#this is how they sleep while sunning themselves on the rocks

[sparkrls]

girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

#harrystyles #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #female oc #harry styles writing #harry styles x female reader #oc #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #blurb #writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #fic #harry edward styles #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles imagine #harrry styles fluff #fluff

[shoddynomenclature]

would love if you could do prompt 1! especially if tav is being a hard ass and trying to keep pushing themselves hehe :3

Companions with an Exhausted Tav

Three posts in one week?? I’m truly on a roll. (Nah I was sick this week so I was off work for two days.)

Anyway here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira with a very sleepy (and stubborn) reader.

Shadowheart

You usually go to bed quite a bit later than Shadowheart, but luckily she’s never awake to realize just how late you’re staying up.

Until one night you push your luck a little too far. By the time you climb into bed next to her she pops her head up and notices the sun is already starting to rise.

“Love, have you been up all night?” She asks. You decline to answer, and luckily she’s too sleepy to push the matter, for now. You both fall back asleep.

You’re livid when you wake up to the noon sun and find the adventuring party had already left for the day. Without you.

You find Shadowheart polishing her spear, as she decided to stay back today as well.

You approach her, but she doesn’t even look up at you. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”

“What the hell were you thinking not waking me up this morning?” you say, clearly aggravated.

She props the spear up next to her. “I did” she says, finally looking up at you. “If you’re too tired to get up the first time I wake you, you’re too tired to go adventuring. Now go lay back down. You clearly need a nap.”

You soften, immediately realizing your mistake. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Tired,” she finishes for you. “I know, love. Seriously, go back to bed. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired.”

“I’m not grumpy!” You protest. She morphs her face into an over exaggerated pout, and repeats your words in a mocking tone.

You can’t help yourself, so you laugh. “Whatever. I’ll go back to bed.”

Lae’zel

You wake up in a panic as you’re being roughly dragged across the ground by your ankles.

You flail and struggle against your captors strong hand, but you can’t get loose.

“Tskva! Stop doing that!” Lae’zel shouts. It’s only then you realize who your “captor” really is.

“Lae’zel?” You ask, confused. “What are you doing? Why are you dragging me across the- ow!” You shout as you’re dragged over a rock.

“Seems this is the only way to get you to bed,” she responds, unfazed by your outburst.

She only stops dragging you once you’re in your bed. You immediately sit up and try to escape.

She catches you and pushes you back down. “Lae’zeeel,” you groan exaggeratedly. “I was doing something important.”

“If it is important than you should be able to keep your eyes open while doing it,” she retorts.

Well fuck. She has you there. You have been having trouble focusing for the last couple hours. Maybe it is best if you just go to sleep.

You’re surprised when Lae’zel crawls into your bed beside you. She doesn’t usually stay the night. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Sleeping. Just like you should be,” she answers. You sigh, thinking of all the crafty ways you could sneak past her once she goes to sleep.

She interrupts your thoughts with a “and if you think you’re sneaking out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Karlach

You’re passed out over a desk when Karlach gets up for a little midnight snack.

“Oh love,” she sighs. It must be four in the morning. How long have you been up?

You wake up slightly and mumble something indecipherable. You can hardly lift your head up off the desk.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she whispers, throwing your arms over her shoulders and picking you up.

You unconsciously nuzzle her neck and let out a soft “mmm” at the familiar scent of your lover.

She lays you down on her own bed, trying to keep you upright for long enough to get you out of your armor.

She tries to be quiet, not only to disturb you as little as possible, but also to not wake up the entire camp.

When you’re finally out of your armor, she realizes she can’t find your camp clothes. Eventually, she settles on giving you one of her shirts that’s way too big for you.

You smile and mumble something that may or may not have been a “thank you.”

She finally lays your head against the pillow and you snuggle into the soft sheets and warm shirt.

She crawls cautiously into bed next to you, trying not to wake you up.

She can’t quite tell if you’re awake or not when you climb up on her chest and mumble “mmm warm.”

Minthara

The thing about Minthara is she’s not going to argue with you about taking care of yourself.

You can eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and piss and when you need to piss because you’re an adult and you can take care yourself.

So when she catches you burning the midnight oil for the third night in a row she’s angry. Like more angry than you’d expected.

“Hold on, Minthara,” you say, knowing she about to make you go to bed. “I just need to finish th-“

“No.” You’re interrupted abruptly. “You’re going to bed and I’m not going to catch you out here like this again.”

“Minthara, there’s things that have to done-“

“They can wait till morning,” she interrupts again, trying to stay calm even as you’re testing her patience.

“Just let me-“

“You have to take care of yourself, Tav!” She shouts, finally loosing her temper. “This isn’t an endurance test, this is your life: the one you have chosen to share with me. And I will not have you squander it out here, night after night, robbing yourself of sleep.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pulling yourself to your feet. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you’re swaying trying to keep upright.

She picks you up unexpectedly. You would have never taken Minthara for the type to carry you to bed. She’s never carried you to bed before.

Still, you accept the rare affection and wrap your legs around her waist while your arms and head rest on her shoulder.

She gently lays you down on your bed and pushes your hair off your forehead before giving it a kiss.

She really does love you, and she’s doing her best here. You just gotta take care of yourself, okay?

Jaheira

“Am I going to have to set a bedtime for you like I do the children?” She half teases, surprising you as she approaches your half asleep body.

You groan as if she just woke you from deep sleep. “I’m awake, sorry what time is it.”

Jaheira smirks and bends down so she’s close to your face. “Well past your bedtime,” she teases before giving you a short kiss.

“But I haven’t finished-“

“You’re done,” she interrupts matter of factly. Clearly this isn’t up for debate.

You groan again and mumble “fine,” reaching your arms up for her to carry you to bed.

She laughs, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over her shoulder. If you’re going to insist on her carrying you, you’re going to deal with her doing it like this.

She’s gentle when she lays you against the bed, crawling in next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Wait, so if it’s so late why are you up?” You ask.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers before kissing you behind the ear and falling asleep.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 minthara #minthara #minthara x tav #bg3 karlach #minthara x reader #bg3 shadowheart #karlach #bg3 lae'zel #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #shadowheart #lae’zel x tav #laezel x reader #laezel #lae'zel #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #jaheira x reader #jaheira x tav #bg3 jaheira #jaheira #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #bg3 x tav

[leighsartworks216]

Hello! I have ideas for Astarion and a druid Tav. Atv can shapeshift, and Astarion likes to sit in/enjoy the sun. Once they're close enough, Tav asks if they can use him as a basking perch. So sometimes Astarion will have a dog or cat in his lap, sometimes a snake around his shoulders, or even once a bird nesting in his hair (Tav was scouting and got too tired to shift back).

For some angst Tav could be injured while in animal form or stuck in one by magic and so Astarion takes them back to camp and keeps Tav close until they recover and can turn back.

It is almost 1:30am haha I need to go to bed

I also wrote this in 3rd person pov for no reason other than I felt it worked a little better

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 693

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Soft purrs fill the morning air. The sun is warm, and where Astarion sits on his rug is the first spot her rays touch every morning. And every morning, he cherishes the time he had left within it.

One hand runs idly along soft fur, while the other holds open a book. Every now and then, his pets slow down as the story becomes interesting, but he makes up for it with a gentle scratch behind the ears.

This was also part of his morning routine. Several weeks ago, the intrepid leader of their group began joining him on his rug in the morning. They asked first, of course, and they never bothered him. It was rather nice, actually. They’d read their own book or prepare herbs or even braid together a flower crown.

A week later, they had taken to shifting into an animal form and stretching out within the beams. They usually fell asleep like that. And once again, he didn’t mind. Their feline purrs were never grating or overwhelming, and even as a dog they had the decency not to drool on his stuff. The occasional snake or bird would warm themselves on a rock or perch nearby with their beak tucked under their wing. It was always a little fun to guess which animal they’d turn into each day.

And then they asked if they could lay in his lap. He’d scrunched his face up at the idea, asking why his lap was suddenly better than the rug. They’d just claimed it was hard to get comfortable lately, but they didn’t push to ask again. That day, they’d curled up in Karlach’s lap. They couldn’t sleep, because the tiefling was so busy gushing over how soft and adorable they were, and Astarion couldn’t focus on his embroidery because he’d become so used to their presence - Karlach’s noise level aside. So the next day he sighed and told them they could lay in his lap.

Now, it was so embedded into his mornings, he felt wrong without an animal on or near him. Cat or dog in his lap, snake or bird on his shoulders - he just needed something. He truly never realized just how nice petting an animal could be - even a druid disguised as one. They always thanked him afterward, though he found he wanted to thank them, too.

The sun’s rays slowly shifted. Warm, concentrated beams diffusing as it continued to rise into the mid-morning. The cat in his lap heaved a long sigh and rose to their paws. He watched as they stepped out from his crossed legs and along the rug, stretching with each step until they sat down nearby. The cat transformed back into a humanoid druid that yawned and stretched out their arms.

“Thanks,” they murmured.

Astarion chuckled. “Still tired? You’re even worse than Gale.”

They made a sound that almost sounded like a chuckle, if it was stretched and morphed by a sleepy sigh. “What can I say? Your lap is extremely comfortable.”

“I’ll add it to my list of remarkable qualities.” His head tilted as he studied them. Their shoulders drooped, their back was hunched, they rubbed their eyes, and stifled another yawn. “You look fit to collapse.”

They breathed out a long sigh. Their eyes were heavy with bags under them, staring blankly across the camp. So much to do, so little time, but Astarion was right. They wouldn’t be able to hold a half-decent conversation, let alone fight.

Astarion pat his lap, an open invitation. “I’m sure they would understand. Another day won’t kill us - hopefully.”

“How reassuring,” they muttered, but they were already shrinking back down once more into a cat. They lumbered over and curled back up, purring incessantly as they gave in to their exhaustion.

He stroked down their back again, lightly scratching along their spine. Their coat shone in the light. He wondered when the hell he’d let them get so damn close.

He sighed, allowing the mystery to fade to the back of his mind, and lifted his book once more, finding where he left off and reading on. Yeah, one day wouldn’t hurt.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

#request #requested #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

[secretsofblackthornhall]

Livvy to Julian

Dear Julian,

You can see ghosts but you cannot see me. Not when I come to sit by you while you sleep. Not when I am in the movements of the shadows across the lawn, or the twitch of a curtain. You cannot hear me, even though I am speaking to you because I have things I need to tell you. 

I want to tell you about Ty.

He was there. We were there.

You don’t know we were there.

Kit knows.

Let me start over.

You like surprises, Ty says. Ty doesn’t like surprises, but you do.

He is learning Portals, how to open them, how to close them. You need a warlock. But Ty is learning and he is getting better. He wanted to come to see you and Ragnor said he would help.

We wanted to come to see you.

Ty warned Emma, but he told her not to tell you, so it would be a surprise.

So we came through together.

A ghost travels through a Portal just like a Shadowhunter. I didn’t know that. Isn’t that funny?

Well, I thought it was funny.

The Portal opened in the kitchen.

The kitchen looks nice. I am only a spirit caught between the world and the void but I think you chose an excellent shade for the walls. You have always been so good with color.

Other than the color, which was a surprise but not a bad one, there was another surprise in the kitchen. Kit.

Kit was in the kitchen. Wearing that jacket he likes, with the fuzzy collar. The sun came through the window and lit him up.

Everything in Ty froze. Even I almost froze. I’ve seen Kit, of course. I visit him sometimes. Still because I wasn’t expecting him, it hit me how different he looks from the way he did when he lived at the Institute with us. He looks older, and taller. More muscular. He moves like a Shadowhunter now. Graceful.

He’s beautiful.

I heard Ty take a breath like he never has before. Like he was gasping for air, like he’d been sucker-punched and he was trying to breathe and trying to breathe and he couldn’t.

He whispered, “That’s not how you clean a gun.”

Sorry, I should have said before. Kit was cleaning a gun. Why would there be a gun at your house? Blackthorn Hall is like a rock. You turn it over and so many things are underneath. This time a gun was underneath.

Kit went whiter than any ghost I’ve ever seen. He dropped the gun onto the counter. And he didn’t speak. I wonder if he was wondering what I was wondering. I was wondering how Ty knew how to clean a gun. Enough to tell someone they were doing it wrong.

Maybe he just didn’t know what to say, so he said that.

After that they looked at each other.

Time is not fast or slow where I am. And yet it was long enough for me to feel like the whole world was disappearing, like there was nothing else in it except Kit and Ty looking at each other.

Kit said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

He has never spoken to me like that. With such a cold voice. He had put his hands in his pockets and his shoulders were thrust forward, like he was being aggressive, but I could see his hands in his pockets, all knotted up. I wonder if Ty saw it too. Kit’s fingers, digging and digging into themselves.

But Ty wasn’t looking at Kit. He was looking past him at the window. I could hear birds, and quiet English sounds, and Ty breathing. He said, “How long do you think it will take you to forgive me?”

Kit looked at me. He looked a little betrayed, as if somehow I had known he would be here, had planned this. But I didn’t. “I don’t know,” he said.

“But not now,” Ty said in the smallest voice.

“No,” Kit said. “Not now.”

There was no more reason to stay then.

Maybe there was a reason. Maybe it was Kit’s hands crushing in on themselves, till I thought the bones would break like hearts.

But Ty couldn’t see that. Ty was in pain. I put myself next to him, wrapped myself around him, held him while we went back through the Portal. I was sad. I wanted to see you very much, Jules. But Ty needed me to be there with him.

If you dream this, maybe you will know we were there in your house. I am sorry we didn’t stay.

Julian, I don’t know what to do. Ty misses Kit more than he thought he could miss someone. He misses him as much now as he did the day he left. He loves him the same. I think he always will and it scares me.

Kit is used to not needing people, but Ty needs people. He is afraid to need people but that is only because he needs them so much. He is not going to stop needing Kit. I don’t know if Kit will always need Ty. But Ty will always need him.

Irene says hello. I am teaching her to play dead.

I love you.

Livvy

#sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #julian blackthorn #livvy blackthorn #ty blackthorn #kit herondale #kit x ty #irene

[astarion-approves]

Astarion x Reader

Some fluff, very slight angst, and an adorable kitten.

----

The sun is shining brightly, leaving a warm embrace of its touch upon your skin. You take a moment to stand in the light and enjoy it. After all, it’s not every day Astarion asks you to join him in a private walk.

At least not during the day, that is.

“I do cherish these moments, you know.”

Astarion joins your side, the vampire you’ve come to love pausing to lift his head and in the direction of the sun. You feel your heart beat faster as you gaze at this mysterious vampire.

A man enjoying his freedom, grateful of feeling the sun again.

“It’s not very often that we find ourselves alone… and with this much clothing on-“

Astarion chuckles, his laughter bringing that lovely feeling in your chest, a feeling that you’ve been eager to share. But then his smile falters, and you watch as he worries at his bottom lip. His fangs catching at the edge, the sharpness reminding you of everything he’s capable of.

“Look, there’s… something we need to talk about.”

Astarion tilts his head, motioning you to follow him. It’s unlike the vampire to move so slowly, his feet dragging in front of you as he leads you to a large rock to sit together.

He stares straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with you. You notice how his hands hang in front of him, his thumbs twiliting around themselves.

Very unusual.

