#I also left a small child out side with a bear like thing on accident

[thetangibleghost]

i had a dream i got burned alive on the street by a cop with a flamethrower

[sweetest--melody]

tell us about shion!!

HOW DID I KEEP FORGETTING ABOUT THIS IM SO SORRY!!!

so Shion Ayame is a Final Fantasy XIV oc! i made her a few years ago and have played her in a couple of ttrpg's and an rp server alongside my baby Cota who i also might do a writeup for? idk. bear with me there'll be some terms here.

tl;dr she's a revolutionary biker bitch from the heart of the evil empire and the boss of a gang / rebel group. also she's trans 🏳️‍⚧️

she's an Au Ra (race of humans with scales on parts of their bodies, horns in place of ears, and a scaled tail) Raen (subrace with cream-y peach-y white scales and horns that hail from Thavnair (south Asian / Indian inspired region) or Hingashi (east Asian / Japanese inspired region)) born in Garlemald (the capital city of what is essentially the game's evil empire, located in a scenic snowy mountain wasteland) to immigrant parents, of course in a space that wasn't very kind to them.

she didn't have the best childhood in the empire, her family was poor and the empire isn't a very welcoming space for "savages" like them. it took everything they had to keep a roof over their heads and fuel in their heater. her dad worked a grueling job as a ceruleum miner (oil but blue, fuels magitech which is Garlemald's whole thing) and her mom did clerical work for the Legion, all while raising Shion and giving her the best education they can at home - she wasn't allowed into any schooling there.

she learned her basic math, reading, and writing in a common tongue, along with some amount of history of her homeland including old tales of auspices and yo-kai and kami and those who worshiped them. they lived together like this for a number of years - surviving and as happy as they could be - until her father was taken from her in a mining accident, where the brutal working conditions took his life.

following that, her mother was conscripted into the Legion, and Shion was left alone - soon after with no home.

she was around her early teens at that time, forced to live and survive on the street under the heel of an oppressive government and culture. stealing, getting into fights, run-ins with the Legion, doing all that she could to live to see the next day. learning just how clear the divide in Garlean society is first-hand, and coming to the conclusion that any civilization that could treat a child like this didn't deserve to exist - or at the very least needed to change.

a few years later, after gaining a reputation as a thorn in the Legion's side and someone that other unfortunate souls living under the yoke of the Empire don't want to fuck with... she finds herself in prison after getting caught trying to steal a gun from a Legionaire. oops! anyway, that's where she actually met two other women being kept there - a couple of disgraced legionnaires named Ophelle (conscientious objector) and Alaqa (friendly fire) who turned out to be very like-minded individuals.

They - along with a very sympathetic fourth person on the outside going by the name of Zarara - all break out together and go on to form an alliance that eventually blossoms into a whole organization!

they called themselves Suzaku's Angels - inspired by the stories Shion was told as a child, with each of the four representing an aspect of one of the Four Lords at the group's head - Suzaku specifically being a scarlet phoenix, a symbol of rebirth, a burning passion, and warmth to run counter to the cold of their mountain home. the Angels started small, but quickly grew to be about 100 in number, as an organized crime ring that was more of a combination of that and local mutual aid and community organizing / a sort of grassroots resistance movement.

basically think of them like a modernized Robin Hood troupe, stealing from the rich and powerful primarily to give to the underrepresented members of the community - homeless kids, poor people, immigrants and other racial minorities, those who oppose the Legion and who have been punished for it, abuse survivors, disabled people. they would do their best to do right by them by any means necessary.

at some point though, during one of their raids, Shion just so happens to kill a high ranking member of the Legion and she's forced to run away - with the help of her Angels, she's able to take her bike through the mountain pass and into neighboring nations where she becomes a roving bandit.. and still a hero to the downtrodden. the Legion's hands are everywhere, and everyone is at the mercy at that point in time (this was pre ARR)

as far as her personality goes, she's a bit abrasive but overall cheerful and welcoming! she greets everyone with a smile and a punch on the shoulder or a fist bump, a slightly gravely "heyyyyy!" and some crude nickname. she loves animals, kids, learning about people and their cultures, loves a good drink, can play bass, but the thing she loves doing most is mechanic work! she's a grease monkey, picked it up during her time in the magitech-centric capital and took to it like a fish to water - even devising an alternative fuel source for her bike!

though she's a ranger in combat, she's also known to be very light on her feet and to have a NASTY right hook, but aside from those she's a rather wise individual and an inspiring leader - though she doesn't ever really see herself as a leader. all of her sisters are equal in her eyes, they all lean on one another, and she thinks the same in any ither group she finds herself in.

she's also VERY anti-authoritarian, and unfortunately she can be quick to anger if you push her buttons in just the wrong order, and she can be quite headstrong in her beliefs. which is why she got in trouble a number of times in the servers where i played her - and other people decided to play a legionnaire and a cop lmao

[xoxo-teddybear]

4 weeks - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: SMUT, cursing, needy Bakugou, 18+, sub!bakugou, dom!f!reader, oral, use of viagra, NOT SPELL CHECKED (sorry >w<)

Summary: Bakugou done fucked up and now he has to pay the price..sorta

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: just for the sake of the story, your quirk is “Command.” As long as you come into physical contact with your opponent, even for a second, you can command them to do your bidding until you say “rebel.”

“WHAAAATTTTT??????!!!!!!”

You could’ve sworn the whole house, scratch that, the whole world shook as Bakugou screamed at you.

Bakugou had fucked up. During a little heated session, things got a little too rough. As Bakugou was railing you from the back, he tugged at your hair. However, along with your soft locks, he pulled on your thin necklace chain that was gifted to you by your precious 5 year old son. The chain broke and Bakugou didn’t even tell you. He opted to have you both finish before he even mentioned the broken gift.

And now it was the next day and Katsuo, your son, had noticed the missing necklace. It did hurt him a bit especially considering he did so much to earn money and go with grandma to buy the necklace but he assured you it was okay. You sent him off to his room to play as you walked to the kitchen to scold and punish your husband. As you complained to him, he conversed with you as his back was facing you and only turned when he heard your punishment for him.

“You heard me. 4 weeks. No sex, no touching, no hugs or kisses, no nothing. No. Physical. Contact.” You said with a stern and nonchalant face. Your arms were crossed as you faced your husband who looked at you with an open mouth and open palms.

“Wha- but- WHY???” He whined.

“Katsuki come on! You broke my very expensive necklace!” You said, gesturing to your now bare neck.

“Who cares if it was expensive, I could buy you another one! We’re pros Y/N, we could buy a unicorn if we wanted!” Bakugou argued as he was still trying to get out of his punishment. You only crossed your arms and pressed your fingers into your forehead.

“That’s not the point! It’s the fact that even though it was so expensive, our 5 year old son still bought it! And so because you broke it, this is your punishment.” You explained. Bakugou groaned as he threw his head back and huffed towards the ceiling when an idea came to his mind.

“You know..” he began as he walked towards you, “I broke that necklace, on accident, because I was so focused on pleasuring my queen. Anndddd I could make it up to you in the exact same way~” He attempted to wrap his arms around your waist but you spun around and stepped behind him resulting in him stumbling forward. He turned towards you and growled.

“Really Katsuki? You’re gonna snarl at me? Look, you know the rules, so follow them. Now I’m going with Katsuo to get him a new toy to cheer him up, you just...heh, sit in your room and think about what you’ve done.” You teased. You grabbed your purse and had Katsuo get ready. Once he was done you told him to get into the car and you walked to Katsuki to say bye. You smirked as you looked at him and pressed your hands against his chest. You slowly went in for a kiss and Bakugou looked at you in shock before he smirked and leaned in too. But just as your lips were about to touch, you pulled away and walked to the door. As you opened it you turned to him and spoke.

“No kisses. Remember?” You grinned at him. He snarled and picked up a pillow off the couch and threw it towards you but you shut the door before it could reach you. This was gonna be a long 4 weeks for Katsuki.

—

Katsuki awoken to his gorgeous wife....sleeping on the other side of the bed far..far away from him. No touching meant no sleepy time cuddles either. It had already been like this for a week. He looked a little closer at her sleeping figure and smiled at her peaceful state. He scooted closer and he tucked his head into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist. Or more like he tried to. The second his arm made contact with your body for cuddles, you woke up and smacked his hand away.

“Ah! Y/N!! This isn’t fair!” He whined. He looked at his arm and saw a little red shade forming as he pouted at you. You turned towards your doting husband and just gave him a stern look.

“Who broke my necklace?” Bakugou sighed and flopped onto the bed on his back as he faced the ceiling.

“Me.”

“And now who has to pay the price?”

“Me.” He pouted again. You chuckled as you got up and stretched.

“Stop pouting Suki. You’re not Katsuo.” You giggled but he only looked at you with the same pout.

“He’s my carbon copy, we’re basically the same person.” You smiled at your humorous husband and he smiled seeing the grin that bestowed your face. You kneeled on the bed and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his chest as you got close to his face.

“You’ll survive, Love.” You said and then gave him a loving kiss. His eyes went wide at the surprise contact but he quickly smiled into the kiss and returned it as he shut his eyes to enjoy it. You intensified the kiss but when Katsuki went to pull you in closer by your neck, you quickly backed away. He looked at you in shock before whining again.

“Okay, first of all, I thought you said no touching.” He growled as he clenched his fist.

“I said you couldn’t touch. Never said anything about me,” you said with a cocky grin. Bakugou’s face went red at your devious actions.

“Okay well what the fuck? You can’t just kiss me like that and stop after I already went a whole week without touching you. Come back here,” he said as he tried to grab onto your wrist but you backed up and walked to your bedroom door.

“Get ready for the day love, this is just the beginning.”

—

Mitsuki and Masaru had just arrived. Katsuki was sitting on the couch trying to distract himself with the TV while you were in the kitchen making a smoothie when door bell rang. You opened the door greeting your in-laws with love and expectance.

“Hi Mom! Dad! Come in! Katsuo is almost done packing his bags,” you happily said as you stepped to the side to allow your mother and father in law to enter.

“Umm, what? Why is my son packing his bags?” Katsuki asked as he stood from the couch.

“Y/N didn’t tell you? We called a few nights ago asking to bring Katsuo on a trip. She said yes and told us she’d tell you about it later,” Masaru explained. Katsuki jerked his head towards Y/N in disbelief as she placed her hand on the side of cheek and spoke.

“Oops! I guess I forgot,” you said with sarcasm dripping in your voice. Mitsuki and Masaru believed you but when they turned to face their son again your mischievous grin returned as you also faced Katsuki. He was silently fuming as he watched you go from angel to devil in a second.

“Ah well, who cares. Point is, we’re here to pick up my grandson!” Mitsuki said as she took a seat on the couch. You all made small talk but Katsuki continued to stand as he processed just how conniving his wife was.

“Mama! I’m all set!” Katsuo said as he came down the stairs with his little suitcase and teddy bear in hand.

“Hi baby! Grandma and Grandpa are already here,” you said and Katsuo excitedly ran to his grandparents.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Katsuo said as he jumped into their arms.

“Ohh, hello my little firecracker!” Mitsuki said, greeting her grandson. “Ready for a vacation in Rio?”

“Mhm!” Katsuo quickly replied but Katsuki just stuttered in shock before he spoke again.

“Woah- wait? Rio? You’re taking him to Brazil? That’s across the globe, how long are you guys gonna be gone?” Katsuki asked with concern. Not for his son, he completely trusted his parents with his child and he knew they would have fun. He was worried for himself. Taking care of Katsuo was a distraction for Katsuki. Watching his son kept his mind off of wrecking Y/N. If his son was away for too long, he didn’t know how long he would survive his punishment.

“We’ll be gone for about 3 weeks. Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you know it.” Masaru said.

“Wha- huh? 3 WEEKS?! .....Y/N you little satan,” he whispered the last part. He turned to face you and saw a Cheshire grin on your face. His face turned red and you swore you could see steam leave Katsuki’s ears but you continued as if everything was normal.

“Alright well, we’ll be going now!” Mitsuki said as she stood alongside her husband. Katsuo said his partings with his parents and they said their “I love you’s” before their son walked out the door with his grandparents. Katsuo was about to have the time of his life while Katsuki was left to suffer.

Y/N was seated on the couch as Katsuki was still seething. She held a grin on her face as Katsuki slowly turned to look at her.

“You got some explaining to do, princess,” he said adding poison to the loving nickname. You only smiled some more as you stood and walked to your husband. He towered over you but right now, you were above him because you held all the power now. You got in his face as you spoke words that would set him off.

“Whatchu’ gonna do now without your little distraction running around, daddy?” You softly but sinisterly and seductively said as you chuckled and purposely bumped into his shoulder as you walked away.

—

Bakugou has slowly been losing his mind. He was on the last day of the second week and it’s been killing him. When he sat down he would spazz a little and his fingers would be having a little seizure. His eye would twitch at night as he kept his back to you to restrain himself. The soft quiet moans you would release in your sleep every now and then would send Bakugou into the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself. Just the sight of you was daring Bakugou to pounce.

You weren’t making it any easier for him either. First you send his son AKA his distraction from his hot wife away, then you tease him constantly, you also allow yourself to touch him but refuse to let him cop a feel on you, and now, you walk around after work in his t-shirt and a pair of cute panties. Your plump ass on display and the sight of your plush thighs drove him wild.

You were sipping tea in the kitchen when your frantic husband came in. You took notice of him and greeted him with a smile before it quickly dropped at the sight of him. He looked awful. Bags under his eyes, a twitching eye, a crooked line for a smile, disheveled hair, and his posture was horrendous. He took a seat next to you saying nothing as he just tapped his foot against the floor.

“Umm...baby? Are you okay-“

“NO! I’m not! I’m not okay, not at all!” He snapped as he looked at you with wide eyes. You stared back at him with the same eyes as you slowly took another sip before continuing.

“What’s the problem, love?” You asked as if you didn’t know.

“What’s the problem?” He began with a whisper. “What’s the problem?! Oh, like you don’t know you TEASE!” Bakugou stood from his seat as he clapped his hands to dramatically to explain.

“HOR-NY!” He said as he brought his hands together for each sound. “I am insanely horny, you shitty woman! I can’t get myself off, I don’t have my son around to keep me busy, work is just annoying now, and my fine ass wife won’t let me touch her!”

You laughed a little as he explained and Katsuki had his jaw dropped at your rude behavior.

“You’re laughing? Oh you think this is funny? Oh okay,” he said and walked away.

“WHEN THIS BULLSHIT IS OVER, YOU’RE SUCKING MY DICK Y/N!” He slammed the door to your shared bedroom but he screamed loud enough for you to hear all the way from the kitchen. “ON SOFT!”

—

The end of the third week. It was almost too much for Katsuki. Katsuo would be back in another week but it would be pointless because the punishment would be over by then. I mean yeah, he’d get to have his son back again (yayy familyyy) but when Katsuo would be back, Katsuki would be completely indulging himself in Y/N. How the fuck were they supposed to keep quiet?

Whatever though. Katsuki had no time to think of the future. He was living in the now, and so he had to come up with a plan to get Y/N to break. In the beginning of the 4th week, Katsuki spent time and time again tweaking his plans and coming up with new tactics until he realized....his damn wife was just as stubborn and hard headed as he was. Nothing was gonna break her. And so we’ve been led to this.

“BABBYYYYYYYYYY”

“...”

“PRINCESSSSSSSS”

“...”

“Y/N BAKUGOU!”

Bakugou resorted to being a puppy that basically had separation anxiety. He would yell and shout and whine at every chance he had. He would do whatever if it meant getting you to break. He missed you. The last time you made physical contact with him was during that kiss and man did it send Katsuki into a frenzy.

Considering Katsuki’s quirk contained nitroglycerin, a chemical commonly found in viagra, it was safe to say it was very easy for you to rile him up. And as he thought about that, it hit him like a train. If he can’t go to you, then he’ll make you come to him. He’ll set you up and he knows exactly how to do it.

Bakugou left the bedroom and ran down the stairs to find you in the living room. You were cozied up with yourself under a blanket that covered your booty shorts that you wore. You were entranced by the story of a book as you allowed the TV to play at a low volume for background noise and Bakugou’s heart swelled at such a domesticated moment. “Hi baby.”

You looked up to your husband and rolled your eyes with a smile as you looked at him. You wondered what trick he had up his sleeve this time around. “Hey. You need something?” You asked.

“Mm mm,” he shook his head with a soft smile, how cute. “Just was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me. Get some snacks, sit in bed, and just enjoy some time together.”

You smile grew wider at the thought of a little date night in your shared bedroom and you were quick to agree to his offer. “I’ll get the snacks,”

“No don’t worry about. I’ll get it. I already have everything set up. Picked a movie and everything. All you have to do is just be there with me.” You awed at your husband’s kind gestures as you went up to peck his cheek.

“Thanks Suki!” You happily said as you walked away. Bakugou watched your form disappear into the master bedroom before he quickly ran through all the cabinets and fridge. He frantically looked for viagra but when he couldn’t find any he whipped out his phone. He called a number that he knew was going to be able to help him.

“Listen Dunce Face. Don’t ask any questions, just do as I say if you want to fucking live. I know you have female viagra on you and if you don’t, get your ass to the store right now and pick some up for me. Bring it to me ASAP!” He quickly said and hung up before giving Kaminari any time to reply. Bakugou slowly prepared snacks to eat and in 5 minutes a knock was heard on the door. He ran to it and opened the wooden piece to find a huffing electric blonde.

