#I do not know why this is so stuck in my brain

[bubobubosibericus]

OK FINE I'LL WRITE ONE

I don't remember what happened, not really. I remember it being unexpected, and I remember the movement of the air around me being strangely comforting. But that is all. I don't know why emotions are all I remember of the before when most of the thing experiencing those emotions is gone, but that is how it is. When I woke up I was laying in a clinic. Blind in one eye, but otherwise okay, or that is what I presumed.

I was right in that I could no longer see out of one eye, but I was as far from okay as it is possible to be, and it wasn't really that I was blind in one eye. More that there wasn't an eye to be blind in anymore.

It was gone, along with most of the left side of my head. The doctors told me they had only kept me alive because they were amazed I was alive at all when they found me and wanted to run some more experiments on me before dropping the stasis field and burying me. Of course, that was before I woke up.

I don't begrudge them the experiments, really. I would have done mostly the same ones. Of course, I had my fair share of critiques of their work, but that was just academic. My left arm will never work again due to the bronze rods they stuck straight into my nerves but the information we obtained that way makes it more than worth the small sacrifice.

Looking at my reflection still feels strange, with the large, fragile mesh of iridescent crystal that has grown to replace most of where my brain had been so plainly visible, grafted into the mostly healed skin, starting at my cheek, going just barely over the bridge of my nose, and then all the way around to the back. Of course, the scars go much farther than that. I did not fall off the highest tower in the capital, but it had been plenty high to mangle my body quite severely.

I can use my right arm and legs now, but to get to that point a very skilled immortal craftsman had to meticulously shape the crystal into manageable chunks and I can feel it awkwardly being pulled on by my muscles with every movement I make.

We don't really know why I fell. Wizards have never been a species particularly know for their dexterity but I had been a veritable athlete compared to some of my far older peers. I had been well liked among them, too, of course, but the field of temporal research has always been prone to strangely mundane deadly accidents.

The story goes that the entire subject is cursed for attempting to manipulate the hands of fate, but I have never been convinced by those rumors. Power struggles are not rare among mages, and such a rumor might provide ample cover to get rid of potential competitors. I have no idea who did it, but I am convinced that someone did.

Thankfully saner heads prevailed over my preservation and I had been quietly moved out of the city long before I woke up. Out of the hands of whomever might intend to do me harm. I can never return there, but at least I can continue my research in silence here, in the mountains of ash. Also a place said by myth to be deeply accursed. I guess I just can't seem to learn my lesson.

But I just can't help it! the place speaks to me, and I don't mean that figuratively. That is another thing that has changed since the accident. I hear voices. Every place has its own. Most places have been fairly uninteresting. Places do not have complex desires. They want the same things the life on them wants and for most of them that is nothing more complex than to enjoy the light of the sun and the gentleness of mild rain on a hot day.

Not so with the mountains of Ash.

This place has a morose sorrow to it. The skies are blue and the rocks are plain, but it isn't the shape of the place. Something has happened here. It wasn't always like this, the voices tell me. Someone did something to this place. For the past year, I have been traveling in these mountains, and I have come to agree with the rocks. The mountains of ash are not cursed at all. they are simply like me.

Badly hurt, angry and sad. And most of all, they want to understand what happened to them like I want to know what happened to me. We have been helping each other out in that regard. I do research on what happened here, and in return, the mountains keep me safe and hidden. Sometimes, I get to see glimpses of what happened to them, and of what they were before. I see a great many-winged beast soaring overhead and a vast storm on the ground. I see castles collapsing and I see beautiful meadows that are no more. I see the burning dead and I can feel their anger and fear crash into me like a wave and then the sun breaks through the clouds a little faster than expected and I somehow know with absolute certainty that I am safe. It is as if the hills themselves are glad to finally share their woes with someone.

I am still no closer to knowing who took my brain from me, but at least I have gained a home.