Is Astarion going to leave the camp and never return now that he has his freedom?

…Has he decided to move on from you?

Astarion notices your uncertainty, his composure breaking for just a moment. The look in his eyes… was fear.

“It’s about us. The party, our group.”

You rip your gaze from his, forcing yourself to look out and into the area around you. Focusing on the birds as they sing their love stories, the waterfall near by as it crashes into the water below, a fat little bumble bee as it buzzes by—

And then a single soft meow.

Your head snaps back to where Astarion sits, the vampire stares back at you, his smile wide and eyes glimmering with joy.

In his hands he holds a kitten, its fur a black darker than the night sky, and bright red eyes that glare like daggers into your heart. Two large fangs poke out from under it’s upper lip, teeth that remind you of… Astarion.

And now that you thought about it. Your first meeting with Astarion was in a nearly identical fashion. Only that his dagger was a sharp blade ready to slice across your throat.

“I’ve named her Tiger, isn’t that just adorable?”

‘Tigers are orange.’

Astarion clicks his tongue at you and instead brings his focus to the kitten, who looks up to the vampire with a loving gaze; nothing like the evil glare you received.

“Of course, I know that! She’s still cute nevertheless.”

Tiger purrs as Astarion slides his hand down her back. All the while the cat is still glaring in your direction.

The level of confidence the creature holds only makes your heart melt. You slowly raise your hand towards the animal, watching her for any signs of a battle about to begin.

Although your chances were low, you managed to successfully pet the top of Tiger’s head.

It was love at first pet.

“I assume by that charming little smile of yours that her joining the group won’t be a problem then?”

Your hand halts, Tiger huffing when you stopped petting the top of her head.

‘Wait. Was this what you wanted to talk about?’

Astarion snorts.

“Of course, darling. I mean, whatever else would we have to discuss?”

‘I thought you might want to leave the group.’

Astarion gasps dramatically, earning a roll of the eyes from the kitten in his lap.

“Me? Oh, I would never.”

'But you wanted to talk about the group–"

"Ah. Well. Yes."

Astarion gestures to the kitten in his lap. A kitten who now naps peacefully with no care in the world.

"I figured I would need some sort of permission before brining a cat back to camp. I thought that sleeping with our makeshift leader would certainly have its benefits in convincing you that Tiger needs to join our party."

A weight has been lifted off your shoulders. For now, it seems that Astarion wishes to stay with you and the others.

He simply wanted to bring another member to the party. A member who just happens to be an adorable kitten who makes your lover smile.

'Tiger can join the group. Anything that will make you smile like that is always welcome.'

"R-Really?"

He seemed surprised, but you don't miss the happiness that flows from him.

"Always putting my needs before your own… No one has ever done that for me…"

You smile and lean back, sighing softly to yourself as you look up to the sky once more. Perhaps Astarion was truly unaware of your feelings for him. He has you tied around his finger… and you wouldn't have it any other way.

#not as much cat fawning as I should have written #but I'm very tired #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x gn reader #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #x reader #x gn reader #velvet writing

[princessfbi]

“Tummy kisses” 🤲 ‼️

Tummy kisses

Eddie woke up over heated with a numb arm and cotton mouth which he only got when he mouth breathed in his sleep. Something that only happened when he was down and out in a deep sleep where you didn't move even if the earth was shaking and the house was on fire which, admittedly, was not something that happened to Eddie very often. Never say never but Eddie was used to be a light sleeper.

Eddie was always up and moving at the scent of coffee by the time he was sixteen and could drive his sisters wherever they needed to go. The resentment of having to be up before the sun was always tampered a little bit by the fact that his mom would let him have a cup even when his sisters always whined about it. He always drank it black back then even though he'd preferred it with a little bit of creamer because drinking it black was how "adults" drank it and Eddie had prided himself on being an "adult". Sleeping light had transferred into his years in the army and war then to fatherhood and firefighting. Now, knowing what he knew from therapy and all those self reflection exercises Frank made him do through eye rolls and gritted teeth, he could begrudgingly admit that maybe the underlining current of anxiety that skated up his spine might have something to do with the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he slept like a rock but whatever. That wasn't the point.

The point was that he'd been out like a fucking light and he couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

Hell, he couldn't even remember shutting his eyes.

But it all came back to him in fragments by the soft rise and fall of the body beneath him.

A soft snore whistled from above him and Eddie knew it was because Buck had somehow managed to fall asleep on his back again. He always preferred to sleep on his side for that very reason but the couch was too small for both of them stretched out like they were. And yet somehow they made it work.

That felt like a statement that could describe their entire relationship Eddie thought if he was being honest.

Buck had been stretched out on the couch watching some documentary he'd been so patiently saving for when he didn't have to stop and start because they had a shift or a school pick up or errands and work out to run to and from. For the first time in a long time, they had forty-eight hours just to themselves in Buck's loft where Eddie didn't have to pack a bag to stay over anymore because he had a space in the closet and spot on the sink with his normal toiletries.

Eddie had kissed Buck with the insistence that he go watch while he cleaned up dinner and for once Buck hadn't bothered to hide the excitement from his smile when he asked if Eddie was sure. Buck's affinity for documentaries was not something he shared but it had taken a lot of fumbled versions of the conversation for Eddie to vocalize that he didn't mind when Buck indulged in them while he was there. That he liked the quiet and getting to just spend time with Buck without having to carry on a conversation.

When the dishes had been cleaned, Buck's attention had been fully captured by the... whatever it was he'd been watching. It wasn't that he didn't care. It was just Buck had so many interests at one given time that if Eddie tried to keep up with all of them he was pretty sure his head would explode.

Besides, Buck was his boyfriend now which meant apparently, Eddie was allowed to want things without having to pay a price for them. Things like cuddling with his boyfriend on the couch after they'd had a delicious dinner while he watched a documentary about some castle or something.

He had crawled onto the couch and bullied his way into Buck's space without so much as a grunt of displeasure from said boyfriend. Buck had merely gotten comfortable before Eddie had settled his weight on top of him and wrapped his arms around Buck. Buck's fingers had eventually found his hair and it had been lights out for Eddie.

Apparently for Buck too since the TV had turned off but the lights to the kitchen and the soft glow from the loft above were still on.

Eddie wiggled his arm out from being pinned between Buck's hip and the couch and squinted at the time on the oven. They still had a few hours left and Eddie knew that a few hours would be enough to save them both from a backache they wouldn't be able to shake if they stayed there.

Eddie ducked down and pressed a kiss to the sliver of skin where Eddie's hand had shoved up under Buck's t-shirt in his sleep. Buck's stomach was soft beneath his lips and Eddie couldn't help but indulge in a few more kisses before he reached up and rubbed his palm to Buck's chest.

"Baby," Eddie said, his voice croaking from disuse.

Buck sighed in his sleep but refused to wake up and Eddie pressed a trail of kisses up from his stomach to his chest as he climbed up Buck's body. He didn't stop until he was up his throat and to his chin, sitting up so he could straddle Buck's hips and kiss his lips over and over again.

"Wake up, baby," Eddie said between kisses as Buck groaned. Blue eyes appeared from beneath tiny slits as Buck scrunched up his face and Eddie huffed out a laugh as he brushed a thumb over his birthmark. "C'mon. Let's go upstairs."

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fic #my fic writing #prompt game #bigfootsmom #911fic #royal decree

[ofstoriesandstardust]

interlude (b.r.b./j.h.s.)

a/n: i posted the first half of this months ago and it seemed to do fairly well so i'm posting the rest of it now that it's finished... enjoy.

summary: You're afraid that all you'll ever be to your boys is an interlude.

warnings: insecurities, polyamory relationship, swearing, angst

word count: 3.4k

in-ter-lude

noun

“an intervening period of time”

The bed is cold. 

It’s the first thing he notices as the gray morning light bleeds through the blinds. He groans, turning over in the bed as he blindly reaches out to find you. 

His hand just meets colder sheets, a hint of warmth emanating from Bradley if he reaches a little bit farther. 

The cold sheets don’t surprise him, even as he sits up in the bed, blinking at Bradley’s sleeping figure. Bradley’s out, dead to the world, sleeping like a rock, per usual. 

Jake slips out from the cold covers, lacking your usual warmth. The coldness doesn’t phase him, not anymore. 

Most days they found you up long before the sun, pacing the kitchen, or nursing a cup of cold coffee at the kitchen table, or tucked under the sheer blanket tossed on the couch for decoration. The bed so often lacked your usual warmth, but so did you, the light dimming in your eyes as you retreated further and further into yourself as the days went by. 

It concerned him, the way you were slipping through his fingers like smoke as the days went by, something he could never quite catch, no matter how hard he tried. 

Getting stationed at Miramar should’ve brought you all closer together, not driven you further apart. 

Jake shivers, stopping by the thermostat to turn on the heat as he winces at the cold hardwood of Bradley’s home against his bare feet. 

He really hopes you had half a mind to grab one of their sweatshirts or sweatpants before disappearing down here this morning. He hopes you’ve grabbed one of the thicker blankets from the coat closet by the front door that they keep for movie nights. He hopes you’ve made yourself a cup of warm tea like you used to instead of letting your coffee go cold. 

The sight of you not at the couch doesn’t surprise him, nor does the empty kitchen. It’s the sight of both of them void of life that does. 

He peeks his head out the kitchen window, wondering if perhaps you’ve migrated outside. 

It’s the driveway that’s one car emptier than usual that makes his gut turn, concern and panic alighting in his stomach. 

“Bradley!”

-

You aren’t really sure when things began to feel off.

Well, that’s not entirely true. 

You knew exactly when the seed had been planted. 

It had been early on, the relationship still new as the three of you fumbled and stumbled in explaining the dynamic to others, especially those who had known Bradley and Jake when it had been just Bradley and Jake. 

A night out at the Hard Deck was meant to be a fun, a happy conclusion to a rather long week. 

“One might say you’re nothing but a bed warmer for Bradshaw while Seresin’s gone.” The pilot had said.

The consideration you’d given the words had been fleeting at the time, Bradley pulling you into a dizzying kiss that had you forgetting the words as quickly as the man had said them. 

But the words had remained tucked aside and revealing themselves over time, targeting your worst fears. 

That one day your boys would realize they didn’t want to be yours anymore, that this interlude in their relationship had been nothing more than a fun experiment, a phase in their lives before they settled down for more. 

And it was selfish of you to stay when you knew that you were someone who was there in the times when Jake couldn’t be, that you were only filling a gap that would no longer need to be filled once Jake decided to remain on the ground for good. 

It wasn’t fair to you. Or them, either really. Letting them live in this false reality where you were the perfect match. 

You loved them. You did.

But sometimes you thought they loved the idea more than they ever really loved you. 

-

You hadn’t been expecting the day to come so soon.

You knew that it would come eventually, that one day you would no longer be able to run from what you had known for months, that every day you spent loving them and every night you spent in between them was a blessing. 

It wasn’t something you took for granted, became something you treasured the longer time went on as you knew you were getting closer and closer to the end. 

You had just been, foolishly, hoping for more time.

Time, a fickle thing.

Jake hums into your bare shoulder as his fingers trace nonsensical patterns into your shoulder. Distantly, you both can hear Bradley clattering around in the kitchen as he attempts to make you all a belated breakfast after spending the morning in bed. 

Jake would be leaving in the morning for a new deployment and there was only so much time to engrain every curve of Jake’s body into your memory before you would go without it for three months. 

“I can hear you thinking from here.” You tease and you feel the curve of Jake’s mouth move upwards against your skin. 

“I was just wondering…” He trails off, pressing a kiss to the skin. “How would you feel if this was the last deployment?”

Your stomach sinks, even as you desperately try to hold on to the rapidly fraying threads of hope that the day you’ve dreaded isn’t finally upon you. 

“What do you mean?” You ask in a whispered voice, thankful you’re faced away from the man. 

“I’m taking a permanent position at Miramar with Bradley. Looks like I’m going to be stateside for a while.”

You swallow, feeling your blood run ice cold at the words. 

Three months. You had three months, maybe four, with them as yours. And then… and then they would remember why they didn’t have a third before you. You would have served your purpose. You would no longer be needed and they would be kind to you about it, not so callous and cruel as to toss you out, but it would be clear that your paths were diverging.

You’ve taken too long to respond to Jake and he must be nervous about your reaction because you can feel the slight tremble of his fingers against your skin as they resume their patterns. 

“Whatever makes you happiest, honey. I’ll be right here.”

-

Bradley’s biggest insecurity is one he’ll never say out loud, too afraid of breathing life into the fears. 

He sees the way you are with Jake, how soft you are with him, the warmth Jake only seems to bring out of you. 

He often wonders if that softness is better suited to what Jake needs, that one day Jake will realize he needs soft more than he needs push-and-pull, you need Jake more than you need Bradley. 

Jake’s only been gone for two weeks when you begin to pull away. 

Bradley notices, because of course he does. He notices everything he can about you, because he knows that to be known is to be loved and that all you’ve ever wanted is to be known by someone. 

He notices, because you roll over away from him in bed, not wanting to stay up and talk to him. He notices, because you don’t stay long enough to shower with him before work in the morning. He notices, because you’ve gone back to wearing your own sweatshirts instead of theirs. He notices, because you spend less nights at theirs than you used to, creating a house filled with ghosts. 

And he wishes he could say that he knew you were just missing Jake. 

But he knew what missing Jake looked like. When you missed Jake, you pulled in closer to Bradley, seeking out his stability, the consistent reassurance that he would always be there that the job at Top Gun offered. 

This went deeper than that. 

And Bradley couldn’t help but turn in, wondering what it was he had done to make the change in you. 

-

In some ways, you thought it would be easier this way. To say goodbye to them before you were forced to. To prepare yourself for the break, to try to learn how to live without them before they made that decision for you. 

In many ways, it was harder. 

You craved Bradley’s touch, hated the ache in your soul every time you got further away when he tried to get closer. 

You couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had had dinner together, basking in the warmth of each other’s company as you danced around the kitchen, fingers sticky from pasta sauce as you inevitably abandoned the food to make out against the stove. 

You miss the twinkly in Bradley’s eyes, his mussed hair, the way his cheeks colored red enough to matching the lingering marinara. 

You can’t remember the last time the two of you hunkered down on a Saturday to work together, eventually only completing a fraction of what needed to be done as the two of you came up with every excuse to not do the essays and homework assignments and lesson plans. 

Jake had always been the one to keep you both on task, anyways. 

You missed Bradley, craved for him in the same way you did Jake while he was deployed. 

But yet, this was different. Because Bradley was right there, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to cross the line you had drawn and go to him. 

I’m telling you Jake. She’s been different since you’ve been gone. 

“How’s school?” 

You raise your head, catching Jake watching you from the other end of the couch. He’s got a nervous smile on his face, the fingers clutching the neck of his beer bottle a bit too tightly being the dead give away to his concern. You stare at him, almost wondering if there’s someone else he’d be asking. 

There isn’t, only you and Jake in the room. You can hear Bradley in the kitchen, rattling off the takeout order for the local Chinese place down the street from the boys house. It’s your favorite, though you know Jake’d much rather be having burgers for his first night back. 

“How’s school going? You’re almost finished with your thesis, right?” 

Jake knows the answer, that you’re two months and a final defense away from completing your degree. 