“I....I....I got it!” Kaminari tiredly breathed out as he held a bag over his head to show the items he brought. Bakugou snatched it out of his hand before giving a quick ‘thanks!’ To show his appreciation and slammed the door.

Katsuki took the pills out of its containers and crushed 2 into a powder. He mixed it in with your bottle of water and finally brought the snacks and drinks up to you. He walked in to find you waiting on the bed for him and you smiled at the sight of him. He placed the bags of junk on the bed as he quickly joined you until he realized something was off.

“Umm...Y/N?” You smiled as you knew what he was going to ask and considering you guys were gonna have a little movie date, you gave in.

“Fine.” You happily said as you gave in and Bakugou was quick to pull you into his arms and become the big spoon. He finally got to hold you after so many weeks but this was not his main goal. No he wanted much more. This was only a stepping stone to his victory.

The movie began and Bakugou had you cuddled in his arms. You were enjoying the warmth of your husband as your eyes were drawn to the screen and you couldn’t help but smile at these sweet intimate moments like this. Yeah. You’ve missed him over the past few weeks but a punishment is a punishment. So you decided to savor this time with him before going back to cutting off physical contact once more.

Time had passed and Bakugou watched as you picked at the snacks and swallow down sips of the contaminated water. He smirked every time you downed a gulp and now the best part was coming up. See, Bakugou chose everything so that he knew exactly how everything would turn out. With that being said, he chose a movie that he knew would help the viagra in your system to get you going.

The erotic scene played and Bakugou watched as you rubbed your thighs together for friction. You bit your lip from time to time to hold back a needy groan and you began feeling heat all over you. And it wasn’t coming from Katsuki. Seeing you in this state, Bakugou slowly went to place a hand on your bare thigh. You didn’t push him away and Bakugou grinned at the fact that you were breaking. He soothed and rubbed at your thigh as he would squeeze it every now and then as well. The whole time you were asking yourself why the explicit scene was so detailed and so long.

Out of nowhere, you felt Bakugou’s hand travel up your leg and to your core but just for a second. The teasing touch had you silently gasp and you craved for more. You turned to Bakugou to see he was leaning against the headboard and he would release a grunt every so often which didn’t help relieve your growing heat. He didn’t seem bothered by anything or affected at all as he watched the movie continue.

Enough was enough, you picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Bakugou turned to look at you with a raised brow but openly smirked once he saw you straddle his lap. You shamelessly began to grind yourself against his core as you both released sighs and moans at the friction. His hands went straight to your hips as he spoke.

“What’s wrong princess? What happened to my punishment?” He teasingly asked.

“Shut up,” was all that you said before you quickly dove in for a hungry kiss that Bakugou happily returned. It was all teeth and tongue as you both pressed against each other, grinding against one another’s clothed centers. Moans were released into the kiss as you began to undress yourself. You both pulled away for a second to remove your tops but quickly went back in for the kiss. You removed your shorts as Bakugou remained in his sweats. You were left in nothing but panties before Katsuki decided to rip those off.

“Katsuki...nobody said anything about you being able to touch me again,” you clarified with sharp eyes. Bakugou’s eyes went wide. He thought this was the end of the punishment. He thought you gave in.

“What do you-“

Before he could finish, you placed your hand on his shoulder and activated your quirk.

“Sleep.”

And just like that, Bakugou was out like a light. While he was unconscious, you took the opportunity to tie his wrists to the headboard using one of his dress ties. You removed his sweats and briefs as you allowed his member to stand tall. You stared at the red, angry tip that was drenched in pre-cum. You smirked as you sat yourself on his waist as your hand went to stroke his member the slightest bit. He moaned in his sleep and you giggled as you spoke again.

“Rebel.”

Bakugou slowly woke up, but once he fully came to, he was completely submerged in pleasure. His eyes were blessed with the view of your naked body, with a beautiful face that adorned a smirk. And he understood why you held the malicious smile. He groaned as he felt your pace at his dick speed up. You leaned down to his ear as Katsuki held heavy breaths with a flushed and red face.

“No touching, remember Suki?” You whispered as you then licked the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“F-fuck! Fuck, Y/N please. Please just do something...Ahh~” You trailed your thumb up to his tip as you focused on it. The feeling sent Bakugou into heaven.

“Awww, you thought you could tell me what to do? If you didn’t notice, tonight, I’m in charge.” You said with a grin and devious eyes. Bakugou groaned even more as he waited for you to do..anything! “I’ll tell you what though, Suki. You have been pretty decent for the past few weeks so I’ll give you a little something. And maybe if you’re a good boy for me, I’ll let you have the main course.”

Bakugou watched as you stopped your hand movements and scooted back. You were face to face with his dick as you jerked him off some more. You held his member in your hand as you made eye contact with him. You licked the base of his cock all the way to the tip causing Bakugou to sigh and moan. You kissed the tip before taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around.

“Oh s-shit! Baby! Fuck-“

You went down on him one time and moaned around his cock, allowing the vibrations to have full affect on your trembling husband. You pulled off him with a pop as you smiled up at him.

“Oh I’m sorry. You wanted me to suck your dick on soft, right?...Mm, well it’s not my fault you can’t control your hard on.” You teased to which Bakugou growled at you. “Again with the snarling? That’s not what good boys do Suki. Good boys do what they’re told so they get to cum inside a pretty pussy~”

Bakugou perked up at the temptation. Cumming inside you. Breeding you. Pumping you full until you give him another brat. The thought of you walking around beautifully swollen with his kid drove him mad and desperate.

“Let me cum inside you Princess.” He asked with a soft but stern tone.

“Ah ah, you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not the one giving orders tonight, Katsuki. So listen up. I’ll go down on you for about 5 minutes. If you don’t come in those 5 minutes, I’ll let you cum inside. However, if you do, I’ll be leaving you here with a cock ring for the next few hours while I go and pleasure myself somewhere else. Understand?” You watched as he attempted to fight against his restraints.

“No.” He refused to give in. He turned his head down, avoiding your gaze and you sighed in return.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself,” you said and slid off him. You were about to walk away before Bakugou called out for you.

“No wait!” You turned to him and gave a little curl with your lip. “Tch....please.” He said while blushing and staring off.

“Please what suki?” You said, acting dumb. Bakugou really didn’t wanna beg but he’s so close to getting what he’s been craving all month. Screw his damn pride. He was gonna get laid and he was gonna get it tonight!

“Please! ....Fuck me, touch me, suck my dick, let me cum inside you, do something to me! Please Y/N,” he begged. His member still stood erect and you smiled as you walked towards him.

“That’s my good boy,” you said as you caressed his jaw and gave him a quick and passionate kiss before moving down to suck him off. You kissed his tip multiple times before taking him in. He gasped and sighed at the contact and feeling of your warm cavern but he’ll be damned if he came undone in less than 5 minutes. He needed to cum inside your sweet little cunt and he was gonna do whatever it took to do so.

You bobbed your head at a steady pace causing Bakugou to plead for more. You swallowed his pre-cum, which left him gasping. Your hand went to fondle his balls as he fought against his restraints. He wanted to use his hands to take control but he couldn’t, not with them being tied up.

“P-please baby. Faster! Please!” He begged. And who were you to deny your good boy. You sped up your movements and moaned with his cock seated in your throat. “Ohh god! Yess!”

His legs shook as he was close to cumming. He looked at the time and saw he only had 1 minute left. Just 1 minute. Hold it in and he gets to cum inside you. However, he didn’t know you had a little trick up your sleeve.

When you walked away before, you grabbed a mini vibrator. Seeing he only had 1 minute left, you turned it on and placed it at the base of his cock while you sucked him off and moaned some more.

“F-fuck baby! S’too much! Stop- stop! ...ohh fuck I’m-I’m gonna cum!” Bakugou screamed with his head thrown back. He jerked his hips up as he attempted to fuck your mouth but you squeezed and scratched at his bare thighs to get him to stop. And finally, with your permission..

“You can cum now, good boy,”

He filled your mouth as he screamed in pleasure. His legs shook in pure ecstasy as he filled your mouth with his sweet-salty release. You pulled off him with a stuffed mouth and watched as his chest puffed up and fell down. He sighed before he looked at you with rosy cheeks. You smirked at him, opening your mouth to show him his work before swallowing it all. The erotic scene caused him to bite his lips and throw his head back as he puffed some more.

He can’t believe he was at his limit and all because of a blowjob. His dick grew soft but rose once more as vibrations came in contact with his shaft again. He flinched at the sudden feeling and looked at the cause of it and saw you holding the vibrator against him. “Baby? W-what? W-hy?”

“Aww Suki. Don’t you remember? It’s time to give you what you’ve wanted all month,” you smirked at him. His eyes went wide. How could he forget? He wanted to cum inside you so badly, but he didn’t know if he had any left. He didn’t know if he would be able to take it after his extreme climax.

“W-wait! Wait Y/N. I-..I need a break for a second. I can’t-“

“Excuse me?” You cut him off. “So you’re the only one that gets pleasure out of all this? I don’t think so.”

“No baby, that’s not what I meant. I just- it’s just...s’too much!” He cried out as he watched you hover over his erection. You lined his dick up with your entrance and smirked some more.

“You can handle it. I know you can. You’ll be my good boy and pleasure me too, right?” You sweetly said. Bakugou didn’t know what it was. He was never the submissive one but you calling him a ‘good boy’ did something to him. It made him want to completely submit to you and do whatever you pleased. You slammed down completely on his cock as you both cried out in pleasure.

“Fuck!” Bakugou screamed. You began a fast pace bouncing up and down on him. Your hands found placement on his bare chest as he threw his head back and made an abundant amount of noise. “Oh baby! Baby- slow down! F-fuck too much!”

“Mm..c’mon Suki..I thought you wanted this. Fuck- I thought you wanted..to be my good boy,” you teased while moaning. You held a devious grin as you rode him and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Poor baby was so overstimulated.

Bakugou released sobs of pleasure but he enjoyed it all nonetheless. “S-shit! Oh my godd Katsuki! S-So big!”

“Ahh! Fuck! Y-Y/N..baby please! Let me touch you! Please!” Bakugou seethed out. He had his feet planted on the bed as he attempted to thrust up into you. You, growing a soft spot for the man below you, gave in.

“Heh...be a good boy and please me Suki.” You released his wrists from their ties as you never stopped your motions and his hands were quick to find home around your waist.

Bakugou was quick to take control and bounce you up and down on his shaft, controlling the pace. Now it was your turn to scream and cry in pleasure as Bakugou slammed you down on his cock while ramming up into you at the same time. He was going to be a good boy and please you.

“F-fucking shit! You like that? Huh?” He gave your ass a quick and hard smack before continuing. “You like the way my dick feels inside your sweet pussy?”

The pleasure was too much for you. You could barely form words as he catered to your body. His thrusts were beginning to bring you to your end as you felt the familiar tight feeling grow stronger in your stomach. You pussy clenched around his shaft as he released a gruff moan at the squeeze.

“Shit..you gonna cum baby? Gonna cum on my dick? ...fuck yess~ let me fill you up princess,” he said as his thrust grew sloppy. He was close to his end as well and you nodded in approval to his desire.

“Ka-Katsuki! I’m gonna cum..fuck baby I’m cumming!” Bakugou sped up the slightest bit to help you reach your climax until you finally came. You both released cried of euphoria as you both met your orgasms and met each other for a hungry kiss. At the same time, Bakugou stopped his thrusts as he shot his load in you, and a mix of your releases seeped out of your cunt. Your kiss was sloppy as your tongues fought for dominance. Bakugou let his hands travel to your ass where they helped you grind on his dick a little more and smacked it once again.

You both had moaned into the kiss until oxygen became necessary. You separated from each other with small pecks before finally stopping. Bakugou remained inside you as you settled into his chest. He had his arms wrap around you as you both spent time catching your breaths. Once you both finally settled, you bathed in the comforting feeling of the after sex glow and cuddled in a comforting silence. Bakugou had kissed the crown of your head before he spoke up and broke the quiet.

“So much for a punishment,” he teased. You looked at him with slanted eyes as a way of telling your husband to shut up but he only chuckled at you. He lifted your chin and brought your lips to meet his once more for a loving kiss before separating to tell you sweet words.

“I love you, princess.” He said with his husky voice.

“I love you too, Suki.” You sent your hand to intertwine with his and he gladly accepted. He was right though. So much for a punishment. Oh well, you’ll get him next time he fucks up.

A/N: EW THE ENDING WAS SO BAD!!!! WTFFFFF! Whatever. I hope you enjoyed it bear Cubs! I’m sorry I’ve been in my lil slump but I feel myself getting better and I’ll be back soon!💗🧸 And now...to start on the ninth chapter of my series. Yayyyyy😓

A/N: I think my favorite part is when Katsuki yells “Suck my dick!...on soft!” Cuz I be walking around and saying that to mfs who test me. If you disrespect me, SUCK MY DICK..ON SOFT! 🤣 am I a female? YES! But you will suck my soft non-existent dick if you decide to act like a prick for no apparent reason. Thank you!😂

[purrincesskittens]

Some pure indulgent fluff in my dragons atla universe slightly inspired by @muffinlance Scaled Over writing out how Bato comes into the possession of a little scaly Zuko still but I just had to get this fluff out first. Sorry for tagging you so often muffin you have inspired me to write again and actually finish something for once.

Zuko's scar isn't as bad over his eye it's larger though it covers more of the left side of his face and down his neck and across his shoulder. It's not as bad though it's second to third degree and will scar but not nearly as bad as it looks in canon like this but on a small child

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

Bato was drifting between wakefulness and sleep wanting to go back to sleep unsure as to what woke him. His hammock rocked with the ship he was comfortable under his furs and blankets. They were almost home and just in time to beat the late season storm coming their way. He was almost asleep again when the baby in his arms sat up on his chest. After a moment of squirming little hands patted his face gently and cautiously to wake him. Giving a yawn and stretch Bato opened his eyes to look at the little one he held.

"Sorry." The 3 year old little boy whispers so softly Bato wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been holding the little one so close. "What's wrong buddy?" Bato asks as the kid squirmed again. "Umm." The little one grabbed at his front as he squirms in a matter Bato recognizes from Sokka who had just started potty training. "Need to go?" Bato sat up holding the boy to his chest as he did before unburrying them so he could swing his legs out of the hammock and set the boy down.

He knew what woke him now. The boy had been squirming for a while before waking Bato. The child was still very cautious about everything he did which angered Bato. The boy was barely 3 and was surprisingly very good about potty breaks although he did have accidents that caused him to break down in tears. Bato would love to murder the child's father. Not only was the man responsible for the large burn that covered the left side of the child's face and down his neck and shoulder but the man didn't seem to understand children. Didn't want the child to make loud noises and apparently yelled at every little thing the boy did.

Bato wasn't even a father but he was a damn proud uncle to Hakoda's kids and understood children were noisy and messy. He didn't have a high opinion of any servants hired to care for the boy either. None seemed to have had the patience for a young child struggling to be more mature then their age while still being a toddler. Standing up he guided the kid to use the bathroom yawning as he did. The boy finished with only a slight mishap at first not a big deal, he watched Sokka for Hakoda and Kya before he knew this could happen.

The boy looked at him like he expected to be hit or yelled at. "I missed." The boy whispered looking down at his bare feet. "Sorry." Bato had to close his eyes and count to ten silently so as not to show he was upset. Not at the little one but at the man the boy calls father. Kneeling he hugs the tiny thing to him before murmuring reassuringly. "It's okay accidents happen. You'll get better with time." He stood cleaning up the mess and then cleaned the child and himself up, using a clean wet cloth to whipe the boys face after to remove snot and tears.

Scooping him up he nuzzled the child's soft black hair with his nose. "Let's get a snack and then back to bed okay?" He got a nod in response as the little one tucked his head against his neck. Hakoda intercepted them after they had grabbed a few sea prunes yawning as he ruffled the child's hair causing the boy to squeak and hide his face against Bato's skin. "Midnight snack?" He questions his friend nodding to the half eaten prune in the toddlers hand. "Bathrrom visit first then snack as a reward for doing so good now back to bed." Bato explains bouncing the child in his arms gently to reassure him.

"I missed." Came the response from the half asleep bundle in the tribesman's arms. "That's okay Sokka, my son, misses alot too. It happens." The chief reassures the tiny thing who peaks at him with sleepy gold eyes. They eventually got back to bed with Bato settling the toddler in his arms under the furs and blankets.

The next day brought them into colder waters and icebergs appeared. The child stared with wide eyes from his place at the railing of the ship under the watchful eyes of the crew. As they traveled further south the more the ice grew bigger. It was early spring so the waters were barely safe enough to traverse meaning they had to slow down and take it easy. This also meant the icebergs appeared to be closer to the ship. Almost within touching distance it would seem. Or at least it seemed so to a tiny tot who had never seen icebergs before. One second he was standing by the railing, the next he's climbed up on the railing, and the second after that a little black dragon is launching himself across the distance little wings incapable of true flight, beating the air in an attempt at keeping him alight.

The ship lurched and a large blue dragon is grabbing the baby dragon in his teeth scuffing them and hauling them back on board the ship ignoring their whines of protest despite being a limp noodle hanging from Bato's jaws as he settles back in the middle of the deck depositing the little creature in front of them caging him with his claws so the little one can't scamper off.