When a mage is badly injured, magic sometimes "fills in the gaps"—growing an arcane hand or leg. You suffered brain damage that would have killed most. Magic filled in your mind.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

DANNYMAY DAY 09: Underground

Day 08 • Day 10

⟢ I was getting confused with this prompt. As—underground could mean so many things, depending on the context. But one idea kept clawing back into my brain—corpse AU. And oh, dude. I got way too hyped about it. Turns out, @ghostlyglimmer and I had the same deliciously dreadful idea! Go check out her hauntingly good work here! As for mine? Uhh, well—I turned Danny into uhh—something a little more post-mortem than usual (duhh). Think like—half-dead, half-ghost, full-on corpse aesthetic. Possessed corpse? Danny as a ghostly remnant that crawled his way out of his grave. (More under the cut)

Genre: Angst / Horror • TW/CW: Death — Memory Loss — Identity Loss — Emotional Distress • AU — OOC

Danny was dead. He just didn’t know.

His eyes snapped open to pitch black—thick, suffocating, endless. The silence was too loud.

Then—

A green eerie light. A flickering glow bloomed somewhere in the dark. Acidic light pushed into retinas that no longer needed to see, searing across nerves that shouldn’t be burning. He gasped, or�� he tried to. But his lungs didn’t move. His heart didn’t beat. No air, no space. Just… cold.

There was nothing. No memory. No name. No life.

All he knew he was trapped.

I need to get out.

He reached upward, lifting his trembling hands—and they met something rough. Wooden. Dry. Pressed against his palms like a lid. A box. Too small, too tight.

A memory sliced through the fog—white light, searing heat and pain. A scream that never ended.

His.

“No,” he rasped, his voice cracked like brittle glass. “No, no—”

Panic shot through him. His fingers clawed upward again, splinters digging in—except… they didn’t. His hand passed through the lid. Not touching it. Just… slipping.

“The fuck…?”

His breathing quickened—but there was nothing to breath. His chest rose on instinct, not oxygen. There was no warmth, no blood. But something churned inside him, rising from deep within the center of his chest. Something icy. Wild. Terrified.

Realization crept in—this was a coffin. A grave. He was underground, sealed in silence and death.

Six feet under. Buried. Gone.

“I’m not—I’m not dead!”

His body shuddered. A jolt of agony ripped through his spine.

He screamed, and then—something changed.

His clothes tore into black and white in a blur of flickering energy. He didn’t feel it happen. He didn’t mean to. He just panicked—and something inside him answered.

He clawed his way upward, intangible, through dirt and soil and death. His body no longer felt like his own. Cold. Weightless. Wrong.

He burst out of the earth and soil with a gasp he couldn’t feel. And when he looked down at his hands—they weren’t the same. They were covered with white gloves, faintly glowing, trembling. His hair was pearl-white, catching the corner of his glowing green eyes.

And finally, he understood.

He was a ghost.

But he didn’t know who he’d been, didn’t know what he’d lost, didn’t know how he got here or why his bones felt weightless and hollow. Didn’t know what came next.

All he knew was that he’d died… and death hadn’t stuck.

They’d buried him alive—or so it felt. But no… he’d been dead. Truly dead. And now he was back—aware, conscious, no longer rotting in silence. No longer sleeping in that box meant to hold him forever. And now? He was alone, hollow, lost. With no memories, no name, and nothing but the weight of death clinging to his… skin, he had to piece together a life he couldn’t remember.

“I’m not… I’m not dead. I’m here. I’m still here. But I don’t feel anything. I don’t need to breathe—I don’t need oxygen. There’s nothing inside me. No heartbeat. No warmth. Just this… silence and… cold. I’m a ghost. I’m a fucking ghost. Fuck. No. Why? Why wouldn’t you just let me die? Why couldn’t you let me rest in peace?”

He swallowed hard, even though he didn’t need to.

“What do I remember? I remember… a flash—no, a blast—of… of white light, ripping through me. I remember the pain—so much pain—tearing through every nerve like… like fire. I don’t… that’s all. That’s all I have left. There’s… there’s nothing else.”

He grabbed his hair with both hands, pulling so hard like it might help him get his memories back. Confused… he was so confused. Panic consumed him again. He could still feel—but it was hollow, empty. Feeling devastated. Like remembering emotions he couldn’t place. The physical sensations were gone. No pain, no nerves. Just… nothing.

Or at least, that’s what he thought.

The only thing he felt was weightlessness. Like gravity had let go of him. Like the world no longer needed to hold him down.