You also know he’s trying to make conversation, trying to push around and see if he can't figure out what’s been bugging you without ever really asking. Find out why, according to Bradley, you’ve been off.

You shrug, looking away from Jake’s sea-glass eyes that can always read you too well. 

You hear Jake shift on the couch when Bradley hangs up the phone, leaving the kitchen. “Chinese should be here in about thirty minutes. What Real Housewives franchise did we decide on?”

-

He can hear Bradley groan as he takes the stairs two at a time, heart beating through his chest. 

You’ve never left on Sundays. 

Sundays were your day together. 

Like clockwork, the three of you would have a slow morning in bed. You always bemoan the fact that the boys couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, but they knew that you secretly loved the way they actually had time to savor your body in the way they felt it should be. 

You’d all have breakfast together, hanging out on the couch in a tangle of limbs as you watched cartoons. It was Bradley’s idea, the first time you had done it, the child at heart that he is. 

Then Jake and Bradley would go for a run. You’d do the laundry and tidy the house from the week. Get it ready for the next. 

And then the boys would come home, all sweaty and gross and give you kisses on your cheek as you cringed and complained that they smelled. 

They knew you loved it anyways. Loved them anyways. 

After coaxing you into the shower with them through all your reluctance and hesitation, they’d take a thoroughly delightful detour before Jake would make you all lunch. 

Maybe in the afternoon, you’d all try to bake a new pastry, or watch one of the sports games on television, or take naps in the sun on the couch. 

And then you’d get takeout from somewhere, soaking up the last few hours of one another’s company before the week started over. 

It was all so domestic and intimate, so uniquely yours. 

You didn’t live with the boys (not yet anyways, they’d been trying their damndest), but despite all that, you never missed Sundays with them. 

Sundays were the one day that were yours and yours alone, living in a bubble where nothing could touch you. 

And you were gone. 

It felt like an ending Jake hadn’t ever seen coming, an iron punch to the gut that has him doubled over, one he couldn’t avoid no matter how hard he tried. 

He enters the bedroom as Bradley looks at him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

“She’s not here.” 

Bradley glances at the empty bed, giving a soft shrug of his shoulders as he falls back under the covers. 

“Jake-” 

“No, she’s not here. She’s gone.” 

Bradley freezes, looking at him. The fear is evident on his face, that you’ve left them for good. 

For all Bradley had tried to get answers out of you, Jake had backed off, letting you have your space. In turn, Jake found you spending more time with him than you did Bradley. 

He knew that for all the million conversations he’d had with you since being home, they’d all been nothing more than surface level. He could see that your guard was up, that you were there but weren’t really there. 

But he didn’t look at you like Bradley did, with that knowing look in his eye. 

And the more Bradley pushed, the further away you got. 

And Jake feared that Bradley was going to push you right out the door. 

And he knew Bradley feared it too. 

“Where are you going?” Bradley calls after him as he slips back down the stairs. 

“To bring our girl home.” 

-

The knocking at your door startles you out of your daze and you pull yourself from the couch, socks sliding against the shitty wood of your apartment floor as you walk over to it. The door reveals a tense Jake and an apprehensive Bradley standing behind him. 

You blink. “Hello?” 

“You left.” 

Jake’s tone is blunt, no room left for argument. 

“Okay?” You say, clutching the edge of the door tighter. “Am I your hostage now? Not allowed to leave the premises?” 

“It’s Sunday.” Bradley speaks, tone much softer than Jake’s. “We always spend Sunday together.” 

You sigh, turning. The boys follow you into the too-small apartment, one of them shutting the door as you sit at the kitchen island. 

“I had to work on my thesis.” 

It’s not untrue. 

Books are scattered over your counter, your laptop sitting open with a nearly final draft on the screen but it hadn’t been the reason you’d left before both the boys were awake this morning. 

But if they asked, you weren’t even sure you could explain why you had left this morning, just that you woke up feeling like you needed to. 

“So? You could’ve done that at our place.” Jake shoots back, his words still cutting with an edge you weren't used to being on the receiving end of. 

Bradley puts his hands out as if to placate the man. “Okay. Okay. I think that we have reached the point where we need to talk.” 

We need to talk.

Your head hangs at the words, a lump already growing in your throat. 

Bradley walks to the opposite side of the island, trying to catch your eye. “You’ve been pulling away from us. Ever since Jake told you he’d be settling at Miramar permanently, you’ve been weird. Why?” 

You shrug, unable to meet his eye as tears begin to sting. The tip of your nose has that familiar itch too, and it’s all you can do to not break down in front of them as you play with the strings of your hoodie. 

Bradley rounds the counter, sitting down in the chair next to you. Jake takes his place leaning on the counter from you. Bradley hesitates briefly before setting his hand on your bare thigh, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumb. 

“Please talk to us, sweetheart.” 

You reach up, rubbing the edge of your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt before sighing. 

“Some days… Some days, I feel like I’m nothing more than a bed warmer for you.” 

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” 

“Jake.” Bradley reprimands, squeezing your thigh. “Sweetheart, wh- where did we ever show that? We love you.” 

You sniff, glancing up at the ceiling. “Back- back when we started this, there was a night where we were at the Hard Deck. Some guy said to me that I was just a bedwarmer for you while Jake was gone. That that’s all I’d ever be.”

“And you believed him?” 

“Jake.” Bradley says again, shooting him a look to which Jake responds by throwing his hands up in the air and walking away from the counter. 

“Not at first.” You admit, shaking your head. “But- the two of you were together before me. And I knew that there would be a day where the two of you would go back to wanting it to be just the two of you. And I knew that day would come when Jake wasn’t spending months at a time halfway around the world. You don’t need me anymore.”

“Don’t- don’t need you anymore?” Jake asks incredulously, walking back t​​o where he’d been standing. “Darling, of course we need you. You complete us, you’re everything we want.” 

A tear trickles down your face as you meet his sea-glass eyes. You pay it no mind as Jake continues talking again. “Yes, yeah, Bradley and I were together before you came along. And yeah, that was fun and where we needed to be during that time of our lives. But darling, you don’t get it. You complete us. It’s important to me that you know that. And maybe we don’t say it enough or show it enough, but God, if it was just Brad and I again, we’d kill each other.” 

“That’s a bit harsh.” Bradley mutters. 

The only sign Jake gives that he heard Bradley’s words is a roll of his eyes, continuing to speak. “Darling, you balance us. You give us both exactly what we need. You give me space to be vulnerable, to allow myself to feel like even after all the shit I’ve done, I’m still worthy of being loved. You match Bradley’s kindness tit-for-tat and the two of you can laugh hours into the night, I know. Bradley and I- we’ve had our issues, our fights and our screaming matches and our nasty insults. And with you, we don’t do that.” 

Bradley squeezes your thigh again. “Where Jake’s going with this sweetheart, is that Jake and I have both been through our own shit. And I know you have too, I’m not denying that. But when it was just Jake and I, it was a 110 percent all the time or nothing at all. And with you, we’ve been able to slow down, remember what’s important to us. That this is built on a foundation of love. Of trust and communication. And that foundation starts to fall apart if you don’t talk to us.” 

You sniff, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.” Your voice is watery as a few more tears slip over. 

“You think I still don’t have my fears? That maybe you and Jake will decide you’re better off together just the two of you than with me? That maybe the two of you will just become two more people in my life who have left?” 

“I didn't know that.” Jake admits softly, his shoulders deflating. 

Bradley gives a half shrug. “Was too scared to say anything. Didn’t want to find out that I was right.” 

You sniff again, the tears threatening to overwhelm you.

You were so overwhelmed by all of it. By Bradley’s admission of his own fears, that he didn’t see how loved he was, how much you needed him in the same way you needed Jake. By their equal professions of love for you. 

Jake finally rounds the counter, to come sit on the other barstool next to you. He pushes some hair away from your face, pressing a tender to kiss to your forehead and swiping away your tears.

“This isn’t just an interlude for us, darling. You’re our future.” 

#jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader x bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 12)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven

“We have one month, that is all. After that, two of us are back in the arena and we need to be ready.”

This meeting of district twelve’s victors is called to session a bit earlier than Haymitch would like. Not that any of them have been sleeping anyway.

“So you want us to do what, exactly?” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“I think we need to train, all of us. Everyday.” Peeta says, pointedly.

Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N squeezes her husband’s shoulder, “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“You’re gonna start deadlifting until this kid comes flying out of you?” Haymitch rears back in perturbed amusement.

Y/N shakes her head. “There are things I can still do. Brush up on my skills, learn a new one.”

“I could teach her to shoot,” Katniss offers.

Y/N shrugs, “she could teach me to shoot.”

“And you could teach us how to throw knifes.”

“We’ve all won the games.” Peeta reminds Haymitch in particular. “We can all learn from each other.”

————————————————————————

A couple weeks later they sit down with the kids, unsure how to broach the topic of tonight’s discussion. But the whispers around town are loud, better they hear it from their parents than someone else.

“Do you remember when we talked about the Hunger Games?” Y/N begins.

Everest nods, they talk about it in school too. “If you win, you become a victor.”

“Right,” Y/N leans across the table a bit more.“This year is a Quarter Quell.”

“That means a special games, like Daddy’s.” Arista adds.

“This year…” Haymitch hesitates, “it means that only victors can go.”

“They can’t do that,” Everest interjects.

“But you’re victors.” Arista says, a look of realization dawning over her features.

“Let’s talk through this.” Haymitch attempts to calm his children. “I know you both have a lot of questions.”

“No, they can’t do that. It’s not fair!” Everest’s little hands ball into fists.

“Honey-”

“Are you gonna die?” He cries, angry, hot tears cascading over his cheeks. “Katniss? Peeta? What about our friends? Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick, Mags? Who’s gonna take care of us if you’re both-”

Arista’s breathing picks up and she abandons her seat, crawling into her mother’s lap, though there is not much room. “They can’t make you play with a baby in your belly.”

“Shhh.” Y/N rocks her gently. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“So that’s it? We just give up?”

“No,” Y/N locks eyes with her son. “We’re not giving up, we’re gonna fight. Every victor, all of us, to try and stop the games.”

“Maybe you can stop it.” Arista nods, against Y/N’s chest.

“Maybe we can,” Y/N agrees, “but if we can’t, just incase, we need to talk about-”

“Is Aunt Madge gonna take us?”

“That’s the very last resort.” Haymitch admits, “we don’t know whose names they’re gonna call, even then, someone else could volunteer. Ideally, one of us will be able to-”

“So what you’re saying is that after this two weeks we might never see you again?”

“We’re going to do everything we can.” Haymitch promises.

“But it’s possible?” Everest is confused, outraged.

“Yes. It’s possible.”

The days run together, between training and spending as much time with their children as they can. On that last night, the children sleep between them, Y/N on one side and Haymitch on the other, clinging to this moment.

Cruelly, inevitably, the sun rises. Madge is at their door and Y/N comes to answer, while Haymitch and the children ready themselves.

Her sister says not a word, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Thank you for coming.” Y/N breathes, smoothing down the younger woman’s hair.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Madge wishes she could do more. “I’ll do my part here and wait for you to come home.”

“They need you, Madge. Now more than ever.”

Madge only holds her tighter. “I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

Peacekeepers are sent to collect them, marching the four victors to the justice building. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen trail closely behind Madge and the Abernathy children, one clasped in each hand.

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie begins her speech, “as we celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary and third Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games.”

From his place on the stage, Haymitch can see his children. The boy, that squawked like a bird the first time he was placed in Haymitch’s arms, reminding him that the world might not be such a terrible place. The girl, that had him wrapped around her little finger before she could speak and gave him reason to dream. They look to him in fear now. Fear that they will lose their mother, fear that they will lose him.

“As always, ladies first.”

Y/N reaches for Katniss’ hand. There is nothing to hope for, no favorable outcome.

Effie draws the name, clearing her throat before announcing. “Y/N Abernathy.”

Madge lifts Arista into her arms, hushing the little girl as best she can, but she is distraught. Her hiccuping sobs causing the crowd to shift uncomfortably. Prim scoots in to rub her back.

Everest does not move. He does not blink and he does not cry. Forever ingraining this image of his mother in his mind.

Y/N can’t risk a glance at Haymitch. She knows how deeply the knife is buried in his chest, how the guilt will twist it, now and for years to come.

Katniss jerks her back almost forcefully, “no.”

“It’s ok,” Y/N whispers.

“I volunteer.”

“Katniss, please don’t do this.” Y/N pleads, but they are out of time, they are out of good choices.

“I volunteer as tribute.” Katniss announces, with more certainty the second time. Pulling her hand from Y/N’s to stand beside Effie, at the center of the stage.

“Wonderful.” Effie swallows down her sorrow, the show must go on, “and now for the male.”

Y/N’s head is light, spinning as if she might faint. Her lungs burn, perhaps she has stopped breathing.

“Haymitch Abernathy.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Peeta says, without hesitation.

“I can’t let you do that,” Haymitch stops him, with a hand to his chest.

“You can’t stop me.” Peeta narrows his eyes.

“Peeta-”

“Let go.”

Haymitch has no choice but to obey. Sending their victors back as tributes, erasing all they’ve done.

“Very well,” Effie sniffs, hoping to regain some composure, “the tributes from district twelve; Katniss Everdeen…and Peeta Mellark.”

The entirety of their district raises three fingers in solidarity. They are not alone in this sadness; this defeat. Among the crowd, Y/N finds her mother, who has not been coherent enough to attend a reaping since her own.

She’s never blamed her mother, not for her absence or her addiction, nor the inability to move past Maysilee’s untimely death. Y/N cannot imagine losing her little sister, part of her would die too.

The idea that maybe she could talk to her before she leaves, maybe her mother has some divine words of wisdom or comfort-

Commander Thread takes Katniss by the arm, robbing her and Peeta of the chance to say goodbye. Y/N and Haymitch are carted away shortly after. Straight to the train station.

The ride is silent for a long while; eventually the four of them find each other, dutifully seated in the blue velveteen chairs. Drawn together like magnets, though there are no words.

Haymitch slumps down in his chair, extending his free hand to Y/N.

She takes it, the same way she always has, with a love and understanding that Haymitch is sure he will never deserve. But that is the problem with love; with life, really. So rarely does anyone get what they deserve.

Y/N continues preparing her presentation for the morning, detailing the participating victor’s strengths and weaknesses. Hesitating at each name she knows well.

Cashmere and Gloss, district one…

The train car doors open and Effie joins them, “before we begin, I’ve had a thought.”

“You don’t say.”

Effie gives Haymitch the side eye, pressing on in spite of his remark. “Katniss has her gold mockingjay pin, I have my hair.” The swirling golden updo. “I’m going to get the three of you something gold.”

Y/N finally looks up.

“And why is that?” Haymitch wonders, sipping at his teacup, containing a bit more than leaves.

“A token! Show them we are a team, and they can’t just-”

“Thank you,” Katniss says, taking Effie’s hand.

Peeta’s gaze softens. He’s accepted his fate, the only thing to do now is make sure Katniss is happy, keep her alive.

————————————————————————

No expense is spared for this very special Quarter Quell. A new training center and tribute living quarters are waiting to greet them in the Capitol.

“I want you to forget everything you think you know about the games.” Haymitch cuts through the silence. “Last year was child’s play, this year you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”

“Ok. What does that mean for us?” Peeta asks.

