait to see you again later. I had a lot of fun last night..."

#osferth #osferth tlk #osferth the last kingdom #osferth x reader #osferth x you #baby monk #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic

[hoshologies]

ur aftercare drabble with mark is making me so soft🥹🥹 if it’s alright can u also write abt inexperienced reader who is having her first time with mark?

send me a kink/scenario + an idol (txt, svt, skz, enha hyung line, or nct dream) and i’ll write a drabble

warnings. afab!reader, making out, suggestions of sex (primarily f!receiving oral and penetration) smut is under the cut. minors do not interact.

your favorite thing about mark has always been his willingness to accomodate and make you comfortable. in any other man, this would be the absolute barest minimum, but mark approaches it like it’s the greatest honor that could ever possibly be bestowed upon him: he asks for your permission on everything, he tailors every date to your personality and interests and comfort level, he even waited for you to express interest in wanting to go beyond holding hands and hugging (though, in his excitement, your first kiss together ended up being a little messy, but it was sweet nonetheless). most of it stems from your inexperience; mark is your first real boyfriend and you want to make it work, so he’s been kind and patient with you, allowing you to set the pace.

like he’s doing right now, letting you settle yourself on his lap, your hands drifing across the soft expanse of his chest and stomach, places on him you’ve never seen before. he’s the only one in a state of undress; he told you that this can take as long as you need it to, so he didn’t rush to take your shirt off in the middle of the makeout session that had started in the middle of a movie, no long forgotten. your fingers trace, memorize every dip in his skin, every freckle, every mole newly discovered, and you feel him growing hard under you, hot and insistent in a way that stokes your own fire behind your navel.

he pulls your mouth to his again, a little bashful under your exploring gaze and looking for a way to get your eyes off him for a few moments so he can recollect himself. somewhere in the midst of it, his fingers, which had been resting dutifully on your lower back, dip under your sweater and you shudder; not in a bad way, though, because you like the feeling of his calloused fingertips against your skin. when he pulls away and looks up at you with his brown eyes wide and glassy, pleading, you nod and let him take your shirt off of you, all reverence and worshipful.

and then not long later, he’s got you on your back, your head resting on his many pillows. your shorts and bra have joined your abandoned shirt on the floor next to mark’s bed. like you, he’s left only in his boxers and when he looks up at you from between your legs, one hand on your thigh and the other toying with the hem of your underwear, you think you just about die on the spot.

“i know this is all new for you,” he says, tilting his head to the side just so. he looks inquisitive, earnest, like your pleasure and comfort are the only things in the world that matter to him. “so can i tell you what i want to do and you can decide if you want me to do that? because i just… really, really want this to be good for you.”

you nod and smile at him softly, a gesture he returns before he starts listing off, his eyes trained on you and gauging your reactions. you’re fighting off the mortification of being naked in front of a boy for the first time ever, of hearing him tell you that he wants to taste you, wants to feel you around him when you come. every part of you burns with embarrassment, but when he asks you with a gentle voice “is that okay? do you wanna try?” you really cannot bring yourself to tell him no because if you’re going to experience this with anyone for the first time, you’d prefer it with mark, who already treats you like a deity.

so you don’t. you tell him yes and he smiles. and he thanks you.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct x reader #nct smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #hard.thought

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

jealousy, jealousy || Han x Reader

Summary: You and Han have been dancing around your feelings for each other for… a while, if you're being honest. It doesn't help that your self-doubt makes it hard to make any move, that you're mean enough to scare most people away and oh, yeah, that his ex hates your guts. So when the three of you are at a party together and there are drinking games involved, what could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.2k

Genres: college AU, friends to lovers

Warnings & Tags: implied past bullying/ostracizing of the reader, jealousy (duh), kissing (rating T on the verge of rating M, so it remains fairly tame), mentioned alcohol, drinking games, self-deprecating narrator, language.

series masterlist

A/N: this took forever because I was almost done with it when I realized what I'd written didn't work with the theme, so I had to start all over again. This is also my first time writing Han, so I hope you'll enjoy it!

As usual, you hear Jisung before you see him. It's not all that surprising, the boy’s pretty loud, and, if you didn’t have a misanthropic reputation to uphold, you might even admit that you like hearing his laugh when you walk across campus, or when you catch him mid rant as you walk into the cafeteria.

Thing is, it also means that he’s around people, and you don’t… do… people. So, even though seeing him is invariably a highlight in your day, when you hear his voice, you find yourself debating whether you should head in another direction. If you don’t, you’ll have to talk to him, and as a result, them, whoever they are, because it would be weird not to, right, and you’re just not sure you have the energy for that right now.

Or ever.

Today, as isn’t uncommon, you freeze for a second, take a step back, then decide to push on. If anyone noticed that, you probably just looked extremely weird, but it’s likely that no one was paying attention, and so you keep going with a minimal amount of mortification, for now anyway. You might ruminate over it later today, like you will if there’s any hitch in the conversation that's coming, but that’s a problem for 2 a.m. you.

You’re somewhat relieved to find that Jisung’s chatting with Chan and Changbin. You’re not close with them, but you kinda get along with Changbin, and though you find Chan intimidating, your interactions with him so far have been fine, which is high enough of a bar to clear as far as you’re concerned.

Jisung notices you almost immediately, which fills you with pleasant warmth, and he waves at you with a bright smile. You choose to take that as an invitation to come closer and an indication that you wouldn’t be interrupting anything — if it’s not, that’s on him because it was unclear — and make your way over to them.

“On your way to an exam?” Jisung asks you once you’ve reached them.

“Do you think I would make myself late to talk to you?” you reply with a frown.

It makes him laugh. Sometimes it worries you, how funny Jisung seems to find you when you’re being mean. If it was when you’re being a dick to someone else, why not, but to him too? Is he okay?

“I can’t tell if this is you being a good influence on him or not,” Chan says, tilting his head. There’s an amused glint in his eyes too. Okay, that means you’re not doing too bad.

“Are you guys done with classes?” you ask. “Were you heading to the studio?”

“No,” Jisung is quick — maybe a little too quick — to answer. “We were just talking about a track we’re working on.”

Four eyes narrow on him, and Changbin grins.

“Yeah, ‘cause Jisung here’s been feeling all romantic lately, right?”

Jisung throws him a horrified look.

“You’ve been turning in very sappy lyrics lately, hm?” Chan keeps going.

“I’m the draught, you’re rain, I’m paper, you’re a poem, wasn’t it?” Changbin quotes from memory, a wide, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Do you want to die?” Jisung asks, eyes so wide they look like marbles.

The two guys exchange a knowing look, both grinning. It’s not that often they get the drop on Jisung and can tease him, for a change. They obviously find that to be a nice change of pace, but you’re not sure where that leaves you.

Because, okay, you’re not completely clueless. The lyrics could be about you. Jisung’s expressed interest in you before. He’s kissed you. Remains the question of whether that interest was romantic or just sexual.

But the thought that the lyrics are not about you? That he feels that way about another person? It fills your stomach with stones and makes it sink to the bottom of the ocean. Just thinking about it make tears spring to your eyes and you glance to the side to will them to go away.

This is bad. You’re way too far gone. What a fucking dumbass you can be, for someone who’s as academically gifted as you are.

“At least it’s not about cheating, hm?” Jisung says, staring at Chan who seems to find the ground very interesting all of a sudden.

“That’s an uncharitable interpretation of the lyrics,” he mumbles, but he appears quite eager to drop the subject after that. You find that a bit suspicious and you’d kinda like to find out what the golden boy on campus might be trying to hide, but Jisung seems relieved to be able to drop the subject as well.

“Hey,” Jisung says the second the topic’s been let go of, attention snapping to another idea so fast it sometimes makes your head spin, “I’ve been meaning to ask—”

“Oh right,” Changbin says, glancing at his phone, “there’s Sana’s party tonight. You guys coming?”

Jisung pulls a face, but you’re not sure why. It’s not like he doesn’t get regularly interrupted — and it’s not malicious either, it’s just that he, uh, talks a lot. Sometimes people end up cutting him off. In Changbin’s case, you suspect he didn’t even notice.

“I already told her we would,” Chan says, and Jisung’s face gets longer. You suspect he’d completely forgotten about it.

“Are you coming too?” he asks you, a hint of pleading in his voice.

See, even this is a dilemma. Going to a party means you’ll be forced to be in the presence of people who dislike you and who you find fundamentally uninteresting, especially since Seungmin’s been a no-show to most of these now that he’s dating. Even if you go only to see Jisung, you know people will be trying to get his attention all night, and you’ll be lucky if you get to spend ten minutes alone with him before midnight — maybe you’ll get him to yourself for a whole half-hour at around four am though. On top of that, there’s a significant risk that people will talk to him while he’s standing next to you and completely ignore you, and you’ll spend the whole time praying for a hole to open under your feet.

On the other hand, you can’t refuse him anything, and it would be far more devastating to pass on the chance to spend some more time with him.

So you just say “Sure”.

After spending more time on your outfit than you feel comfortable admitting — this isn’t a date, dammit — you show up at the sorority Sana’s a part of. Though your dress feels too short, you’re relieved to feel self-assured on your high heels. Yes, it took practicing walking in them, but it’s paying off in confidence, and it’s a price you’re willing to pay.

People are already there when you arrive, gathered on the porch, filling the house, spilling out on the balconies. You get a few looks, but it’s not like you’re not used to them. At least you’re not pretending that you don’t give a fuck. Many of them don’t like you, and you don’t like them either.

Walking in, you find yourself hesitating. Would it be weird if you just tried to find Jisung right away? Should you try to socialize, spend a few minutes talking to the rare people you know and get along here?

You may not particularly care about what people think, most of the time, but you do care about what he thinks. And the thing is, you know people talk, especially about him, especially since 3racha’s popularity blew up last year. The last thing you want is for him to think that you’re some desperate, embarrassing idiot who’s been misreading—

Enough with the line of thinking. If he’s not interested, he shouldn’t have kissed you. And, okay, the first time was a week after the break-up with his girlfriend, and he was crying, and you don’t think it meant anything to him, but the second time, this summer? It had to have meant something. He wasn’t cruel like that— You didn’t think.

You’re still grateful to make eye contact with Changbin, because it makes things a little easier. You go up to him, exchange a few words, he introduces you to some of the people who’ve flocked to him, they pretend to be interested, and once you decide that you’ve made enough of an impression, you leave them with a polite, though forced, smile.

Finding Jisung isn’t all that hard, you just have to follow the laughter.

You know that he likes his peace and quiet, too, but on a night like that, he’ll be prepared to entertain. Someone else might think that it comes naturally to him, the jokes, the antics, the comedy, but you know better. You know that there’s a surprising amount of work that goes into how good he is at this, how easy he makes it look. You know that, when he’s around you, he’s actually fairly quiet, that he sometimes hangs out on your couch, on his phone, while you’re reading, but pouts if you leave the room.

When you find him, it seems him and the group he’s with are in the middle of some drinking games. You hesitate, again. You recognize some of the girls there as part of the girls’ swimming team, the one whose captain is Jisung’s ex. Who’d hated your guts since first year, independently from Jisung, and then, uh, dependently from Jisung, you’re pretty sure. She was single-handedly responsible for half of campus thinking you were a bitch, a feat that even you find somewhat impressive.

You’d almost respect it, if, you know. It hadn’t made your life hell until you managed to stop giving a fuck.

But Jisung spots you. He always does. You don’t know how he does it, half suspect that he’s on some Spiderman shit, but he finds you in the crowd, and his eyes widen, and his smile brightens, and God, it’s not fair, how he makes you feel when he’s not even yours.