He let go of his head, lowering his translucent arms as he slowly turned around. His eyes landed on the stone sticking out of the earth—the one he’d just crawled from.

There was a name carved into it.

“Daniel James Fenton.”

He stared. The letters made sense. He could read. So… not all of his memory was gone. But the name—it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t feel like his. He could still speak. That was something.

“The fuck is happening to me?”

His knees gave out. He sank to the ground, one hand sliding up to the gravestone. His gloved fingers traced the curved lettering with a kind of detached reverence.

“Was that… me?”

He asked himself. But no answer came. He sighed—a useless motion, but it came anyway. Muscle memory, maybe. A mimic of something human.

His fingers hovered over the name like it might spark something—some memory, some feeling. But there was nothing. Just letters. Just stone. Just silence.

“That… is me?”

He whispered again, quieter this time. But the wind didn’t answer either. He stared at the name like it belonged to someone else. Someone real. Someone who was loved, who laughed, who had a life. Someone human.

But that wasn’t him anymore.

Whoever Daniel James Fenton was… he’d been buried six feet under. And what clawed out of that grave wasn’t the same.

He sat back, knees sinking into the soil, the chill of death wrapping around him like a second skin. His white hair drifted in the still night air. His chest didn’t rise. His body didn’t ache. His heart didn’t beat.

But something deep inside him did hurt. And he didn’t even know why.

“I don’t… I don’t know who I am.”

He said, voice barely above the wind, like a broken echo. But the grave didn’t answer.

And neither did the boy… who once lived.

⟢ That second part wasn’t planned—it just came out of nowhere. And I really needed to stop myself before I ended up writing an entire phic about it, lol.

[biggianteggplant]

I want to request something where hq boys sees s/o with their father carrying some heavy shit (as the oldest daughter who was treated as a boy I fucking need this honey BECAUSE IM TIRED FROM CARRYING SACKS OF RICE UP AND DOWN THE STAIRS) and like when s/o goes grocery shopping w them and offers to carry a lot they stop her and carry it for them plspslplspspsls swswsw pspspspsps meow.🐈‍⬛😺😻🙀🙀🐈🐈

"BACK OFF, SHE BENCHES TRAUMA."

BOKUTO KOUTARO

You don’t notice the way Bokuto goes dead silent beside you.

You’re too focused on lifting the 50-kg rice sack over your shoulder like it’s a light jacket. Your dad grunts beside you, adjusting the LPG tank he’s carrying, and the two of you march up the stairs like war veterans, bonded by joint pain and hard-earned quad muscles.

But Bokuto? He’s staring like he just witnessed a ghost. A buff ghost. A beautiful, terrifying, rice-carrying ghost.

“…Is that… a sack of rice?” he whispers.

You glance back, a bead of sweat running down your forehead. “Yeah. We need like two for the month.”

He just watches. Blinking. No words. Just pure, unfiltered panic.

His brain short-circuits like a fried toaster. Did you—were you about to carry TWO of those?! Were you doing this every month? Since when?? Since childhood??

You drop the rice in the kitchen like nothing happened and dust your hands off. “Want a snack?”

Bokuto says nothing. He just grabs his phone.

Later that day, you're at the grocery store, casually tossing canned goods into the cart when you reach for a watermelon.

BAD IDEA.

Before your fingers even graze the green surface, Bokuto throws himself across the cart like a bodyguard taking a bullet.

“DON’T TOUCH THAT, BABE.”

You blink. “It’s just fruit.”

He’s standing tall now, chest puffed out, fists on hips like a superhero.

“Your arms are for hugs. Not produce.”

You snort. “That’s dramatic.”

“SO IS YOUR LIFETIME OF BACK TRAUMA.”

You're laughing, until he snatches every bag at checkout like he’s collecting infinity stones. He’s got two on each finger, one in his mouth, three hanging off his neck like a weird meat necklace.

“Let me carry it all. My bones are designed for this.”

“But—”

“NO BUTS. You’ve done enough. You’ve carried too much. Rice sacks. Sibling trauma. Probably unresolved childhood issues. NOT. TODAY.”

At this point, everyone at the grocery is watching you two like it's a live telenovela. You offer to carry just the bread, and Bokuto spins around with the betrayal of a Shakesperean lead.