“It means you’re going to need some allies.”

“No.” Katniss shoots him down.

“Do it your own way, but we know these people and if you go it alone their first move will be to hunt you down.”

“Katniss, I know it’s not easy for you to trust them,” Y/N understands how difficult this all must be. “So you’re just gonna have to trust us.”

“Fine, show me.”

Y/N makes for her tablet, dimming the lights as her slideshow is put to the big screen.

“This should be good.” Peeta relaxes farther into the loveseat beside Katniss.

“Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister from district one, they won back to back games, Capitol favorites, lots of sponsors.”

“This is your first choice?” Katniss nearly chokes on her own saliva.

“Well,” Y/N swipes to the next screen, “they’re careers so they are extremely lethal. A few other positive attributes would be strength, agility, very intelligent. They offer protection, opportunities for better sponsors-”

“Despite some favoritism and general bias on her part,” Haymitch motions to Y/N, “this a strong choice.”

Katniss nods, she’ll consider it. For Y/N.

“From district three, Wiress and Beetee. Not fighters, but brilliant and…weird, real tech savvy.”

“We chose them because they offer a unique skill set-”

“Yes.” Katniss agrees, surprising even Peeta.

“O-ok,” Y/N moves to the next contender. “This is Finnick, from district four.”

“He won his games at fourteen, youngest ever. Don’t let that fool you, he’s incredibly humble.”

“You’re kidding.” Katniss scoffs.

“Yes, he’s a peacock, a total preener,” Haymitch does not mince words, “but he’s the Capitol darling, they love him here, lots of sponsors.”

“Very skilled in combat, especially in water.”

They carry on like this for some time, through Johanna in seven, Chaff and Seeder in eleven. Leaving Peeta and Katniss much to discuss as they retire for the night.

“You think she’ll come around?” Y/N dares to ask.

“You want me to be honest?” Haymitch tosses wayward hair from his eyes.

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna take a miracle.”

————————————————————————

Watching Haymitch’s games is a necessary evil, giving them some insight into the craftings of a Quarter Quell arena. The landscape is nothing short of paradise. Vibrant colors, beautiful creatures and a feast, complete with candy, weapons, anything a tribute could ask for; right at the cornucopia.

But the food is poison and the wildlife is deadly, in the games nothing is ever as it seems.

Though Haymitch does not fall prey to the gamemarker’s trap, many tributes do. He goes it alone for a while, ending up head to head with a pack of allies. He fights, better than Katniss imagines anyone could without experience; managing to take down two out of three opponents, before the knife is held to his throat.

The girl who spares him looks familiar, in a way that Katniss can’t place, sporting the same gold mockingjay pin she was given at the hob. “We’d live longer with two of us.”

“She looks like Madge.” Peeta voices this before Katniss can.

“She’s my mom’s little sister,” Y/N explains.

And then it all makes sense, or none of it does. Another layer to their mentor’s great ‘love story’ for Katniss and Peeta to attempt dissecting, in a bizarre form of pillow talk.

Haymitch has found the edge of the arena, Maysilee wants to turn back and he doesn’t. “We should say goodbye now. There’s only five of us, don’t want it to come down to the two of us.”

“Ok,” Haymitch lets her go.

Her screams follow not long after, the bubblegum pink birds begin tearing through her throat with razor sharp beaks.

Y/N remains glued to the screen, though the ending never changes and she cannot raise the dead.

In the end, Haymitch puts the force field to good use, leading the last career and her axe to the cliff side. Holding intestines inside his body with one hand, he waits for the weapon to ricochet; burying its blade in her skull.

“That was smart.” Katniss purses her lips.

“Too smart,” Haymitch bites out in warning, “do not attempt it. That move got my family killed.” He leaves without a word.

Y/N doesn’t go after him. Sometimes Haymitch needs to be alone and if she chases him, he won’t run. He’s too good a man and he loves her too much. He would stay, even as every cell in his body yearns to go.

————————————————————————

Haymitch returns, after a bottle or two and a very interesting talk with Plutarch. There is a plan, one to extract the victors from the arena, all they have to do is stay alive until then. He searches the tribute living quarters for Y/N, finding her already asleep in their bed.

He is determined not to wake her, flipping off the forgotten light overhead and changing out of his suit.

She stirs as he draws back the covers. “Haymitch?”

“Shh,” he climbs in behind Y/N to cradle her belly, “sleep.”

“Is everything ok?” She reaches back, stroking his hair.

“Everything is fine.” He finds her hand, kissing at her wrist and fingers, before gently lying it back on the bed.

Y/N nuzzles farther against him, “ok.”

“You know I’m always coming back, right? No matter what.” Their child shifts under his palm.

“I know,” she nods.

“If anything ever happened to you-”

“Haymitch, you don’t need to say it.”

Yes I do. “When I lost my family, I kept going. Out of spite, or insanity, whatever it was that kept me going, I did it. But if you were gone…if our kids were gone; I couldn’t. I need you safe. I need you.”

“You have me.” Y/N breathes, “right here. Just you and me.”

Part 13

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating

#thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x yn #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #peeta mellark #moves & countermoves

[penvisions]

plumage {ezra x reader drabble}

Fandom: Prospect

Pairing: Ezra x F! Reader

Summary: You recall the courtship between you and the man you love.

Word Count: 520

Warnings: allusions to adult content, allusions to smut

A/N: the lovely @morallyinept requested this as part of my follower celebration! i hope it's a good lil blurb for fluffy ezra, he deserves good things. thank you so much for your kind words, ilysm! had a lot of fun writing this ♡

He hadn’t looked like much at first glance. His suit dirty and worn, the glass of it dirty and smudged.

But the second he had opened his plush lips, quirked up in a captivating smirk. You knew you wouldn’t have stood a chance.

He had a way with words, so uncommon for those who subjected themselves to harvesting. He had a grace about him so alluring for someone lacking a vital extremity. He had a yearning in his eyes as he regarded you, lighting up the muddy brown of them every time you found them aimed at you. Facets coming into play as they caught the light, caught the sun, caught the very emotions brimming from him.

The dance of offers, of equal work for equal pay, of time spent together. Letting you see all he had to give, to share, was willing to. Even if the reality of harvesting had been so different before meeting him, a dark spot of brown amidst the lush green of the planet. Time allowed for his colors to show, for his dance to feel intentional and specific to you.

His colors reveal soft lingering gazes, teasing smirks, melodious laughter. His colors reveal intentional touches, a mouth that was capable of winding you around his finger as he showed how his words weren’t empty platitudes. That he craved you in more ways than just one. With burning kisses that lit you up from the inside out, tracing fingers that held you reverently, the rocking of his strong body against your own.

His colors revealed a heart of good intentions, a mind quick and smart, a desire in him to work hard and earn his share of things.

From that endearing patch of blonde amid his dark curls, that smile he flashed, the glitter of his eyes to the admittance of being skilled in this line of work and having been saved previously by a child he had taken in as his own. Cared for and provided for, not allowing her to get into the same life as he had, to ensure she had the opportunity to have a childhood, even if it was a little late.

For all the man’s plumage, he certainly had captured your attention.

And while neither of you had a nest to return to, that didn’t stop you from creating one together.

Equal time and funds and effort from you both that had you opting out of a return to the green that you found each other in. The dangers of which didn’t seem so acceptable now that there was something to be lost…someone to be lost. Opting not to stray too far from each other now that your bond was so complete.

You recalled his first words to you, and you smiled over the twin mugs as you returned to your shared bed to find him sprawled out and tangled within the sheets. His eyes glittered as they spotted you, not yet clear of sleep. A lazy smile taking over his handsome features that were now all yours. He repeated them to you now, bringing forth a smile of your own.

“Well, hey there, pretty bird.”

#dev writes #fic: plumage #prospect #ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #prospect movie #ezra #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x female reader #fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra fanfiction #ezra fanfic

[geek-jpeg]

.ʀᴇɴᴇɢᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʀɪᴀʀᴄʜ.

An early morning fog blanketed the dense landscape, beams of gold jutting through the branches of evergreens. The first traces of life began to reveal themselves, the hushed melody of birdsong and the silencing of katydids in response.

Life persists, even in the most unexpected of places.

Deep within the forest was an outcropping; rocks of varying size protruded from the earth, surrounding a deep crevice like protective barriers. The sound of rustling bounced off of the sheer walls of the pit.

An old hen, a Deinonychus who'd been laying amongst what greenery managed to survive deep within the chasm, raised her head from the dirt. Despite how long she'd been resting, she looked as if like she might as well had forgone sleep. With an intensive shake of her feathers, ridding herself of the morning dew and remnants of unconsciousness that clung to her, she stood up. She stretched her aching limbs, a slight tremble as her wings fanned out, before tucking them close to her yellowing breast once more.

She surveyed her surroundings, plodding around as she sniffed the ground, the air around her.

Her fellow kin were nowhere to be seen, their scent having already begun to fade. Without the energy to keep up, the hen resigned to watching over the territory, knowing her pack of defectors would return eventually.

The cool morning air nipped at exposed skin and scales, sending a chill through her body. The chasm, while it held safety for the most part, had the fault of blocking the warmth that daylight provided - until it was positioned in just the right way, in a very particular spot. The hen eyed the ridgeline, before turning her attention to a tall, but conveniently flat-topped rock that sat in the middle of the natural skylight, still shrouded in shade.

-

Dull talons scraped the hard surface, marred with previous gouges from past attempts. With what little vigor remained, the old hen managed to haul herself up onto that rock, the stone colder than the space around her. She paced around in circles for a few moments, before letting her weary bones rest once more, settling down and curling around herself.

She then waited...

And waited.

Until finally, the golden rays struck her inky, sleek feathers. Her wings, once tucked against her, were now spread out - eager to catch as much of that warmth as possible. Tense muscles slackened as slumber threatened to claim the hen once more, but she fought to ignore it, at least for now. This kind of peace was a rarity, something to be cherished. The light of the rising sun cascaded over jagged surfaces, enveloping the fatigued little raptor with a type of solace that had been lost on her for many years.

With the rhythmic rise and fall of her ribcage, the occasional huff through her nostrils and twitch of a claw, the matriarch rested.

-

#geeks art #geeks ocs #paleoart #paleontology #deinonychus #dinosaur game #path of titans #path of titans realism

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your villainous voidbeast husband takes you on an outing

Voidbeast (Valerian) x female reader

General Plot: Valerian takes you someplace special and you have breakfast together

Word Count: 1k

W: sfw monster fluff, yandere behavior

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Six

Valerian brushed your cheek and you roused from where you were sleeping on his chest. With a blush, you wiped the drool you’d gotten on his robe away and peered up at him. 

“Are we there?” you asked, rubbing your bleary eyes. 

Valerian smiled at you, taking in your rumpled morning face. It was incredibly cute the way your nose crinkled when you were sleepy. 

“Take a look,” he said, gesturing out of the carriage window. 

You scooted closer and leaned over to look outside. 

“Wait! We have to stop!” you gasped.

He chuckled.

“Just a little while longer, my sweet,” he said, smoothing your hair under his big hand, “we’ll arrive at the overlook soon.” 

The carriage took you around a bend, driving you back into the forest and you lost track of the beautiful view only to gasp all over again when you emerged. 

Valerian called the vehicle to a stop at a small grassy clearing and helped you out. 

You broke away from him before he could stop you and went running to the edge of the cliff nearby. 

“This is amazing!” you shouted into the void below you. 

Stretching out before you was a deep canyon that went so far down it was pitch darkness at the bottom. What was fantastic about it, however, was as the sun rose into the sky it lit up the glittering layers of rainbow colored rock that striped the face of the cliffs. The bands of color went on as far as you could see in both directions, looking like something you might make from Legos, not a natural occurrence. 

Valerian’s heavy footsteps approached from behind you and he dragged you anxiously to his chest. 

“Don’t get too close to the edge,” he warned, clutching you to him as if you were going to throw yourself over the side. 

“How is this possible?” you asked. 

Nothing like this existed on Earth when you lived in your time. 

“Humans, actually,” he said, “though they never intended to make something so beautiful, of course. The bands you see are made of layers and layers of tainted earth from wars long past. Many, many times humans have destroyed themselves, turning the planet all sorts of colors. After a while it built up into this…Look at the top.” 

He pointed to the last layer before the dark topsoil. It was electric blue. 

“That was the last war,” he said, “they dissolved themselves with a gas and it left nothing but blue ash behind. The survivors lived in underground bunkers for generations before they emerged.” 

The spectacle was a little darker, now that you knew the truth, but it was still stunning. Each civilization had become nothing but a sparkling strip of color. 

“Come,” he said, “the servants packed breakfast.” 

He laid out a blanket on the grass and arranged a basket full of goodies next to you. The sky turned from its golden morning hue to the perfect blue of a sunny day. You shoved a crusty pastry in your mouth and chewed happily as the birds gathered around the two of you looking for treats. 

Valerian's eyes watched you intensely and you averted yours, blushing, your cheeks stuffed. 

“I’ve watched you for so long,” he said, “but it's completely different being here with you.” 

He drew a hand over his eyes for a moment and coughed out a laugh. 

“You know I thought of approaching you normally, changing myself into a smaller, more palatable version of myself for you,” he said, “for a while I really thought that was the way to go. I could approach you at that cafe you worked at, become a regular…ask you out to a movie one day. I could give you a fantasy of normalcy.” 

His four pupils narrowed as he focused on you. 

“But this…this is soooo much better. I’ve never been accepted before…only feared, but for some reason you don’t fear me.” 

Your jaw froze mid chew and you realized what he was saying was true. 

You’d been frightened and disoriented at first, but Valerian himself didn’t scare you. Your feelings were scary, the future was scary, but he was not. Even his more monstrous form was more startling than anything. Now that you’d gotten used to it, you were confident he would never physically harm you and his growling and gnashing was all for show. You swallowed. 

“I honestly can’t tell you which would have been better,” you admitted, brushing aside his last statement, because you weren’t sure how to respond to it.

“I miss my family…but I never would have known the truth of the world. I would have lived my life oblivious to all of this…wonder in the universe. Now that I know, I can’t say I want to go back to ignorance.” 

Valerian hummed to himself, pleased. It wasn’t a confession of love, but he’d shown you something you’d never seen before and sparked your interest. It was deeply satisfying.

“There are so many things I want to show you,” he said, “there are other planets than Earth…other civilizations. We could live as gods on any one of them.” 

You hid your smile. Inflicting his temper on a potentially innocent civilization was dubious, but it amused you that his mind immediately went to establishing himself as a deity. He wasn’t exactly the good guy you’d always pictured yourself with. 

“That’s really not necessary,” you said quickly, “I mean the “living as gods” part…it might be nice to peek in on aliens once in a while though.” 

“Whatever you wish,” he said grinning and handing you another pastry, “you should eat more. Your frail human body needs nourishment.” 

“I am not frail!” you pouted, taking the pastry anyway.

“You are tiny with teeny little bones…delicate…little breakable bones,” he pointed out and then he frowned, looking at you thoughtfully. 

The look worried you a bit. 

“I’ll have to fix that…” he said to himself. 

“What?” you asked. 

He smiled at you, flashing his large, sharp teeth. 

“Nothing,” he said, “eat up! When you’re done I’ll take you to the bottom of the canyon.” 