Having Jisung’s undivided attention is— one of the best feelings in the world. Genuinely. He just has a way of making you feel like you matter. It’s a bunch of things he does, one of them being the way he makes people laugh. He always— caters his jokes to the person around him. That means he pays attention, means he remembers, means he cares. That’s already a lot.

“You made it,” he says, a soft edge to his tone, when you reach him. His hand reaches for your arm, pulling you into the circle, then hovers at your elbow, sometimes brushing against your skin. This is another one of the changes that have happened since the summer. He’s more— tactile, and it does all sorts of things to you.

You don’t mind. You don’t mind at all.

“You look good,” he adds, voice low enough that you’re the only one to hear it. You do your best to repress the shiver it sends down your spine.

“Thanks,” you reply, your usually sharp tongue unable to find something to reply.

“Jisung!” some voice calls, and you manage at the last second not to roll your eyes — thank God, ‘cause there’d be hell to pay if you had.

Because it’s Jihyun. Because of course it is. If there’s one thing you can’t take away from her, it’s that she always has impeccable timing. Not for you, naturally, for herself.

If it was just you, you’d be out the door in seconds, leaving the scene before risking any kind of confrontation. Being with Jisung right now means that she won’t directly be a bitch to you, she’s never done it upfront in front of him. She instead goes the passive-agressive route which, bless his precious heart, he basically never picks up on.

You also never spoke about it with him. At first because she was his fucking girlfriend and he clearly adored her, even if there was so much that set them apart, and since then because, well, you’re still afraid you’ll come off as some jealous bitch or he won’t believe you or, worse, take her side. Tell you that you were every bit the bitch she says you are, and that she was right for the shit she put you through.

You only have seconds to brace for impact. But as you compose yourself, not bothering to smile, Jisung’s hand settles on the small of your back.

Which, hmmm, you’d be happy about in pretty much any other circumstances, but right now? Right now it might not be the best thing for you.

“It’s been a while,” she tells Jisung with a stunning smile. “How have you been doing?”

Jisung smiles too, though somewhat tighter. They’re on good terms, from what you’ve heard, but that’s not really something you’ve discussed with him. You force yourself to tune them out quickly, letting your eyes wander in the room. Just being around her makes your chest tighten. You feel on edge, feel the need to watch all of your gestures and anything that leaves your mouth in fear that it will be used against you.

Fuck, you were supposed to be over that.

Whatever Jisung answers, it makes her laugh. She leans forward, puts her hand on his arm. She makes it looks so easy, so natural. Same with how she pushes her hair behind her ear, keeps her voice at the right pitch, even laughs the right way, light and airy. If you tried to flirt the way she does, you’d only embarrass yourself. You'd look delusional. There’d be nothing sexy or attractive about it.

You’re just bad at making people like you.

It’s impossible not to be reminded of the fact that this is who Jisung went for. You don't know if you can go as far as to say she’s his type, but he did choose to date her, and you know how much he cared for her.

With her around right now, it’s really fucking hard to think that he would go for someone like you and that you haven’t been letting yourself get carried away.

On a related note, are you going to have an emotional break down in the middle of the room?

“…and things are looking pretty good for the team, we think we’ll get to the nationals this year,” Jihyun concludes cheerfully.

Wow, that’s impressive! Shouldn’t she be training for that then?

Maybe she has a point. You are a bitch.

“That’s cool,” Jisung says. “Well, it was nice running into you again.”

Her smile falters, just barely, but you don't miss it. She’s good at hiding things, but you’re better at noticing them. Know your enemy and all that.

You’d almost feel bad for her. If you’d had Jisung’s undivided time and attention, and you lost it? Yeah. You don’t know how you’d cope.

But then her eyes light up again, and again, she’s really fucking good at that shit.

“What are you guys playing?” she asks. “I’d love to join.”

You’re not unaware of the way Jisung’s hand closes slightly on your back. As he turns around, he ends up pulling you a little closer to him and your stomach tightens. Less because of his proximity, though obviously that affects you too, and more because you have the sinking feeling that this is about her. Is he— using you to make her jealous?

No. There’s no way. He would never do that.

Right?

“Just some never have I ever for now,” Sana chirps in answer. She gives the three of you a warm smile, and you think she means it. You’ve never gotten shit from her, and that says a lot. Normally you’d argue that people shouldn’t be neutral or anything, but in your case, neutral seems to be too much to ask for, in most cases.

“Alright!” Jihyun grins, lifting her cup as if to signal that she’s ready to enter the game. “Never have I ever… had sex with someone at a party.”

She drinks almost immediately, a cute giggle slipping past her lips, and so do a bunch of other people.

“None of you get close to my room,” Sana warns sternly, and several people laugh.

It’s not until you feel Jisung moving to drink from his cup and catch a glance of his burning red ears that you realize what Jihyun’s point was. With someone else, it might be self-centered to assume you were the intended target. With her, you don’t doubt it a second. Just a little reminder that he used to be hers.

There are a few whistles at Jisung’s attention, but he keeps his eyes down. It doesn’t surprise you that it would make him uncomfortable. It kinda surprises you that she wouldn’t care, though. She’s evil incarnate, but she seemed to care about him, in her own way.

“Aw,” she says, staring straight at you with her sweetest smile, “don’t worry, we’ll find you someone.”

There was a time where that might have upset you, but right now you won’t give her the satisfaction. You let your gaze flicker over her, face-shoes-face, and then glance away with a scoff. It makes you look like a haughty bitch, but, well, you’re already known for being a haughty bitch, so who cares.

Jisung chuckles discreetly next to you. That makes it worth it.

The game goes on without catching much of your interest after that. Jihyun’s sentences remain pointed — either towards Jisung or you, you’re pretty sure, though you doubt anyone notices. At least Jisung doesn’t move away from you for most of it, chin sometimes coming to rest on your shoulder, fingers running gently over your arms, the occasional whispered comment in your ear.

Heat pools in your stomach the whole time, and you’re unable to focus on anything but him. His firm body’s pressed against your back, his proximity overwhelming. You feel that you should drag him away and finally talk about what’s going on between the two of you, but you’re afraid you’ll break the spell if you do.

Eventually, he’s the one who does, peeling himself away from you when Chan shouts from downstairs to get his attention.

It feels cold when he’s gone.

It feels colder when Jihyun’s eyes zero in on you.

Hm. Maybe flight would be the better option right now.

You’re not sure how it happens, but the game shifts not long after Jisung’s left. A bottle appears on the floor, and you tilt your head. Aren’t you all too old for that?

Apparently not, or at least not when so many people are that drunk and giggling at the idea. Soon, some are making out. Others excuse themselves and find a more private spot — Sana reminds everyone that her room should not be that spot, but you’re not sure how efficient that is.

You’re thinking about retreating when you hear someone call your name and again, of course, it’s Jihyun. She gives you a warm smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“It’s your turn!”

There’s tension in the air as you just stare. You don’t want to—

“C’mon, it will be fun!”

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care about what she makes you out to be. But in that moment, you’re back to your first-year self who was still trying to fit and figure out how to make people like you.

So you lean forward and spin the bottle.

It takes you less than a second to realize that that was some dumb fucking decision making. You don’t want to kiss anyone here. The idea vaguely nauseates you, actually, but less than the uncomfortable realization that no one here wants to kiss you. You might be seconds away from facing a harsh, unpleasant rejection. That was probably her point, actually. You fold your arms over your chest, but you still feel your shoulders sink. You know you’re unwanted. You don’t need—

The bottle’s grinding to a stop when a hand shoots out to grab it.

You frown, glance up.

And it’s Jisung. He flashes you a bright smile, then winks.

“Wanna make out?”

Jihyun laughs lightly, tells you to ‘go get it’. But even you can see her heart breaking in her eyes.

None of it matters when Jisung strides over to you and takes your hand in his to pull you away. More people than you’d have expected cheer.

He pulls you into some random room, closes it behind him, and then hesitation appears in his eyes when he looks at you.

“We don’t have to— I mean, I wasn’t trying to make you— If you want to go kiss someone else—”

It sounds like he is down to kiss you, and even if you hadn’t wanted to kiss him before that, you think that little knight in a rock band t-shirt moment would have gotten you going anyway. So you shut your brain up, grab him by his t-shirt, and in the stunned silence that follows, an extremely rare occurence with Jisung, you pull him down towards you.

His lips crash against yours, warm and soft, and after the first few seconds of surprise, during which you see him blinking at you with impossibly wide eyes, he kisses you back like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. One of his hands comes up to cup your face while the other’s at your waist, squeezing and bringing you closer, not quite daring to make the move to your ass. Yet, anyway.

There’s urgency in the way he tilts his head to get better access to your mouth. Your hands trail from his shirt to his arm, feeling his toned biceps underneath you fingers, and you feel him grin against you.

“Find something you like?” he teases, before kissing you again.

This time his tongue brushes against yours, and a moan escapes you. You could feel self-conscious about it, but you don’t, not with him. If anything, it only seems to spur him on further, and he gets closer, his toned thigh pushing between yours. You feel hot all over, anywhere he touches you set ablaze, and oh, do you want this. One of his hands slides up your leg, hitching your dress higher.

“Have I told you I really like this dress?” he asks, because apparently he can’t shut up even in moments like that.

He doesn’t let you answer though, and again he’s kissing you, making your head spin. You can’t figure out what to focus on. The softness of his lips, the warmth of his mouth, how his hand is slowly making its way higher up your thigh, setting your skin ablaze, probably intentionally teasing you. Whatever it is, you’re melting under his hands. You want more, undeniably so.

He pulls away for just a second, catching his breath. His chest is heaving quickly, his lips swollen, and you can’t help but think that this is your doing, a thought that somehow turns you on even further. Dark, dilated pupils meet yours, and you think you see a desire that mirrors your own. He licks his lips briefly, glances at the bed in the room. Then his eyes meet yours again. He swallows.

“Do you—”

You jump away when someone tries to open the door.

“Is someone in there?”

Shit. Shit.

It’s Sana.

“No one better be in there,” she says threateningly.

You exchange a panicked look. She’s the sweetest person in the world, but you don’t want to cross her.

In a second, Jisung steps away from you and he’s at the window. He opens it, looks out, and then he throws one leg over the edge.

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“Saving our lives,” he replies very seriously, stepping out fully on what you assume is the roof over the porch. “Come on,” he adds, “I’ll help you out.“

You roll your eyes, walk over to him and close the window, shooing him away with a gesture of the hand. Then you open the door, and though Saya eyes you suspiciously, you think she believes your story about being tired and wanting a rest and not having realized you’d locked the door.

Then you walk downstairs and let yourself fall on a couch, right next to Jisung, who seems to be all pouty that you refused to escape with him. His thigh brushes against yours, and your stomach does a somersault, but neither of you says anything about— well. About the thing you should be talking about. The moment’s passed, and self-doubt is assaulting you all over again.

Still, right now, you’re the person who gets to let your head fall on Jisung’s shoulder, and it’s your hand he intertwines his fingers with.

In that moment, you’re sure that the two of you will be alright eventually. It’s probably going to take a while, ‘cause you’re too much of a coward and Jisung’s— well, you’re not quite sure what his deal is, but there’s definitely something there.

But, eventually, you’ll be alright.

And there is no space in your brain, at that moment, to spare a single thought for Jihyun, because she’s lost him a long time ago.