“No. No. Put it down.” A pause. Softly. “Let me spoil you. For once.”

You put the bread down.

You put down the bread and maybe some baggage you didn’t know you were holding too.

Back at home, you open your bag and find a plush toy inside. A tiny smiley-faced rice sack with blushing cheeks. A gift receipt from a toy store.

There’s a sticky note stuck on it:

“This is the only rice you’re allowed to carry from now on. I love you. – Kou 🖤”

You hug it. You sit on your bed. And you cry a little.

Because for the first time in forever, someone looked at the strong eldest daughter and said, “Let me carry you.”

MIYA ATSUMU

Atsumu thought it was cute at first.

You were walking through the market with your dad—calm, cheerful, chatting about dinner like everything was normal. You’d just picked out some vegetables and waved at an old lady who complimented your hair.

And then you bent down.

And swung a 25-kilo sack of potatoes over your shoulder like it was a scarf.

Atsumu froze. His brain short-circuited.

“BABE?!?” You turned, confused. “WHAT THE HELL?! WHY ARE YOU BUILT LIKE A SHŌNEN PROTAGONIST?!”

You blink. “What, this? It’s just potatoes.”

“JUST?!”

You didn’t know it then, but that was your last time carrying anything ever again.

Next week, you’re grocery shopping together.

You reach for a pack of bottled water and hear the sound of screeching sneakers behind you.

“Don’t. Touch. That.”

You turn and find Atsumu standing there, eyes wide like you just pulled a sword out of your chest. He slowly pries the bottles from your hands like you're defusing a bomb.

“Princess rights,” he says firmly.

“Princess rights?”

“Yeah. You're royalty. Your arms are for being held, not hauling groceries like a tired salaryman.”

You laugh, but he’s already stuffing everything into his arms like a squirrel in winter mode. He’s got five bags dangling from each wrist and a box of eggs clenched between his elbow and torso.

He grins through it all. “Look at me go. Pack mule boyfriend mode: activated.”

That night, you pass by the hallway and hear him on the phone with Osamu.

You stop. You weren’t eavesdropping… exactly. But his voice is soft. Serious.

“…She’s always carrying heavy crap around. Groceries, furniture—probably the weight of the world too, if no one’s lookin’. I just want her to feel soft for once, y’know? Not like she has to prove she’s strong all the damn time.”

You pause. Then quietly walk away before he notices.

When you get home the next day, there’s a heating pad and a neatly folded blanket on your bed. A note’s tucked underneath:

"For your back. Just in case. (But honestly, I got it now.) Love, Your Official Grocery Bearer – Atsumu 🐻"

You smile. You press your face into the blanket. Your spine sighs in relief.

Because for the first time in a long time, someone didn’t just admire your strength— they protected your softness, too.

KUROO TETSURO

Kuroo’s seen a lot in his life.

He’s seen Nekoma fight tooth and nail through tournaments. He’s seen Kenma carry a match on pure spite and Monster energy. He’s even seen Lev try to flirt.

But nothing—nothing—prepared him for seeing you, his girlfriend, helping your dad load a full gas tank onto a flatbed truck like it was light furniture.

He was just arriving at your place, bag of snacks in hand, waving like an idiot.

And then there you were—gripping that heavy metal cylinder, lifting with your legs like a pro, exchanging casual small talk with your dad as if your spine weren’t actively doing miracles.

Kuroo stared. Stunned. Silent.

“…Is she dating me or is she part-time Hercules?”

You waved cheerfully. “Hey babe!”

He didn’t respond. He was still trying to process whether he was turned on, impressed, or experiencing a full-blown masculinity crisis.

A few days later, you’re grocery shopping together.

He’s being annoying—walking like a crab, poking you with baguettes, whispering “romantic” things like “If we ever got married, I’d let you name the rice cooker.”

Then, as you're reaching down to grab a heavy basket, he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist from behind.

His voice is low, deadly serious, right next to your ear:

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

You freeze. “What?”

“I’ve got you,” he says. “That includes the onions.”

You try to protest, but he's already scooping up everything—grocery bags, bottled water, your dignity—and marching toward the register like the overdramatic mafia husband he is.

At the car, he opens the door for you and tucks the seatbelt across your lap like you’re made of porcelain.