“How?” The canyon looked endless. 

He snorted as if the question were stupid. 

“I’ll fly,” he chuckled.   

You chewed quickly, eager to get going. 

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster fluff #yander fluff #male yandere #yandere male #yandere headcanons #monster x human #monster oc #monster husband

[quitealotofsodapop]

First Princess Songzi to the Stone Matriarch to Guanyin:

referencing my updated "Celestial Family Tree" + what the monkey doing there? and the Stone Monkeys lived on FFM theory.

>:3 huehue been cooking on this au/theory for a while now

First Princess Songzi had become so digusted by her father comparing humanity to little more than beasts, that when she reincarnated she was reborn as a Stone Monkey/Shí Bǎomǔ.

A Stone Monkey who would become the last Stone Matriarch of Flower Fruit Mountain. She ruled for many years, fair and merciful in a way unknown to demonkind at that time. Her orange-gold fur seemingly glowed in the sun as she watched over her troop, her eyes warm with the light of Heaven itself.

Until the Great Flood.

Being creatures not meant for deep water, the Stone Monkey troop that had survived on Earth for so long had found themselves all but wiped out within a single tidal wave.

The Stone Matriarch wailed and cried for any of her lost troop to answer her for years. Her own mate among the missing and presumed dead.

There was not enough food to feed those who had survived the initial waves, and not enough clean water to sate the thirsty. From her grief, the Stone Matriarch and those who had survived began making preparations.

Preparations for the Matriarch to fling a light into the future.

The Stone Palace which had housed countless generations of families was left how it was on the day the flood took them all away. Signs left to tell the next generation or whomever found it that; "We were here. We lived and loved and died. Let the Earth remember us." They wrote upon the walls of the caverns and painted the rocks with their stories so that whomever found them would Know.

The Matriarch found the highest peak of the mountain, one which saved her from the flood waters, and began praying to Hòutǔ and Nüwa (as was customary) as she dug her final resting place. The goddesses of the deep earth and of creation were of great importance to their kind.

The Matriarch buried a peach seed beside her in case that if she failed, her body would at least feed the children of later generations with the fruit.

And she went into her deepest sleep.

The Boulder utop Flower Fruit Mountain had not been there since the "beginning of the Earth" as the tales said - but it might as well have to the yaoguai that settled on the island once the flood waters receeded. The young goddess Nüwa not only created a new Heavenly Pillar to repair the world, but also helped the displaced creatures of the earth find new homes to settle safe from Heaven's destruction. The Boulder greeted them to a paradise lush with fruit and flowers.

As a stroke of misfortune; a waterfall, formed in the aftermath of the flood, concealed the entrance to the Stone Palace. Meaning that those who had settled, did not discover it for some time. And the waters of the cavern eroded some of the many stories left on the cave walls.

One day the Boulder split open, revealing an egg-shaped stone. A young monkey falling out of it like a chick from a nest. The troop of monkey yao had no idea what to make of the little one. Only the bravest four cubs (Ma, Ba, Beng, and Liu) dared to approach this outsider and greet them as a new playmate.

The cub was nicknamed "Xiao-Shihou", their "little stone monkey". Later to be known as their King for his bravery and resourcefulness.

And even later renamed Sun Wukong as he had learned the ways of man and immortals.

Sun Wukong never met his mother. He never knew he had a parent to speak of. But he would learn from his time in Heaven that he was not the Only of his kind that existed once. That there was once strangers like him out on earth and in the stars. And that there might be a way to continue their work...

So he began researching ways to preserve his life and create his lone-parent child at the same time so that they would not be left alone as he was. The knowledge of Liu'er Mihou being a subspecies survivor was uncompletely unknown for millennia afterwards.

When The Bodhisattva of Mercy; Guanyin appeared in court on the day Sun Wukong lashed out at Heaven, her knowledge of her past lives rushed to her heart like an arrow. Before they were Miaoshan she were another human, and 30 so lives before that often a mortal animal or a plant. But her first ever reincarnation - the one which spearated them from their first life as First Princess Songzi - was that of a Stone Matriach preparing a safe place to bare her baby.

Guanyin could not inform Heaven of this fact - as it would put a target far greater than even now upon their past-self's child. The Jade Emperor and Queen Mother still found it difficult to separate Guanyin from their passed daughter. They simply would not be able to comprehend the stone monkey's connection to them.

So they pleaded for Sun Wukong to survive his punishment, even if it wasn't ideal for him or his people. Even all knowing - The Buddha simply could not let the Monkey King's destruction go unpunished or untested. Until he could become more patient, more wise, he must rest and mediatate upon his actions. Guanyin would approach the Monkey King many times throughout his Journey, always with the air of a worried mother. They even comforted and cried with him when he discovered the fate of the island after the war, and later when he lost his mate. Though at the time Sun Wukong he did not understand exactly why the Goddess cried with such sympathy alongside him.

And depending upon the story (AU), the Bodhisattva may have accidentally set the perfect conditions for their own spirtual grandchild to be formed.

The Goddess of Birth became a creature able to bare their young without a partner at the cost of their own life. And later in creating her child, the Stone Matriarch would enter the cycle of reincarnation to eventually become the Bodhsattva notorious for their Mercy and their skills in bringing life into the world.

As for Sun Luzhen?

The Matriarch's Mate (Patriarch? Consort?) had not died in the flood waters as she had thought - but had been swept away into a cavern where they too presumed their love had been taken into Diyu. The Consort in turn buried themselves into the side of the mountain's base as opposed to the top - the Egg that formed only discovered over 2000 years after it's twin when the mountain itself was cracked open.

Sun Wukong meets this long-overdue cub in the clean-up effort, and discovers to his horror and sorrow the origins of them both.

Along the walls of The Consort's resting place lay a vast record of all the Stone Monkeys that came before them - the Matriarch having always adored her studious mate's rambling. The Consort even leaving aside names they and their mate had considered for their planned vast brood ("little heaven" and "walks reality" was among them), and wishes that whomever found their baby or any other stone egg take care to remember those who sacrificed to ensure their survival.

Sun Wukong drops to his knees upon reading the pre-chinese markings uncovered by Azure Lion's battle. The newly-hatched cub in his arms cooing with curiousity at his matching sun-orange fur.

#lmk guanyin #stone matriarch au #chinese mythology #stone monkeys #sun wukong #stone egg talk #century stone egg au #jttw stone egged au #slow boiled stone egg au #lmk luzhen #sun luzhen #lmk queen mother of the west #lmk the jade emperor #lmk xiwangmu #lmk #lego monkie kid #jttw theories #lmk theories #lmk hcs #journey the west #jttw

[gimmethatagustd]

keep singing this lie (2) | kth + jjk

Black Swan, an up-and-coming alternative metal rock band, is going on their first official tour. Jungkook looks forward to proving himself in a cutthroat industry; Taehyung looks forward to the groupies. Neither of them expects to find the comfort their hearts truly desire in one another.

↳ pairing: drummer!taehyung x singer!jungkook

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | rock band au | bandmates to lovers | secret relationship | smut | angst | fluff

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | may 2023

↳ warnings: implied alcoholism | implied abusive childhood | vaping | pornography | alcohol | mentions toxic masculinity in rock music | sexual activity while drunk (consensual): mutual masturbation & tae gets a handjob from a female oc that lasts all but like 2 seconds before it's quickly interrupted

↳ notes: i hope you enjoy tonight's episode of Taehyung Does Mental Gymnastics To Deny That He's Experiencing Bisexual Panic. i didn't thoroughly edit this so if you see anything that doesn't make sense, no you didn't

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On their second travel day, Seokjin announces that he has a surprise for the band. Rather inconveniently, he does so while half the band is asleep.

Jimin is curled up on the elevated cot bed in the back of the van, his lips puckered into the beak Jungkook loves to tease him over. The music Taehyung is playing is loud enough to drown out any sound Jimin might be making, but Taehyung is sure his bandmate is lightly snoring. 

To his right, Jungkook is slumped in his seat. Yet, even in such an uncomfortable position, the man’s face is smooth and serene as he slumbers.

Taehyung fights the urge to run his knuckles along the curve of his cheekbone and tries not to think about why he wanted to do it in the first place. 

“What’s the surprise?” 

He peers at Seokjin through the rearview mirror. He has one hand gripping the steering wheel, and the other is hanging out of the open window. The wind fluffs up his hair, and the midday heat feels good on his tan skin. 

“It’s a surprise. How could I tell you?” Seokjin rests on his stomach beside the still-sleeping Jimin on the cot. 

“With your words.” 

The eldest lets out a snort. “Smartass.” 

“Hyungggg!” 

He doesn’t mean for the whine to be so loud that it wakes Jungkook up. With furrowed eyebrows and a mean pout, Jungkook blinks his eyes open enough to squint at the highway blurring past them. 

“Tae?” Jungkook turns his head to the side and gives Taehyung an adorably-grumpy face. 

“‘M sorry, Koo,” Taehyung apologizes. The look he gives him is soft, the feeling in his chest when he watches Jungkook stretch his arms rivaling the heat from the sun on his skin. 

Nothing, however, can rival the brilliance of the smile Jungkook gifts to Taehyung. The younger man opens his mouth to speak, but Seokjin cuts in. 

“I have a surprise!” He announces for the second time. The enthusiasm makes Jimin stir, though Taehyung knows it’ll take much longer for Jimin to become fully cognizant of what’s going on. 

Like Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook eventually perk up with curiosity, begging Seokjin to reveal the secret. 

“It won’t be a surprise if I tell you,” Seokjin points out with a roll of his eyes, but Taehyung catches through the rearview mirror how the corners of Seokjin’s mouth twitch upward.

The van fills with cries for Seokjin to relent as Taehyung turns off the highway to eventually stop at a lone gas station. He always gets a bit nervous stopping in the middle of nowhere, even though they’re all healthy adult men who have their wits about them and can take care of themselves. The protectiveness Taehyung has over the other men is something he can’t shake. 

Jimin and Seokjin continue bickering in the back while Taehyung and Jungkook step out of the van. 

His feeling of being on edge may make Taehyung overanalyze the way Jungkook fidgets as he stands beside Taehyung. His big eyes flit from the gas pump to the store. At his sides, his fingers twitch, and he clenches his fists before shoving them into his pockets. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he announces suddenly. He doesn’t look at Taehyung and keeps his eyes on the store. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

Taehyung chews his bottom lip and watches Jungkook disappear into the convenience store. There’s literally nothing weird about Jungkook needing to go to the bathroom after sitting in a van for hours, so why does Taehyung feel like his throat is being squeezed shut? 

With a sigh, Taehyung turns towards the gas pump.

It isn’t that he’s not excited; he’s sure whatever their leader has planned will be entertaining for all of them. However, Taehyung isn’t the type to show enthusiasm and appreciation like Jimin and Jungkook. They all know this about him. They understand that banter and elbows to the ribs are his way of expressing affection. 

Seokjin is a bit more like him, Taehyung thinks as he slides his credit card into the gas pump. Their leader is the oldest, in his late twenties, and the most mature despite the goofiness Jimin and Jungkook tend to coax out of him. 

Jimin and Jungkook, though… They’re soft. Sure, Jimin is the same age as him, and Jungkook is a few years younger — turning twenty-three this year. But, even though he’s not much older, Taehyung worries about the two of them. In their industry, soft men get eaten alive.

Sometimes, Taehyung feels like talent can only get you so far. 

Shaking his head, Taehyung selects the cheapest gas option and lets his eyes wander the station while he waits for the tank to fill up.

There’s a Spine Breaker Festival flyer taped to the gas pump. The headliners’ names are big and bold, but Taehyung’s eyes skip down about midway to find “Black Swan” listed among the other smaller bands. He knows where to look to find their name; he has a stack of the same flyer on his coffee table at home. There’s no telling how often his eyes skimmed the glossy print, rereading the band’s name repeatedly. It’s different to see one out in public, though, hundreds of miles from his apartment. The ones at home are as crisp as when they were first printed. This one is sunbleached, and the corners are curling from the wind’s violent attempts to rip it down. 

Taehyung leans his butt on the van and crosses his arms against his chest. He wonders who put up the sign. It has clearly been there for a long time. 

The gas nozzle clicks a few times, and the numbers on the screen still. Gas is cheaper out here, away from the big city. The rest of the guys complain about the farmland and small towns they pass through on their tour route to each city. Taehyung likes the simplicity of it all, though. It reminds him of his childhood. If he sifts through the memories of vicious insults and bruised skin, he can remember tumbling down grassy hills and going strawberry picking with a certain boy with puffy cheeks and crescent eyes. 

The same boy throws himself onto Taehyung’s back, his arms wrapping around his neck so tightly that he starts to choke. 

“Ji-” 

Taehyung gasps when his friend’s hold tightens. He tries to pull Jimin’s forearm away from his throat, but the smaller man leans further into him, nearly forcing Taehyung wholly bent over. 

“TaeTae, tell Seokjinnie hyung that I deserve a snack for driving so much today.” 

Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cat hissing. He’s got half his body hanging out of the side of the van while he searches for something in the back. 

“Good God, Jimin, you’re choking the man to death.” 

Jimin releases Taehyung to pull the gas nozzle from the van and return it to the pump. The receipt nearly blows away before Jimin’s fingers snatch it up. Seokjin should be grateful that Jimin finished pumping gas; Taehyung typically forgets receipts. Seokjin would have skinned him alive for fucking up the detailed expense reports the older man has planned. As the band leader, Seokjin acts as their manager and accountant, in addition to being the bassist. Missing receipts are justification for execution. 

“What kinda snack do you want?” Taehyung twists around to protect himself from a potential second attack. There aren’t any cars at the other gas pumps and no people to see him, but Taehyung feels tense regardless. 

“Chocolate, please,” Jimin says while fluttering his eyelashes. As if he actually needs to charm Taehyung into doing anything for him. Not to be dramatic, but Taehyung would die for all three of them. No hesitation. “And can you get Jungkookie? He’s been in there way too long.” 

“Probably spending our entire budget on energy drinks. Those things are gonna make his heart give out one of these days…” Seokjin grumbles. 

Surprisingly, Jungkook isn’t perusing the gas station’s energy drink offerings. Instead, Taehyung finds him with the cashier, pointing at the disposable vapes behind the counter. 

Snatching a few chocolate bars from a shelf, Taehyung stands beside Jungkook at the counter. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jungkook nearly drops the pink device grasped in his tattooed hand. “Shit, hyung, where did you come from?” 

“I thought you stopped vaping?” 

Jungkook presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek. Taehyung doesn’t know why he wants to push him. He knows he should back off, but he can’t. 

“I’m an adult, hyung. I can do what I want.” 

“But you said—” 

“You said you’d stop drinking so much, didn’t you?” The look in Jungkook’s eyes is deadly. His expression is sharp and unrelenting, different from his usual soft, starry eyes. 

Taehyung did say that. He had to. It got real bad, that time, not quite a year ago. Honestly, he can barely remember anything from that night — except for how Jungkook looked with tears streaking his face and both fists twisted into the front of Taehyung’s shirt to hold him up in the bathroom of their hotel room. Taehyung can’t even remember which city they were in. 

Jungkook hadn’t given him any details the following day, and Taehyung had refused to ask.   