The rest of the day is spent with a shaky noodle hiding in Bato's parka half because he got scolded for trying to jump off the ship to touch an iceberg half because he was cold. Aake's mutter suggestion about wing breaking had been overheard and the little one was terrified of him now. Bato hadn't liked that suggestion even if Aake wasn't completely serious.

"You need a name boy." Kustaa informs the child as he changes the bandages that cover half the boys face, neck and shoulder. "He has a name." Bato comments as he holds the boy still. "But he hasn't said what it is yet now has he? If he is staying he needs a name. We can't keep calling him boy now can we?" Cool salve is applied to the burn with gentle steady hands. Bato hums in response but thinks on what the healer said.

"If you don't want to tell me your name that's fine but since your starting a new life with us how about a proper water tribe name?" Bato asks the child as he carefully runs a brush through the boys hair. The little one practically purred in his lap as he pulled the brush through his thick black hair. "What do you think of Kanut? It means white polar bear goose." The boy scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "Yeah polar bear goose doesn’t suit you does it? Hmm how about Nanook?"

A little sneeze greeted this suggestion drawing a chuckle from the man. "No? Let's see then something that would suit you." Bato ran the brush once more through the toddlers hair before tying it up in a warriors wolf tail. "I know how about Tulugaq? For your raven hair." This last name earned a bright eye look. "Tulugaq it is then." Bato chuckles wrapping his arms around the newly dubbed Tulugaq giving him a hug.

Kustaa held Tulugaq in his arms as the crew ran around getting the ship ready as they drew closer to the South Pole and their village. Once they docked the ships would be unloaded and sleds packed up with supplies to be distributed among the various tribes and villages that made up the Southern Water Tribe enough to last the tribes to the summer when the traders came. Tulugaq only liked Kustaa and Bato primarily although he was growing used to the chief. Hakoda had been spending time with Bato while the little one hide under Bato's clothes or clung to him.

Bato had been named the boys guardian and new dad in everything but name. It had been agreed upon that if his mother came looking for him and proved to be trust worthy she would be welcomed by the tribe or allowed to take her son, the boys father would never get him back and would never lay another hand on the boy. Finally Bato came over scooping his new son up into his arms. "Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe, Tulugaq."

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

[crybabytoy59]

The ultimate backwards way forward….

1. The day had finally come all the hours, days, weeks, months and years even.....That had lead to this one intrepid moment. Tonight He (Mark) stood before Her “Chrissy”....Shaking whilst doing as instructed, he was to put his Big clothes into the black bags in front her. She would decide what if any we’re to be kept. All things related to his Big life went in…

 Next She sat him down in only a cartoon disposable & a onesie ! He sat & listened as she reinforced her Will as the midnight deadline approached !... 

 She spoke very gently, a deep love of genuinely wishing to take him to his “little place”,  Yes his Big had pushed back and fought at times but this was IT her words would be final !  No turning back whatsoever no wriggling out. A new life lay ahead as Chrissy delicately spoke….

2. “Now sweet-pea  all your big things are away and in fifteenth minutes you will be My Bunny, my BabyBoy & I your Mommy I will treat you as a baby always & this you will come to accept through Mommy’s intense retraining of you to become that infant baby again we will take you back mentally & physically to a small child, Mommy’s cute toddler In nappies 24/7 ….

This will not be easy at first but please trust Mommy, she is going to help you mentally to be the baby that hangs on to every one of Mommy’s kind nurturing words….. So Bunny are you ready hmmm, Are you ready my darling baby boy? 

3. Mark took a huge breath but still the words came out at a tremor…..“Yyes am rready Mommy, I realise my fears will at times test you for that I am truly sorry… but I do wish for this deep inside, so any fears I have, I gladly hand them to your care & compassion, to regress and nurture me into who & what we Both wish for…So yes Mommy your “Baby boy” wants this with all his heart.... Mommy hugged him tightly, anticipating the clock in the nursery awaiting for it to strike Midnight !! ...

4. The nursery was a work of art they had both built together a room where Baby Mark was dwarfed by the furniture within the nursery ! .......As the big hand met the little hand of midnight…Mommy began to speak almost in a whisper…“Baby? give Mommy her “Gift” of your submission.”

5. She smiled warmly watching the mirror as her baby began wetting the cartoon disposable, she could see it changing colour through the soft white plastic pants, she stroked his hair soothingly as the nappy began to swell outwards…“Clever Baby All done Sweet-pea?” (he nodded into her soft shoulder welling up slightly in the knowledge that this was his “Gift”, his submission to her, the first act of remaining in nappies 24/7 at Mommy’s will)

The very smell of her soft flesh had always made him feel a Deep want of regression ! But tonight she smelt Devine. Chrissy had taken a shower before this chat, washing her hair with Johnston’s Baby shampoo,  she then oiled  her whole body with baby oil! Knowing the effect it would have on Mark, pushing him over the sensory edge....After all the Hot pulsing between her legs drove her want of complete control over him! …“Clever Boy let’s get you changed & down for the night in your onesie and blue booties, then I'll read you a nice little story”….

6. As he waddled slowly forward, suddenly Mommy barked “And what do you think you are doing Mr? ” ...He was puzzled by this remark & Mommy’s new stern tone? Mommy simply smiled saying “Are you a big toddler yet Crinkle Butt? No, you are not ! All fours baby... Now! As what did Mommy say to you about obedience? (He got down on all fours, as she wished, knowing soon he would have the blue crawling booties on with the nasty studs that made walking near impossible anyway! ) 

That and the ankle cuffs with the tiny locks would make removing them a futile task!)… As he crawled Mommy patted baby’s botty “Much better see you can be a clever Bunny for Mommy! ” Baby jolted forwards as Mommy spanked him full force ! “Pardon Baby? ”...  Yethss mommy ! ...

 “Much better think we just earned our first “redstar” baby Yes?” …. “Wess mommy sworry…” “Clever Baby you can put it on the naughty behaviour chart after Mommy changes that soggy bott bott of your’s ehy? Up on the changing table then Mr, let’s get that wet  nappy off & your special night time dipee on!”

7. As baby got up on the table he could feel the soggy thin cartoon nappy sagging! ... Complete humiliation overcoming him at his new lot in life, a true baby boy status started to hit home. God how he loved this girl so much, knowing he would now no longer be able to touch her in a Big way he felt that new part of the Humiliation was ever looming and yet to come pressing closer. Mommy was very clever, astute and thorough, she would have a lot in store for her new charge.…Mommy tugged the plastic pants down “Someone has a soggy bumbum! look at this wet nappy Mr! (He couldn’t miss it in full view from the mirrored ceiling over the changing station ! This had been Chrissy’s idea as she loved the Humiliation element that it brought! )…“Aaawww don’t fret your going to be doing this all the time now Crinkle Butt!...As Mommy is going to make sure you become such a dribbling dependant little boy”….she chuckled lightly...There seemed to be a glint in her eyes too. 

8. The clean up was very intense & had baby stirring underneath her! She reapplied the thick white cream paying just enough attention to all the right spots then she delicately but quickly slid the night time pluggie in. This was Very large & could be adjusted to vibrate with a very intense level if was required… baby gasped as Mommy pushed it all the way home! As Baby moved she chuckled lightly and playfully spanked the huge night time nappy to a dull thud once she was done! “Mommy's little drum.” she cooed. “ All that padding is going to make sure you will stay safe till morning Sweet-pea… “Now come to Mommy”. He instinctively crawled towards her open lap, she guided him to rest his head in her arms and his back against her leg. 

Mommy stretched across to her right side, reaching for the giant glass night time bottle, full with the formula she had earlier prepared.

10. “Take hold with your mittens Sweet-pea, Mommy wants to see how you do, if its to heavy then I will hold it too” She now began to playfully stroke and tease his nipples as he held the bottle unsteadily! The gurgling was instant behind the milky teat as baby had developed very sensitive little nipples, just as she had designed! Straining in his bulky nappy wiggling gently on the spot between her, the whimpering and soft moans started up as the bottle continued to empty. When baby finished the last drops of formula she began to rub and stroke his back, gently massaging him encouraging those little burpies out... Baby squealed as he nearly had an accident at the same! “Ok Sweet-Pea off to Beddie Byes.” She gently held and led his shaking hand.  “But first please put the star up on Your chart!” Baby took a red star off the pad & put it onto the first square of naughty chart… (The red stars were for a Sunday evening’s end of week  “punishment time” If he had gold stars that would bring a reward) But red !...............Mommy patted the mattress on the double bed sized Cot. “Ok Bunny Boy hop up into your cot now.” He would sleep with Mommy Bear at ni nights time (but unbeknown to Baby, he'd be napping in the day time as well, part of her new routine she had in store for him)! She patted again “Position Baby !”…or do you want a second Red star “!...She chuckled as He scrambled into the cot positioning himself for Mommy!

11. Mommy lifted up the little blue booties to his new horizon line. She took the first swiftly and deftly to his toesies slipping it on his right foot, click the ankle cuffs latched shut. Next was the left, it too had the same bemusing locking system, designed so the Baby (him) could not free himself from the deceivingly cute little slippers. He'd never seen how the locks worked. Click... She smiled at him gently, knowing that the spiked shoes would limit his ability to now stand unaided and maximise her ability to retrain him to a more appropriate babyish crawl. Yes they would make life much easier outdoors too...  “Clever Boy,  almost done, then we can have that chat and Mommy will read you your bed time story after… ok baby?” ( “Wess Mommy” ) Clever boy Mommy does so love those manners Sweet-Pea well done!”

12. Now a little afraid realising he was properly in Mommy’s world. Things would continue to happen now that he would have no control over.  Next Mommy lifted his brand new dummy, he had not seen this one before! It must have been a recent purchase, this one was an extra large sized red yellow and blue primary coloured affair. She knew it had been designed specifically to help him dribble (just a little) and make his big boy words very difficult !! 

Putting it into his mouth she moved to his ear and whispered softly “Mommy wants you to nurse on this dum dum sweetie, I won't fasten it into place just yet unless you show me that you can't be trusted, OK?” It was a rhetorically phrased question that didn't need an answer, but there was that same look in her eyes.

13. “Now Sweet-pea first we'll have our wee chat then Mommy will read you a nice story before ni-nights. Your going to need lots of sleep Bunny Boy as Mommy has lots of adventures in store for you tomorrow ! … Now listen very closely as I will say this only once….Mommy is going to have you fast for five days ....This is to strengthen baby’s immune system and also induce a bit of a body reset, then on day six we will start your new baby food regime… This will be all fruit and vegetables as Mommy is going to have a very health baby… So then Baby,  you can get adjusted to those adorable nappies nice & easily...Your only going to be drinking fluids for the next five days first though, so Mommy is focusing on those soggy bum bums to begin with, then we will work up to your mushies…Your such a cutie for sucking on your new binkie like a good boy. Well done!

14. “She chuckled lightly lifting the story book to begin…

The alternate “100 Acre Wood”......

 God she was so dam hot there and then, in her best condescending cooing Mommy voice. She began “Once upon a time there lived a boy who was very very lonely inside,  he desperately wanted to have a friend. Out walking one day in the woods he found a small bunny, it hopped right over to him and began hugging the boy tightly.....The rabbit started to gently speak to the boy! “Hello Crinkle Butt ....The boy protested to the Rabbit “Am a not a Crinkle Butt!”....But the Bunny simply chuckled “I know who you really are Silly! The boy looked around but nobody was there? As he turned around the rabbit stood beside him again swatting his bottom Thwack !!... “I suppose this isn't your nappy then Crinkle Butt?”  The boy stayed quiet as he felt embarrassed. But the Bunny Smiled gently and hugged him even tighter. Bunny the Rabbit then took Crinkle Butt’s hand ....“Best we get back inside or Mommy will be angry with us & we will get the hairbrush! The boy took the rabbits hand, as he too hated the hairbrush spankings.....“Ok Bunny we best hurry then as it’s getting dark & Mommy will want us fed & then to Nigh nights”.....They both skipped through the puddles getting Mud all over their legs! ...On the porch Mommy was already waiting standing with her arms folded....Babies look at the colour of you !.... She held out her finger pointing to inside, that’s when both Babies noticed Mommy already had the hairbush!”....oh bother.

15. “Now Sweet-pea I think that’s enough for tonight, Mommy can see you are looking tired I'll read you some more tomorrow if your a good boy. She gently stroked his face “Off to sleepies now.....She began to start the lullaby mobile that hung overhead and the cute little noises and lights softly sprung into action and gently soothed her precious little one into the land of dreams...Mommy lifted the plug remote and set it to the night time precycle with the hypnotic recordings ! These would play all night as the monitor recorded his sleep & dream patterns, it would match the patterns playing the recording & pluggie vibes to their best effects.....Night after night she would subliminally reprogram his brain to be a contented infant Baby Boy... To her will... to her wants... to her Deepest held desire over controlling him, but also letting him be the baby he was destined to become! This would be Absolute !! Her new hypnotherapist friend would help with new insertions of “trigger words” that would become instant in there use over him, no matter where, no matter when or who they were with !.....Fuck every inch of her was tingling with her desire to further his regression......

She looked down at him all safe in that cot with an oversized dummy bouncing in and out. Fuck he was already hungrily sucking on that dummy! Her Chest ached with anticipation....This was just the start, she held all the cards, she had everything ready for the morning & for the day’s events......Time to sleep though, putting her arm over his chest a small whimper came......She smiled to herself...Tomorrow he would go through so many trials and emotions. Day by day his emotional state would become much easier to control due to her fasting retraining, first hunger & loss of energy...then as the energy started to peak later on in the week she would simple take a sense from him so as to have more control mentally over his nappies!....awash with thoughts flashing through her mind she settled down to sleep knowing the “Hypno-Mommy” tapes would be working there magic on him....These she would use as she put him down for his afternoon nap too!

[haitanizzz]

!contains tokyo revengers manga spoilers!

cw: angst, swearing, alcohol mention, slight violence, blood/bruises mention, slight sa? (non-consensual kiss), spelling errors

characters: draken and inui

summary: draken gets drunk and got his ass into a fight. inui picks him up and takes care of him but draken can't seem to move on from emma. inui can't tell the difference between platonic and romantic attraction, kinda one-sided love?, draken basically being depressed lol also set in the timeline where they own a bikeshop together

note: i don't ship them but i don't have anything against the ppl who do, i just thought their relationship was a great angst material :) i rushed the end a bit tho cuz i was getting out of ideas lol hope you enjoy!! also big thanks to the people who requested from us and we're a bit slow, but we're working on them don't worry!<3

-L

"hey inui! inui! seishu are you okay?"

draken was having it rough for a few days now, his nightmares about emma coming back to him each night like a curse from the past. inui noticed that his friend was more tense around him or when draken would hesitate to call out to him, but he didn't say anything since he knew that mental health was a touchy subject for his partner because of a certain girl. he was having a hard time ignoring it though as it left a bad taste in his mouth, but he didn't know why. is it because draken is his dear friend or maybe it is because he was in love? ken was so nice to him and he was his friend because he was inui seishu and not somebody else, right? he was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even hear draken call out to him.

"huh?"

"i've called out to you 3 times already! you look like you've been stressing so much lately-"

"oh no, no! im totally fine don't worry about it, i was just daydreaming a little bit!" he said as he let out an awkward laugh.

draken flashed him a gentle smile and patted his back.

"if you say so! but don't hesitate to ask for anything if you're not feeling well, aight?"

"got it boss"

"hey! i told u stop with that!" he playfully scolded inui as both of them began laughing. "anyways i just wanted to ask if you could close the shop today? i'm going out with some friends to drink, so.."

"of course! you can count on me, just give me the keys and you can go!

"thanks inupi! i owe you one!"

it was already dark outside when draken began to pack his things and passed the keys to inui.

"don't forget to close it or i'll beat ya ass if anything is missing tomorrow!"

"yeah yeah, just go already!" inui said as he pushed his friend through the door of their office.

"see you tomorrow seishu! "

he woke up to his ringtone, phone buzzing on the table as he got up and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. he didn't even have the energy to look at who was calling him so he just picked it up.

"yeah! see ya!" he sighed and almost slammed the door shut on accident. he was nervous but why? he could feel a pit in his stomach like when something bad is about to happen but he ignored the feeling and chose to dose off for a small nap on the sofa that was in the office.

-

"hello?" he answered the phone with a groggy voice.

"hey inui! sorry to call you this late but i need you to come here!"

"kazutora? it's not often that you call me, what's wrong?" he was dumbfounded that kazutora callled him as they barley even kept contact with each other.

"it's draken."

"what?"

"that idiot got drunk and punched a dude."

"oh god, again? " inui pinched the bridge of his nose not wanting to get up and drive there because he didn't like dealing with drunk people especially when it was ryuguji who got drunk. "im coming don't worry, thanks for giving me a call kazutora.

"thanks inui, we're at the new bar, just 2 streets down. we'll wait for you at the entrance!" kazutora said and immediately hang up.

"i swear that dumbass is going to be my death one day.." inui murmured and grabbed his jacket and the keys to his bike. "thank god it's not that far, just 2 streets down or i wouldn't even go to get his drunk ass."

the engine of his motorbike roared as he stopped in front of a bar, that had neon lights around it. everything was so bright he got a little dizzy and almost had to close his eyes. he spotted kazutora and draken sitting together at a random shop's staircase that was next to the bar. he got up from his bike and began walking towards them and it was when he got closer, that's when he noticed the blood sitting on draken's white shirt and bruises all over his face.