Even if neither of you seem to be able to admit it, in all the ways that matter, he’s already yours.

okayyy, again, there's kinda Lore there. i don't know if i'll end up writing it, but in case you're wondering, OC was paired with Jihyun for a class during their first year. essentially, Jihyun was pretty busy due to being on the swimming team and other personal stuff. OC ended up constantly doing all the work for the both of them, and sometimes Jihyun would say she'd do stuff and not do it. eventually, after OC was forced to complete stuff in one night and abandoned for a group presentation, there was a nasty altercation with Jihyun and the teacher became aware of the situation, resulting in a bad outcome for Jihyun. lots of people felt that OC was unfair and should have been more understanding, and OC still doesn't know if that was the right thing, but felt used and upset during the situation. Jihyun also vilifies OC when talking about it, a lot, and OC ended up being kinda ostracized after that. so yeah.

if you read all this, uh, thank you, i hope you enjoyed this, it's my first time writing Han and I love him dearly and I hope this works. it would mean the world if you could reblog this, leave a comment or anything like that! as an author, this is really the only way we get to see that our work is appreciated and it's trully what keeps me writing so it's super important :) thank you for reading and i'll see you later for Hyunjin!

#stray kids #han #han jisung #han x reader #han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #stray kids imagine #han imagine #skz imagine #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #han fanfic #han jisung fanfic #candywrites

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

5 times Steph and Eddie refer to each other as husband and wife +1 time they make it official

Part 1 (also on ao3 here)

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

Stevie probably should have shut this all down weeks ago.

The kids have been calling her mom since before she even came out to them, so she’s admittedly kind of given up on stopping that one. The problem is now they’ve gotten Eddie in on it.

Well, Eddie’s not calling her mom. If he started doing that, she thinks she’d no longer be fit for public. She’d have to crawl in a hole and never come out, like how old cats sometimes wander away to die alone, except she’d be dying not of old age but of the mortification of an unrequited crush. So luckily, that isn’t happening.

But now, as she arrives at the Wheelers’ house to pick up the kids after a D&D session, she’s forced to confront the fact that Eddie calling her mom is not apparently the worst thing that could come of this whole thing.

It starts when she’s getting on Dustin’s case about leaving his shit all over the basement. These kids treat every space they’re in like they own it, but Stevie is very aware how hard Karen had to work to convince Ted to let Eddie host Hellfire here, and she’s not about to let that hard work go to waste just because the kids left the basement a bomb site.

Dustin rolls his eyes at her nagging, lets out a long-suffering sigh and a “Yes, mom,” and Stevie has barely finished giving him an obligatory sisterly noogie before things get out of hand.

“If Stevie’s our mom, does that make Eddie our dad?” Lucas says, casually, completely unaware that putting ‘Eddie’ and ‘dad’ in the same sentence has just completely broken Stevie’s brain.

Eddie, though. Eddie smells blood in the water. He’s got that look on his face, that one Stevie usually loves, the one he always gets right before he commits to a bit with overdramatic vigour.

Sure enough, Eddie immediately prostrates himself over the couch, hand to his forehead, looking the picture of a lovelorn idiot. “Stevie,” he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken. “It’s just been so hard, raising our kids alone since the divorce.”

Stevie scoffs. “You’re raising our kids? You get them for a few hours once a week, pretty sure I’m the one shuttling their ungrateful asses to and from school every day.”

“Ungrateful?” Dustin splutters, as if he doesn’t show up at Stevie’s door at entirely random times of the day and demands she drive him to whatever nerd shit he’s got going on next.

“You’re right, that’s unfair,” she says, and then before anyone can get a word in: “You’re lovely, Will, always so polite. But the rest of you little shits. Ungrateful.”

Will smiles serenely as his friends immediately erupt into complaints, and Eddie ignores them all to prostrate himself at Stevie’s feet.

“I know I haven’t been around often, but baby, won’t you give me another chance?”

Stevie thinks she’d probably give Eddie anything he asked for, as long as he’s asking on his knees before her. It’s definitely a good look for him, and it’s only the clamour of the kids around her that keeps her face from going bright red.

She’s gotta play it cool here. Roll with the ridiculousness, always the best way to deal with Eddie, to keep him grinning at her like that, his whole face lit up like sunshine.

“Well…” she says, pretending to think it over, like she wouldn’t marry him in a heartbeat if he asked for real. That would be a bit much, given they’ve only known each other for a year and some change. “I suppose… although I’m not seeing a ring.”

Eddie grins like she’s fallen into some trap, and immediately slides the ring off his right hand- her favourite one with the big round stone in the middle that she likes to play with sometimes when they’re smoking together- and holds it up to her, a challenge in his eyes. Well. Only way out is through. She holds out her hand for him, the left one, and he slides the ring gently onto her ring finger. It fits perfectly.

“There you go,” he says, softly. His eyes are so warm, like pools of melted chocolate, and Stevie feels like she might drown in them. Her whole world has narrowed to the man on his knees before her- she’s distantly aware of the kids around them losing their minds (she’s pretty sure Mike is gagging, but that’s so far from her mind right now it might as well be happening on a different planet).

Eddie smiles up at her. “There’s my wife.”

“Your wife,” she whispers, unbearably fond. Stevie wants to hear him call her that for the rest of her life.

This really isn’t helping with her crush.

Sound filters in slowly, the world around them coming back in with the hushed whispers of the kids. Honestly, they’re quieter than she thought they’d be after this display, although the way Mike is rubbing his ribs suggests that this peace was hard won. They round the kids up pretty easily after that, with surprisingly little complaining as Stevie harangues them into cleaning up their shit. Eddie helps, occasionally glancing up at Stevie and looking quickly away with a fierce blush.

Later, after Stevie’s dropped off most of the kids and it’s only her and Will left in the car, riding home in silence as Stevie fiddles with the ring still on her finger, she tries not to read too much into everything that just happened. Will isn’t helping.

“So,” he says, in that sly, quiet way of his. “How long have you and Eddie been together?”

Stevie splutters. “That’s not- we’re not together. That was just- you know how Eddie is, he’s… theatrical.”

Will hums noncommittally. “He is. I don’t think that’s what that was, though. You like him, right?”

If this was any of the kids other than Will, Stevie thinks she’d deny it. God knows Dustin couldn’t be trusted with that information. But Will, quiet, sensitive Will- she thinks he’d get it.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I really do. But it’s not- he doesn’t like me like that.”

She pulls up to the Byers’ house and parks the car in the drive. They both sit for a moment, basking in the silence. After a moment, Will suddenly leans over the gearshift, wrapping Stevie up in a weird, slightly uncomfortable hug. It feels nice.

“For what it’s worth,” he says as he pulls back and opens his door, “he looked really happy when he called you his wife. Even Eddie’s not that good of an actor.”

With that, he gently closes the car door behind him. Stevie watches as he runs up to his front door, and waves when Joyce comes out to greet him.

She drives most of the way home on autopilot, fiddling with the ring on her finger and thinking of Eddie’s face as he’d placed it on her hand. His gentle smile, his warm, chocolate eyes, full of something like love. His fingers had been rough with callouses as they’d brushed against hers, but still soft in a way that had nothing to do with his skin.

Maybe, she thinks, as she enters her quiet mausoleum of a house. Just maybe.

She goes to sleep that night, alone in her bed, with her last sight before unconsciousness being that of a gleaming ring on her left finger, and dreams of a husband who loves her.

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #stevie harrington #steve harrington

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Hi DJ! If you’re still taking first kiss prompts, I was thinking something with “an accidental first kiss” with Mayday could be fun? I could see him freaking out at first and then totally going back for a second one once he realizes there’s feelings involved.

And if you don’t have time to get to this no worries! I hope you’re doing well 🤗 🙏🏻

A/N: Thanks for the ask @lightwise! This inspired me immediately, and I’ve been chomping at the bit to get to it!

Pairing: Commander Mayday x Reader (GN) 

Rating: T but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 629

Warnings and tags: fluff; sympathetic embarrassment

Summary: You accidentally kiss Mayday. Things go better than expected. Also, if you love the idea of accidentally kissing Mayday, be sure to check out @moonlightwarriorqueen’s response to a similar ask!

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

You rubbed your eyes, trying to clear your vision—blurred from exhaustion and overwork—as you stared at your datapad. You were up to your ass in paperwork and preparations for the 77th Heavy Brigade’s deployment to the Outer Rim sieges, and you were barely halfway through. All around you, troopers, droids, and GAR personnel hustled through the cargo bay, stacking crates, calling out orders and occasional curses, and generally making an unholy ruckus.

You had just ticked three more crates off the cargo manifest on your datapad when you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Startled, you turned to see the brigade’s commander himself, carrying a ration bar and looking far more handsome than he had any right to when you knew he’d been working just as hard or harder than you had. His beard was freshly trimmed, and his long hair was just as tempting as ever, making your fingers itch to thread through it.

“Mayday,” you gasped. “I didn’t even hear you.”

He smiled. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Thought you might need this.”

He handed you the ration bar, and you accepted it gratefully, realizing you hadn’t eaten all day.

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Commander!” a trooper called, drawing his attention, and he turned his head just in time for your lips to collide directly with his.

You both froze, eyes wide as you stared at each other, lips still pressed together.

“Uh, never mind, it can wait,” the trooper said, scurrying away.

You stayed like that for a breath longer, paralyzed by mortification, until at last you pulled away, shielding your eyes with one hand to try to hide.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled. “That was—I didn’t mean—”

Mayday let out an awkward, strained chuckle. “That’s all right. It was just an accident.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, still refusing to meet his eyes.

He paused. “Hey… It was an accident… Right?”

“Yeah!” you said, your voice coming out in an unconvincing squeak. “I definitely didn’t want it to happen like that…”

You turned back to your datapad, desperately hoping that he would take the hint and just go away, leaving you to die of embarrassment in peace.

He paused. “But you did want it to happen?”

You dropped your head to peer more closely at the cargo manifest, muttering something indistinctly under your breath. Mayday glanced around the cargo bay, then took you gently by the wrist and tugged you behind a stack of crates, shielding you from view of the bustling crowd. His fingertips ghosted along your jaw, softly tilting your face toward his.

“Did you want it?” he murmured.

Unable to hide behind your datapad any longer, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing that he’d see the truth in your expression. 

“M—Mayday… I…” You swallowed, then whispered, “Yes.”

He trailed his fingers down your throat, then slid his strong, warm hand to the back of your neck and slowly pulled you closer. His lips were so soft as he kissed you—soft enough to surprise you, even though you’d already felt them beneath your own. You drew in a soft, shuddering breath as your eyes drifted closed. Distantly, you heard the clatter of your ration bar and datapad as you dropped them to the durasteel floor, leaving your hands free to slide around his body as his tongue brushed over your lips.

The kiss ended far sooner than you would have preferred, but Mayday still held you in his arms, gazing down at you with an awestruck expression.

“Kriff,” he breathed. “We should do that again.”

You nodded enthusiastically, tangling your fingers in his hair the way you’d wanted to for so many months and pulling his face back to yours. “Absolutely.”

#commander mayday #commander mayday x reader #the bad batch #mayday tbb #sw tbb #bad batch fanfic #dystopicjumpsuit writes

[suzukiblu]

Jason Todd for the fic bits?

Jason wants to fuck up every single thing about Gotham, which would be a lot easier if he weren't halfway into heat right now. Which–of fucking course he'd finally have his first fucking heat when he's meant to be starting a fucking gang war.

Like, of course that's his life.

Or death.

He'd really just assumed getting dunked in the pit or being dead or whatever other bullshit had just rotted out his reproductive organs. It's years too damn late for him to start having heats, for fuck’s sake. Hell, he was a late bloomer even before he died.

But he is, absolutely and undeniably, going into heat right now.

So . . . that's a problem, definitely.

Admittedly, said problem could've popped up when Ra's al Ghul was the nearest available alpha, so maybe he should just be fucking grateful to have dodged that particular nightmare-bullet and push his plans back a week.