He’s not sure if Jungkook expects a response. Quite frankly, Taehyung doesn’t have one for him. So he swallows the lump in his throat and watches Jungkook pluck the chocolate bars from his hands. He buys them, along with two strawberry-flavored vapes. 

Jungkook is tired, Taehyung tells himself as he follows the younger man to the van. They’re all tired. It’s fine. 

Jungkook stuffs the vapes in his pockets before their bandmates can see and hands over the snacks to Jimin. 

“Jungkookie!” Jimin squeals with the chocolate bars pressed against his chest as he clambers back onto the cot. “Thank youuuu.” 

With a small smile, Jungkook slips into the passenger seat even though it’s his turn to lie down in the back with Taehyung. 

Seokjin leans across Jungkook to call out from the van, “Taehyung? You coming?” 

“Mhm.” 

Jungkook refuses to meet Taehyung’s gaze as Taehyung climbs into the back of the van and perches on the edge of the cot beside Jimin. He leans back to rest his shoulders against the wall of the van. 

He feels sick.

It’s fine. 

“Taehyungie?” 

Jimin crawls over to kneel on the cot beside him. Concern is hastily scribbled across his face, but Taehyung doesn’t know what he’s doing to make Jimin look like that. All he can do is stare at his best friend with as blank a face as he can muster because it’s too difficult to figure out what’s wrong. 

“Jimin-ah…” Despite two days of travel, Taehyung’s throat is still sore, and his voice comes out raspier than usual. Suddenly, he feels so unbelievably exhausted. 

His friend gives him a look, his expression softening as he lingers on Taehyung’s face. Then, with a small sigh, he opens his arms. “C’mere, baby.” 

Jimin molds against his side with his arms wrapped around his waist and his legs thrown over Taehyung's. There’s no one here to judge him for cuddling with his best friend. No one to question or degrade his masculinity, his self-worth. Nothing to feel embarrassed about in front of others. No way to give the wrong impression if the only people here are those who understand him — better than Taehyung understands himself, he’s starting to realize. 

Taehyung turns his head to the side to rub his cheek against Jimin’s messy blonde hair. The back of the van is shaded, and Jimin’s body is warm. He finds himself falling asleep rather quickly. 

When Taehyung wakes up, he doesn’t remember what he thought he should say. 

By now, dusk is approaching. The sky is a delicious swirl of creamsicle-orange and cotton candy-pink, acting as a backdrop for wispy white clouds smeared across the atmosphere. Taehyung peers at it through the window, only realizing he’s alone in the van when he spots his bandmates standing outside. 

Ducking out of the van, Taehyung stretches his arms and blinks a few times to help his eyes adjust to the light. It is then that the scenery clicks inside his head. 

“Surprise,” Seokjin murmurs against Taehyung’s ear. He digs his fingers into both of his shoulders, massaging away the tension Taehyung carries in the muscles there. “Hope you like it.” 

For as far as Taehyung can see, there are sunflowers. Giant, stocky sunflowers stand taller than he does and gently sway in the light breeze that ruffles Taehyung’s wavy hair. Their yellow and gold faces are open and twisted toward the sun. 

Turning from side to side, Taehyung sees that the sea of sunflowers travels down the length of the highway, where the van is parked off to the side. 

“A sunflower farm?” 

Seokjin flashes his younger friend a grin. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Jimin practically buzzes beside Taehyung. He wiggles his lithe body as he retrieves his phone from his back pocket. “It reminds me of Daegu, Taehyungie!” 

Taehyung sees Seokjin’s eyebrows raise, likely in confusion, but Jimin is already bounding toward the entrance of what appears to be a small trail that travels through the field of flowers. He doesn’t have the energy to explain what Jimin means; the memories of his hometown and country make his stomach twist into something grotesque enough that Taehyung prefers to avoid it. 

So instead, he pulls out his phone, too, though he doesn’t follow Jimin toward the trail. 

“It’s so pretty! Oh my god, we have to make a TikTok!” 

Seokjin grins as Jimin sprints back, only to snatch his hand with a squeal and drag him toward the trail. 

As the band’s social media guru, Jimin takes his responsibility of curating flawless content for their various social media platforms very seriously. It’s a blessing, considering the other three bandmates are shit at using their socials. 

Lifting his phone, Taehyung captures a few photos of the flowers. The photos don’t do the farm justice, but taking a photo is less about creating something pretty and more about preserving the way Taehyung feels. Everyone knows you shouldn’t take pictures facing the sun, but Taehyung likes the warmth it captures. The same feeling bubbles up in his chest as he watches Jimin and Seokjin disappear into the flowers and listens to their laughter echo through the otherwise silent evening. 

Moments like these make Taehyung feel like he’s someone other than himself, maybe a main character in a movie about self-discovery and adventure. It’s poetic and pretty and gentle — everything Taehyung isn’t. 

The scrawny poor kid from the outskirts of Daegu, who barely knew any English when he followed Jimin to the United States, that kid would have never imagined that he’d one day stare into a field of sunflowers and feel like something important is happening to him. Like this moment means something. Like he needs to squeeze it in his fists and hold it against his chest for fear of letting it slip away. 

It makes him feel nostalgic for some reason. 

“The view is better from up here.” 

Taehyung spins around and lifts his head to see Jungkook’s face peek out from the van's roof. The younger man nods upward, indicating that Taehyung should come up, too. 

It feels like progress when Jungkook scoots out of the way to give Taehyung room to haul himself onto the roof. They sit with their legs crossed like pretzels and stare into the swaying sea of yellow and green. Silence doesn’t feel so scary when the sky is darkening, and nature’s soft lullaby calms the racing of Taehyung’s heart. He can almost ignore the unexplainable ache in his chest when Jungkook still doesn’t look at him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Taehyung cocks his head to the side. “For?”

“Hyung.” Jungkook shoots Taehyung a glare. “You know.” 

He does know. Part of him wants to hear Jungkook say it, though. Another part of him wants to pretend it never even happened. 

“You’re good,” is what he chooses to say instead of the million other terrible things that he could. 

“I’m sorry I keep having to say sorry.” 

When Jungkook speaks, a stream of pale smoke rushes out of his nostrils. Taehyung hadn’t noticed the light pink vape clutched in his hand. 

Taehyung knows it’s not the worst vice in the world. It’s Jungkook’s only vice, in reality. The boy doesn’t drink much or do drugs aside from smoking the occasional blunt when Taehyung feels like sharing his weed. Taehyung is pretty sure in the years he’s known Jungkook, he has never had a casual hookup — or even a serious relationship, for that matter. 

So what does a little nicotine hurt? 

A lot, in Taehyung’s opinion, especially the singer’s voice. 

But Jungkook is right; Taehyung doesn’t have the right to judge him. If he really cared, he wouldn’t even smoke weed with the younger man. Taehyung refuses to even address his own… shotty relationship with alcohol, as Jungkook loves to point out. In the end, Taehyung is a giant fucking hypocrite. So what is his problem? Why does he give a shit about something so insignificant? 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Jungkook asks, changing the subject before Taehyung can say anything else. 

It’s a welcomed change, however. Taehyung leans back on his hands as he stares out at the sunflower farm. The van's roof is warm against his skin, but not uncomfortably so. 

“I got a feeling this one’s gonna be real fucking hyped. The venue sold out. Did Jinnie hyung tell you?” 

Jungkook nods, and when their gazes meet, Taehyung can see the golden sunset reflecting in his eyes. 

“Our first sold-out show that’s just us, no big headliner,” he says with a wispy look that makes Taehyung’s heart constrict. 

It doesn’t matter that the venue is small compared to the venues the guys dream of performing at one day. Taehyung wants to tell Jungkook that it’s all him. Sure, the rest of them fortify the band, but ultimately, Jungkook is the glue holding them together. Without Jungkook, there would be no Black Swan. 

Without Black Swan, he isn’t sure if there would be a Taehyung, and there certainly wouldn’t be a V. 

“Gonna wear your lucky underwear?” 

Jungkook inhales sharply, loud enough for Taehyung to hear the air get caught in his throat. Then, the younger man lands a nearly fatal blow to Taehyung’s arm. Two lighter taps and the skin on his arm blooms bright pink. 

“Shut the fuck up, hyung!” Jungkook complains. “I don’t have lucky underwear.” 

“Maybe not anymore,” Taehyung points out with a wicked grin. Another slap has Taehyung scooting away from further danger. 

“I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung sticks his tongue out. “You love me.”

His eyes are squeezed shut once his expression morphs into a pout, so he misses how Jungkook’s face softens when he says, “You’re right, I do.”  

“Please fuck me, please. Or at least let me suck your cock.” 

The words send a shiver down Taehyung’s spine. Lips brush over his earlobe, and he feels the tip of a tongue flick his hoop piercing. When a hand cups his growing erection through his jeans, he automatically bucks his hips into the pressure. 

“Can’t, shit, can’t bring you back,” Taehyung groans, but the girl doesn’t let up. Instead, she pops open the button on Taehyung’s jeans and swiftly unzips them. It’s a relief not to have so much pressure on his dick anymore, but they’re headed down a path Taehyung needs to avoid.  

“Just let me suck it?” The girl whines. 

Should he let her suck his dick?

Taehyung contemplates it while her hand slips beneath his briefs. Handjobs aren’t his favorite thing in the world, especially a rough, dry one like this, but he’s drunk enough that it feels better than it would if he was sober. They’re not in the most glamorous location, not that Taehyung is picky about where he gets his blowjobs. The alley behind the nightclub where their afterparty is being held isn’t as creepy or dirty as it could be. 

But Taehyung is so fucking tired. His arms feel like jelly from their nearly two-hour-long performance. It doesn’t help that he has had very little water, going straight for hard liquor once they arrived at the nightclub. 

He’s sure he smells like a gross mixture of sweat and alcohol, but the girl is running her tongue up the length of his throat as though he tastes like candy. 

Eh, maybe a back alleyway blowjob wouldn’t be too bad. To be perfectly honest, Taehyung has had a boner for a painfully long time. Performing on stage often gets him riled up, especially if they’re drinking while they’re up there - which they usually are. At least, he and Jimin do. Intoxication, paired with the typical adrenaline and masculine aggression that comes with banging away at his drum set while fans scream their names, is enough to make Taehyung’s head foggy with a different kind of energy. It’s pent-up energy he only knows of one way to get rid of. 

However, the blowjob decision is made for him when he hears someone call his name. 

“Kim Taehyung, what the fuck are you doing?” 

With a groan, Taehyung lets his head fall back against the brick wall of the nightclub and closes his eyes. The hand on his dick disappears, as does the warmth of the girl’s body as she takes a step away from him. He listens to Seokjin shoo the girl away and rolls his eyes despite them still being closed when he hears the girl whine and complain about being rejected. 

“Put your dick away.” 

Taehyung opens his eyes enough to squint at his friend before dropping his gaze down as he makes himself look presentable. Well, as presentable as he can look. 

“What do you want?” 

Seokjin grabs Taehyung by the bicep and drags him through the backdoor. “Apparently, I’m on babysitting duty tonight, and you haven’t had any water since before the show.” 

Taehyung flinches, jerking his arm out of Seokjin’s grasp once they reach the bar. “I don’t gotta be babysat.” 

“Yes, you do. Now sit the fuck down.” Seokjin calls the bartender over with a slam of his palm on the counter. “Do not let him order anything but water, got it?” 

The bartender gives Seokjin a once-over before likely deciding that any argument isn’t worth it. She gives Seokjin a stiff nod before turning her attention to her less confrontational patrons. The older man knows how to be intimidating when he needs to be. Even if he’s wearing khakis and an acid-wash blue jean jacket. 

Still, it’s not intimidating enough for Taehyung to stay put. 

The moment Seokjin ventures back into the sea of dancing bodies to locate the rest of Black Swan, Taehyung decides to dip out. If he can’t drink alcohol and he can’t get his dick sucked, there’s no reason for him to be at the afterparty. 

Jimin would disagree if he could hear Taehyung’s rather loud thoughts as the man takes an Uber back to their hotel. Jimin would argue that Taehyung could have spent the rest of the night dancing with his bandmates, his supposed best friends. Jimin would tell him that life isn’t all about falling into the bottom of a bottle and getting his dick wet. 

Taehyung knows all of this because Jimin has scolded him about it before. 

To: THE BOYS

fuck u guys. i'm giing back to the hotel

have fum withiut me

From: ChimChim

Fum 😌

From: Jungkookie

Fum 😌

From: Jinnie Hyung

Fum 😌

To: THE BOYS

FUCK YOU GUYS

He tells himself that he doesn’t give a fuck what the other guys think about him as he stomps his way through the hotel, practically kicking open his hotel room. He grumbles and complains to no one as he dramatically kicks his sneakers into the air and strips off his leather pants and muscle tee, sending them flying. He ends up leaving a trail of dirty clothes from the doorway into the bathroom. All of this is a problem for Sober Taehyung. Drunk Taehyung does not give a shit. 

If frustration could be physically manifested, it would be as thick as the steam that fogs up the bathroom as Taehyung tries to burn himself alive in the shower. He’s frustrated enough that he can’t even jack off properly. It’s like the energy buzzing inside him is vibrating so intensely that he can’t force it to congregate in one area. He wants to fucking combust all at once, wants to let it all out with his entire body. 

Taehyung had been right, though. The show had been hyped. A packed venue with fans who genuinely knew who they were, who sang along to all their songs, and who kept tabs on Jimin’s intentional hints on Twitter to figure out what nightclub they were going to after. 

Taehyung walked away from the show feeling good. More than good. Maybe it was stupid, but he felt powerful having people there for him. For them. 

So maybe that’s why he’s so fucking frustrated. Why is it that everyone else gets to have their fun, and Taehyung is restricted? 

Freshly showered and clothed in a clean t-shirt and briefs, Taehyung flops onto the queen-sized bed and tries not to glare at the ceiling. He doesn’t even feel drunk anymore; he is just annoyed. 

It takes him all but two seconds before he draws his laptop out of his backpack, tossing aside loose receipts and candy wrappers that fall out with it. He’s horny and has the hotel room alone for at least a few more hours judging by how early it was that Seokjin ruined all his fun. So Taehyung might as well fucking take advantage of the rare moment of privacy. That’s why he uses his laptop, rather than his phone, to pull up his favorite porn site. Bigger screen, and better speakers. He’s got the entire bed to himself so he can spread his legs and lean against the headboard with the laptop off to the side. 

Is it better than a back alleyway blowjob? No, unless the girl was the type to use teeth. And even then, Taehyung likes a little bit of danger sometimes. 

Still, this is better than nothing. 

Just as he presses play on the perfect video and starts thumbing at the head of his cock, he hears the unmistakable beep of a keycard opening the hotel room. 

“Taehyungie hyun- oh.” 

Jungkook stands frozen in the doorway. Only his eyes move, flitting up and down between Taehyung’s hand wrapped around his dick and his shocked expression. 

They stay that way, ogling at each other for longer than either is comfortable with. 

And then it’s like a flip is switched. Taehyung frantically rips his briefs back up his hips, stuffing his cock rather uncomfortably so it lies flat against his thigh, and springs forward to turn off the porn. At least he’s got his AirPods in. 