You stare at him, half-offended, half-melting.

“Kuroo, I’m fine. You know I can carry—”

“I know.” He looks at you with a crooked, unreadable smile. “But strong girls need softness too.”

Your brain short-circuits.

You don’t know it, but that night, Kuroo lies in bed scrolling through massage gun reviews, heating pads, and ergonomic chair prices.

Because if you’re going to keep carrying the weight of the world— he’s going to make sure you at least sit on a damn throne while doing it.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

To be fair, Tsukishima always knew you were strong.

Not just the “carrying groceries” kind of strong, but the “eldest daughter who’s been handling adult-level responsibilities since she was ten” kind. The kind of strong that makes him feel like you could survive a zombie apocalypse with a rice cooker and a glare.

Still, nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw one random Sunday.

You were helping your dad reorganize the garage, casual as ever, lifting a sealed box of ceramic dishes like it was full of pillows.

You didn’t grunt. You didn’t even flinch.

Tsukishima blinked.

“Are you… planning to carry the entire kitchen next?” You shrugged, wiping your hands on your jeans. “If I have to.”

He stared at you like you just said you bench press vending machines for fun. “…Okay, The Rock.”

You laughed. He didn’t.

Fast forward to the grocery store.

You’re walking side by side, just finished paying, when you reach out for a bag of vegetables.

Before your fingers even graze the handle, Tsukishima leans over and snatches it with a blank expression.

“Put that down before you make me look useless.”

You raise a brow. “I didn’t realize your pride was so fragile.”

He hands you a single loaf of bread. “Here. This is your limit. One (1) squishy carb.”

You roll your eyes, but secretly, your heart does a little somersault.

The next day, he shows up at your place with a rectangular box.

You open it.

It’s a heated back massager—the good kind. Adjustable straps. Three speed levels. Fancy.

You raise an eyebrow. “...Is this for me?”

He shrugs. “They were on sale. I accidentally bought two.”

You peek inside the bag. There’s only one.

“…You bought this for me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Tsukki.”

He adjusts his glasses and looks at literally everything except your face. “It’s just... your back probably hurts. From all that ‘kitchen lifting.’ Or whatever.”

You smile. Quiet. Warm.

Because he’ll never say it directly. But every sarcastic comment is just another way he’s saying: “You don’t have to carry everything alone anymore.”

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

You were just carrying a sack of cat food. That’s it. A harmless, 10-kilo bag.

But to Iwaizumi Hajime?

It might as well have been a cry for help.

He practically materialized next to you like he teleported from the kitchen.

“Hey. No. Stop. Drop it.”

You blinked. “haji, it’s just cat foo—”

“Drop it.”

Your hand stuttered. Your brain did too. He looked so serious. Like you were about to walk into a battlefield instead of refill a litter bin.

You tried again. “But I always help my dad carry the—”

“You’re not with your dad now,” he said, voice firm. “You’re with me.”

Oh. Oh.

You stood there, confused and slightly offended by how fast he swiped the bag from your hands—like your strength was a temporary loan and he was calling in the interest.

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“You’ve done enough,” he muttered. “Let me carry you for a change.”

Cue system error. Brain.exe has stopped working.

Next weekend, you both go grocery shopping.

You instinctively reach for a shopping bag.

Mistake.

Before you can even touch the plastic handle, he’s already juggling every single bag in both arms like a domestic demigod.

He’s holding a pineapple, six cans of tuna, a whole sack of rice and toilet paper, and still manages to open the car door for you—with his elbow.

“Sit. I got this.”

You try to argue.

He gives you The Look.

The “eldest daughters don’t argue, they rest” look. The “you’ve been strong for everyone else, now let me be strong for you” look.

So you sit.

And you hold his pinky as he drives you home one-handed.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel like you have to be the strong one.

Just this once, you get to feel small. Safe. Loved.

And Iwaizumi?

He never lets you carry another bag again.

MIYA OSAMU

He catches you outside, casually lugging a 25-kilo sack of flour onto your shoulder like you’re reenacting a scene from Attack on Titan.

For a second, he thinks maybe he’s hallucinating. Maybe you’re just carrying... really, really dense pillows.

But no.