Just–a clinic. He'll find a clinic. He'll find a clinic and lie about his name and check himself in and pretend this isn't his first fucking heat and he's not a useless virgin who barely even knows what to do for it and it doesn't matter that he doesn't have a pack to spend it with. Doesn't matter that Bruce won't be rumbling soothingly at him through things or that Alfred won't be making sure he stays fed and hydrated, that no one is going to be touching or holding him, that he won't–that no one's going to–

Jason thinks, with mortification and shame and absolute fury, about what he'd used to hope his first heat might be like, before he got beaten to death and burned back to life. He thinks about how badly he'd wanted it to be like that.

Before the ridiculous and semi-suicidal night that Jason had decided to jack the Batmobile's tires, he'd always known just how shitty his first heat was going to be. Back then he'd just figured he'd be lucky if nobody tried to sell it without his permission.

When he'd thought he'd had a real <i>pack</i>, though . . . when he'd thought that he'd really belonged to that pack . . .

He'd thought Bruce would be there to soothe him through it. He'd thought Alfred would be there to keep him comfortable.

He'd thought maybe, maybe Dick wouldn't be too mad at Bruce to be in Gotham that week, and might . . . and might . . .

Jason's gut burns, and he stops letting himself remember what he'd thought then. What he'd . . .

What he'd wanted, then.

Doesn't matter, he tells himself, quick and harsh and brutal. Doesn't matter. Never mattered. They didn't even really want him, in the end. Don't even care that he's gone anymore, if they ever did at all.

They replaced him.

They replaced him, and they didn't even kill the bastard who took him from them first.

Jason wants to die all over again, thinking about that.

Jason wants to cry, thinking about that.

And he wants his pack alpha to come and make it all better, like he's fucking new or stupid or something. Like he hasn't known better than that since he was old enough for cognizant goddamn thought. Willis never made a damn thing better. And Bruce tricked him into thinking that he would, for a while, but . . .

Well, Jason learned that lesson, didn't he.

Robin learned that lesson.

Jason died with the Joker's scent all over him. Died all marked up with it. Died smelling like he belonged to him.

Couldn't even smell Bruce anymore, past that awful scent. Not even enough to die to.

And just–yeah, well, the less said about Ra's and the League, the better.

So.

Clinic. He needs a clinic. He's too emotional, he's too vulnerable, he's not safe, he's . . . he . . .

He doesn't even know where the fuck he is, actually.

Fuck.

Jason tries to orient himself. He knows Gotham like the back of his hand, even now. Even like this. He knows Gotham like the back of his hand, and he's . . . and he's . . .

And he's lost.

That's so funny that he might actually cry.

Right. Okay. Situation: lost. Lost in fucking Gotham, somehow. No gear. Minimal weapons. Not even any fucking body armor or a damn domino mask. Gun under his jacket. Knife strapped to his calf. Picks in his belt.

Nothing else.

He is absolutely going to die. Or get goddamn assaulted in some random fucking filthy alley. Or both.

Probably both, yeah.

Is he even wearing his damn scent blockers right now . . . ?

Jason checks, and is distantly relieved to feel the necessary patches under his fingers, all neatly covering the scent glands in his wrists and throat. Okay, yeah. Not that stupid yet. Still in a bad situation, what with the whole "being halfway into heat on a public street after dark while lost in a shitty neighborhood in fucking Gotham", but just–again, this could be happening with Ra's al Ghul as his alpha, so right now he's just gonna take what little mercy he can get.

Ra's might've bred him, if he'd gone into heat around him.

Ra's would definitely have bred him, actually. That sounds like exactly the kind of fucked-up power trip that bastard would get off on.

Shit, it'd been bad enough the way he'd treated and touched him as it was. Jason still can't believe Ra's never did anything worse than feel him up a few too many places a few too many times. Like, he actually is still technically a virgin, he's pretty sure.

Even if only technically.

So yeah. Jason is very, very grateful for whatever bizarre and random thing made his body wait this long to heat up for the first time. He really is.

. . . is his replacement an omega too? Did Batman's new and improved Robin spend his first heat with . . .

Jason needs to not think about that right now.

Or ever, maybe.

It's so, so hard not to think about that right now.

He just wants his pack so bad. Worse than he ever remembers wanting them before.

Maybe not worse than he wanted them after he first crawled out of the pit and Ra's forced him to bare his throat for him, though.

No. Not worse than that.

But they replaced him. If there was ever anything there, ever any chance of mattering more than he actually had . . . well, that was gone a long, long time ago, wasn't it.

It was gone. And they didn't care. Hadn't ever cared at all, probably.

They didn't . . . they'd never . . .

Jason is vaguely aware of the fact that he's somehow wound up halfway down an alley, crouched down and curled up against a wall in the shadows under a fire escape. It is very nearly the stupidest goddamn place an omega in his condition could be.

He really doesn't give a fuck, though. Why does it matter? Why does anything matter? He should just stay here and let whatever the fuck happens to him happen.

He might as well.

No one's going to care either way.

It's dark. He's wearing scent blockers. He's all wrapped up in scratchy cotton and rough denim and heavy leather and he doesn't know where the nearest heat clinic is and he's not sure he could get his phone out to figure it out right now. He's not even sure he could kill someone right now, if it came to it.

All things considered, that's more worrying than anything else is.

A lot more.

Jason wants to go home so, so bad.

Which is fucking funny, given that he doesn't even have one.

Yeah. Really, really fucking funny.

Jason wants to throw up. Is definitely shaking. Even more definitely needs to get up and go find a fucking clinic and tell them whatever lies it takes to get himself in the door without someone trying to call his nonexistant pack alpha for him.

Without someone trying to call Bruce for him.

Like Bruce would even come.

Jason really, really wants to throw up. Or kill someone.

What he's actually doing, of course, is fucking sobbing. Because of course he is. Of course that's what's happening here. He's alone in a fucking miserable dark alley and sobbing his fucking guts out instead of just dealing with the fucking problem like a fucking adult.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Aside from that whole thing where heat makes most omegas insanely overemotional and irrational freaks. And how much worse that thing is when said overemotional and irrational omegas happen to be goddamn strays.

Just. Aside from that.

Fuck, he's so stupid. Why did he even come back? Bruce isn't going to care. No one is.

They replaced him.

They replaced him.

Like he wasn't anyone important. Like the place he'd been filling in their pack was just . . . just something temporary. Something that hadn't really mattered to them.

Like that place in their pack wasn't the only thing that'd ever really mattered to him.

He's so, so stupid.

So stupid.

He'll never have that again. He never even really had it to begin with.

And then he fucked up and died, and they all found someone better.

They didn't even give enough of a shit to avenge him before they did.

Jason knows he's being irrational. Knows he needs to get up and get out of here. Knows that these feelings are just . . . just . . .

It's only this bad because of his impending heat, he tries to remind himself. It's only this bad because of that. That's all. Sure as shit he's not crying like this because of anything else.

If it wasn't just the heat, after all, he'd never stop crying. If it wasn't just the heat, he'd have just let himself drown in the pit, or suffocate in his grave, or just . . . or just . . .

Jason needs to get up. Needs to get out of here.

Jason needs his fucking pack to fucking come for him.

But he's needed that before.

#jason todd #red hood #also a teeny bit of implied dickjay #batman #a/b/o #rinfic #anonymous #not sfw #long post #implied molestation #rape mention #wip: the one where omegaverse fucks up red hood's life

[theautumnpicker]

Be next, what you have ever been, Infinity

Gale proposes with a special ring of his own creation. Astarion thinks he's teasing. Read on AO3 here. Happy birthday Rambo @mystraguideme!!!

“…if you would honour me with your hand.”

Gale is playing the part well, that is certain; he had dropped to one knee and is now holding up a ring box between them. The ring itself is a pretty little thing, a solid gold statement ring in pattern that resembles a sunburst, or perhaps a crown.

Astarion laughs and offers his hand. “So this is why you’ve been locked away in that study of yours for so long. This is no ordinary ring, I imagine?”

As Gale slips the ring on his left index finger—a perfect fit, naturally—he remains on his knee. “Indeed, my love, you have the right of it. It is imbued with a powerful enchantment of my own creation.” Astarion can hear the note of pride in his voice. “A spell designed to protect the wearer from sunlight.” Gale lifts a finger as if in warning. “At the moment, the magic has … limited charge. For your own safety, I’d recommend using it for no more than three hours per day. But worry not, I am still working to refine the spell and extend the duration, and I will not rest until—”

“Gale, it’s perfect.” Astarion cuts him off, resting his newly-adorned hand on Gale’s cheek and watching him lower his hand. “This is already more than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you.” But there is still a measure of doubt on his lover’s face, and Gale remains for some reason kneeling on the ground before him instead of standing up to embrace Astarion.

Before he can ask what’s wrong, Gale surprises him a second time, his voice full of trepidation. “I can’t quite help but point out that you haven’t given me an answer.”

For a moment, Astarion is genuinely at a loss as to what he might be talking about. All at once, it dawns on him, and his right hand flies to cover the expression of horror on his face. “Sweet hells, you’re serious?”

Gale, for his part, is reaching up towards him, his voice pitched with desperate anxiety. “Of course, the ring is not contingent upon your agreement to marry me. It occurs to me only now that it might seem—of course, you can keep it—” His face is flushed red with mortification, the usually-eloquent wizard stumbling suddenly over his words.

“Oh, you sweet, romantic fool.” Astarion can’t help himself. He pulls Gale to his feet and wraps his arms around him, shaking with silent laughter, though even he isn’t quite sure what could be so funny about this situation. “By the gods, you really mean this?”

“More than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. But of course, even if marriage isn’t what you imagine for us—”

“No. I mean, not no. I mean…”  It’s Astarion’s turn to stumble over his words now, as he pulls back from their embrace. “I honestly never seriously thought about it.” He winces, because he can tell Gale is a little crushed. “I’m not saying no! I just— I suppose I have questions.”

“Such as?”

It takes Astarion a moment to formulate his swimming thoughts into a coherent question. “I want to know what I’ll be getting myself into. Is this forever? Or is this for the next few decades, until your life reaches its, ehm…” There’s no pretty way to say this. “… natural conclusion.”

“Until I die, you mean,” says Gale, with a tone of voice that is somewhere in between amused and affronted. “Of old age, more wizened and wrinkled than Elminster.”

“Well. Yes.” Astarion raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’s a question worth asking, given the circumstances?”

“I suppose that’s fair. A lifetime with me must seem like the blink of an eye to you.”

Though Astarion winces, he can’t bring himself to disagree. He’d marry Gale anyway, he thinks, and count the next 60 years as the best of his life. But he’d rather know beforehand if there is an expiration date.

“If you really must know, I intend to stick around. If you’ll have me. I have a few ideas in the works to that effect. Though I imagine that must make it more intimidating, not less; I mean, gods know what I’ll be like after twenty years, let alone two hundred. I understand if you’d rather not commit to an eternity—"

“Yes.” Astarion silences him again with a kiss. “Yes, forever.”

#bloodweave #ficlet #astarion #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #my fic #long post

[pisoprano]

Happy birthday, @blur0se! I wrote some more Loveybug AU for you!

Marinette was feeling giddy. Becoming Loveybug was just—GAHH!!! She didn’t have words for it. She wanted to dance and squeal and start throwing confetti. 

She’d told Chat Noir she loved him! 

After all her failures with trying to tell Adrien her feelings, she’d actually succeeded in revealing the three suns in her heart (i.e., those three little words, “I love you”) to someone! And sure, Chat had run away before responding, but clearly that had to be because he was about to transform back, right? Or maybe it was just that he was too surprised by the other news she’d shared to say anything? 