"what the fuck happened?!"

the two of them jumped at inui's voice not expecting him to shout at them.

"sorry to drag you out to get him this late, i could've bring him home myself but chifuyu and the others are still in there and im kinda worried what would they do when there's nobody to look out for them." kazutora said as he slightly bowed his head as an apology.

"don't worry about it man, don't apologize." inui gave kazutora a slight smile as he took draken's arm around his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't fall. "i'll be taking him home now..thanks for looking out for him."

"it's nothing. have a safe drive and call me if something is up!"

"yeah will do!" inui said as he began walking back to his bike with now draken slumped over him. it was very strange that draken wasn't talking at all, he was usually very loud.

"im not a kid you know? i can take care of myself inupi."

"oh so you now know how to talk? and it didn't seem like you were doing so good, so just shut up and let me drive you home!"

draken let out a laugh as he sat on the back of the motorcycle and grabbed the spare helmet.

"aight, aight! just don't be so loud, my head is killing me.."

"i wonder why?" inui scoffed as he sat on the front. "just make sure you don't fall off or you'll have to go to the hospital by yourself."

the drive to draken's apartment was quiet. none of them talked, the only thing that was making noise was the motorbike and those few cars that passed them. they were almost there when inui felt arms wrap around his waist and felt some weight on his left shoulder and he tensed under draken's touch, his heart hammering in his chest.

"i swear to god if you puke on me-"

"are you mad?" draken's voice was soft, almost like when a child got caught stealing candies.

inui didn't answer not knowing what to say to a question like that so he just kept quiet.

they soon arrived to draken's apartment complex and inui parked his bike.

none of them said a word and seishu helped his friend up the stairs, then to his door. keys jingled as draken searched his pockets and struggled to fit the key to his door inside the keyhole. inui gently pushed him away and opened the door and draken almost immediately went and crashed on the couch. seishu shaked his head and closed the door behind him, took off his shoes then followed draken to his livingroom.

"come on man, we need to get you patched up and change! i promise you can sleep all you want after we're done." draken just groaned and put his head on inui's shoulder s a sign to help him to his bedroom.

"i think the booze is really starting to get to me.." draken said as his words were slightly slurred from the alcohol he had consumed. inui helped him up and staring walking towards draken's room and sat him down onto the bed and turned on the lights. draken hissed at the sudden brightness and inui just let out a chuckle then went to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit. he came back with the box and sat next to draken and grabbed his chin.

"come on this gonna hurt a bit, but i'll be as careful and quick as i can so bear with it 'kay?" the tatted male just hummed as an answer and inui took it as a sign to start cleaning his bruises. he started dabbing under his eye first, then right under his jaw with careful movements. draken didn't seem to be giving any reaction so he just continued until his eyes sat on his slightly busted lip. seishu looked away for a moment then went to dab the sanitizer on his lip when draken took a hold of his wrist and he dopped the cottonball he was holding.

"what's wro-" seishu's words were cut off when draken kissed him. inui's whole body froze as memories from his high school years started to pry at his mind and tears filled his eyes. he didn't know what to do. was it the right thing that he just sat there without doing anything but his hands shaking? he will never know the answer to that. he only came back to reality when draken pulled away and smiled at him with red dusting his cheeks, inui didn't know if it was from the alcohol or because draken was embarrassed.

"i love you..emma." draken whispered against inui's neck and passed out. seishu couldn't process what was happening and his chest started to hurt. he quickly pushed draken off of him (who surprisingly didn't even budge) and stood up with wide eyes, tears threatening to spill out of them. he didn't even bother to pack the first aid kit as he was almost running to the door. he slammed the shop's keys on draken's kitchen island and left.

-

the next morning draken woke up with a headache.

"..what happened?" he said as he looked through his room, the first-aid kit on the floor. he tried to remember what happened last night as he went to get dressed for work.

he was confused when inui didn't came to work that day.

[cyphersuna]

1. HUMAN DOGS

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader!mikaelson (Slow burn), derek hale x ex-lover!reader, mcCall pack x platonic!reader, original family x sister!reader, stiles stilinski x platonic!reader (at the moment)

sypnosis; Y/N Mikaelson arrives in a small town with the hope of becoming independent and having a new life but a near accident will turn her plans around and risk them knowing who he is.

Has the war of Original Vampires and Wolves started?

The smallest of the Mikealsons, will she be with a wolf?

Will Isaac accept Y/N?

warnings; none

author’s note: hello baeess, welcome to a new #saturdayofyouaremikaelson!!! I only hope you enjoy this chapter because your emotion excites me and if your emotion excites me, I will be excited to do more chapters to excite you. see you next week 😺

Word count; 1.7k

ﾟ･ 🌌ރ ੈ♡‧₊˚🎲 *ૢ✧ ۪ ♟️ ° ｡

YOU WERE ENTERING Beacon Hills while looking at the forest around you which looked spooky, possibly because it was night or they were infested with those human dogs. Possibly both. You still remember the faces of Niklaus, Kol and Elijah knowing that you would live here. You think it was the best thing in the world, but you get it. That your sister, the youngest of the Mikaelson clan, decides to move alone, with no one from her family nearby and in a "city" full of dogs. You would also worry.

It began to be heard on the radio lurk from the neighborhood to which you began to hum it. This century was very different: 16-year-olds look like 18 or 19, their type of clothing... You did not complain, it is better than the clothes of before.

Six teens and two adults appeared out of nowhere to which you stopped. You got out of the car and they watched you from head to toe. One in particular made your blood run cold. Derek Hale...

You sighed and spoke.

"Forgiveness! Are you okay?" You asked, and the bearded one came up to you.

"What are you doing here?" He asks and you start to breathe. Human dogs have to hear it and feel it so they know that you are not something supernatural. Speaking of that title, it's the best series and more daddy Dean. You pulled myself out of your thoughts and looked from left to right to fix your gaze on the dark haired man.

"Me?" He nodded. "Sorry. Do I know you?"

"Don't act, Mikaelson," he snap at and Peter comes closer to both of you. The Good Peter, he was more your brother than the ones you have, well not so much like that but he was like a brother.

"I think you're wrong" you say to see him in the eyes. "My name is not like that" you say playing stupid, well! When you don't? Coming here you thought that Derek and Peter would leave and more because of what happened to his sister who did not doubt that Peter would kill her. But just in case you knew you would have to change your first and last name.

"It's not a name," says the older of the two raising an eyebrow. "What's your name?" He ask.

"Diane Jones" you say pretending to be a little scared. You saw how Derek would glare at you deadly and the teens stared at the scene in confusion. Wow! The redhead's shoes were fantastic.

"What brings you to Beacon Hills?" Asked Peter.

"I came to live here" you respond.

"Alone?" Said the one with black hair, super furious. He looked sexier like that. "Without your parents?"

"Excuse me, but I don't have to tell you anything" You walked back and Derek took your arm tightly and the children approached looking worried.

"You won't leave until you answer." Peter put his hand on Derek's shoulder with a "calm down" look

"And your parents?" He asks calmly.

"I do not have. I'm an orphan" you say looking at your feet. Seriously, you deserve an Oscar for best actress.

"How did you get here?" Peter still asked.

"My uncles sent me here to study and not cause problems" you say looking at Peter.

"Don't li-" Derek says to be interrupted.

"It's not her" said Peter. "Listen" as you said, breathing helps and more if it is accelerated when you feel threatened.

"Can I go?" You asked.

"Yes" Peter says. You walked to your car and your turned it on to continue on your way, when you saw that you were far away you start to laugh. Derek's faces and the wolf children, the banshee, and the humans were gold.

You arrived at your new home. You smiled when you saw that it was normal, not big and not too small. A normal house. It was supposed to be furnished since yesterday. You got out of your car and opened to see the living room, you closed the door and walked into the kitchen and up the stairs. You went into all the rooms and they were perfect and yours was much more.

It was big, being a Mikaelson it couldn't be small. You were already beginning to miss them. Well not all. Elijah and Rebekah's overproduction were suffocating. Also you will no longer be listening "little Klaus" or "little Kol" You're not like them, you just like to have fun. And you like being with them more. Kol and you, hunted and had fun at parties and flirting with people. Klaus gave you life lessons. You were amused by his stories and how could he be so... him. Of your seven siblings, you only loved Kol and Klaus, of course you had your differences: you were friends with Katherine and Klaus hates her, you love the Salvatore brothers with your life and they detest them, even more. You lay down on the bed and you smiled a smile that only bring problems.

Isaac Lahey Pov

"It was her," Derek says, somehow I felt concern and more to see how he reacted when he saw the girl as our age.

"Who is she?" Scott ask.

"Y/N Mikaelson" Peter said calmly.

"And she is...?" Stiles question them.

"She is one of the Originals and Derek's great love," Peter replies.

"Original of what?" Lydia ask.

"From the Original Vampires," Derek says angrily.

"They exist?" Almost all of us say at the same time.

"Yes. And between them the two hybrid of Vampire and werewolf" explains Peter.

"What is a hybrid?" Allison ask to which Stiles responds.

"Hybrids are a supernatural cross between two or more different species. The term is commonly used to describe a werewolf turned vampire, as they were the first type of hybrid introduced to the world. However, since the creation of the werewolf-vampire hybrids, there have been other hybrids of other races in the universe, such as siphons turned into witch-vampire hybrids, werewolf-witch hybrids, among others" he says to finish.

"How do you know that?" Asks Scott.

"I read it when I was trying to find out what you were, but I thought the vampire thing was a lie," Stiles responds.

"A hybrid is more lethal than any werewolf or vampire" Says Derek. "Nature does not tolerate such an imbalance of power. Thus, the warlocks, the servants of nature, saw to it that the wolfish side of Klaus and Y/N Mikaelson are asleep. But they are still a danger.

"Who are the Mikaelsons?" I ask.

"The Mikaelson family is a powerful family whose line goes back at least to the Kingdom of Norway in the late 10th century with Mikael and Esther, a wealthy landowner and a Viking warrior, and a housewife and a witch, respectively. In the early 11th century, the family was deadly until the loss of Esther and Mikael's seventh child, Henrik to a werewolf attack that spurred them to use Esther's magic to turn Mikael and the rest of their living children into the The world's first vampires, from whom all Vampires are descended from the original vampires, are known as the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, but the Mikaelson family is also known to have members who are also witches and hybrids. Among them are two hybrids: Klaus and Y/N. In total the Mikaelsons are eight; Mikael, the father, Esther, the mother, Freya, The first daughter which is only a witch and does not belong to the original lineage, Finn, The second son, Elijah, the third son, Klaus, the fourth son which is the hybrid and is not the son of Mikael but bears his last name, Kol, the fifth son, Rebekah, the sixth daughter, Y/N, the seventh daughter which is not the daughter of Mikael and the last, Henrik, the eighth son. Of these eight only are alive: Freya, Elijah, Klaus, Kol, Rebekah and Y/N" Derek answers.

''They wasted no time," Stiles says.

"Neither is Esther. Children of different parents" I say smiling. "But how did "first hybrids" happen?

"When Klaus and Y/N first killed after being turned into vampires, they triggered their werewolf gene, which finally reveals the truth of their true paternity to their family: Klaus and Y/N were not Mikael's children but the boss's children of her village werewolf clan, with whom Esther had an affair. Once Mikael learned of Esther's infidelity and realized that her lover's pack were the werewolves who killed Henrik, Mikael hunted down and killed Klaus and Y/N's father and his entire family, igniting a war. Between vampires and werewolves that still exists. Shortly after the Mikaelsons became vampires and learned of Klaus and Y/N werewolves' legacy, Esther was forced to curse Klaus and Y/N to make their werewolf natures lie dormant, so that they didn't bother yet. More to nature by possessing so much power. However, Klaus and Y/N felt betrayed by this punishment, and in retaliation, Klaus murdered his mother and framed Mikael for the act. Understood?" Peter asks and I nod.

"I'm more than sure it's her!" Derek exclaims.

"It has to be her, if you questioned her or just stopped...-Lydia says to be interrupted by Peter.

"It's her Doppelgänger..."

Y/N Mikaelson Pov

You got out of the tub while you were dripping to grab the towel and start drying off. Tomorrow would be your first day in high school, you had never attended one and according to Caroline and Stefan they are very good, also Rebekah go into one and she looks older than you. You wrapped the towel around your body and left the bathroom to go to your room. You dropped the towel while you felt the air all over your body, you took off your underwear from the wardrobe and then put on a loose shirt and some pajama shorts. You go down to the kitchen for some whiskey and you go back upstairs. You arranged your things for tomorrow and left them arranged so that you only had to go...

masterlist

˚༉🎠·₊✧ 🧺 ϟ₊˚🎻ミ༉‧🍫₊˚

previously in you are a mikaelson > next

Taglist

@blessednereid @itmejado @rottenstyx @chloe-skywalker

[ushidoux]

He, Hercules - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: What is Ushijima if not strong? (~2.0k words)

Warnings: accident, temporary disability, implied depression, some suggestive themes, hurt/comfort

A/N: I have limited experience with athletic injuries and mental illness so bear with me. If there is anything you find inaccurate or insensitive in my depiction, don’t hesitate to pm me! <3

---

“Mr. Ushijima?”

You perk up when you hear the secretary’s voice call out your husband’s name, only realizing now that in your long semi-long wait you’d ended up dozing off, resting your head against his shoulder. Clearly, you must have been exhausted, because it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and why you’re here.

There are very few others in this small office aside from the single middle-aged man in the corner who you realize is staring quite hard at you, and you wonder briefly if it’s because you somehow looked inappropriate or acted inappropriately while you were asleep. There shouldn’t be anything very noteworthy about a young couple inside a therapy practice.

You glance at Ushijima who is barely moving despite the fact that his name was just pronounced. He’s as still as a statue and his expression is neutral as is typical of him, but you still perceive the lack of intensity behind his eyes, a constant reminder that no matter how much he acts as though he’s fine, he’s not.

Why else would you be here in the first place?

You nudge him gently.

“Love, they called your name. It’s time for your session,” you whisper into his ear.

He had been staring off at a fixed point across from him, but he does still respond to your nudges. When he rises, it’s done slowly, and he walks besides you with a slight limp in his left leg. He doesn’t wince with any step but the arm you hold onto as you walk with him through the hallway down to the provider’s office is stiff. You wonder if he resents how clingy you’ve gotten since his injury, handling him with kid gloves as though he were the most fragile of glass. You can’t help it. You’d almost lost him.

The office is open when you arrive, and a man who looks only a few years older than Wakatoshi is seated in a cream armchair, waiting, a measured smile on his face. Ushijima doesn’t smile back but he doesn’t frown either. 

“Welcome! Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” the man says without missing a beat, rising to shake his hand. He also shoots a glance at you, but before he can ask you to introduce yourself before politely shooing you out of the room (this is not couples’ therapy after all, even if it will help the two of you), you squeeze your husband’s hand before quickly exiting.

“I’m his partner, I’ll see myself out, thank you!”

You worry slightly about leaving him alone in this stranger’s care, but Ushijima is not a child and this isn’t the first day of kindergarten, he’s a man recovering from a life-altering injury and has finally agreed to go to therapy. 

You’re not sure how optimistic to be, but you’ve done an extensive amount of research and this particular therapist boasted credentialing in sports psychology, was highly recommended and had worked with a lot of current and former athletes alike. 

Of course, this would all be meaningless if Ushijima refused to talk, but as you started your car to pass the next hour at a nearby mall, you gave yourself a little bit of hope.

---

“Tell me about yourself,” is the first question the therapist asks, after offering not much more than his own name, and Ushijima is slightly annoyed by the question.

He does not want to be here in the first place, he doesn’t need to be here, and now he’s asked a question as vague and audacious as ‘tell me about yourself’ like he’s expected to pour out his feelings to this stranger from the very second he sits in this admittedly comfortable couch.

He pauses. He’s not sure exactly what he would say. 

He’s nearing 30. He’s married, no kids. If it’s not obvious, he’s from Japan. He plays volleyball professionally… well, played, up until recently. 

He frowns. That’s why he’s here. Because you don’t think he is okay, even if all of his injuries have essentially healed aside from this annoying limp that makes it obvious that he’s in some way not in optimal shape, broken, vulnerable. This  limp is the reason why he can no longer play even if he feels fine otherwise, and why he’s not exactly sure what to do next. 

But that’s beyond the point. The question is about himself.

What else can he say? How would others describe him?

His friends call him serious, just as the media describes him. Quiet and serious. Dedicated. Strong. 

Maybe he’s not that last thing anymore, but that too is beyond the point.

You think he’s sweet; you say this repeatedly. You tell him that he’s kind and considerate.

He thinks for a moment that maybe he was too kind. Kindness is what got him in this predicament in the first place, isn’t it?

A moment of compassion - a likely exhausted mother whose eyes leave her child for a split second to rummage through her purse, a little girl whose tiny legs take her just a bit too far out into an open intersection, a speeding car that shows no signs of stopping…

He remembers the exact moment he is no longer jogging but sprinting to take the child out of harm’s way, as well as the exact moment he hears his bones snap on impact, and he’s too shocked initially to feel pain, eyes frantically searching for the kid who now is standing on the opposite side of the street, looking at him in curiosity because the toddler is too young to understand what it means to see a body crumple. She’s unharmed, so he’s successful.

A woman screams and she sounds nothing like you. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

The car speeds on.