“I am so sor-”

“Hyung, I-” 

Taehyung slowly sits back down on the bed as Jungkook inches forward. His cheeks are flushed pink, likely from drinking, although Taehyung doubts he had that much. He has half of his hair tied up in a ponytail, and the rest hangs just above his shoulders in the shaggy wolfcut Taehyung hopes he keeps forever. 

“You go first,” Taehyung says, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

Jungkook presses his knee into the bed and leans forward slightly. “Can I sit?” After a nod of approval from Taehyung, he sits beside him. Both men sit with their backs against the headboard. 

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Jungkook says after a moment. “It didn’t seem fair that hyung made you leave.” 

Taehyung is too endeared to feel like correcting him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you had to walk in on me beatin’ my meat.” 

“Ugh,” Jungkook groans. “Don’t fucking say it like that, hyung, please.” 

Jungkook brings his palm down to slap Taehyung. This time, rather than go for his arm, the position they’re sitting in makes it easier for Jungkook to smack the top of Taehyung’s thigh. It stings, but Jungkook has hit him with much more effort in the past. So it isn’t pain that makes Taehyung’s skin feel hot; instead, it’s that Jungkook doesn’t lift his hand. 

For a few beats, he keeps it there, palm pressed fully against Taehyung’s bare skin. When he finally pulls away, Taehyung swears he squeezes the muscle just the slightest amount before fully lifting up.  

“I’m still sorry,” Taehyung mutters, keeping his gaze on the warm spot on his leg. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jungkook shrug. 

“I can just put my headphones in and turn on my side if you want.” 

Taehyung practically breaks his neck by quickly whipping his head to the side. “Huh?” 

“You know, if you wanted to keep going. I don’t want to ruin your night, but I can’t get in the other room, and I don’t really know where else I could go…”

Nothing about what Jungkook is saying makes any sense. It’s all words going through Taehyung’s ear and not being processed by the time they leave out the other side. A tiny voice inside his head tells him he can simply masturbate in the bathroom, but that voice feels lightyears away.

There’s another shrug from the younger man. “Or I could do it with you.” 

Taehyung’s heart manages to claw its way up into his throat. It hurts to swallow, a heavy lump blocking his airway and making breathing difficult. 

“You what?” 

Jungkook’s tongue pokes at his lip piercing while he sits in silence for an excruciatingly long time. Probably only two seconds max, but Taehyung feels like he’s clinging to his deathbed the entire time. 

“I could do it, too, if it makes you feel better. It’s not weird!” The words tumble out of Jungkook’s mouth so hurriedly that Taehyung almost can’t parcel them out into neat sentences. 

He takes a deep breath and begins again. “Masturbating is normal.” 

Taehyung snorts. “What is this? Are you about to give me ‘The Talk’ right now?” 

“Shut the fuck up, hyung,” Jungkook whines and Taehyung tries to ignore the flip his stomach does when he hears it. “All I’m saying is that we all get a lot of pent-up energy from the shows, and it’s stupid if we try to act like we don’t.” 

“Okay.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up as though he didn’t expect Taehyung to agree, but he quickly drops the surprised expression before Taehyung can linger on it for too long. 

“Do you want some lube?” It feels all kinds of insane to hold the small bottle out like he’s asking Jungkook if he wants ketchup for his French fries. 

When Jungkook does nothing but stare, Taehyung slowly retracts his arm. “It’s just, uh, I like it really… wet… so I thought I’d ask… yeah.” 

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.” 

Suddenly eager to get this over with, Taehyung hits the space bar on his laptop to resume the video.

“Is this what you normally watch?” 

“I mean, I guess?” Taehyung dares to peek at Jungkook out of the corner of his eye. 

The younger man leans his back against the headboard. He looks calm, fingers interlaced against his stomach that rises and falls at a steady pace. Of course. This really isn’t that big of a deal. 

Taehyung has heard of circle jerks, although he always thought they were just a stupid thing guys joked about but didn’t actually do. Or maybe they did, but it was part of some college fraternity hazing tradition that Taehyung would never subject himself to. Even the idea of a threesome has always weirded him out. What is he supposed to do when the other guy nuts? Watch? No fucking way.

But this isn’t some random guy. It’s Jungkook. A man he has known for years, who he has spent literal months out of the year with on tour, all day, every day. He’s seen Jungkook cry to the point of having snot quite literally bubbling out of his nose. He has squatted in dingy nightclub bathroom stalls while Jungkook heaves into the toilet after one too many drinks. 

Boogers and puke are worse than cum, right? 

Taehyung runs a hand down his face and tries to breathe. 

“Hey, I’m just fucking with you, hyung.” Jungkook elbows him in the arm, and Taehyung realizes he missed something. 

“What?” 

“I said it’s shit porn. Just listen to this guy; he’s groaning like a dying animal.” 

“Sure? It’s not about the guy, though, so…” 

Jungkook scrunches his nose. “I guess.” 

“Are you gonna keep talking?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes but clamps his lips shut.  

Taehyung places one AirPod into his ear and gives the other to Jungkook. It almost feels like they’re back in the van, sharing headphones to listen to music together. Except now, instead of listening to guitar riffs, it's high-pitch squeals and breathy moans.

The girl in the video is loud. Taehyung likes them loud, likes the way the screams shoot electricity right to his dick. With his eyes glued to the screen, it’s easy to get hard again (although he hadn’t ever entirely gone soft) as he watches how the girl’s pussy swallows the man’s cock and grips him tight every time he pulls back. She’s on her hands and knees, and it’s a POV video. Taehyung loves hitting it from the back.

The audio is pretty loud, but since it only filters through one ear, Taehyung picks up on a breathy voice that doesn’t belong to either person in the video. 

Reaching behind his head, Jungkook rips off his t-shirt in one go, tossing it into a corner of the room. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Hyung,” Jungkook groans. “It will… you know… get everywhere. I don’t want to get it on my shirt.” 

Taehyung’s cock visibly kicks up in his briefs, and he prays to the heavy-metal gods that Jungkook doesn’t notice. 

“Right.” 

Jungkook shimmies the waistband of his sweatpants down to his hips. It’s far enough for Taehyung to see the outline of his cock straining against his briefs. He watches Jungkook’s hand slip inside his briefs, and Taehyung stares again at the screen. 

“Right.” 

At first, it’s just the rustle of clothes and bedding that Taehyung hears from Jungkook’s side of the bed. He can see Jungkook from the corner of his eye, but he focuses so hard on the screen that he doesn’t see anything else. But then there is the unmistakable sound of skin rubbing against skin that makes Taehyung’s entire body grow hot. Even hotter when the sound of skin turns wet, and Taehyung can’t make his brain shut up when a little sing-song voice announces that curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. 

Taehyung draws his bottom lip into his teeth and internally screams that this is fucking weird. Yet he still slowly tilts his head to catch a glimpse.

Jungkook has a great cock. It’s perfectly straight compared to the slight bend of Taehyung’s. The veins are prominent, but there aren’t so many that it looks gross or intimidating. His skin looks velvety smooth, the slightly darker tip glistening with precum. Just the right girth and length to be proud of, in Taehyung’s opinion. 

In short, it looks porn-worthy. The perfect cock for a rockstar. 

Taehyung wants to slap himself for thinking so, but it’s true. It comes as no surprise; what isn’t perfect about their maknae? 

Taehyung is bigger, though, which makes him want to do something stupid, like puff out his chest like some kind of alpha male. And that knowledge makes him feel more comfortable shoving his briefs down to let his own cock free from its confines. 

What the fuck is Taehyung’s brain going on about?

Realizing he’s been staring at his bandmate’s dick, Taehyung quickly shifts his gaze. However, the new view is worse because he meets Jungkook’s eyes and knows that Jungkook saw him watching. 

As if seeking to level out the playing field, Taehyung watches as Jungkook’s eyes drop. His gaze is heavy as he watches Taehyung’s fist glide up and down his cock. He should probably stop moving, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes his time, first squeezing the head of his cock and rolling his palm against it as he likes to do. 

Jungkook’s tongue pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, and Taehyung’s cock twitches as more precum dribbles out of his slit. 

The girl in the video starts to scream. Both men return their eyes to Taehyung’s laptop to see the man start pummeling her. His hand wraps around her throat and squeezes hard enough for her scream to turn into pathetic whimpers. Taehyung feels like he’s getting all the air squeezed out of him, too. 

Jungkook comes first. 

Taehyung has never wondered what Jungkook sounds like when he comes. Obviously. But if he had ever wondered, he wouldn’t have expected his friend to whimper. The little “ah, ah, ah’s” that Jungkook exhales are so soft that a really sick part of Taehyung would find it cute. He can’t look away as Jungkook arches his back to toss his head against the wall, and cum shoots onto his bare abdomen. 

Taehyung gasps, his own orgasm hitting him so suddenly that he can’t react fast enough to lift up his shirt. He lets out a choked-out moan and can’t even be bothered to try to stay quiet because the orgasm rips through his body so violently he can’t open his eyes or regulate his breathing. His entire body goes rigid until his t-shirt is streaked white. 

His brain is fuzzy and throbs with each beat of his heart as he collapses against the pillows, his arms thrown out on either side. The veins are popping out of his left arm from the physical exertion. He’s sure Jungkook’s limbs are tired, too. 

“Fuck.” Jungkook reaches over with his clean hand to close out of the video.  

Taehyung hums in agreement, eyes fluttering closed. 

“That was…” Jungkook lets out a shaky breath. “That was good.”

Biting his bottom lip to hold in a grin, Taehyung cracks one eye open to peer at Jungkook. “Even though it was shit porn?” 

He forces himself not to watch Jungkook tuck his softening cock back into his underwear — though he does allow himself one or two glimpses. He focuses instead on the twinkle in Jungkook’s big, brown eyes and the way they roll at Taehyung’s stupid teasing. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook whines, and Taehyung is too tired to understand the way his stomach flutters. “Not the porn; it really is shit. I meant doing this with you.” 

Everything inside of Taehyung feels like it short circuits. He opens his mouth, lets it hang for a few seconds, then closes it again because he’s afraid the sound that will come out will be embarrassing since there’s nothing but white noise buzzing around inside his head. 

“With me?” He finally asks with a raspy voice. 

“Mhm.” Jungkook uses his pinky finger to brush strands of hair from his eyes. 

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits after a few seconds of silence. He leans his head back and stares off into the room. “It’s hard pretending like I’m not lonely. Y’know?”

Taehyung nods slowly, even though he has no idea what Jungkook is talking about. 

Jungkook lets out a long sigh. “I’m not like you… I can’t, just, fuck someone. But hiding to go jack off alone in the bathroom every time I crave intimacy is really pathetic.” 

Taehyung’s gaze falls on Jungkook’s lip piercing. He watches the pink tip of his tongue wiggle it back and forth, watches him tongue the hole a few times. It’s hard to concentrate on what Jungkook is saying — even though Taehyung has a feeling this is something important that he really should be listening to — when all he can focus on is the way Jungkook’s bottom lip shines with spit. 

After such an intense orgasm, Taehyung’s body is all melted and gooey, but he suddenly shoots up when he feels arousal begin to build in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t have some kind of supernaturally-short refractory period, but he swears he’s already starting to get hard again. 

“Hyung?” Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunch together. 

Taehyung waves him off as he quickly pulls his underwear up. He can feel his cheeks heating up, but he tells himself it’s the alcohol. 

“I get it. The bathroom thing,” Taehyung hurriedly admits, trying to put together a response that doesn’t give away the fact that he had been too focused on Jungkook’s face and not on his words. “I’m here for you, right? Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I got you, you know that. I got you.” 

He means it, even if he isn’t sure what Jungkook wants from him exactly. It doesn’t matter. Taehyung would give Jungkook the world; any of the guys, he would. 

When he finally meets Jungkook’s gaze again, the younger man wears a bright smirk on his face. 

“What?” Taehyung questions with a suspicious glare. He doesn’t like the idea of being made fun of after admitting such sentimental shit. “What do you want?” 

“It’s just, cute.” Jungkook giggles. The orange light of the bedside lamp makes his expression glow. 

“‘m not cute.” 

With a giggle that verges on a snort, Jungkook eases off the bed. “You’re saying these sweet things, and we’ve both got jizz all over us.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Taehyung groans, flopping back against the pillows. 

Jungkook’s giggles ring through the room as he scours for his pajamas. Taehyung stares up at the ceiling and listens until the sound is muffled by the closing of the bathroom door. It isn’t until he hears the shower start that Taehyung finally pulls himself out of bed. 

Taking off his t-shirt is delicate work to ensure that no cum gets on his face or in his hair as he lifts it over his head. He turns the shirt inside out and balls it up before throwing it on the floor near his overnight bag. They’ll have to find a laundromat soon. 

Remaining shirtless, Taehyung flops onto his stomach on the bed. He keeps himself propped up on his elbows so he can scroll through the various social media apps that keep him glued to his phone out of boredom. 

He tells himself he’s just killing time while Jungkook showers. Obviously, it makes more sense to go to bed at the same time; that way, Jungkook isn’t disturbing him while he tries to fall asleep. He’s totally not replaying in his mind the image of Jungkook throwing his head back with his lips parted in the neediest, breathiest whimper Taehyhung has ever heard. 

Nah, he’s definitely not thinking about it. Nope. Not thinking about how Jungkook’s defined abs had looked painted white, shiny, and sticky. Nope. 

He’s definitely not getting hard again. Why would he be? Taehyung isn’t even attracted to men. He’s sure his imagination is just getting away from him because this is something new, something he’s never experienced before. He’s never seen another man in a sexual act in real life before. It’s just new, and his brain is latching onto it because of that. That’s all. 

It isn’t until Jungkook returns from his shower that Taehyung puts his phone away to charge. When Jungkook turns around to discard his dirty clothes, Taehyung adjusts his cock in his briefs and scrambles under the covers to hide the semi he’s sporting. 

He gives Jungkook an innocent smile when the younger shuffles toward the bed. 

“Time for bed?” 

Jungkook nods, slipping under the covers as Taehyung turns off the lamp. 

The bed creaks while Jungkook gets comfortable. Their arms brush against each other, and Jungkook purposefully — Taehyung thinks — tickles his fingers across his. It makes Taehyung turn onto his side to look at him, even though the darkness makes it difficult to see the details on his face. 

Jungkook lets out a long breath. “It’s not weird, right?” 

“Hmm?”

“What we just did. It’s not weird because we’re friends.” 

“Ah.” Taehyung lets silence overpower them for a few seconds. “I don’t think it’s weird,” he eventually mumbles his way through the lie that he’s not sure he believes himself. But, fuck, does he want to. “We’re friends.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, though it’s more of a sigh than a real response. “We do everything together anyway.” 

“We do.” 

For the second time in three days, Taehyung falls asleep to the image of Jungkook’s pink lips. This time, the image is accompanied by sweet whimpers echoing in his ears. 

series masterlist

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#taekook au #taehyung x jungkook #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #kstl

[outofangband]



Working on some longer xenobiology/speculative biology posts so in the meantime here are some more random thoughts

Updated edition a year later! I hope these are ok!!

These are more jotting down ideas, please please feel free to give me any to elaborate on!

Also not all of these I necessarily consider my Headcanons, they’re just fun to play around with

Location edition

1. Tapetum lucidum or, eyes that can glow in the dark. (similar to the eyes of cats and raccoons) This is not limited to the Caliquendi and so is not directly related to Treelight.