(He looked so sad, though, when he learned that Ladybug wasn’t coming ba—DON’T THINK ABOUT ANY OF THAT! THIS IS HAPPY FUN TIME TO CELEBRATE!) 

She started planning what she was going to do when she saw Chat Noir again. Maybe they could go on a romantic boat ride together? She could wear a fancy dress and have a violin serenading them as they watched the stars together! And she had to bring him a rose—no, a dozen! A hundred! How expensive were roses again? She'd figure that out later, she just knew that any roses had to be red because her kitty needed to know that this was no platonic friendship that she was giving him, it was a romance. One that would last forever and ever! 

The akuma alert popped up on her phone. A part of Marinette was annoyed—she hadn’t finished her dating plan yet!—but on the other hand, it meant seeing that beautiful, silly, fun, caring, adorable, wonderful boy in cat ears that much sooner. She’d have to make up for the lack of a plan with extra hugs (and kisses if she could snag them!) 

“Tikki, spots on!” 

Loveybug yo-yo'd herself into the sky and looked for her partner (the akuma could wait). Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have shown up yet. Probably something in his personal life holding him up. She wished she knew more about that personal life. She wished she was a part of that personal life. Maybe he’d open up more about himself to Loveybug—he certainly wouldn’t tell Ladybug since she'd told him ‘No talking about identity stuff!’ too many times to count (she was a fool to have made that rule—sure the world had ended a couple times, but on the other hand, consider: kissy kissy meow meow). 

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t see all the birds coming. Loveybug was thrown into the air by Mr. Pigeon’s latest flock of evil pigeons. Maybe I can manipulate the swarm of birds into making a message for Chat? she mused to herself. A giant heart shouldn’t be too difficult, right? 

As she tried to think through her plans of sky artistry, she suddenly felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around her. 

He’s here! 

Loveybug closed her eyes in a dramatic swoon and nuzzled up to him, “Hey, Hot Stuff, where have you been all my life?” She moved her hand up to his neck to play with his bell, but it wasn’t there. All she found was a metallic chain. 

She opened her eyes to look at her catboy. Except he wasn’t her catboy. Sure he was a catboy—black cat ears, a tail, and baton with a paw print that he was using to keep the both of them aloft in the sky as they fled the pigeon horde. But his hair was green and his posture was perfect and he looked like a soldier waiting for orders. Nothing like the fun-loving goofball that had been Ladybug’s partner since the very beginning. 

(Except that time when he’d given up the ring. Except that time when he’d been replaced.) 

“Catwalker?” she whispered. 

“Good day, Loveybug, I hope you are alright?” 

“Of course I’m alright!” she yelped. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” 

She couldn’t let herself fall apart over losing Chat, not again. She needed to be Loveybug right now, she would die of mortification if Catwalker of all people found out that she was Ladybug in disguise. Mr. Perfect could never find out about how Ladybug had screwed things up with Chat Noir so badly she’d dreamed up an alternate version of herself to fix it. 

Catwalker frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay? We’ve got an akuma to deal with, but if you’re not feeling well—” 

“Yep! Purr-fectly fine, that’s me! Paris’ number one heroine of love and justice! Loveybug! Not Ladybug! She’s not here! Oh look, the Pigeon Man! Let’s go fight him! With the power of love!” 

She gave Catwalker a smooch on the cheek and flung herself away towards danger.

(But why was Catwalker here? He can’t be a permanent replacement. Chat Noir had to come back. If Chat hated Loveybug so much that he gave up the ring again just to get away from her, she’d—DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT! EVERYTHING IS FINE! JUST KEEP DOING WHAT YOU’RE DOING! YOU LOVE CATWALKER TOO, RIGHT? HE’S SUPER PRETTY AND NICE. YOU CAN LOVE HIM UNTIL CHAT NOIR COMES BACK. HE HAS TO COME BACK.) 

#loveybug au #loveybug #catwalker #marinette dupain cheng #ml fanfic #my writing #miraculous ladybug

[rosecoloreddesire]

Never Know How Much I Love You (Elvis 2022)

Austin!Elvis x reader

Summary: Your friends tell you it’s now or never to lose yourself to the pleasure of a one night stand. Though, what would you do if that one might stand was newcomer, Elvis Presley?

Note: Thank you for 200 followers! Just wrote this small thing while college finals were killing my brain last week so I hope it makes sense and y’all like it! This is supposed to mimic desperation and naïveté in one night stands :)

Warnings: SMUT! Minors DNI!

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, Kath! I can’t do that! I’d be embarassin’ myself in front of that Memphis boy if I did that!” You covered your face in mortification.

“Come on! You gotta admit y’all two had a real good connection on that stage! He was only lookin’ at ya! Ain’t that right, Patti?” Your older friend elbowed the love struck nerd in the side rather roughly. She wheezes out the air she was sobbing out earlier.

“Y-yes, Y/N. Go seduce that Presley boy so I can stare at the other talents.” She waved her manicured hand in the air as you rolled your eyes and huffed in defeat. What the hell were they thinking sending you to the hotel door step of THE rising star of the Louisiana Hayride?

“I gotta great idea! You can borrow some of my clothes! And Miss Dreams-a-Lot can do your makeup? Sound good? Good!” She stops you before you can even answer. You sip your milkshake in annoyance even if Kathy was buying. Why you out of this group? You all thought he was hot!

“Hey, you gotta live a little! Your parents ain’t gonna kill ya for havin’ a little fun! What do you thank they were doin’ at our age, purity!” You scoffed at the nickname and gulped the rest of your milkshake down.

“Fine! I’ll prove I ain’t no innocent little one time girl! Doll me up, chicks!”

————————

“I-I look so good. Holy smokes!” You pose in the mirror as the girls put the finishing touches on your seduction outfit of the night.

“You look like ya ready to snatch a man’s soul tonight!”

“Or his wallet.”

“Patti-“

“Sorry!” She raised her hands in defense as you twirled around. The dress was just tight enough that if your parents saw they’d keel over right that second.

“Y’all really think this is gonna work. That boy prolly has a type. And I don’t think this is it. “ you gesture to your whole body. Kathy pushes you and fixes a stray curl on the back of your hair.

“That boy has hundreds of girls falling at his feet. C’mon, it’s a worth a try. You may never get another chance! Also that lingerie underneath is too die for!” Kath places a gentle hand on your shoulder and gives you a soft smile.

“And hey, maybe he likes sleepin’ with the same girl. He seems like one of those innocent churchly types, ya know?” Patti fixes her lipstick and Kath elbows her again. Her lipstick going up her face. The two begin to bicker as you watch from your motel window. You watch as Elvis passes by. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and you bite your lip. The blue lace shirt looked ethereal on his skin in the pale moon light. You looked down at yourself once again and took a deep breath. You looked back at the pair and they continued to fight as you slipped out as quiet as you could. You watched as Elvis retreats into his room.

“Breathe, Y/N. We got this.” You smoothed your dress down to your body. You look through the small crack in his curtains. His shirt unbuttoned all the way and wincing on the phone. You could see the heart shaped paper on the rotary numbers. He has to be talking to his girl back home. What the hell were you thinking? God, he looks good though. All of your conscience is void as you wrap your knuckles to the door. The wood cold against your sweating hand. You begin to turn and try to forget you ever wanted to do this.

“Hey Scotty, I-“ his breath hitches as he notices your not his friend and band mate but something better. You smile up at him softly and walk in, dragging your hand along his bare chest as you pass.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m sorry if this is too forward but-“ Elvis’ hands are on your waist in seconds as yours fall around his nape. He stares down at you, biting his lip. His eyes are beautiful in the dark room as you feel your legs threatening to give out from beneath you.

“You are one brave chick for walk-in’ in like ya did. I like that. You a fan?” You shake your head as he chuckles.

“I-I mean yes but I ain’t one of those ones that sits outside your door waitin’ for ya. Sometimes they mistake my room for yours! It’s somethin’ awful!” His eyes flicker from your mouth to your e/c orbs. You decide to say screw it and pull him down towards you.

“You talk a lot, doll.” He smiles and you flush. Your hand drags down his chest as his breath hitches. Your hands are cold against his warm embrace.

“Then shut me up, Elvis.” A growl rips from his throat and his lips are on yours in seconds. He’s clearly just as new as you are to this but it feels otherworldly. His hands can’t find a place to sit and grasp your body wherever he can reach. His tongue traces your bottom lip, a moan squeaks from your throat as his tongue delves into your mouth. You take his hand and place it on your chest. His hand pulls the top of your dress down and all but tears your bra.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Y/N. Lord, bless me for you walkin’ your pretty little ass in here.” He bites his lip to stop from groaning. His lips and teeth attack your throat as he tries to calm himself down. Your neck and chest were wet and bruised as Elvis tried to clutch onto any sense of reason.

“E-Elvis, more. Please. Make me yours.” His hands are gripping your waist so hard you’re sure bruises will be the harshest reminder of what you’re getting yourself into. His eyes hardly leave your tits as he gulps audibly. His lips are hot and wet as he twirls his tongue around your budding nipple. A sharp gasp leaves your reddened lips. His grasp is harsh on your thighs as he spreads them apart.

“Look at you, baby. All this for me? You’re my pretty little play thing, right?” You nod desperately as you claw at his chest for any sort of touch. His lip caught between his teeth, a moan raring to leave his lips. He drags a finger up your dampened light blue panties. You whimper as he pulls them to the side. He blows his hot breath against your pussy, your voice caught in your throat. A smirk spreads across his face as he places a soft kiss to your begging clit.

“P-please. Elvis- AH” his mouth is on you before you can even get his name out from your mouth. His tongue is slow, teasing. His grip on your thighs are still harsh and commanding. Your grip on his hair makes him chuckle and the vibration sends you into a frenzy. He pulls away as quickly as he started and looks down at you. Unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. Rubbing up and down your pussy. You grip his shoulders, the warmth of his body was the only thing left to ground your mind as you slowly delved into this sinful act.

“I’m sorry, mama. I need to feel you is that alright? We can sto-“ a growl is torn from his chest as you take his cock in your hand and push him inside slowly.

“You are so big, fuck. Shit, more please.” He nods and places his hands beside your head on the pillows.

“You look and f-feel divine. Lord, you are so fuckin’ hot.” His head falls between your neck and shoulder. His teeth scraping against your throat. Was he this possessive with all those girls at his door? Your nails are sharp on his back as he hisses at the feeling. His hips bucking tougher than before.

“More. Fuck me, Elvis!” You scrunch your eyes closed as his cock delves deeper inside you. You want to remember the feeling of Elvis inside you. Lord knows that this will be the first and only time you’ll have this sensation deep within you. Elvis is whimpering now as you tighten around him. No longer keeping his moans hidden as he loses himself.

“Fuck, I wanna- can I cum inside you?” Your hands are gripping the pillows beneath you as you nod. God, you didn’t want this night to be over but holy hell was this boy doing a number on you!

“I’m gonna cum!” The two of you are sweaty as Elvis lays on top of you. His cum drips out onto the hotel sheets and he apologizes while grabbing some towels. He grabs a satin shirt of his and helps you into it as he placed a soft kiss to your head.

“I-I don’t usually do that sorta thing, mama.” You smile.

“I don’t either.”

——————-

“YOU LEFT HIS HOTEL BEFORE HE WOKE UP? You’re kiddin’!” Kath all but screams as you enter the door way to y’all’s room. You pulled his shirt tighter to your body as she scanned you.

“Look at her, Kath! She’s covered in bites! She really did do it! Look at you, purity!” Patti comes up to hug you and you wince. Your shame was rising higher by the minute.

“You do know we’re followin’ him to the next show right?” Your jaw dropped.