---

You sit in a food court, poking at some fries, but you’re not exactly hungry, just anxious. Is the session going okay? 

Even if the man is a professional at getting people to talk, Wakatoshi is a hard nut to crack. You could envision him sitting silently until the hour passed completely, before getting up to bow and exit stage left. It had taken you months to get him to agree to go to anything other than physical therapy.

You hope this is not an exercise in futility.

---

“I’m fine,” he grunted, just a couple days out of the hospital, once you’d started nagging him for weight-bearing on the leg that had just been operated on.

“Your leg was literally shattered!” You shouted. “You’re lucky they didn’t amputate!”

He gave you a mildly fatigued look. All he’d wanted to do was walk to the kitchen by himself, without crutches in his own house, and he’d barely made it a couple of steps before you were standing in the bedroom, looking all sorts of stressed and concerned. 

He figured your concern was temporary, so he attempted to quell his stubbornness. He had already been benched for the season, possibly to likely forever and pouring out his frustration on you wouldn’t be helpful.

“What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

He frowned but he let you help him anyway.

---

“My name is Wakatoshi Ushijima. I moved here several years ago from Japan to play volleyball professionally. I was in a bad car accident a few months ago and my wife is concerned that I’m not adjusting well.”

The therapist offers a small smile again.

“Do you disagree with that assessment?”

Ushijima tilts his head slightly. He does disagree… he doesn’t? He’s not sure. He’s frustrated of course, who wouldn’t be, he had just been in the Olympics after all, but he’s fine. He’s strong.

He’s strong.

---

“We just wanted to thank you again.”

Wakatoshi glanced at the gifts the couple before them had brought,  a bouquet of flowers and stacks of cookies and pastries in boxes on the living room coffee table, before looking back at you. Your face remained polite and smiling but you were clearly uncomfortable from the way you were perched on the seat, nodding carefully as you listened to your visitors, your arms crossed over your midsection as you leaned forward in your chair.

He knew you wanted to be angry at them, well, her, the mother who looked at him pitifully initially then averted her eyes out of shame. But it wasn’t her fault but yet, it was her fault and still, it wasn’t. It was very complicated. No one was at fault. Her daughter was safe.

Everything was fine.

---

You’re back in your car again, ready to drive to pick up your husband from therapy. Things should get better from here on. 

Maybe he will no longer shut down like a brick wall when you suggest that now is a good time to start transitioning away from sports for the future. Maybe he’ll be less upset with small things like not being able to run as far, or lift as much or please you as much in the bedroom as he used to. 

They’re small things compared to losing his life.

---

“I would like to go back to playing but I’m told at every turn that it’s too dangerous, maybe even after a year of healing.”

The therapist nods, and scribbles something on a sheet of paper.

“How does that make you feel?”

The therapist notices even through Ushijima’s accented Polish that he’s naturally eloquent, but regardless he still lacks the words to appropriately talk about his feelings. 

His hands grip at his knees, the good and the bad one. The word ‘useless’ comes to mind but he can’t bring himself to say that to this stranger, even if these four walls come with the promise of understanding. 

For once, silence is uncomfortable for him, and the therapist is surprisingly good at staying quiet. They sit in silence for moments longer and surprisingly, Wakatoshi speaks up first.

“Weak,” he ekes out in a voice that is so small he barely recognizes it.

To that, the therapist leans just slightly forward, focusing his eyes on the man’s restricted range of motion and slightly hunched shoulders. It’s the posture of a man who’s normally stoic and confident, now made uncertain about the future.

“What’s wrong with weakness?” He says quickly, and Ushijima is somewhat stunned which then lends way to a small measure of anger.

Everything is wrong with being weak. Weakness was for other people. How could he protect himself, his livelihood, his team, you?

What is he if not strong?

---

“I love you.”

He says it less often than you do to him, but every time he does, he means every word. You shifted beneath him, weary from the lovemaking of just prior but still nevertheless craning your neck up to reach his lips. 

Your hands traveled down his shoulders and along the length of his bulky arms, playing with his biceps, drinking in the sight of his muscles flexing as he moved. He smiled and wrapped his arms tight around you, laying his head on your chest. 

“Aww, Toshi, you’ll crush me if you hold me so tight. You barely know your own strength,” you teased with a laugh, prompting him to loosen his grip ever so slightly, and lift up his head to show you the smallest of pouts.

“I love you more,” you added, giggling.

Pleased, he lay his head back down on the softness of your bosom, clinging to you more. He’d protect and take care of you forever.

---

You hold Ushijima’s hand tightly as you walked out of the building to your car, holding in your curiosity about the session the entire time. 

Would he go again?

He gives your hand a squeeze suddenly which surprises you, and when he turns to you, there’s a small upturn in the corner of his lips that approximates more of a smile than you’ve seen in recent weeks.

You’re elated enough that you immediately give him a hug, and maybe you’re a bit overzealous about it, but he stops and holds you close for just a moment.

“Thank you.”

There’s a lot in the thank you, and you shed a tear.

---

Strength is relative and inconstant, so our first task is to work on your definition of strength. 

But I would say, coming here in the first place is already evidence enough.

[erricdraven]

For the malec prompts, 7, t, 22 ? Feel free to change stuff if you prefer!

*so i used this to my advantage a bit so this can be read as a prequel-sequel to my previous fic the number of heartbeats between here and there. also it's a bit canon divergent because of the parameters of the request!* 7. deleted scene | t. secret relationship | 22. "i'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."

To: Alexander – 1:23am

Did you still want me to come over tonight? I know it’s later than we had planned but…been thinking about you 🥰

To: Magnus – 1:26am

Sorry I was in the shower but yeah please come if you still can!

To: Alexander – 1:27am

Pretty boy.

To: Alexander – 1:27am

Handsome.

To: Alexander – 1:27am

Angel.

To: Magnus – 1:28am

…yeah?

To: Alexander – 1:28am

I always want to see you. Do you want to see me?

To: Magnus – 1:28am

Yes definitely

To Alexander – 1:29am

Then I’ll be over quicker than you can say my name

Magnus made his way around the sprawling architecture of the New York Institute, looking for the wing of living quarters. The buttresses that framed the familiar third-story window would have made fair footholds for scaling the building, but there were better methods available to him. Twisting his index and middle fingers, he summoned a dense amalgamation of magic beneath his feet that expanded upwards. Fortunately, Alec had left the window unlatched and slightly ajar, allowing Magnus to slip through and land soundlessly in a crouch.

Just as he straightened up, the bathroom door opened and damp steam from the shower billowed out. Alec emerged, naked save for a towel wrapped around his waist, but when he caught sight of Magnus, an almost smug smile pulled at his lips. “Hey,” he greeted, striding over to kiss him softly, one hand gently cradling Magnus’ cheek while the other held the towel in place at his hipbone.

“Is this for me?” Magnus teased, running the soft outer part of his forefinger along the damp skin of Alec’s bare chest. “How thoughtful.”

Alec laughed boisterously, his ears faintly pink with a warm blush. “Sorry to disappoint you but that was just a happy accident. Patrol ran late and I had to deal with— Well, that doesn’t really matter.”

Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Magnus shook his head. “How can I be disappointed with this outcome, unintentional as it may be.” He skated his palms up to Alec’s upper back and reverently drew them down across the planes of muscle until he got down to the small of his back. His fingertips dug into the soft skin above his buttocks needfully, pressing just hard enough that his blunt nails would leave behind little crescents if one were to look hard enough. “I still come out victorious in this scenario, I think.”

>> READ ON AO3

The way that Alec smiled at him, tired and weary but endlessly soft, made Magnus feel like his heart were being squeezed just this side of painful. It was the most vulnerable he had ever seen him, and it was simply theirs to share.

“Hey, Magnus… Why did you agree to this, us, like this?” Alec gestured vaguely. His eyebrows drew tightly together in consternation, and Magnus fought the urge to kiss the skin between into relaxing. “Why are you willing to hide with me?”

It had been a few weeks since their conversation about an arranged marriage for the sake of preserving the Lightwood legacy and foothold in the New York Institute. Maybe it was some kind of desperation that had driven Magnus to be so cavalier about his willingness to accept the “don’t ask, don’t tell” mentality of shadowhunters. The thought of losing the first spark of hope in love that he had had in over a century was excruciating, and concealing it so meticulously was a high price, but he was paying it. In a way, though, keeping this fragile thing between them a secret, left to grow in discretion, felt a little like a relief. Whatever it may be with time, it was theirs alone.

At the silence, Alec licked his lips nervously and started to say something.

Instead, Magnus held up a finger to his mouth to quiet him anticipatorily. Through a roguish grin, he said, “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else. I want to give that question the answer it deserves, but that’s a tremendous ask when you’re up against me like this.”

Alec rolled his eyes as if it were nothing more than a line, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed his self-satisfaction. And that was exactly what Magnus had intended. “All right, well then, look away.”

Magnus turned his back with exaggerated movements and crossed his arms over his chest with a smile. It was nice to have someone to be this way with again; it felt like liberation to have someone with whom he was free to be himself without the burden of titles and expectations. He was exposed when he stripped away the personas and facades that were like secondary skins. They were facets of himself that people expected him to have, but Alec never seemed to want him to be anything but Magnus. Not Magnus Bane, not High Warlock Bane, not Prince Regent of Edom.

“Are you decent?” Magnus teased after the sounds of fabric on skin had subsided.

In response, Alec came up behind him and leaned in just enough that his chest brushed Magnus’ back. “All done.”

Magnus shifted his weight to lean back into Alec lightly and reached back to thread his fingers into Alec’s still-damp hair. Softly scratching his nails through the soft strands made Alec hum contentedly. “We should sit so we can discuss your question.”

“Can we lay down?”

“Of course.”

They climbed on the bed over the sheets and comforter, and Alec immediately rolled over so Magnus could curl up behind him. He even lifted his arm away from his chest so Magnus could slide an arm over his hip bone and anchor his hand on his abdomen. This was something they had done once before—bearing their heart to anyone was hard for both of them, but this way made it a little easier.

Magnus took a slow breath, gathering his thoughts appropriately. “You’re a possibility, Alexander. A beautiful, liberating possibility that I’ve never had the fortune to come across in all my life.”

Ever melancholy, Alec replied, “How can you feel that way when I’m basically shoving you back in the closet with me, and asking you to sneak around and be ashamed of something that should be so simple. It makes me feel like a child to ask you to…stoop this low.”

“It was my choice, Alec. I chose to put myself in the position I’m in. And for the record,” Magnus added, pressing his lips to the back of Alec’s ear, “I’m glad that I did.”

Alec pressed back perceptibly closer to him, ducking his head to press into the crook of Magnus’ neck in a self-soothing gesture. “You’re not just saying that so that I feel less guilty, right? Because it doesn’t work if you don’t mean it.”

Many times throughout Magnus’ life he had been in the position of feeling at the disadvantage with the people he loved. He worried himself sick over whether he was being too clingy, too transparent, too vulnerable, and then he overcorrected and worried about being too aloof, too distant, and too unavailable. The cyclical questioning and self-doubt had ruined a lot of encounters before they even had the chance to become something concrete. Even now, there was a seed of doubt about what he was doing with Alec—maybe he was giving him too much credit, and maybe putting his own heart on the line was naïve.

“I don’t have the luxury of knowing what will come of this, Alexander,” he said carefully, “but I am certain that never giving it the chance would be something I would always regret. Will I always be content to be the soul of discretion in regards to you and what we may feel? Likely not. But you didn’t ask me for forever, and I’m not asking you either. I think both of us just needed the chance to be worth the risk of seeing it through to whatever end it might reach.”

Warm calloused fingers made their way down Magnus’ arm to lace between his own and squeeze gently. “I can live with that.”

Magnus chuckled and pressed a kiss to Alec’s hair. “I hope you can do more than that.”

“Mmm.” Alec yawned and rolled slightly, taking Magnus with him. “For now, though, I’m just going to sleep with it.”

“‘It’ being me?”

“By the angel,” Alec groaned, exasperated yet fighting a smile. “You talk too much sometimes.” Before Magnus could reply, he had captured his lips in a languorous kiss. Each one they shared felt like a discovery that Alec relished, unrehearsed and uncertain but wholehearted in the best way. The anticipation and enthusiasm of each new moment they shared was somehow so much better than any shared with Magnus’ most experienced ex-lovers.

Magnus pulled away just enough that their lips parted but their noses still touched. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“This is even better than my white noise machine. Having you here is…peaceful.”

“Aren’t you a romantic,” Magnus said dryly. But when Alec pulled him close again, he was helpless to resist.

>> PROMPT LIST

[emachinescat]

Mama Bear

A Tales of Arcadia Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat @whumptober2021 day 3 - Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But... ("who did this to you?")

Summary: After Jim’s fight with Draal, his mom sees his bruises, and Mama Bear is unleashed. Post-Win, Lose, or Draal.

Whumpee: Jim

Words: 2,603

Note: This fic was inspired by what Barbara said in 1x13 about Jim coming home from school covered in bruises. As is my way, I took the idea and ran with it.

TW: none

Barbara Lake had always considered herself incredibly lucky that her son turned out as well as he did. It wasn’t her own doing, she was sure of that – she always did the best she could, but being a single mom meant she’d had to work extra shifts to support her small family and never felt like she was there enough.

No, Jim was just a really good kid.

Not many moms could boast that their sixteen-year-old son could cook better than they could, let alone that they made gourmet lunches and dinners (and breakfasts, on most weekends), not just willingly, but happily. And not many moms could brag that their sixteen-year-old son did the dishes or kept the house clean or put aside his own wants and dreams to take care of his overworked mother. Who got up early to leave flowers on their bedside table after a long night at work, or who tucked them in after they fell asleep on top of the covers, still in their scrubs, because they’d been too exhausted to do anything else.

Barbara tried not to brag too much about Jim. She knew that he did have a social life of his own, and as far as she could tell, he was fairly well liked at school and she didn’t want to embarrass him if any of his friends found out just how much he doted on his mother. But sometimes she couldn’t help it, and she’d find herself rambling to her beautician or the nurses at the hospital or sometimes even a long-suffering patient about how her son was one-of-a-kind. He didn’t get into trouble at school, didn’t fight, didn’t skip school, and almost never missed curfew.

Until one day, he did.

It wasn’t even like it was a gradual change. There was no slow fade. She didn’t watch him slowly descend into bad grades or late nights or midnight calls about museum break-ins. There were no signs. He went to bed one day, the same as ever, and then suddenly he was getting into trouble at school, getting into fist fights, missing curfew, breaking into museums in the dead of night. Not only that but his grades – which had always been slightly higher than average – had plummeted, and he’d developed dark circles under his eyes like he never slept and sometimes he moved around like he was an eighty-year-old man and though his good nature and kind heart remained, it seemed strained at times. He still did sweet things for her, but not as often.

At first, she’d thought he was burning the proverbial candle at both ends and his lack of sleep was taking a toll on his mental and physical health. As a doctor, she’d seen firsthand what lack of sleep could do to a person. Their entire personality would change, or fizzle out, and their judgment would be severely impaired.

But then she’d seen the bruises and her sleep-loss theory flew out of the window.

***

Two weeks ago

Barbara thought boundaries and independence were a valuable part of a child’s development, so she always knocked before she entered Jim’s room. Of course, if he were gone, she wouldn’t bother.

On this particular day – one of her rare days off – she was sure he wasn’t home. She hadn’t heard him come in, hadn’t seen his bike propped up against the side of the house or in the garage. The container of store-bought chocolate chip cookies (she had neither the time nor skill to bake them herself) she’d left out for him hadn’t been touched. For all appearances, Jim hadn’t gotten home from school yet.

And so, she didn’t knock as she approached his bedroom door with a laundry basket propped on her hip. Jim always did his own laundry, but she’d seen how tired and overworked he’d been lately and wanted to ease his burden however she could.

The sight that greeted her when she nudged open the door and flipped on the light was one that would stick with her, tattooed onto her mind’s eye, for the rest of her life.

Jim was asleep on top of his unmade bed. It looked like he’d gotten halfway undressed and then decided to forgo comfort for sleep, and lay on his stomach in only his jeans. One shoe was on, the other halfway under the bed. But what arrested her attention so violently was the great rainbow of bruises arching across his back and stretched around his side, disappearing beneath his stomach where he lay on the bed.

She couldn’t help herself. A horrified shriek escaped her, and Jim sprung up so quickly it made her head spin. The panicked look in his eyes did not escape her notice, nor did the way he made a desperate reach for his pocket, like he was trying to grab something – trying to defend himself? When he saw who was in his room, and that they were alone, and that there was no danger, the raw fear faded, though a hint of panic remained.

“Mom!” he squawked, crossing his arms across his chest like that would be enough to hide the dizzying array of green, purple, yellow, and black that blanketed his chest. She noticed with surprise the lean muscles of his arms. Jim had always been fit, but never strong. He’d never said anything about a gym and he’d never been serious about sports, but she filed this information away for later and focused on the problem at hand.

Her stomach twisted as her doctor’s eyes traveled slowly, deliberately down her son’s bare torso. The bruises were worse on his stomach and chest, something she hadn’t thought possible, and she realized with horror that some of them were days, maybe weeks, older than others. This – whatever this was – was not an isolated incident.

Rage like she’d never felt before, like the protective energy of all mothers who had come before her collected into one finely-honed sword, pierced her soul as she came to the only conclusion that made any logical sense: Someone had done this to her son.