That is food-grade flour. On your back. For your dad. And you’re not even breaking a sweat.

“Babe,” he says, stunned into full accent. “What in the hell kind of post-apocalyptic prep are ya doin’ out here?”

You just shrug. “Dad needed it for tomorrow. He asked me to grab it from the truck.”

He squints at you. Then at the sack. Then back at you.

“Ya know, ‘Samu Rice’ sounds good for my shop,” he mutters, walking over to relieve you of the burden, “but not when it’s on my girl’s back.”

Before you can protest, he tucks a warm rice ball into your hand like a bribe. No seaweed wrapper. Your favorite filling.

“Here. You carry the childhood trauma, I carry the bags. Deal?”

You choke on a laugh.

Grocery store, next week:

You try to be helpful. Just a little. You reach for a box of snacks.

“Oi. What did we say?” he calls from behind the cart, half-buried under twelve bags of groceries, including the family-size soy sauce and your mom’s laundry detergent.

You roll your eyes. “You said I carry the trauma.”

“Exactly. Now point to what you want and let me cook, princess.”

You do. You point to everything. The ice cream. The chips. That one weird Japanese candy that comes with a tiny plastic spoon. He grabs it all.

He walks. He shops. He packs. He pays. You? You hold the receipt and vibe.

At home:

You barely make it through the door before he’s motioning you to sit on the couch like a grandma.

Then he sneaks behind you and starts rubbing your shoulders like he’s kneading dough, muttering:

“Lemme unburden that spine you’ve been carryin’ your whole family with.”

You go limp. Like actually go noodle-mode.

And for the first time in years, your body isn’t screaming at you to do more.

Because Osamu? He already did it. Quietly. Lovingly. With soy sauce in one hand and your favorite snack in the other.

KYOTANI KENTARO

He doesn’t even blink when he pulls up to your house and sees you carrying a literal car tire like it’s your personal handbag.

You’re in a t-shirt. Ponytail swinging. Just casually hauling the damn thing from the garage to the driveway like you’re a pit crew in a one-woman F1 team.

Kyotani’s in the passenger seat, sipping canned coffee. He stops mid-sip. Puts it down slowly.

“…What the actual fu—” "OH, HEY, BAAABE!" You yell with a wave, tire still in hand. "CAN YOU HELP MY DAD JACK UP THE CAR?"

Your dad’s in the background waving a wrench like a torch of masculinity. Kyotani just stares at the sky like he’s asking God for strength.

Later, in the car:

You try to pick up the grocery bags from the backseat.

You don’t even get your pinky through the handle before he growls, “Don’t.”

You blink. “What?”

“Put the tire down, babe,” he says dead serious, eyes locked on you. “Metaphorically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Whatever. Just—don’t carry shit like that around me again.”

You snort. “You mean the groceries?”

“I mean everything. Groceries. Tools. Your whole childhood. You’re with me now. I carry the damn bags.”

Then he slams the trunk shut and lifts literally everything like a one-man U-Haul service. Arms full. Veins out. Still manages to hold your drink between his teeth.

At home:

You go to fold laundry. He yanks the basket from your hands like it insulted his ancestors.

“Sit down. Watch TV. Or something.”

You sit, flustered. He starts folding your favorite hoodie like he’s handling museum glass.

And later, while you're chilling with snacks, he flops next to you and mutters under his breath,

“Can’t believe you lifted a fuckin’ tire…”

You: “You fell in love with me that day, didn’t you.”

He blushes. Hard. Grunts. Says nothing. But pulls you into his side with a quiet, “Yeah. Whatever.”

KITA SHINSUKE

The early sun is barely peeking over the rooftops when you come stomping up the hill, lugging a 50-kg sack of rice on your back like some kind of family-debt-carrying demigod. Your dad’s walking beside you, laughing like it’s normal. Because it is. You’ve done this since you were twelve.

What you don’t expect is to see Kita Shinsuke waiting at the gate, holding a basket of eggs and looking like the human embodiment of a calm breeze—until he sees you.

His entire body tenses. His grip tightens. “…Is that rice?”

You nod. “Yeah, we were running low, so I—”

“Why are you carrying it?”

You shrug. “I always carry the sacks.”