“KATH! We are not! What in the sam hell do you think you are? You tell me to go do somethin’ and I did it!” The two girls sit you down and help you cover up the marks on your visible skin and obvious bags under your eyes. You sigh.

“At least this one tonight, Y/N? Maybe, he liked ya! And he’ll wanna see you more?” You rolled your eyes and looked at yourself in the mirror feeling a pity that sunk its claws within your features. It was dark last night there was no way he’d be into you. You weren’t anyone’s type.

“Let’s go. As long as y’all are gonna get me a milkshake after.” The pair hug you and rush to their suitcases for their clothes.

“Deal!”

————————

“Backstage?! C’mon girls. You have gotta be pullin’ my leg here!” Kathy takes your hand and you three sit on a bench in the back watching as Elvis performed. You’d never tire of seeing it as the electricity of his passion shot through your very being every time. Soon you find yourself thinking of last night. The way he gently caressed your body and then grasped it like you were going to disappear. His lips…how full and sweet they tasted. You drift off and tune back in when you hear familiar panting.

“Thanks, guys. Was that good? Is that wigglin’ thing really all that?” His band mates were handing him towels and water as he stood drenched in sweat. You turn to tell Patti you needed to go and that’s when you see the two had left you. You try to hide your face but it’s too late as you hear a light laugh coming from the boy.

“I-I- think the wigglin’ was just fine, Elvis.” Your voice is meek as he stalks closer to you. His hand curls underneath your chin.

“You’ve got a lot of bravery comin’ back to me a second time, lil’ birdie.” His eyes are dark and firmly on yours as you stutter a response.

“I-I’’m sorry I didn’t think you’d want me to stay-“ His lips and tongue are harsh as he covers your body with his. The heat of his body is dizzying as you grab onto his suit jacket with all your strength. His body isn’t close enough. His taste is addicting. The clothes on his body needed to be off.

“Who said you weren’t mine, lil’ birdie? Didn’t you say you wanted me to make you mine,” your eyes are glossed over as he pulls your chin to lessen the gap between you both. You gasp as he forced you to look at him, “Hm? Give me an answer, mama.” You nod as he gives you a stern look.

“Yes. Yes, Elvis.”

“That’s my good girl.”

#elvis presley #elvis 2022 #austin butler #austin butler elvis #rosecoloreddesire #elvissmut #elvisfluff #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis film

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

TMA Appreciation Week, August 8: Favorite Scene

Menagerie

(Note: sort of spoilers for the whole show? Takes place Somewhere Else.

Warning for absolute tooth-rotting sweetness.)

Brains were funny, funny things, even when one's own might currently be made of eyeballs.

Martin… You’re not, uh. You didn’t die here, did you?

He had actually asked that in the middle of a crisis. He'd done that! Asked that! While they were about to be eaten by worms!

What? What? No! What?

No, I just… No, just the way you phrased that…

Did you think I was a ghost?

Only for a moment!

He had thought it, though. Ugh.

The image won't leave; the memory won't fade. It's just one of those nights when he can't let go of the memory and what followed.

Jon had been sure after this that Martin thought he was an idiot.

It had led to many nights of mortification, staring at the ceiling.

It had led to hours of verbal processing, wailing in Georgie's patient direction.

It even tormented him later, when he'd feared that Martin would become a ghost - after he'd been saved from the Lonely, and struggled to retain himself.

Did you think I was a ghost?

Ugh. Jon made an unhappy sound and pulled his pillow over his face.

Martin shifted in the bed and slid onto his chest, warm and pleasantly heavy. "Hey in there," he said, and tugged at the pillow.

"Hey," said Jon, muffled, and pulled it off his face.

Martin, in the moonlight, grinning up at him, was the most incredible thing he had ever seen (and as Jon saw everything, he knew he was right).

"You okay in there?" said Martin.

"Did I wake you?"

"Well, you groaned, so, yeah."

"I'm sorry." Jon slid his fingers into Martin's curls, their color leeched by the night. "Didn't mean to. Or to groan, for that matter."

"Oh, it's fine. I'd rather be awake to keep you from spiraling, anyway." He shifted close enough to kiss - taking his time, for both their sake - before settling on his chest again, watching him. "What was it this time? Daisy again?"

Jon's smile was wry. "No, nothing grim. Not this time."

"Good!" Martin's relief was palpable. "Then what was it? What little silly thing could you not stop thinking about since we went to bed... oh... four hours ago?"

Jon traced Martin's forehead, his cheekbones, his lips, as if Martin were the greatest treasure in the world. Which he was. "Ahem. 'Did I think you were a ghost?'"

Martin started giggling. He tried to keep it in and failed utterly, and the whole bed started squeaking, which got Jon giggling, too, and at that point, the gig was up.

From downstairs, their pet birds woke and began chirping, clearly hoping for early breakfast. A big, bass bark joined them - possibly telling them to shut up - but at least Titus stayed downstairs.

The cats, of course, came up. They both jumped on the bed in purring welcome, hoping for early breakfast, too.

"It's two in the morning, you heathens!" Jon said to them, which started Martin going again, which started Jon going again, and they clung to one another like vines up a trellis and laughed.

"A ghost, that's me," said Martin between guffaws. "All fifteen stone of me, positively ghostly."

"You are completely sneaky, I'll have you know," Jon said.

"And happy to be. Pulling anything under your radar is a trick and a half."

Jon's smile would not go away, but the embarrassment finally had. "I can't believe you still liked me after that."

"You're adorable. Of course I still liked you."

"I am not adorable."

Martin moved higher, and this kiss lingered, and Jon exhaled, the last of his tension gone. "Adorable," Martin pronounced, and settled beside him at last.

Jon wriggled up against him, happy to be the little spoon, all his eyes closed, his thoughts finally calm. "Should've done this earlier."

"You only need ask." Martin kissed the back of his neck. "Friendly neighborhood ghost to the rescue."

They both giggled a little more, and gradually went back to sleep. The cats, unfed, gave up, and settled for pressing against Martin's warm back, content to wait until morning.

@tmaappreciationweek

#tma #tma fic #flash fiction #tmaappreciationweek2023 #tmaappreciationweek #jonmartin #jmart #tma spoilers #teaholding

[starshinz]

ᜊ sdr2 cast watching a baby! contains spoilers for dr2!

sonia !! the ultimate princess!

she is sooo good with babies !!

she's surely had to take child care classes, and every baby she ever comes in contact with loves her.

she's the sweetest! most likely the best person to leave your baby with. there's not much to say, but she's very good with babies.

gundham !! the ultimate breeder!

i feel like he would be good with babies since he spends so much time with animals! he would pick up the practice pretty easily.

he let's all of his hamsters sniff the baby, but he's very cautious about how close the baby is allowed to them. he knows that the baby probably isn't old enough to control its strength, and he doesn't want his animals or the baby to get hurt.

he feeds the baby when he feeds his four dark devas. the baby is well-cared for and well fed.

as much as he may complain about how someone like him shouldn't be saddled with the task of caring for such a trivial thing, he's very sweet.

nagito !! the ultimate lucky student!

he's confused about why he's being handed a baby, and he refuses to care for it until he's forced. he doesn't want any harm to come to it while it's with him, so he does his best to avoid any possible danger.

nagito would probably gets struck by lightning while caring for the baby, but with his luck, the baby makes it out without a scratch. the baby also probably thinks it's the funniest thing in the world though.

he's very kind and the baby is well taken care of.

hajime !!

he's also very confused as to why he's being asked to watch a baby. he probably insists that he's no good at it, but he's probably one of the most reasonable people to give a baby to.

he can easily settle the baby down if its crying and he's very sweet to it. probably one of the only people to use a baby voice. he only does it when he's alone though, and he would die of mortification if someone heard him.

chiaki !! the ultimate gamer!

chiaki occupies the baby with video games. she might put on a video for the baby, or she just let's it watch her play her games. the baby definitely goes home with a headache or migraine because of the bright screen. she let's the baby lay next to her in bed, or in its crib, and she might fall asleep with it.

she probably forgets to eat sometimes due to her constant gaming, so she might forget to feed the baby. or it might help her remember to eat more often. the crying might signal that it's time to eat.

it was a fun experience, but she probably won't be given a baby again.

mikan !! the ultimate nurse!

she would be a good caretaker for a few minutes, but would then get distracted and begin caring for another patient.

she's easily able to multitask, so reasonably she would be able to take care of it and other people, but no parent wants their baby around a bunch of sick people.

she's probably one of the worst people to give the baby to. she'll have a panic attack.

hiyoko !! the ultimate traditional dancer!

she would not give a single fuck.

anything taking attention away from her needs to go away immediately.

i feel like she would grow attached, and refuse to give the baby back. she claims the baby is a "mini-me" of her, even if it looks nothing like her.

she dances for it, and the baby looooves it. the beautiful movements and pretty clothes she wears entertains the baby very easily.

she has someone else change the baby.

mahiru !! the ultimate photographer!

she's very sweet. she might not be the best caretaker, but she has the spirit! the baby would be very content with her, but she might not know exactly what she's doing.

she glares at any males who try and come near her and the baby, immediately making them back off. it doesn't matter even if they're coming over to help, she insists that she can do it on her own.

nekomaru !! the ultimate team manager!

i feel like he would be a good baby watcher. he could easily hold a baby and instruct his teams to do what they need to do. he would look kind of silly while holding a baby, but he wouldn't understand what was so funny about it.

a very well fed and well taken care of baby. it just falls asleep in his arms, content to be held.

he yells quite a lot, so i'm sure he would upset the baby at least a few times with his loud voice. he wakes it up from its naps and then he has to rock it back to sleep.

akane !! the ultimate gymnast!

she might be a good caretaker! but as soon as the baby gets in the way of her training, she's at least a little agitated.

she makes sure that it's well fed and taken care of. she'll also make sure it's changed as soon as it becomes dirty ( due to her very strong sense of smell ), because she couldn't stand the stench of a dirty diaper.

she puts the baby in a chair / stroller / walker in view of her workout and assumes that's good enough.

fuyuhiko !! the ultimate yakuza!

i can't decide if he would love or hate babies.

if he loves them, he would be very quiet about it and would deny it if anyone questioned him. he has a younger sibling so i'm sure he's at least somewhat used to being around children younger than him, but i'm not sure if he would be good with them. fuyuhiko would definitely go to peko and ask for help.

if he hates them, he would just stare at the baby and be confused as to what he was supposed to do with this.. thing. he wouldn't just leave it by itself though. he would make sure it was well taken care of and he would do everything he could to make sure it didn't cry.

peko !! the ultimate swordswoman!

i'm not sure how well she would do with babies. she might secretly love them but not be able to express that. if she's alone with the baby, she might coo at it and rock it back and forth.

she would protect the baby with her life. it's probably the most physically safe with her. peko would undoubtedly be one of the best people to ask to watch a baby.

ibuki !! the ultimate musician!

ibuki would definitely sing to the baby, but then get confused as to why it starts crying. ( it's crying because of how loud the music is 😭 )

after she realized ( someone probably told her ) that the music was too loud for the little babies eardrums, she lowers her volume and sings it a lullaby.

ibuki wouldn't mean to cause the baby any harm, but she would probably cause ear damage somehow. or she would almost drop the baby. she would also probably forget to change it, and complain about how bad it smells.

kazuichi !! the ultimate mechanic!

kazuichi would probably just put the baby down and then forget about it. he would get so distracted focusing on his latest mechanical fixation, that he would just forget that he was supposed to be watching a baby.

i feel like kazuichi is the type to forget to eat when he's fixing things, so he would also probably forget to feed the baby. and change it.

whoever the baby's parent/s are, are not going to be happy with him when they pick their child up.

byakuya !! the ultimate affluent progeny! the ultimate imposter!

see, they might be good with babies. i feel like it could go either way. probably like fuyuhiko, where they say they don't care for babies ( that's a very byakuya thing to say ), but they do care about them.

they would make funny faces for the baby and pinch the baby's cheeks ( and reluctantly the baby pinch theirs if no one is around to witness it ).

they would never forget to feed the baby. honestly, they might overfeed it a bit, but not enough that the baby would get sick.

teruteru !! the ultimate cook!

don't let him near children. i hate him. ick.