When she spoke, she barely recognized her own voice, cold as the furthest depth of the ocean, shaking with unmitigated fury.

“Who did this to you?”

Jim’s answer didn’t surprise her, but she also didn’t believe it for a second. “No one. It… was an accident.” She watched, lips crammed together in an impossibly thin line, teeth grinding against one another, her hands trembling with a righteous anger she had no outlet for, as Jim slowly reached out for the shirt he’d left in a heap at the end of the bed, the other arm still wrapped protectively around his torso. She didn’t stop him. She would absolutely be examining his injuries fully before the evening was done, but for now, she’d seen enough. The sight of her son’s bruised flesh would burn in her memory forever, more clearly than when she saw it right in front of her.

Skittishly, like a cat caught sniffing around back alley garbage cans, he snatched up the shirt and swiftly pulled it over his head. He couldn’t hide the flinch as he raised his arms to pull the fabric over his head. As he did so, she got the full view of his torso, and the wild, impossible thought flitted through her mind that it almost looked like some giant hand had wrapped around his body and squeezed. The image, however nonsensical, sent waves of nausea crashing through her. Her anger swelled again, and the crest of it burst forth, no longer containable, and the only person she could release it on was the one who was actively lying to her.

“James Lake, Jr. – do you think I’m an idiot?!”

Jim froze, his hands stilling completely as he adjusted the neck of his tee. He had never heard his mother direct such cold fury at anyone, let alone himself. “W-what? Of course not, Mom. I just–”

“You expect me to believe that you accidentally hurt yourself this badly? That you woke up one morning and you were covered in bruises? Jim, I’m a doctor. I see people come in for less than this. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have fractured ribs.” Now the anger was giving way to panic. “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed that some bruises are newer than others. This isn’t something that just ‘happened’ and it’s not an accident. So tell me. Who – the – hell – did this to my son?”

A small, ridiculous surge of satisfaction bubbled up inside of her as she watched Jim’s mouth fall open. He’d never heard his mother utter a word stronger than darn before. She’d always been very careful about the language she used in front of him. But his condition released something feral inside of her, and it was honestly a bit of a shock that nothing stronger came out.

She watched his face, saw the conflict in his eyes, knew with even more surety that he was hiding something big from her and trying to decide if he was going to answer truthfully. Well, tough luck. He wasn’t leaving his bedroom until he answered her question.

He must have seen this in her eyes, for after a moment, he dropped his gaze. Heavily, he sat down on the foot of his bed and stared down at his hands. “Mom, I… can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

At this, the fear took center stage again, and Barbara fell to her knees in front of her son, cupping his face in her hands. The tears she’d been holding back with such determination threatened to fall at the way he unconsciously leaned into her touch. His eyes closed briefly, and for a moment he was a child again, sniffling from a scraped knee and being comforted by his mother. That moment ended all too quickly, because his scraped knee was actually a bruised and battered torso, and he wasn’t a child anymore, and he was in trouble.

“Jim. Whatever is going on, I promise, I won’t be angry. But someone is hurting you. You can’t deny that. What is happening to my son?” She tried not to speculate – dared not speculate – but so many possibilities chased themselves through her head, each one worse than the last. Bullies? Abusive teacher? Drugs?

He sat for a moment, a slumped, defeated statue with too much weight on his young shoulders – Young Atlas, Walter’s voice echoed in her mind. She saw the exact moment when he made his decision. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and met her eyes once more. Something brewed within those beautiful blue depths, but what it was she couldn’t say. Was it regret? Guilt? Fear?

“It really was an accident,” he finally said, voice slow and measured.

“Jim, really–!”

“I’m telling the truth, Mom!” he insisted so fervently that she was tempted to believe him. Almost.

“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” she demanded. “What kind of ‘accident’–”

“A Vespa one,” Jim blurted, and his eyes flickered down to his hands in shame. “I… a friend gave me a ride on his Vespa. I was on the back and got thrown off and rolled halfway down the embankment before a tree caught me right in the ribs.”

Fresh panic wormed its way into Barbara’s mind at Jim’s confession. As horrible as it was, part of her desperately wanted to believe him. If he had been in a vehicle accident, then no one had been deliberately hurting her child. It was just his own irresponsibility and stupidity.

“When did this happen?”

A beat. Then, sheepishly, “... yesterday.”

But – “What about the older bruises, Jim? Did you get into two Vespa accidents?”

“Paintball,” Jim answered without missing a beat. “We had a whole thing a few months back. Guys versus girls. And I got hit. A lot.”

Barbara recalled clearly the size and location of the older bruises that had peeked out from underneath the fresh, reaching ones. They could have easily been from punches or kicks, but it was feasible that the bruises could have come from being shot at close-range by a paintball gun.

Deep down, something still nagged at her. But Jim’s explanation was a siren’s call and she was so tired of swimming.

“Do you promise me you’re telling the truth?” The gaze she fixed on him one would have withered a succulent.

Without hesitation, Jim answered, his voice clear, strong, and insistent. “Yes.”

Relief flooded through her, and she squashed the last remaining doubts, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “In that case, you are grounded.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “What, really? You promised you wouldn’t be angry!?”

“I’m not angry, I’m disappointed. Let’s see, you know how I feel about both paintball and those Vespas and yet you went behind my back and nearly got yourself killed. You’ve been lying to me, Jim, keeping secrets. Is this why you’ve not been sleeping? Why you’ve been so distant?” It didn’t explain why he’d been getting into more trouble than usual, but right now she would take what she could get.

The slightest of hesitations. “Yeah.”

She considered, eyes burning into him, for a long moment, then she sighed, the sound of every evil thing escaping Pandora’s box, and she clapped her hands together briskly. “Okay, come on.”

Jim cocked his head to the side. “Where are we going?”

“The hospital.”

Jim groaned. “Mom, I’m okay. I’m just bruised.”

“I’m not taking any chances, mister. You could have fractured ribs. You should have been rushed to the hospital as soon as the accident happened. Who is this friend, anyway? Why didn’t he take you to the E.R.?”

Jim scratched the side of his neck. “You wouldn’t know him,” he evaded, and Barbara made a promise to herself to revisit this point later. “And we were afraid we’d get into trouble…”

“Well, you did, kiddo. Now, get up. We’re going to the hospital, you’re getting x-rays, and then we’re getting ice cream.”

Jim blinked up at her. She wondered if he realized his arm was curled protectively around his ribs as he slowly eased himself off the bed. “Ice cream? I thought I was grounded.”

“You’re hurt, Jim, and I’m your mother. I’m not a monster.” A soft smile pulled at the corners of Jim’s mouth at her words, and not wanting him to get too comfortable, she added, “You are grounded, though. Absolutely. You’re not going anywhere after school for at least two weeks. And depending on the x-rays, you might not be leaving your bed for a while, either.”

“Mooom.”

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me. Now, put your other shoe on. Let’s hussle. I want you looked at as soon as possible.”

What she didn’t see as she turned to leave the room was the heavy curtain of guilt being drawn over Jim’s face.

Later, she’d drive him home with a diagnosis of two cracked ribs and deep bruising across 80 percent of his torso and a bottle of muscle relaxers for the pain. They’d get ice cream and he would mope about bedrest and she would try to cheer him up (but not too much; he was still grounded, after all). But behind the pain of his injuries lurked a deeper, fierer ache that no balm could soothe, no medication could ease.

With every lie, he could feel the chasm widen between him and his mother, and it hurt more than a few broken ribs and bruises ever could.

[thebiscuiteternal]

This was originally a twitter thread and I told myself I wasn’t gonna clean it up and post it until after I finished the next chapter of Cage, but we all know I have the impulse control of a hamster, SO.

“All Your Sins On Show” Murder Plots, Violent Death, Grief, Talking to the Dead, Literally, Creating Your Own Personification of Guilt, Open Ending, Mixed Adaptations, Second-Person POV

Ao3 Link if you prefer.

__________

It comes down to this: Your father wants the Nie out of his hair by any means necessary.

No, no, that's not right. He specifically wants the Nie heir dead.

"Anyone can see the useless little bitch is their only weak spot. Kill him and they all crumble, especially that oaf Chifeng-zun," he says, then gives you the knife-edge smile he reserves for when he knows you'll give him anything for a more authentic one. "Can you get it done, or do I need to find someone more reliable?"

And you ignore the discomfort worming through your insides, smile back, and bow.

It comes down to this: The plan doesn’t take very many parts to set into motion. The smaller sects are still struggling after the decimation the Wens dealt to the cultivation world. It's easy enough to find a disciple desperate for more than his leader is paying.

It's even easier to goad Nie Mingjue into pushing his brother to join a ‘simple’ training-level night hunt, since Nie Huaisang has been avoiding using his saber yet again.

It goes like this: At your signal, the bribed disciple 'panics' and shoves Nie Huaisang into the path of a rampaging cursed beast that he has no chance of winning against, and then you make sure your turncoat doesn't escape either.

In the chaos, no one notices how seriously Nie Huaisang has been injured until the monster falls and someone realizes he never got  back to his feet.

Horrified Nie disciples crowd around, flooding his body with spiritual energy to try and save his life, but between his cracked open ribcage and bitten throat, anyone with eyes can see it's a lost cause.

Nie Huaisang dies choking on his own blood, and all anyone can hope is that the shock of the first blow left him too numb to suffer.

It goes like this: The inhuman howl of anguish Nie Mingjue makes when heartbroken disciples hand him his brother’s ruined body is everything your father has likely been hoping for.

Only then, watching him fall to his knees, do you remember that their father came home in similar condition after being set up by a friend, and your stomach knots so tightly you nearly throw up right there in the courtyard.

Only then, looking at the small figure cradled in the sobbing man's arms, death white save for where he is covered in rust red, does it hit you that for the first time, you have killed someone who never did anything to harm you.

Who never did anything to deserve it.

Who was only in the way of what your father wanted.

You'd been prepared to fake tears.

You don't have to.

~"Da-ge?"~

It goes like this: The voice, confused and nervous and as wispy as if being carried by wind, makes ice form around your spine.

Because it belongs to the body lying before the three of you.

Your hands clench on your knees as you brace yourself and glance to your right, but neither of your sworn brothers seem to have heard the plaintive call. Lan Xichen has been in meditation since he arrived to join you, the furrow between his eyebrows and the unnatural pallor of his skin the only signs of his sorrow, and Nie Mingjue has long exhausted himself into silence, staring with empty eyes at the coffin.

~"Da-ge! Come on, this isn't funny!"~

The ice spreads into your blood when you see him.

Nie Huaisang pulls and shoves at his older brother, every bit the child upset by an adult ignoring them when they’re used to getting a reaction.

Except Nie Huaisang is also in the coffin, and unlike that one, this one still bears all the ruinous injuries that ended his life at all of twenty-three.

~"I'm sorry about the argument,"~ he pleads, his demeanor growing more desperate and despondent with every moment Nie Mingjue doesn't respond. ~"I'll go on the hunt, just talk to me! Da-ge!"~

Your breath locks in your chest, surrounded by frost.

He doesn't know.

You swallow hard, forcing down the mixture of bile and hysterical laughter that threatens to bubble out of your throat.

Because you are kneeling in a tomb with the body of someone whose death you set up, and he is also right there next to you, begging his mourning brother to acknowledge him because he can’t see that he’s dead.

Who wouldn’t laugh, faced with that kind of absurdity?

"A-Sang."

The name falls from your mouth so quietly that your sworn brothers don't even twitch, but Nie Huaisang straightens like a startled deer.

There are bloody tears steadily trickling down his cheeks, but it's the hope that floods eyes clouded over by death that makes you feel lightheaded. ~"San-ge? San-ge! Tell him I'm sorry, he’ll listen to you!"~

And it's because Nie Mingjue listened to you, despite you having given him so many reasons not to do so anymore, that Nie Huaisang's ghost is begging for your help now, rather than his whole self.

Hands covered in still dripping blood reach for you beseechingly, and that's the last thing you remember before the world goes black.

It goes like this: You wake up in the healers' ward, Lan Xichen hovering worriedly by your bed. "Liu Feng says your qi is disturbed," he says, gentle as always.

You involuntarily glance at the figure by his side, miserably pulling at his sleeve in an attempt to be noticed.

"Too many late nights," you say. "Nothing more."

For once you want him not to believe you, to push for a better explanation than that, but he simply nods. "I'll let the healers know you're up," he says.

And then it's just you and... him .

~"San-ge, why is everyone else acting like I'm not here?"~ he asks, small and broken and unaware of the blood ceaselessly dripping from his mouth and throat and chest to pool around his feet. ~"Even Er-ge won’t speak to me! I know Da-ge and I haven't been getting along, but have I really been that much of a brat?"~

"No..." you say, barely managing to get enough air in your lungs to expel the word. "That's not it. A-Sang-"

'I killed you. You loved me and I killed you because you weren't the one I wanted to be loved by.'

"A-Sang... you went on the hunt you and your brother argued about. There... there was an accident."

The slow dawn of understanding in his expression is horrible to watch.

Worse is watching him break down sobbing.

It goes like this: A lost and dazed Nie Huaisang lingers next to you during the funeral, icy fingers clutching your sleeve, and you can't help but wonder if he can see or experience it at all when Nie Mingjue burns the joss for him, or if he sees only a vacant courtyard.

He only leaves you twice when it's over, and each time he returns to you a little more heartbroken by his continued failure to make contact with his brother.

~"San-ge... San-ge, what will I do?"~ he asks quietly, head bowed and kneeling in the ever-present pool of blood that forms wherever he stops long enough. ~"If I can't make him see me, what will I do? What will happen to me?"~

"I don't know," you say, though you have an inkling.

Clearly the circumstances have bound him to you. When you leave, would he follow? Would he linger? Would he disappear? Would he have a choice in the matter either way?

How the hell did this happen? Surely he hadn't done anything to warrant such a cruel punishment from the heavens, so is it a punishment for you? Or is there a simpler answer, something to do with the specific monster that killed him?

But that... you will look into the matter later, when you have built back up the necessary mental fortitude for what you might find.

For now, it ends like this: Seeking the only comfort available to him, he curls at your side to rest his head against your knee.

It’s a familiar seating position for the two of you, old and comfortable from the days where he would insist on sleeping next to you while you finished late reports.

Except now he is dead and instead of gentle warmth, there is a cold that shocks through you at the point of contact between you and it’s sharp and bitter and spears all the way into your bones.

You bite back a gasp of pain, then collect yourself and reach down to run your fingers through blood-slick hair.  You force yourself to ignore the sensation of frostbite in your fingertips and how each stroke stains your hand a darker red.

Because you deserve it.

Because he needs you.

Because no one else will see.

[random-thought-depository]

It occurs to me that one relatively sympathetic aspect of these people might be that, their founding population having been abducted as small children and raised by an inhuman monster, they might lack a lot of the stupid prejudices that regular humans in a low-tech setting are likely to have if real history is any guide.

Think about what’s going to happen with that first generation. It sounds to me like the dragon abducts them when they’re very young, the better to brainwash them. The dragon is probably both ignorant of and uninterested in a lot of human culture, it just wants to raise up some dragon-worshipping brainwashed thralls. Which is probably going to be bad in a lot of ways, but it also means the transmission chains of a lot of stupid prejudices get broken. There’s no-one around to tell those kids that darker-skinned people are inferior. There’s no-one around to stigmatize left-handedness and force the left-handed ones to hide being left-handed. There’s no-one around to socialize them into complicated and rigid gender roles and tell them men should be in charge. There’s no-one around to tell them they shouldn’t share a washing bowl with a Cagot. There’s no-one around to tell them some people are Untouchables and karmically deserving of low status and suffering and you should take a ritual bath if one of them touches you. The dragon probably doesn’t even know about half that stuff and doesn’t care about most of the other half. The dragon might actually actively discourage a lot of prejudices like this if they do show up, because they’d interfere with its human stock being efficient thralls (“You’re telling me you want to reduce the military effectiveness and productivity of my dragon cult because you don’t want to share tools with people who have a particular surname? Yeah, no, we’re not doing that; any tool that is not personal property belongs to me and will be used by any of my thralls who is doing work that requires it”).

What happens when these kids reach puberty? The dragon probably wants its dragon cult making babies, so it’s probably going to tell them how baby-making works and make it clear it expects them to make some new thralls for it sooner or later, but as long as the thralls are making approximately the right number of babies and aren’t killing each other it probably won’t care much about the details. So... These people are going to start experiencing attraction to each other and sometimes falling in love with each other, and... Some of them are going to fall in love with people of the same sex, and there’s no-one around to tell them homosexuality is wrong. Some of them are going to fall in love with more than one person, and there’s no-one around to tell them they aren’t allowed to have multiple partners, and there’s no-one around to tell them that people who already have a partner are “taken” and off-limits, and there’s no-one around to tell them that if you’re a man another man having sex with your female partner is a huge deadly insult to your honor. The original write-up talks about dragons selectively breeding their human thralls, so there might be significant reproductive control and coercion happening, but it’s probably pretty orthogonal to the sort that happens in patriarchal societies.