Kita stares. Not at the sack, but at you. Like he’s solving a puzzle, or maybe rewriting the Constitution in his head. Then he walks up, lips in a firm line, and gently but firmly takes the sack off your back like you’re handing him a sacred relic.

“You’re not carrying that. Not while I’m here.”

You blink. “But—”

“Nope.” He lifts it onto his shoulder with a calm strength that shouldn't be as attractive as it is and starts walking toward the storage. “You’ve done enough. You’ve always done enough.”

You just stand there, flustered, a little empty-handed, a little warm.

Later that day, you try to sneak the laundry basket to the washroom and he catches you in the act.

“Didn’t I say no lifting?”

“It’s just clothes—”

“Nope. Off limits. I’m serious.” Then he walks up and gently grabs the basket with one hand—and your face with the other. “I’m here to make sure those strong hands finally get to rest.”

You stare at him, heart thumping. He kisses your forehead like a promise, then says:

“You carry your family. Let me carry you.”

And he does.

Groceries? His. Sacks of rice? His. Your emotional baggage? “Hand it over, babe.”

Bonus: He quietly replaces your back pillow with a heated massager. When you confront him, he just mumbles, “Saw it on sale. Your spine deserves luxury.”

And maybe, just maybe, when you fall asleep on his chest one day, worn out from years of being the strong one, you hear him whisper:

“You don’t have to be the pillar all the time. I’ve got you now.”

Yeah, you're doomed. In the sweetest way possible.

(Oml I was tearing up while writing this because as a fellow eldest daughter who’s been hauling car tires and grocery bags bigger than my hopes since I was 13—this hit HARD.)

[mingiswow]

Of Kings and Queens

Pairing: elf king!Bang Chan x afab!human reader

Genre: fantasy, romance, smut

Word Count: +7k

Summary: Chan is the King of the elfs and some of his soldiers made you, a common human, a prisioner, and Chan it's not happy about it.

Content Warning: mentions of poverty, mentions of food, reader wears dresses, I think that's it

Smut warning: porn with plot, soft loving sex, implied first of reader, tit sucking, oral (reader recieving), piv, Chan calls them baby a few times. big dick Chan, soft in love Chan

a/n: it's been a while since I wrote anything (or have been active) but I've missed here so much and I had this idea (and others) stuck in my brain for days and had to write, so yeah, I hope you guys enjoy it and I'm happy to be back I guess?

⚠️ English is not my first language, so sorry in advance if there’s any mistakes

The sounds were loud outside, to the point of waking you up. The loud thud and clinging of the chains that held your arms in place finally making your dizzy and unsure mind fully wake up. Where were you? What was happening? Your memory was fuzzy, you couldn't remember much before waking up in that cold cell.

You heard noises coming closer. Steps. Voices.

“You trolls did not hurt them, did you?” the deep voice spoke and you wondered if it was about you, because if it was the soreness and the purple and blueish in your skin announced that they, whoever they might be, hurt you. “Oh you barbarians, what I've told you to do?”

“‘m sorry, m'lord but they attacked us, we had to attack back” one of them answered.

“Ah! I see… a civilian attacked you” there was silence for a few seconds and they stopped walking. “I'll see for myself how they are and pray for the magic tree that they are not badly hurt. Now, leave” steps left and steps got closer.

You took a deep breath in as the steps got too close for comfort. A shadow hovering the entrance of your cell.

Then a man stood in front of it. Tall. Strong. Confident. Warm. He held a soft smile, as he opened the cell and entered, leaving it open. Instinctively you cornered yourself like a mouse trapped by a cat.

“No fear, human, I will not hurt you” his voice was deep and velvety, so warm for a man that sparked so much fear in you, you almost wanted to give in. Almost. He squatted to be at the same eye level as you. “I am sorry for my men. They… they tend to get a bit carried away sometimes”

If it was a normal environment for you you'd leave a smart ass remark. But that wasn't the case. You ate your answer down as you shivered in your little corner.

The man sighed and dropped his head down. “How about some introductions? My name is Chan, I'm an elf, right now you are in the elf realm and…” he came closer, you shrank even more, but that didn't stop him from coming even closer to take the chains off from your wrists. The old metal fell in the ground with a clinging sound. “And I’m sorry my men put you here and, you know, hurt you. Do you remember what happened back in your village?” for the first time in the evening you answered him, simply by shaking your head no. “I can help you with your wounds and bruises, but only if you allow me, ok?”