#danganronpa #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa drabble #danganronpa headcanons #sonia nevermind #gundham tanaka #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #chiaki nanami #mikan tsumiki #hiyoko saionji #mahiru koizumi #nekomaru nidai #akane owari #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #peko pekoyama #ibuki mioda #the ultimate imposter #byakuya togami #kazuichi souda #teruteru hanamura #sdr2 #danganronpa x gn reader #danganronpa x reader

[aranarumei]

help! my classmate’s asking for relationship advice, but I’m aromantic!?

I drafted a little hirano & hanzawa conversation after the latest hirano to kagiura (basically. wow I think if they had a conversation like how miyano and hirano had one I think hanzawa would internally lose it) and. and then I got hit by two trucks the first being the case files of jeweler richard and the second being I started playing dgs again. so I decided to just go ahead and post this bc I will probably just leave it to die on my computer otherwise. so this is probably a little rougher prose than I usually go for lol. under the cut as usual.

.

there’s an awkward silence that stretches between two people who are the last to leave a room, which is why hanzawa is about to begin loudly packing his things when hirano turns to him and clears his throat.

almost immediately hanzawa stills; hirano is famously reticent, so he anticipates anything coming out of his mouth to be already midway to a disaster. unfortunately his pencil had been the first thing he’d tucked away. though openly taking notes in front of anyone while they were speaking was probably a bad move.

hirano’s gaze flickers back to the window, and he moves a few steps towards it with increasing casualness. “you’ve dated before, right?” he asks hanzawa.

hanzawa hums. “do you think I have?” he asks.

“you just seem—“ hirano shakes his head, frustrated. “I was just thinking… people get flustered and their heart races whenever they’re around the person they like, right?”

ah. so it was going to be one of these types of questions.

“those are common descriptions, sure.”

hirano levels him with a flat look. “you sure lose all your worldly senpai charm when miyano’s not around, huh?”

miyano was the type of person to have stars in his eyes. hirano was… also the type of person to have stars in his eyes, even if he went about it differently. it was, strangely enough, hanzawa’s favorite thing about both of them.

“it’s my secret,” hanzawa says. thankfully, miyano hasn’t really asked him for advice of this kind yet.

hirano laughs. “sure,” he says. “will one of these secrets tell me what you’re thinking?”

briefly, hanzawa considers the optics of being truthful. he immediately feels bad for weighing his options like this, but feeling bad doesn’t make him want to be honest, so he keeps considering. hirano’s the kind of guy who doesn’t really even unintentionally gossip.

on a thought that’s a bit too bitter… right now hirano is staring out at the sky like he’s looking at a completely different scene. he’s entirely too absorbed in himself to really consider hanzawa as part of the equation.

that evens his guilt by just a smidgen. he supposes these kind of thoughts are what makes him the most self-absorbed out of any of them.

“well,” hanzawa says, casting his gaze down to the wood grain of the table, “I just don’t think liking, in the way you speak of it… I don’t think it’s all that important.”

almost immediately hirano whirls around to face him. “that’s not true!” he says, looks at himself in shock, and abruptly turns around again.

hanzawa has a terrible eye for these things. this is why he notices hirano’s ears turning a deep pink. feeling his own cheeks heat, he quickly averts his eyes—in sympathy or mortification or jealousy, he isn’t sure.

“so,” hanzawa says, staring at the ceiling. “clearly you feel some way. about feelings.”

hirano grits his teeth. “I… I don’t know,” he says. “it’s just… the thought of disrespecting or ignoring those feelings… it’s like… I can’t look away.”

well, hanzawa likes kagiura, too. he’s a good kid. but there’s an odd feeling in his chest that rises when it comes to meddling between them. so he settles on saying, “some people say that when you like someone, you can’t help but follow them with your gaze.”

“but what do you think?” hirano asks.

hanzawa sighs, drumming his fingers against the table. if he makes it sound enough like a joke he can probably give an answer. “well, hirano, you do rank higher than me on exams. is it so surprising I wouldn’t necessarily have an answer for this one?”

“I know that,” hirano says. “I’m not asking for an answer, I’m just... what would you think? if it was you.”

“if it was me, I’d ignore them until they moved on.”

“…and if they never move on?” hirano asks, like he was seriously contemplating a future where love lasted forever.

“then I’ll ignore it forever,” hanzawa says. “if I can’t like them back, what’s the point?”

“but the other person won’t ever get a response,” hirano says, frowning deeply. “forever and ever.”

“in every situation… I think there’s a choice of inaction, and one of action,” hanzawa says. “I suspect you will always be the latter.“

“it’s my choice, in the end,” hirano says. “isn’t it.” he’s still a faint shade of pink. “for what it’s worth… thanks.”

hanzawa smiles, brittle in his bones. he cannot wait for this conversation to be forgotten. “as always, a pleasure.”

if he ever gets asked this again, he’s really going to have to come up with a better answer.

#kiri.txt #my writing #hirano to kagiura #hanzawa masato #hirano taiga #harusono

[ezlebe]

Day 7 - Hugging

Tom looks up, as Greg enters the break room, offering a nod. “Morning, there.”

“Hey,” Greg says, wandering over to the counter with a serious peer at the breakfast trays. He picks out a cinnamon donut of some sort, breaking out into pieces, as he turns around, “Do you want… Oh, shi-shit – it’s the day, huh?”

Tom slips a mug under the coffee machine. “Yep,” he says, absently, as he reaches out and plucks a chunk of donut from Greg’s lax hand, while he presses the farthest button on the coffee machine. “You want one?”

“Wow, it’s really happening?” Greg says, voice lifting, and he doesn’t really seem to be talking about the coffee. He appears to square his shoulders, bracing for something, “If you like, you know, need anything? I’m your guy, right?”

“Sure are?” Tom says, looking down at the coffee machine, as it sputters out and hisses a weak stream of pressed, packaged coffee. “That was the deal.”

“Seriously! Really, I know it’s been a-a difficult journey,” Greg says, now far more than a bit patronizing, as the smile thins a bit across his face. He leans in, all of a sudden, wrapping both his arms awkwardly around Tom and undoubtedly leaving a steak of cinnamon sugar across his suit. “But it’ll get better.”

Tom realizes that he’s impersonating a statue only after Greg pulls back, as he stares for a pair of beats, ignoring the way his shoulders seem to impossibly retain the heat from Greg’s abrupt hug.

“I know I haven’t been –” Greg jerks, back straightening, and seems yanked out of his odd little diatribe. “Oh, that’s Yousef.”

Tom feels a bemused moue settle across his mouth as he watches Greg hurry out of the door with his phone at his ear. He exhales slowly, glancing toward the trays, as he lifts a hand to scratch at his chin.

Did Greg do something?

Tom can’t think of a reason that he’d need some extra gentle handling, which is offensive to begin with, but maybe not without some precedent. The only thing about that, specifically, is Tom never really sees it coming until afterward, and he’s pretty sure Greg isn’t fucking psychic, so it must have something to do with him, but what? The corporate drama has cooled down to non-nuclear proportions.

He really can’t think of a fucking…

What if it’s quitting? Tom hasn’t checked his –

No. He doesn’t have an emailed resignation sitting like a bomb in his inbox, though that’s not really a surprise, since he hasn’t historically been great about – Well, except Greg seems to think Tom knows about it?

Tom checks his calendar, nothing; private calendar, nothing; the various PGM-ownedwebsites… Nothing.

Greg could just be being fucking weird. It could be he listened to one of his dork actualization podcasts and it said to… who knows, let people know you have value, or some crunchy bullshit.

~

It’s exacerbated already by mid-day.

…Or it’s all the same.

It’s damned difficult to pin down, really, because Tom doesn’t actually know what he’s even trying to dodge. He messages Greg about lunch, because he does every single day, only to get another hug, in the lobby, like it’s been more than three hours since the last one. Greg follows it up with a pat his arm, as they sit at their table to ear, squeezing it down to the wrist, prompting Tom, to some great and powerful mortification, to suffer his face heating with a flush.

Did someone die? Tom cannot think of a single person he’d give a shit about shuffling off the mortal coil that Greg would know, aside for him, and he’s definitely still around being a bewildering presence and making faces when Tom orders his lunch for him. He maybe said he’d stop doing that, sure, but that was before Greg started up his mindfuck.

“Do you feel any different?” Greg asks, as he picks at his fries, mixing together the speciality aoili and ketchup, because he’s a heathen. “Like… lighter, I guess?”

Tom glances down at his chest, feeling his mouth somewhat flatten; he’s lost a little weight recently, but he didn’t think it was noticeable. Does he look sick? Does Greg think he has the big C?

~

Tom steps out of the building onto the sidewalk with a nod to Greg, who’s fumbling typically at putting his cigarettes back into his murse. It’s another every day occurrence, mundane and comforting, to taunt Greg about leaving minutes early to eek in a last paid smoke break. He lifts a hand, clearing his throat, “Warming your lungs up for the marathon walk home?”

Greg pauses buttoning his bag with a glance up. He abruptly reaches over, as the doors close behind them, to offer an one-armed hug out here on the sidewalk. His voice pitches into a now-familiar patronizing chirp, “We should do something; you like totally held it together all day, man.”

Tom blinks over Greg’s shoulder and feels his posture briefly slump, trying hard to be irked, but finding some difficulty while leaning into Greg with a drawn out sigh. “Alright, enough,” he says, wriggling away and holding Greg out in front of him with outstretched arms. “Stop it – what the hell are you coddling me for?”

“Oh-h, you know,” Greg says, reaching up and scratching between his brows while his eyes dart away and back to Tom. “First day without the ol’ ring?”

“My ring – ?” Tom says, looking down at his hand on Greg’s shoulder and focusing on the tanline around his finger. “Right, I…” He had been conflicted this morning about it, because while the paperwork is drawn up, it’s hasn’t been signed, so he’s still married. He totally forgot about that in record time, because Greg distracted him over… it, apparently, which is sort of fittingly bizarre. “It was actually easy, ye of little fucking faith.”

Greg furrows his brows in a particularly dubious way. “Was it?”

Tom stretches his fingers out with a tight chuckle, then lifts it to wave between them. “You know what a Pyrrhic victory is, bud?”

“Yeah?” Greg says, eyes lifting with the movement, then he takes a quietly sharp breath. He briefly grimaces before it quickly slips behind a more mild frown. “Oh.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking – the marriage, or the divorce, or the… way I asked for one?” Tom says, feeling his mouth pull to the side in a crooked grimace. “But I’m blanket statement-ing the lot of it. No more dragging around a shiny platinum albatross.”

Greg nods with a drop of his chin, brow furrowing, then looks back up to Tom’s face. “I prefer you without it, too.”

Tom exhales a weak scoff, as he squeezes his hand into a fist. He feels his face heat for the second time today; what is he, twelve?

#tomgreg #tomgregweek #credit to hotgirlhirsch for the plot idea

[sk1fanfiction]

about the half-blood/graveyard thing (bellatrix is def not in love with tom riddle and she would die of mortification if she found out)

I know that there's an implication/discourse that Voldemort reveals to his Death Eaters that he's half-blood in the graveyard scene, but that's so weird to me. (the telling DEs he's half-blood. Not the ten pages of ranting dramatically. That's so him.)