This is simplifying in ways that might paint an over-optimistic picture. Even small children may have picked up some prejudices from the societies they spent their first years in. And some of that stuff might get reinvented. Children often detect and react with hostility to difference even without much or any prompting from adults, and I suspect some prejudices of this sort are ultimately rooted in that sort of reflexive xenophobia. And I think at least a rough “men do more of the fighting and heavy labor, women do more of the child-care and less strength-intensive work” division of labor is probably going to emerge, because it’s a natural and logical reaction to physical sex differences in a low-tech context. Though on that note, I can think of a few factors that might work to keep dragon cults more gender-equal than regular human societies:

Dragons likely won’t want their cults getting too numerous. A numerous cult would be harder to control and more likely to develop power centers independent of the dragon. Dragon cults would also be more secure against external threats than other human groups of their size, because they’ve got a giant fire-breathing monster on their side, so they wouldn’t have as much pressure to make sure they’ve got lots of fighters to defend their land (though the dragon would likely be a “tall poppy,” it’s likely that lots of people will want to kill it to stop its depredations and plunder its hoard and have the glory of defeating it, so that’ll partly cancel that out). Put this together, dragon cults might be at least a little less pro-natalist than their regular human neighbors. I mean, they’ll probably still have big families by modern standards because of how many people die young in low-tech societies, they’ll probably still need to have 3-5 children per couple just for replacement rate, but this might make at least a little difference. And high birth rates, large families, and pro-natalism are an important load-bearing pillar of strong gender roles; it’s not an accident that we started treating women a lot better after we invented or popularized vaccination, antibiotics, indoor plumbing, and birth control pills (the first three things made high birth rates unnecessary and even undesirable, the last thing made low birth rates easier to maintain). Compared to other human women, dragon cult women might have more time and energy to devote to things that aren’t making and raising babies.

I think dragon cults are also likely to be socially hierarchical but economically communalistic, with little private property and relatively high social mobility. From the original write-up it sounds like dragons want totalitarian control over their cults, so they won’t want their cults to have power centers independent of the dragon. Dynastic families and sizeable accumulations of private property are power centers independent of the dragon, so the dragon will discourage their formation. In low-tech male privilege societies powerful families and stable inherited property are major bulwarks of patriarchy; they make it important who your father is, and they make it important to avoid family instability that may result in division of the property or otherwise endanger the family’s claim to the property. If patrilineal descent chains don’t matter much, women are likely to have more sexual freedom and by knock-on effects of that more freedom in general and are under less pressure to marry early and produce lots of potential heirs for their husbands.

Finally, the write-up mentioned dragons selectively breeding their human thralls for size and strength, and maybe implied also selectively breeding them for precocious physical maturity. If they’re doing that, dragons might also selectively breed their thralls for reduced sexual dimorphism. From the dragon’s point of view, why wouldn’t you want to double your pool of potential strong fighters? So after two or twenty centuries of selective breeding dragon cult women might have size and upper body strength a lot closer to males. Dragon cults would probably still have some kind of “men do more of the fighting and women do more of the work compatible with having a baby or child in close proximity” gendered division of labor, but reducing sexual dimorphism would tend to weaken gendered divisions of labor and hence gender roles in general.

I mean, we’re talking about a creepy high-control cult here. And “nobody was there to tell them...” would definitely have potential dark sides, like “nobody was there to tell them rape and incest are wrong” and “nobody was there to tell them that an adult shouldn’t casually slap around or beat up a child when they’re angry at them.” They’d probably develop some taboos on that sort of stuff just to keep their society somewhat functional, and the dragon would probably give them rules against the aspects of that sort of behavior that might lower their efficiency as thralls or endanger the viability of the dragon cult, but “basically functional levels of rape, incest, and casual physical abuse of children” might look pretty horrifying (though given what a lot of actual historical societies looked like I’m not sure they’d really be worse on the rape and casually beating up their children fronts than their non-dragon cult neighbors). So this isn’t going to be any kind of utopia. If dragon cultists showed up in a story they’d probably be bad guys. But, like:

“And because they serve dragons, they sometimes get the good stuff. Picture a 15- year-old kid with the physique of Conan, wearing the golden armor of ancient kings and armed with magic spears. The kid is also illiterate, covered in fleas, and thinks that humans were created by dragons.”

I suggest that this kid might be a girl, who has a girlfriend and a boyfriend, in a world where a female person being a warrior and interacting on a footing of easy familiarity and equality with rough violent men and having multiple partners is very much not a regular thing in most human societies. And while from one point of view this person is a brainwashed slave of a giant fire-breathing mammal-like reptile, she can look forward to having a lot more personal freedom than most non-dragon cult women (e.g. the 15 year old farmer’s daughter whose father and older brother she just eviscerated). Would fit into: “And its not hard fascism either.  Their barbarian tribes don't chafe at the collar.  They've believe in their dragon.  And when you stand in front of a dragon, you can see why.” If that girl has some idea of how much less freedom and power she’d probably have if she’d been born into one of the surrounding more normal human societies, that knowledge surely cements her loyalty to her dragon. It’d make the whole thing more insidious in a way.

-----

Aside: the one thing that kind of bugged me about the Goblin Punch post is where it says dragon cultists “never build cities or roofs.” So what do they do when it rains, or is freezing cold, or burning hot? I’m interpreting this as they live in tent-like structures and don’t build permanent houses with thick walls, cause otherwise that bit is just grimderp.

[flourchildwrites]

“I want all my alchemists, current and former, to lay low for the time being while we reassess the State Alchemy program. I am here to ask what you want in return for your service and your discretion.”

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open. “Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“All we want is to go home, sir, to Resembool,” Alphonse answers. He smiles to lighten the mood; loose skin pulls around the corners of his grin. “And I’d also like to see a few friends. Maybe try some of the foods from my list before we leave Central."

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga

Relationships & Characters: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Izumi Curtis/Sig Curtis, Gracia Hughes, Elicia Hughes, Grumman, Winry Rockbell, Pinako Rockbell

Genre: Character Study, Post-Promised Day, Recovery, Just Deserts

Trigger Warnings: Underweight Character

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,967 words (Complete)

A/N: I'm incredibly excited to share the fic I wrote for @fmacookbookzine, Tastes of Amestris! Most of the desserts mentioned in the story have recipes in the cookbook. I owe a special thanks to the zine moderator as well as my betas, Tas and @vino-and-doggos. I appreciate kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes, and reblogs if you feel so inclined.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The repair becomes part of the object’s history and enhances its beauty.

...

There is a plate in the china cabinet of Pinako’s kitchen that Alphonse likes best. It looks the same as the others with pale pink vines looping along the fluted rim. Yet, this particular piece is set apart from the rest. Once cracked in half, Alphonse’s favorite plate has a vein of gold that binds the fractured parts together.

He was there when it happened on Winry’s sixth birthday. Ms. Sarah assembled an unorthodox birthday dessert in honor of the occasion, an elegant presentation of fresh berries, whipped cream, and puffs of baked meringue. The final touch was a pinch of mint, and once combined, Winry gazed excitedly at her mother’s handiwork stacked atop the fine china. In her wonder, the child’s footing faltered.

All told, it was an everyday accident that had Pinako tutting softly under her breath as she picked up the pieces; however, precious little went to waste in the Rockbell household—a place where broken things (and sometimes people) came to be restored. With the conscience of a healer and the precision of a surgeon, Granny carefully glued the jagged edges together with golden lacquer. Raised lines stuck out along the break and dried, leaving the piece even more beautiful for the story it had to tell.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, his face also tells a story. Though, he thinks that it is not a tale the hospital staff wants to hear. They are thankful for the large red letters that read ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stamped across his medical chart. They look away from the sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks that stare back at Alphonse from the mirror Sig is holding for him. Each time Alphonse sees himself, he half expects to confront a gunmetal helmet with half-moon holes glowing red and horizontal vents instead of gutting cheekbones. The reality is disorienting but not unwelcome.

Like the metallic bond holding together his favorite plate, Alphonse likes the way his golden eyes gleam with the satisfaction of seeing his and Edward’s bodies restored. All except for his brother’s leg, and perhaps Edward does not regret that loss. It was a price paid-in-full for the people the Elric brothers helped and the lesson they learned, albeit the hard way.

Alphonse’s fingers tremble as he grasps the razor. He glances up from the mirror to the burly bear of a man holding it. “Press the razor to your face and gently pull upward,” Sig kindly instructs. “Let it do the work for you.”

The young man nods and does as instructed, ready to savor the task of shaving for the first time with the most patient person as his teacher. Alphonse takes his first pull of the razor, and it glides across his upper lip with little resistance until, at the very end, his hand trembles again.

He feels a sharp sensation, and while examining his visage in the mirror, Alphonse notices a red mark above the corner of his mouth mingled with traces of shaving cream. Sig holds out a handkerchief.

“You should have seen my first attempt. You did well,” Sig says with a pleasant grin.

A warmth fills Alphonse’s hospital room, crammed with four people who function as a family, just as they did back in Dublith. Edward reclines on the bed next to his brother with his arms stretched lazily behind his trademark braid. Izumi watches the exchange between her husband and Alphonse with a small smile, barely keeping up the pretense of reading her recipe book. She keeps her vigil at Alphonse and Ed’s bedside despite her injuries.

There’s a staccato series of knocks on the door. Between the abrupt sound and the sudden appearance of an officer drenched in Amestrian blue, the spell of domesticity is broken. It is replaced by a colder reality: Ed and Alphonse Elric are being kept by the military. They remain unsure who is being protected from whom and to what end.

Their guard straightens up. A sheen of sweat collects on his brows and the collar of his woolen uniform. His voice is strained as he pulls up into a rigid salute to address Ed. The Fullmetal Alchemist cocks his brow incredulously at the formal display.

“Sorry to intrude, Major Elric,” the officer finally announces, “Mr. Alphonse Elric. You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Ed parrots; a sharp remark is already on the tip of his pitchy tongue. “If it’s that Colonel Bastard, again, you can tell him-”

“It’s not Colonel Mustang,” the officer interrupts. “It’s Genera- I mean Führer Grumman.”

The collective attention of the room turns as a shorter, older man emerges from behind the guard. He moves slowly and smiles through his thick, white mustache. The deep blue of his immaculate uniform contrasts the faded fabric of the lower-ranking officer ahead of him. Service ribbons in every color weigh down the left side of the gentleman’s long jacket.

“Acting Führer,” he corrects with adroit, disarming syntax. “But then, we’re all friends here. Who cares about a little thing like formalities?”

...

Alphonse scratches at his freshly shaven upper lip as the usual introductions are observed. It seems that Ed will be doing the talking, and with that in mind, Alphonse expects a brief visit. Nevertheless, Grumman paves the way for pleasantries as well as business. Not five minutes into the discussion, Alphonse realizes that the new acting Führer speaks with authority.

It would be wise, Alphonse decides, to listen carefully.

When Führer Grumman asks Izumi and Sig to step out for an afternoon cup of tea, the request is not a suggestion. The strong-willed teacher rises with the help of her husband, and the couple leaves begrudgingly. Alphonse grins sympathetically at them as they exit. It bolsters his confidence when Izumi returns his smile with an assertive nod.

Grumman does not hesitate to fill the seat their teacher vacated. Gravity bears down on Alphonse’s frail shoulders, but he sits as tall as he can.

“The way I hear it, you boys saved the day,” the Führer proclaims, flashing a set of pearly whites. “I’d say my government owes you both a debt of gratitude.”

With all the rough-edged diplomacy he can muster, Ed responds. “Yeah, well, we didn’t do it for the government, old man. And I’m done being a dog of the military. Whatever plans you’ve got in mind, count us out.”

The Führer’s reaction is nearly nonexistent. Instead, he leans against the hardback of the chair and immediately winces.

“Dreadfully uncomfortable,” he announces, shifting forward. Grumman waves a hand to draw the guard in closer. “Be a helpful lad. See that Mrs. Curtis is given more comfortable seating.”

The young officer scurries off, closing the door behind him, and the older gentleman turns his attention toward Alphonse.

“Oh, I understand perfectly. The military will ask nothing further of you if that’s what you want,” he replies. “But the situation we find ourselves in is unusual—a conspiracy in the upper echelons of the government, a nation-wide episode of unconsciousness, the condition of Alphonse’s body, and the inexplicable connection it all has to alchemy. These are the sort of concerns that fuel the rumor mill.”

The older gentleman pauses, idly twisting the ends of his mustache between his fingers as he divulges the political landscape of Amestris.

“I want all my alchemists, current and former, to lay low for the time being while we reassess the State Alchemy program. I am here to ask what you want in return for your service and your discretion.”

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open.

“Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“All we want is to go home, sir, to Resembool,” Alphonse answers. He smiles to lighten the mood; loose skin pulls around the corners of his grin. “And I’d also like to see a few friends. Maybe try some of the foods from my list before we leave Central. When I can eat solids again, that is.”

“Your list?” the Führer asks.

“It was in a book he used to keep,” Ed explains. His tone softens, as it always does when he speaks of his brother. “It listed foods he wanted to try when he was inside... Anyway, I think we lost it.”

“I see.”

Grumman’s response is curt. With a final flourish, the old man straightens his cap and rises from the chair. It seems that he’s heard all he needs to hear.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you boys,” he concludes. “Just the one, mind you, for whatever that’s worth. It’s a fine idea for you both to return to Resembool. Recuperate and rest, and when you figure out what you’d like to do with your time, give me a call.”

The old man produces an ivory card from the pocket of his uniform; a phone number is scribbled on the front. The card itself is an innocuous thing, but the peace offering reeks of political maneuvering. Ed frowns as Führer Grumman places the card on the small table between the brothers’ beds. Alphonse is torn, equal parts intrigued and wary of the strings attached to this phone number.

“The good people here tell me that Alphonse will be ready to travel in four months,” Grumman continues. “In the meantime, I’ll see that you are allowed visitors and suitable food that Alphonse would like to become reacquainted with.”

Alphonse focuses on the task at hand. He thinks of the timeline and of the way Edward approached his recovery from the automail installation. A determined glint ignites in his golden eyes, almost glossy with the lacquer of conviction. Alphonse is weak, but his spirit remains tireless.

“I’ll do it in two,” he says.

Edward, only too happy to put the politics of Central City behind them, nods in agreement.

...

A month’s time sees Alphonse with his hair clipped short; his once sunken cheeks have regained some fullness. Edward, Sig, and Izumi have long since been discharged, but they take turns keeping Alphonse company from the spare couch of his hospital room. Just like Führer Grumman promised, it’s more comfortable than the standard chairs, but that doesn’t mean Alphonse is content to linger.

Now more than ever, he’s determined to go home, walking unassisted down Resembool’s roads. However, for the moment, it’s all Alphonse can do to steady his awkward gait by digging his toes into mats and bracing his arms against the parallel bars. He thinks something as simple as walking should come easily; his legs have other ideas. Another fall brings his physical therapy to an end for the day, and Alphonse returns to his hospital room.

He takes the bumps and bruises in stride. He makes it a point to smile at the staff even when their treatments bring him pain alongside progress. From the confines of a wheelchair, Alphonse greets his guard—a man called Doug who likes comic books and whistles to fill the silence. Doug never pries and is quick to look the other way when Ed overstays his official welcome.

“Ready for more visitors?” Doug asks.

Alphonse’s face lights up with anticipation, and he cranes his neck to peer around the doorframe. Tawny brown hair and emerald eyes fill his field of vision as the small body of a precocious child lunges toward him. She nearly jumps into his lap before her mother pulls her back while balancing a covered plate with one arm.

“Elicia! Ms. Gracia!” Alphonse greets. Recognition washes over both visitors' faces at the sound of Alphonse’s voice.

“So that’s what you look like,” Elicia observes. She giggles madly, rocking back and forth from heel to toe.

Alphonse is quick to change the subject; he also refuses to think about the way Elicia’s gregarious nature reminds him of a certain someone.

The visit is pleasant and predictable. Gracia frets about his weight and serves him a double portion of adorable pudding domes that mother and daughter whipped up for the visit. The vanilla concoctions are cleverly molded into cat-shaped faces, painted with slanting eyes and curving mouths. Soft and creamy with a hint of coffee, they are as sweet as Elicia.

Between the confection and the company, Alphone passes an hour or more catching up on life and letting the child bounce between the walls of his hospital room. When mother and daughter depart (with promises to return with quiche), the silence feels harder to swallow. Alphonse cannot help but think of Winry and Pinako, of apple pie and strong coffee mixed with the smell of automail oil.

He wants, more than anything, to go home.

...

The doctors are surprised when Alphonse meets his deadline; Ed, ever faithful, is not. Alphonse leaves Central City General with his head held high and only stops to rest when the hospital is out of sight. His senses are overwhelmed by the feeling of a starched collar against the back of his neck, the pull of a new vest across his chest, and the weight of Grumman’s card in his pocket.

Alphonse follows Ed’s lead through neat cobblestone roads that feel familiar and yet entirely different, steeped in a tactile reality that he can touch, feel, and taste. Thick exhaust from passing cars sticks to the back of his throat on their way to the train station. Yet, the stench is suddenly replaced by delicious aromas wafting from a nearby café.

His rumbling stomach is drawn to a wide store window where rounds of raspberry mousse cake sit proudly on display. Chilled pink and green tinted layers sit beneath a tempting red glaze that appears sticky, smooth, and oh-so delectable. Alphonse imagines that the confection tastes tart and tangy with notes of brandy and pistachios. He wants to charge into the cafe and order every morsel that’s for sale, but his brother has other ideas.

“Better get going,” Ed says, throwing an arm around Alphonse’s shoulders to steer him away from temptation. “We’ve got a train to catch. You’ve been waiting a long time for what Winry’s whipping up.”