Related to this is the potential ability to see infrared or other light spectrums like certain animals. I do like the idea that elven vision in the dark is more complicated than simply being able to see through the dark.

They navigate in unique ways, using the earth, trees, and even rocks to orient themselves. (I’m basing this in part of Legolas’s words about the elves of Hollin where he appears to draw sense memories from flora and stones) This also fits into my ideas for some ways elves are disoriented and controlled within Angband.

When elves are kept away from the natural world, in monotonous environments, without access to plant life or even a variety of geological information, they can enter a sort of stupor. Even in Angband which of course does contain rocks and life in the form of fungi, algae and even some plants, Cyanobacteria and certain creatures, much of the mines and dungeons are deliberately kept barren, lifeless and separated enough from the caverns and tunnels. What information they receive is never comforting. On that note, Ecological empathy taken to an extreme. Elves becoming depressed from ecological destruction, feeling the changes to landscapes on an innate level. Hence again why Angband is so damaging

Ears that express a wide range of emotions like how eyebrows do with humans. Elven ears will flatten, perk up, twitch, and even fold at times.

. I talked about phosphorescence here which actually has roots in canon!

Being able to navigate on all fours with ease, particularly while climbing and on a similar note, advanced balance.

For some of them, partially webbed feet and possibly even gill like structures on their chests for the sea elves.

On that note I think evolution works obviously differently for elves. Traits adapt and spread at different rates.

Pressure to areas of their body causes them to fall still, like with puppies and kittens. They have very sensitive areas in the backs of their necks and behind their ears. I've talked about this on my states of consciousness and sleep posts!

They do not have fingerprints though the skin on their hands will sometimes absorb and take in the colors of the things they touch, regardless of skin tone though skin tone does effect how clearly these show. For example, if an elven child spends some time playing in grass or clay, they may come back home with the skin up to their forearms that color.

Elves rarely have freckles but those that do will notice that they change colors and shades. Sometimes russet, sometimes even silvery, gold, or blueish. This is also true with birthmarks and even some scars. As they predate the sun their freckles are more similar to spots for camouflage and most words for them translates something to spots or foilage.

Elves can imitate sounds of animals very easily, especially bird and insect songs. While being able to communicate with animals is a rare gift among them, most can speak basic warnings and declarations, such as being able to warn sparrows that there is a hawk around. They can also pick up song very easily, often feeling the rhythm of even very gentle music in their hands.

I have a lot of thoughts on elves and synesthesia. I think most stimuli and input for elves is experienced through multiple senses for example being able to feel sound (obviously humans can to through vibrations but elves are more attuned to this). Synesthesia of the kind humans experience is somewhat more common in elves and other kinds unique to them also exist. (I have a whole post about this here!)

I talked about snow blindness and elves’ unique experiences with winter here!

I headcanon that elves have a specific sense for growth; they can hear and feel for lack of a better phrasing, shoots of grass growing, flowers blooming, roots expanding out. Not all are equally attuned to it or aware of it and some can become extremely overwhelmed by it if their ability to process is affected.

#the silmarillion #beleriand #musing and meta #elves #lotr

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

What would be the 2p Alias's reaction if they heard knocked on they door in the middle of the night, and when they open the door, exept a baby on they doorstep?

Hmmm… For the 2ps it would probably occur after finishing their ‘job’. Maybe the night went smoothly, and they were able to wrap it up early. Or it ran way too long and they were ready to mentally shut down. Either way, they would be tired walking up the steps to enter their dark home.

 Some would have quickly ditched their clothing, ready to shower before passing out for a dreamless sleep. Others, bogged down by the weight of their world, would attempt to numb it with their chosen poison. All of them would be ready for their night to end.

That’s when the mysterious figure would knock, and a baby would cry.

France: Disturbing François when he’s relaxing is like approaching a large, aggressive dog. He stomps his way to the door and throws it open. The sight of the child is shocking but doesn’t quell his anger too much as he shouts into the darkness. Demanding that the so-called ‘parents’ come and collect their kid.

Unsurprisingly, no one answers, even after he runs around his property looking for any signs of disturbance. To which he finds too few to work off.

Grumbling, he makes his way back and harshly scoops up the kid. The action makes the babe scream more.

At first, he sits ‘em on his bed, letting them exhaust themselves, and calls the Child Services. Sadly, the early hours only get him a messaging machine to which he curses harshly at. He doesn’t want to commit to the emergency line due to the larger amount of paperwork it would require.

Reluctant, François would turn to the infant and calm them. He would be reminded of his days with Matt as he rasped lullabies and whispered stories long forgotten. Eventually, it would end with the child and François cuddled together as the sun rose and reached its height.

Finally awake and both feeling better, François would finally reach Child Services who would come and collect the child.

There would be no tearful goodbye or feelings of regret as he allowed the babe to be taken from his hands. All he would hope is that life’s hand would be fair and that he would never become a target for the frumpy Frenchman.

America: Allen’s night was pretty rough, so much so that when he discovers the infant, his mind is just pure static. The mental blizzard causes him to only look from his porch for the lad’s parents and when he doesn’t see them, just take the kid inside.

In his daze, he would create a makeshift crib out of a drawer and then go back to bed. It did help a lot that the kid fell asleep from the rock in his step.

The crying in the morning would wake him again. This time, his mind having had a chance to reset would spook him. In a panic would wonder where the kid came from and how they go there.

So, he does the only rational thing he can think of. Call Oliver.

He gets snippy with Oliver as he rocks/feds the lad, nearly agreeing to give it to him, before realizing how bad that would be.

Allen, going off the given advice, can take care of the child for a couple of days. He even feels accomplished when he gets to hear the baby laugh. Until nation work and baby care start to collide.

He’ll feel like a failure and his temper would cause him to snap at his men and push them to do better. This would go on for a couple more days until his right hand recommends giving the kid over to CPS. That this world is too much for a bachelor to mix with a family while single.

Allen feels guilty when he finally makes the call and fights back tears as they remove the child from him. This attachment keeps Allen hooked on keeping tabs on the kid. Often sending gifts for birthdays and holidays until the 18th year. From that point, Allen considers the kid an adult and steps back.

Hopefully, his involvement means the kid flies high in this world.

Canada: Matt would be pretty stunned at a baby swaddled on his porch. Especially since it would mean that this ‘parent’ got past Kuma and made it away without a scratch. At least he assumes so since Kuma looked to be sleeping by his bear house and there’s not a puddle of red.

He would be quick to take the child inside and warm them up. His hold of the babe would be awkward until a semi-normal hold would balance the kid on his chest as he rubbed their icy extremities.

For an hour, Matt would do this while singing French lullabies. Once he felt like the baby had returned to a normal temp and was asleep, he would tuck them into a makeshift crib. Then, reluctantly call England, just like Al does.

The chipper man would seem all too happy to help Matt with the child, already giving advice. Until Matt mentions giving him due to a lack of resources and the dangers of nation work. Then he switches to asking for the young lad.

Matt gives a swift no before hanging up. He’ll cater to the infant for the next hours before calling his 1p, telling him to get him in touch with child services.

Once contact is made, he’ll inform them of the child. He’ll request a pickup but demand that each foster and potential adopter is vetted thoroughly, more so than for anyone else.

 When the infant is gone, Matt will look for the ‘parent’ to punish them in some way shape, or form. Then, this ‘rough’ Canadian will occasionally check in on the child, just until he’s sure his life is at least average, maybe send a gift or two over the years.

Once he’s happy with the current state of the kid’s life, he’ll slowly drift out. Content that he saved at least one soul.

England: Oh boy. Oliver is typically a grumpy person when awoken from his slumber, but the infant on his doorstep made him do a 180.

A giddy giggle would leave the typically sadistic nation as he cradles the child. Fully intending to keep the infant as his own. After all, if he can’t have his mini-nations, then he’ll just use a human child as a substitute.

 He caters to this child’s needs to a tee. He never goes hungry, experiences cold, or wants for anything. It's perfect, if it wasn’t Oliver attempting to create a parental relationship where the child is overall too reliant on their parent. So, he always has one being attached to him, feeding his Savior complex.

For a few months, this goes on, and Oliver is all too willing to keep it up forever. Except he forgot about the meeting he was supposed to host for a 1p-2p bonding experience. So, when Arthur walks in and sees the babe, he is quick to spirit him away from the 2p.

Oliver rages, but due to the 1p magic trio working against him, the babe is lost to him. And, surprisingly, he mourns his loss.  

Maybe one day, he’ll finally fulfill his desire.

Russia: Why are you here? – Calls Services and pays to make sure kid is well taken care of

Viktor’s view of the disturbance was curiosity. Why would anyone leave a child at his home, better yet why would a stranger think he could do better for their child than they?

Similar to some of the nations, he would look around for any signs of the parents, but like the rest, none was found. He would take the child inside and place them in one of the empty rooms of the manor. Pillows surrounded her to prevent injuries from rolling off the bed, and he would watch them for a moment to ensure there would be no suffocation.

He would then step out for a moment to call his sisters. He expected that they would be able to give decent advice and be willing to help with the child. Instead, he got harsh lectures about how he was in no place to take on a child and that it would be best for everyone to give up the kid.

Their logic at first wouldn’t sway him, but when they arrived on his doorstep within 48 hours of saying he would raise the child, did finally sway him. Notably when they held the baby and threatened to report him for abduction and barracked themselves in a room.

Usually, he would continue to fight for his desires, but in this case, he gave in. Especially since the child looked much more comfortable in the arms of his sisters than his.

Viktor would call Child Services and once gone would set up a savings account for the kid. It would be anonymous and accessible once the baby had picked a career path.

China: Jin would tiredly pull at his eyes as he would take the baby into his arms. A curse on his lips as he turned to calm the child while calling his men.

His orders are simple to find the parents, and to conduct surveillance. Within 24 hours, they are found and a whole portfolio is given to Jin.  

If the parents are down on their luck, he’ll not only return the baby, but he’ll also give them a hand. Money, a home, a job, all of those, and more are on the table of things Jin may give. His quiet angelic works may be sprinkled in like small rainstorms during a long drought until he is sure that the family is stable.

On the other hand, if the parents are absolute trash, then there is no mercy. Jin will have his men worsen their lives to the point where death will seem like a gift that will never be given. No release ever, and he’ll make sure at the end they are begging at his feet.

Either way, Jin picks out the new family himself. He’ll watch them from a distance and happily act as a distant uncle until it's time to go to vacation island. Then he’ll make sure an ‘inheritance’ is set up.

#2p hetalia #2p headcanons #2p america #2p canada #2p england #2p france #2p china #2p russia #2p allies

[missjoolee]

This is a mixture of shower thoughts fic and lying in bed after taking a sleep aid fic, so is it good? who knows. but apparently ao3 is down so enjoy! lol

Warning: not proofread at all.

the band has been working diligently to make a name for themselves and while they have a decent following, they’ve all had to take day jobs

on one of the days they are all working, julie almost misses a call form a record label that recently saw them perform and would like to sign them on

she says she is excited by their offer but would need to speak to the rest of the band first, to which they are understanding and even offer to email a pdf of the first draft of the contract to them to review and they can set up a time to meet if things look satisfactory

she rattles off the band email before ending the call and texts the band group chat before heading back to work after her break

“a label wants to sign us! contract in band email. can’t wait to go over it with you guys! <3 <3″

she feels her phone buzz with an incoming response as she’s walking back to the front of the store she works at and quickly checks it.

L- yes! rock n roll hall of fame, here we come!

as she is reading that, another texts arrives and she laughs at Luke’s impatience

L- emails not there yet :(

back at the front, the afternoon rush hits and julie doesn’t have time to check her phone, but she’s felt it go off several times in her work apron and, while she’s never hated the customer service industry, she absolutely cannot keep a giant smile off her face the whole rest of her shift

so she’s a bit blindsided when she finally gets to check her phone again as she grabs her things from her work locker and the first message she sees is

L- I’m not signing this.

it must be a real bad deal then. her heart sinks as she continues reading

A- ?

R- oooo bad money deal?

L- money is fine.

L- not a good fit for the band

A- how do you mean?

luke didn’t respond and the next message comes 20 minutes later

A- F that. i’m not signing either

R- guys. what is going on?

R- oh

R- okay, yeah no

by now Julie’s anxiety is starting to climb because how could it not be a good fit? this label is known for signing bands in the pop-punk genre. What on earth would make the guys turn this opportunity down? an opportunity they have worked blood, sweat, tears and years to get. How could they dismiss it so easily?

she needs some time to think (but does she really? it’s the anxiety talking) so instead of responding, she pulls her bag strap over her shoulder and begins walking towards the exit, tying her hair up in a real messy bun to keep herself from picking at her fingernails

The clouds in the sky are pinkish purple against the darkening sky as the sun is low enough to be blocked by the surrounding buildings. heat still emits off the parking lot pavement, alluding to the Hot summer days thar have fallen upon the city.

Julie takes a deep breath before heading to the employee parking

Luke is leaning against the back of her car

"Luke? What are you doing here? Is everyone okay?!"

"Yea, Boss. Everyone's fine," he reassures her before pulling her into a hug. "I just wanted to see that million dollar smile."

Julie can't help but smile

She holds him tighter as her thoughts quickly jump back to the contract. She questions him about the group chat. How could they possibly all be saying no?

His arms tense around her, before letting her pull back to look at his face. He reveals that the contract actually starts off pretty decent. The label just had one stipulation that was a deal-breaker.

What? What could possibly be a deal-breaker when the rest is that good?

"If we sign it, they'd be able to force the band to undergo cosmetic dentistry."

"Oh." Her stomach drops. She wants to look away from the boy she's described as having the perfect smile. Alex and Reggie are basically right there with him. She forces her hands to stay put, but they scream to cover her mouth, her face. Her eyes drift down and stop on his Adam's apple. This is about her.

One of his hands gently cups the side of her face, tilting it so she is looking up at him again. His eyes are sad.

She can't stand it. She can feel tears welling in her eyes "I- I could do it."

He's shaking his head vehemently before she can finish. "No, Jules! You are perfect and beautiful just as you are. If they can't see it, then they aren't the label for us."

"But-"

His other hand moves up to cup her face in his hands.

"Be who you are, don't compromise, julie. Fuck them."

Julie is overwhelmed in that moment. Tears break free of her lashes, but a laugh rings out as she pulls his face to hers.

His lips ground her and she cant believe how lucky she is to have such a supportive boyfriend. She pulls back and remembers the others immediate refusal to sign as well. She couldn't ask for a better band and family. She thanks her mom for the millionth time for bring them to her.

She sniffles from the tears but a smile is back on her face as she teases him. "Did you quote our own song at me just now? What a dork."

He's grinning back. "Well, the gal who wrote that line is pretty smart."

He pulls her to the passenger door "let's go home"

#idk #lol #me with 2000s fob fic 'i will never write text fic again' #the very next thing i write has a bunch of texts #i mean #i know its not a fully fleshed out fic or anything but still #joolee's crack-like thoughts #joolee attempts writing #jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jukebox #julie molina pov #also fun fact #i get these ideas for a fic #and its as i'm writing them that i'm like #OH LOOK I CAN TIE IN THIS CANON BIT HERE #and it's all very serendipitous #i wish i could say i'm clever from the get go but it's all subsequent #a verry merry un-juke day to you