To be fair, if you read the scene straight, the only people he actually tells are Harry (who already knows -- I wonder if Voldemort knows that he knows though) and Peter Pettigrew, who's there more because of his insecurity complex with James (and Lily) than being an actual blood supremacist (to our knowledge).

I just can't imagine it because of (1) Tom's insecurity complex about being half-blood + his image consciousness, I really don't think he wants it to be public knowledge and (2) I don't think the Death Eaters would follow him if they knew.

I mean, look at Bellatrix, telling Harry not to besmirch Voldemort's name with his filthy half-blood mouth or whatever. 'Real' blood supremacists see half-bloods as 'almost as bad as Mudbloods.' Ex: Walburga Black referring to p much everyone with slurs.

On Bellatrix, actually, I don't think she'd feel the way she does about Voldemort if she knew (which I think is one of the strongest reasons why it probably isn't public knowledge amongst DEs). This isn't just a cosmetic thing like the snake-face post-resurrection, it goes against her core beliefs. I don't think she can possibly know that he's half-blood or even that Voldemort isn't his real name. If she found out she was thirsting for and completely devoted to a half-blood (and a half-blood who has a Muggle parent and was raised as a Muggle! on the sliding scale of half-bloods he's very close to Muggle-born) I think she'd do something very drastic. Like kill herself. Or (attempt to) kill him and then herself.

And if you're of the mind that Bellamort is a reciprocated ship, then whyyyyy would Voldemort tell her the one thing he knows will turn her off. Just because Diary!Tom told Harry his whole backstory doesn't mean everyone gets the same treatment (besides he was planning to kill him so he probably figured his secret was safe).

Or on the other hand, if she does know (maybe Voldemort only tells his inner circle?), I think Bellatrix taking it well would be OOC (at least from what we know about her). She'd either (1) deny it and say 'Oh haha very funny I see what you're doing you're testing my loyalty My Lord' and carry on convincing herself he is the purest of purebloods (2) be forced to accept it and it would haunt her 24/7. I can see it posing a lot of cognitive dissonance-related issues; I'm not sure if Bellatrix is the kind of person who can handle conflicting viewpoints and honestly don't know how she'd resolve it. It might make her think about her sister Andromeda. It makes them similar in a funny way.

#hp metas #sk1 rambles #lord voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #bellamort #'i can excuse murder but i draw the line at having a muggle parent' - bellatrix probably #bellamort's 'would you love me if i was a worm' equivalent #tom is basically the magic equivalent of a biracial person passing as white and then leading a supremacist group #and we know how it goes when the person 'passing' gets found out

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman x Fem!Lion'sWarrior!Reader || Drabble

Plot: The Lion 'lends' you to the Tin Woodman for a day after his own second-in-command is forced to go to the Scarecrow for repairs. And you're perceptive, and you're blunt. And you try to tell the Woodman a couple things that he... just doesn't want to hear.

You also may be developing a fondness for him.

Warnings: N/A.

Tagging: @marinerainbow. You havent specifically said to tag you in Tin Woodman stuff but... I assumed... 😅😅😅 I hope that was okay!! XD ^^

The Tin Woodman didn't require a lot of help throughout the day, so you aren't completely sure why your King needed you to accompany him when his actual number 2 was hurt earlier in the day. He makes all orders himself; all he needs from you is to hold his oil can in case of accidents with water (Or crying, the Lion told you. He's an awful cryer. But you haven't seen any sign of the Tin Woodman crying. You couldn't even imagine that. He's so... emotionless).

Though, you do wonder if the man is lonely, and thats why he requires a companion all day... you see the way he looks at Queen Dorothy. You both went into the throne room earlier while Dorothy was 'speaking to' (Sentencing) a poor munchkin woman, and you saw it clear as day; the longing in his metal eyes when she talked. And even more then that, you felt the air shift back to monotonous as soon as he left the room with her in it, again. You hadn't even realised it had lightened in the first place when she was near, but you couldn't miss it now. He was brighter with her, happier. But... it was in a sad sort of way. Because, clearly, she did not know.

In the forest everyone's quite honest with each other. Animals don't pretend to feel a way about each other that they don't- and, having been raised in the forest by tigers, you were just the same. You don't understand why the Tin Woodman wouldn't just... tell her he's in love with her. Lay it all out on the table. Its clearly eating at him, and even if she tells him she's not interested then at least he can begin to move on... find a more suitable mate...

For, at least in your opinion, the Tin Woodman was quite an... agreeable gentleman. Tall, strong, sensible. A little bit too uptight for your tastes, but... you're sure plenty a lovely lady would be happy to be his mate; be that a munchkin, human, beast, metal creature or any other walk of life he may be interested in.

Over lunch, you tell him as such.

~

"What???" The Woodman seemed startled, hearing you say such things so boldly; a confused look on your face at his fluster. "You- what??"

He didn't have to eat, but he acknowledged that you did - as an organic creature,- , so he had stood by the table you were eating your porridge at quite patiently, and calmly... though now his shoulders were hiked up and his eyes were open wide. "I think you're a very handsome tin-man, and quite a gentleman. You should just tell Dorothy how you feel."

"... this is inappropriate. You shouldn't be so forward with me, you know." He tries to act un-bothered by your words, but you just wait a few moments- and he cracks, turning to you fully. "-and how do you know of my feelings or her majesty Dorothy?? Did Lion tell you???"

"No, my King told my nothing. I saw it myself." You admit bluntly, scooping a mouthful of porridge into your gob.

"What do you mean you saw it???" His voice goes slightly higher in horror and mortification, and a little grin spreads across your face despite how you probably shouldn't laugh at him right now. Or at all.

So he's not so completely serious, then. Thats... endearing.

"You're not very good at hiding it."

"Whats- what's with the smiling?? Why are you sm- " Suddenly he remembers himself, and straightens his posture once again. "Never mind. You cant understand the depths of my feelings for the Queen, or hers for me. You're just a merry Ozian." At that, you cringe. He believes she has feelings for him?? Oof, thats... rough... So rough, in fact, that you let that belittling statement of his slide. There was absolutely no love in that girl's eyes. "Or, furthermore, how difficult it would be for us to manage a relationship in this political climate. After all, I am her general."

"Right... " You nod, forcing an agreement and turning your focus fully to your bowl of sloppy porridge. He's more deluded than you thought, so maybe you should just let him go. Breaking a crazy person out of their delusions can be dangerous!

But he hears the disbelieving tone in your voice, and swivels his head around to you again. He cant help himself. "What was that?"

"Absolute nothing, sir, I'm just going to finish my lunch and we can go about your business once again."

"Mmm... " He grumbles to himself, but gives a nod. "Maybe you should."

You manage a few large mouthfuls, almost finishing, before the poor Tin Man cant handle it and actually moves to sit down opposite you; setting you with a stern look and folding his formidable hands carefully on the table before him. Considering his height, you still had to crane your neck to look at him, but you appreciate the gesture he's made, all the same. "I order you to speak. Why did you sound so sarcastic?"

"I didn't- "

"I thought your people didn't lie."

... hmph. "Fine. You're right, and I hated it." After giving it a moments thought, you decide to be frank with him. "I just... don't think the Queen, as deeply as she may care for you which I'm sure she does, thinks... That, of you. You are her old friend, and thats all. And I don't think you should be disappointed, either, sir, because as far as love goes- thats plenty."

The Tin Woodman continues to look sternly at you, so deeply and stonily that you might think that he were made of rock and not tin at all, in fact... and he's so quiet as he thinks that you swear you hear his heart tick-tock-ticking inside his chest... until, finally, the man takes in a deep whistling breath through his pins-and-needles mouth, that you aren't quite sure he actually needs (Being made of tin, and all), and lifts his laser focused eyes off of you. Its a small relief, and you take your own breath as you relax.

"... And how do you suppose to prove these assumptions?"

That gives you pause. Makes you hesitate. Prove??? You're not in a court right now, you're just talking. "I- well-... I guess I cant." Giving a shrug, you put down your spoon; Officially finished with your lunch; Put off it by the Tin Man's way of thinking, which is rather too Official, for your tastes. Too human and pompous, especially for a man made entirely out of tin. Then you add, with certainty and conviction: "I saw it in her eyes."

-immediately the Tin Woodman starts to shake, and you're worried about him, until you realise that he's chuckling. This man is c h u c k l i n g- at you. Baffled, you watch him with frustration, barely noticing the munchkin servants around you flash you both boggled and horrified glances; having never seen the Tin Man laugh. "Oh... " He sighs, using the blunt edge of one of his terrible fingers to scrape a loose tear away from the corner of his eye before it can get into any joints. "Good, because I was quite afraid for a moment, there."

Your jaw drops. "Excuse m- "

"Miss." The Woodman cuts you off, and you immediately - obediently, - shut your mouth. All humour had disappeared from the metal man's visage as quickly as it had appeared, and once again he was as serious as could be. "I suggest you finish your meal, and build up your strength. We have a long day to go, yet, and- "

"I know what I'm talking about, Mr. Dorothy does not love you." You insist, eyes wide and earnest to which he just nods, humming. "She doesn't."

"Mhm." His stubbornness is just as tough as his skin!!

"Mr Woodman- "

"I suppose you're finished." He cuts you off again, picking up your bowl and setting it on the platter that a nearby munchkin is waiting with after getting up from the table. "Off we go." As swiftly as the bulky tin can is able, he turns on his heels and marches off down a hallway; and you have no choice but to follow after him despite your irritation. About halfway down the hall though, he suddenly stops and swivels around again (His upper body turning and leaving his legs facing the way he was going, before bending down at the waist in order to meet your eye), making you stop very suddenly as well as to not run right into him and hurt yourself. "Out of curiosity, if Dorothy and I weren't meant to be, which we are, who in your All Knowing opinion, would I possibly give all this love over to? I asked for a heart from the wizard all those seasons ago for a reason-- it wouldn't do, to let it all go to waste, now would it?"

... at this, you're speechless. Well, anyone, right?? Anyone who wanted it in return. Your lips part, but no words come out at first. What an odd question.

"... suddenly speechless? Nothing to say now all of a sudden, little Ozian?" He asks, and if you didn't know any better- teased. With his head lowered and rearing down so close to yours so the smell of oil fills your head and make you a little bit dizzy, and the playful and challenging tone in his voice, he's Almost... almost... "Colour me shocked." He's... almost...

"Well I'm sure I don't know, specifically." You say, straightening up. "Anyone, I suppose."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Anyone?"

"Yes." ... almost... something... to you...

... slowly a nearly-unseemly smirk spreads across the well-shined underbite of sharp and pointy nightmares he calls a mouth and a flutter erupts in the pit of your belly. You're shocked, and can only stand there with your eyes wide on him and your lips parted. "... well I'll keep that in mind." Then in an instant, the smirk is gone and he turns his back on you again; replacing his Almost-ness with that regular sensible general-sona he wears for Dorothy. But the fluttering inside you doesn't go away with it, eyes on him. "Anyway, lets go. Much work to do for Dorothy!"

He marches off, and you follow him, wondering what on earth this feeling is and how to get rid of it and when you can go back to your King.

#(*cough* the idea for (some) of these dmd drabbles is for to become an interconnected series. maybe.) #Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman x Reader Drabble #Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman x Reader #Dorothy Must Die!Tin Woodman #DMD!Tin Woodman x Reader Drabble #DMD!Tin Woodman x Reader #DMD!Tin Woodman #Drabble #Dorothy Must Die #Dorothy Must Die by Danielle Paige