Reluctantly, Alphonse tears himself away from the sight but not before committing the name of the confection and the café to memory. He leaves Central swearing that, when the time is right, he’ll be back.

...

Their return isn’t quite as Alphonse imagined. There’s no hero’s welcome; only a few nods of recognition are offered as they make their way down Resembool’s country roads. But as soon as Alphonse sees the Rockbell residence, a place that marks their journey’s end, accolades don’t matter.

Edward offers to carry him, and Alphonse refuses, bracing himself against his walking stick instead. With gratitude, he thinks of the people that have propelled the brothers along their quest—especially the travelers from Xing. He hopes that they, too, made it home.

And in the blink of an eye, their dream is realized. Den pounces upon Alphonse, recognizing him despite the amount of time that has passed. Winry isn’t far behind. She tackles the brothers to the ground and wraps her arms around them. The trio is a mess of blonde hair and tears of joy.

“Dummies, welcome home!” she exclaims, and for now, Alphonse is inclined to believe this is where he belongs. In this home and amongst these people, he intends to reconcile the pieces of himself while his appetite for the sweet things in life returns.

Winry serves him her famed apple pie on the pink porcelain plate, its halves still bound together by golden lacquer. It’s wonderful and not just because of the flaky crust that crumbles under his fork or the cinnamon sweetness of the soft apples. It’s wonderful because, for the first time in a long time, Alphonse is precisely where he wants to be.

...

Many apple pies are shared around Pinako’s dinner table. There are also birthday cakes for Alphonse (two to be exact) and pans of bread pudding served with blueberries and vanilla sauce. He eats and laughs and grows stronger by the day.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, he still likes what he sees, and the girls in town tend to agree. His favorite white-collar shirts hint at the toned torso hiding beneath, and his square jaw exudes newfound confidence. Yet, his ambition to make their world a better place remains the same—too loud for a quiet country backdrop.

Alphonse realizes that the path he is meant to walk extends much farther. His studies, inspired by the prospect of adventure and letters from a feisty alkahestress, resonate with the Dragon’s Pulse. Finally, Alphonse is compelled to dial the number scribbled on the back of the old ivory card and is delighted when he’s connected to the nation’s most powerful man straightaway.

“Had your fill of Resembool yet, son?” Führer Grumman asks. “Are you ready to add to that list of yours?”

“Funny you should bring up my list,” Alphonse retorts, more than willing to play Grumman’s game of allusion. “There’s this Xingese dessert that Princess Mei Chang goes on about in her letters, a red bean soup. It would be a shame if I never tried it, don’t you think?”

Grumman chuckles. “Suppose you could use some diplomatic credentials for the trip. Try not to cause an international incident until Mustang takes over.”

The golden glint in Alphonse’s eyes makes no guarantees. His well-mannered innocence is tempered by past mistakes and fused with a gunmetal resolve.

“I can’t make any promises,” he replies.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 20

20/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.7k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry. 

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

--------------------------------

Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed. 

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds. 

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead). 

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it. 

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink. 

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?” 

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.” 

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies. 

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet. 

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her? 

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose. 

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream. 

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room. 

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box. 

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing. 

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated. 

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise. 

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious. 

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group. 

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

--------------------------------------

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror. 

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst. 

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep. 

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI. 

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario. 

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over. 

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option. 

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?” 

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words. 

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building. 

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

-------------------------------------

They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his. 

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much. 

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved. 

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck. 

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach. 

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully. 

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this. 

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all. 

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time. 

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast. 

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions. 

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.” 

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend. 

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting. 

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it. 

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture,  she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go. 

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last. 

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him. 

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid. 

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks. 

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience. 

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him. 

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt. 

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time. 

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats. 

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

[harryspet]

rogue angel [2] bucky barnes

[Warnings] darky bucky barnes x reader, noncon forced aged regression, daddy bucky, dd lg dynamic, ab dl dynamic, very light bondage, drugging, angst

A/N: I got a wayyy better response on the first chapter than I expected! Thank you all so much for reading! I guess I would call this chapter more of a filler with the reader just adjusting to her new life.

In which someone actually starts to care for you. 

series masterlist

word count: 2.9k

You were strapped to a table, serums of their making pumping into your body, a contraption attached to your head designed to send electric waves through your skin. You screamed for hours. Why didn’t you stop screaming? It never helped. It never made them stop the pain. Perhaps it was because your mind was so empty. 

You sat up straight, startled, at the memory. That’s when you realized Bucky’s hands were undoing the gag around your mouth, “I’ve got ya, angel,” You heard him say, finally able to close your lips together. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d carried you upstairs and ran a bath for you until you were actually sitting in the tub. 

It wasn’t the being naked that frightened you, it was the soothing hand on your back and fingers rubbing soap into your skin. The traumatizing memory had taken you away for a moment but now you were back in reality, where something even worse was happening. 

You had wet yourself in front of him and, like you were a child, he had cleaned you up. You couldn’t remember what it was like to be a child, you only knew what they had taught you about youth. In your opinion, the milestones seemed a bit boring, something you didn’t mind skipping. What use would pink overalls and bubble baths be to Hydra?

It wasn’t like you had much choice when Bucky brought the washcloth between your legs, you had much control over them as a baby doe. 

“Is your arm waterproof?” You asked, your curiosity striking you. 

Bucky chuckled, “For the most part, yes, but I try not to shower with it.” You nodded and had a feeling that Bucky was just happy that you were interacting with him in any capacity. 

“What … what are you going to do to me here?” There had to be other reasons why he was keeping you in the middle of nowhere. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.”

That wouldn’t be your name. No matter how much he said it, it would never belong to you. 

“But you want to turn me against them? Like Steve Rogers did to you?” Bucky pressed the cloth against your shoulder, swiping down your arm. The soap smelled like warm vanilla and, you wouldn’t admit it, but you liked it. 

“Steve and I already had an emotional connection, we were friends. That’s what helped me realize their lies. You don’t have any ties so I thought I could help build you one, with me.”

With him. As your Daddy. 

Maybe you could pretend, you thought. As soon as his guard was down, you could make a move, “I’ve never needed anyone.”

“It’s not a bad thing to need someone,” Bucky spoke earnestly but you only rolled your eyes. 

You didn’t protest when he lifted you from the tub or when he held your body as he dried every inch of your skin. Your teeth were gritted the entire time but your current plan was to comply and cause him to let his guard down. Even Bucky seemed surprised that you weren’t fighting him. 

He carried you from the bathroom into your “new room” which you didn’t get a chance to fully take in before. The walls and the furniture were both white but everything else seemed to be full of pastels. There was a bed fit with light pink sheets, mint green pillows, and lots of stuffed animals. A toy chest sat beneath the window and a giant, oversized rabbit sat right next to it. 

It was eerily calm in the room and you could see the last shreds of sunlight coming in through the white curtains on the windows. He set you gently on the twin bed and you watched as he crossed the plush white carpet towards a large white armoire. Your eyes widened as it opened, revealing a rainbow assortment of clothes. 

You took a wild guess and assumed they were all in your size. How long had he been planning this?

“What’s your favorite color, angel?” You met his blue eyes and found a soft expression on his face. You thought for a moment before shrugging. You hadn’t thought about it nor did you think it really mattered. He continued, “Hmmm, unicorns or spaceships?”

He held out the options for you to see and you winced, “Why can’t I wear normal clothes?”

“You’re too small for big girl clothes,” He spoke, making the decision for you. Spaceships it was.

“I am a-” You stopped yourself. You could do it, you told yourself. 

You let him slip the onesie over your head which was white and had little planets and spaceships printed on it. He urged you to lay down flat and that was when he reached into a drawer beneath a bed. As soon as you saw it, your plan went out the window, “No, no, I’m not wearing that!” You stared at the pink pull-up he’d grabbed, “I’m not a baby, you fu-”

He pinned your hands down above your head and you desperately tried to move your legs, “What if you have another accident?” He continued, slipping one of your feet into one of the holes.

“Please,” Bucky paused, and even you hadn’t expected the word to leave your mouth, “I won’t have another one.”

“Say ‘Please, Daddy’” You scowled at him, “It’s hard for me to listen when you don’t address me properly, angel.”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before swallowing the small shred of pride you had left, “P-Please … D-Daddy,” You stuttered out.

Bucky smiled, the hand that wasn’t pinning your arm was rubbing your legs soothingly, “Good girl, angel, now ask Daddy for what you want. Use your big girl words.”

“Can I … Can I please wear regular-”

“Big girl panties,” He interjected, correcting you. 

You gritted your teeth, “Can I please wear big girl panties ... “ He waited patiently, knowing the word was on the tip of your tongue, “Daddy?”

Bucky smirked, loving the name on your lips, “How about this, angel?” You struggled as he continued to slide it on you, “If you eat all of your dinner and you keep this dry all night, I’ll let you wear big girl panties. I’ll even let you pick the pair.”

Clearly, he hadn’t completely gotten rid of his sadistic side when he left Hydra. You felt that as soon as he buttoned the onesie closed.

+

You hated him but you had to admit he was smart. You couldn’t refuse to eat or you’d risk further embarrassment tomorrow. Tomorrow. It was starting to sink in that you’d be here for a while. 

After he’d put the clothes on you, he’d brushed out your hair, tying it back for you. His movements were a little clumsy but you could feel his happiness as he accomplished each task. It seemed like he had been practicing. 

He was even more excited to present you with a small, bear plushie that he thought would bring you comfort. 

He brought you down to the living room, setting you on the plush couch before ordering you to sit still while he went to retrieve something. Something he wanted to show you. As he walked out of the room, you looked around, noting the coziness of the room but also the locks on every window. 

You were mapping it out when suddenly heard the subtle sound of nails scratching against the floor. A dog ran into the room, jumping onto the couch and attacking you with a lick to the face, “Y/N, meet Archer,” You were unsure of how to interact with the creature for a moment until you decided to brush behind his ears. The husky dog seemed to like it, nuzzling further into you. 

You couldn’t remember ever petting a dog before and you had no idea they could be so … friendly. Archer seemed to already love you as he continuously lapped at your face. 

Bucky could see you letting your wall down and, deciding not to interrupt that, he left to start on dinner. He figured Archer would keep you busy and also let him know if you tried to escape. 

When dinner was almost read, Bucky walked back into the living room to find you sitting on the living room carpet, playing tug of war with the stuffed animal. Archer easily ripped off the bear’s head and you giggled … Bucky actually heard you giggle. 

“Bad dog, Archie,” He scolded the dog as Archer dropped the bear’s head into Bucky’s hand obediently, “We don’t chew on Y/N’s toys.”

“No, look, he likes it!” You protested, insisting that Archer get to destroy the rest of the toy, handing archer the rest of the bear. You clapped your hands as Archer ran around the living room, shaking it in his mouth.

Bucky sighed, figuring he could try to tame an assassin but he couldn’t stop her from liking to watch things be dismembered. 

“Alright, dinner time,” Bucky lifted you from the carpet, carrying you into the kitchen, Archer in tow. He helped you wash your hands before sitting you down in your seat at the dining table. You were like a little doll, helpless but it didn’t seem like Bucky mined doing every little thing for you.

You and Bucky were eating the same meal but his plate looked vastly different than yours. Your plate was flower printed and was separated into sections. Your steak was cut up into already tiny pieces and your fork was barely sharp enough to pick up your food. And then there was the dreaded sippy cup that he expected you to drink from. 

You held your fork, staring at the plate as Bucky started to cut his own steak, “Big girl panties,” Bucky winked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth, “Remember? You have to eat all of it. I know you’re starving.”

Whatever leverage Bucky he could get, he used. He had to get her used to eating regularly and not using it as a way to protest. 

You poked at your broccoli before bringing a piece to your mouth, “Good job, angel,” He praised you as you continued to eat. You were starving and this is exactly what your body was craving. You finished your plate faster than either of you expected and Bucky asked, “Do you want more?”

You immediately shook your head even though it was far from the truth. 

Bucky could tell you were lying and you flashed him a look of surprise as he slid the rest of his food onto your plate, cutting up the steak into small pieces for you, “Eat some more,” He told you and you lifted your fork again. 

It confused you, why he even cared about you. No matter how sinister his intentions might be, you found it was strange that he showed you even a little bit of compassion. 

Bucky watched you as you finished the rest of the food and he was satisfied when you cleaned your plate again. Thinking about the condition he found you in, he figured that you hadn’t been eating much since you were forced to abandon Hydra. 

He understood the mental battle you were going through right now and he was expecting it would be a while before you slipped into little space but he’d be patient. 

Bucky watched from the doorway as you played with Archie on the floor of your bedroom. You seemed to already have him better trained than Bucky ever did. Bucky noticed the less he interfered, the more you seemed to slip into things. He even noticed you sipping at your sippy cup and, as your actions grew lazier, he knew the sedative was kicking in. 

He had to get you a sleeping schedule as well. You’d fall into things better with patterns. Consistency was another thing that made humans feel safe. 

Your eyes felt heavy as you laid down on the carpet. Everything in this house was so … soft. Archie pranced over to you, licking at your chin and you pushed him away, a lazy grin on your face. 

You felt Bucky’s arms around you before you even noticed he had approached you, “I think it’s bedtime, princess,” Princess, that was a new one. 

“I’m not tired,” You moaned, sleepily, as he scooped you into his arm, “Archie save me … I’m being taken.”

Bucky chuckled, setting you down into the bed, and pulling a blanket over you, “It’s Archie’s bedtime too,” Bucky spoke softly, “Why don’t you say goodnight?”

You watched as she raised her hand to wave at the dog sitting idly by, “N-Night Archie,” Bucky’s heart warmed at the sight, noting how cute you were when you were tired. Bucky whistled and the dog pranced out of the room, his tail wagging. 

“He’ll be here in the morning,” Bucky assured you, sitting down at the edge of the bed. His hands touched your hair, soothing brushing it back with his fingers. Your eyes were already closed, a stuffed giraffe tucked into you. 

“What … about … you?”

“I’ll be here too, angel,” With that, she seemed to drift off into sleep. 

+

You awoke to sunlight on your face and the sound of birds chirping. For a moment, you looked around and felt safe … until the panic settled in. You started to move your legs, realizing you could finally move them a bit but, as you pulled the blanket off, you saw a cuff wrapped around your right leg. 

You investigated, finding it attached to a chain that seemed to be connected to the bed itself. You pulled at it with all the strength you could muster and nothing. It was a powerful magnet just like that gag he had put on you. 

You had fallen asleep? You couldn’t think about it that long as Bucky appeared, opening the door slowly. Maybe there was some type of camera in here that was tracking your movements for him. You didn’t put it past him. 

“Good morning, princess,” He greeted you and you noted his dark t-shirt and basketball shorts. You didn’t think he’d look normal in clothes typical for relaxing. He walked over, reaching down to undo the restraint but he paused, “Don’t you have something to say to Daddy?”

Great, you thought, sighing, “Good morning, Daddy,” Bucky imagined a point in the future where you spoke words like that enthusiastically. With that small sign of submission, Bucky undid the restraint and you noted he didn’t even use a special key. Maybe it had something to do with his arm?

“Sleep well?” You nodded though you knew that was probably due to whatever he had put in your drink, “It’s nice out so I was thinking we’d go out after breakfast, what do you think?”

“Go where?” You raised an eyebrow. He only narrowed his eyes at you, expecting you to add a formality, “Go where Daddy?” You corrected yourself, a fake smile on your face. 

“Down by the lake, for a picnic,” How romantic, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes, “What would you like to wear, angel?”

“Something normal preferably,” You were long overdue for a spanking, Bucky thought. He had to remind himself that it was only your first day here and there’d probably be lots of punishments in your future.

“I thought you wanted those big girl panties... maybe you’ve gotten used to you little girl ones?” You paused, unwilling to admit that you had forgotten about them. 

A staring contest ensued as he waited for you to back down and, as he expected, you did, “I like the color red … Daddy.”

Bucky was satisfied and you were glad you were getting a little bit of your womanhood back. You hadn’t even noticed how subtle he was with his system of rewards and punishments. With every good thing you did, he praised you and when you made snarky comments he threatened to put the pampers back on you. 

He brought you to the bathroom to relieve yourself, very awkwardly, and to brush your teeth. After, he picked out a red gingham dress whose skirt barely covered your bottom and allowed your bubblegum pink underwear to peak out beneath it. He matched it with a pair of black mary jane shoes and, as a cherry on top, he tied a red bow into your hair. 

You sat on the bathroom counter, watching him as he did his work. Looking at his face, you could tell he liked dressing you up, and, although you didn’t hate the dress, you didn’t like the unfamiliarity of it. You’d never dressed like this before and it made you feel a little insecure which made you even more frustrated. 

You looked back into the mirror and your eyes widened. You had never looked so … feminine. Your face had even gained some color and you had to poke your face to make sure it was real, “You look beautiful, angel,” Bucky’s words took you back. You’d never heard that from someone other than the old men you were forced to flirt with on missions.

You shook your head, embarrassed, but Bucky continued, “You do.”

You looked at him, trying to read his blue eyes, and you froze as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Never had someone done that either, “You’re heaven-sent, I’m sure of it. You’ve just been lost for a little while, that’s all.”

You felt something foreign, like that thing inside your chest was finally beating.

+

Send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! If there’s something you want to see in this series, I’m open to ideas, just send me an ask! Hope you enjoyed!