You looked at him still hesitant, who was this man and why was he helping you? And out of nowhere? 

You weren't sure if you wanted to trust him. your instinct wanted to, wanted to give in, to finally give yourself to someone else to take care. But your reason was telling you no, telling you it was a trap, you'd end up dead in the best case scenarios. 

“Your majesty?” another one of the elves came looking for him, he was dressed in clothes similar to the man in front of you, so you deduced he mustn't be a soldier like the ones that hurt you.

“Yes?”  he turned to look at the man and then, just then, it hit you. The title. Your majesty. He wasn't a random man helping you, he was the king of the elves himself. Your mind, already fuzzy and blurry, became even more confused.

Your eyes started to blur and head spin and you knew that feeling all too well. Soon everything became pitch black before you could listen to the two men call for you.

The cold breeze that flowed through the opened windows to your barely covered body made its pores bristle and you curl yourself even more in the soft fur duvets. A smile plastered on your lips.

Chan, who sat in an armchair by your side, watched your reactions and admired your soft features. Your body was covered in old rags that he could barely call them clothes, the fabrics made probably out of old potato and flour sacks hardly covered your body and that made him think of how cold you must be in the cold hard winter was right now in the human realm. Your legs were covered in bruises, the purple marks starting to turn yellow around it, some scars adorned them too, yet he wondered if they were as soft as they seemed. Your arms weren't in a different state as your legs, bruises and scars making them look like a galaxy, the plush skin seemed to scream for help. He promised himself to punish his men after he tended you and your wounds, they didn't have the right to hurt a civilian this badly. 

He then stopped at your precious face. Oh your face. He swore he never saw something so calm yet fierce in his life, deep down he knew you were strong. Your eyes seemed to claim for him even closed up, the way they would slightly tweak while you were sleeping like you were about to wake up at any given moment. Your lips held a soft smile of happiness, half parted, so delicated. 

Chan didn't know what was about you, if it was something about humans that he didn't know, all he knew was that he was so drawn to you, more than he had even been to anyone else before. He wanted to protect you, give you everything you wanted.

“Are you going to be creeping out the girl until she wakes up?” Chan turned to the door where Felix, one of his counselors and right hand man, stood, arms crossed and a smirk in his lips. He  might be under the rules of Chan, but they still were childhood friends.

He entered the room carefully so as not to wake you up.

“There is something about her, Felix, I can quite pinpoint” the youngster held a laugh. “Do not laugh please, I am quite lost here”

“Have you heard about…” when Felix was about to say something you murmured on the bed, calling their attention.

You moved slowly, stretching your limbs lazily, a happy squeaky sound coming from your mouth. Your eyes opened as slow as you moved, but as soon as you saw the two men you instantly cornered yourself on the headboard of the giant bed, covering your frame with the covers. Your eyes left the men and wandered around the place where you were. The place was a giant bedroom, bigger than whatever entire place you've ever been on, walls decorated with beautiful pastel wallpapers and hanging plants. Big part of it was of windows that went from the ground to the ceiling. 

You were lost in your thoughts while admiring the place you were in that you did not notice Chan speaking to you “Miss?” you turned your head back at the men, locking eyes with the king. “Are you alright? You passed out back in the cell and we thought best to bring to one of the royal rooms” you nodded. You wanted to thank him so badly but the voice didn't seem to want to leave your mouth. Not yet. “Everything must’ve been a lot for you to take in, why do not you take a bath and change into a new set of clothes? I'll make sure the maids get something comfortable and suitable for you” you nodded again.

Chan and Felix bowed slightly and left the room. Soon a few female elves came into the room and took you to the bathroom next door, the place was already ready for you. The bath was running warm with bubbles, the water cloudy with what you assumed was milk and some flower petals. The smell invaded your senses, making you feel relaxed at least a little. Three of them stood on guard by the side of the bath, a little far. You looked at them, expecting for them to leave but they just stood there.

“Are… you gonna be… here?” your voice was low, hoarse, your throat definitely hurt, but you were happy that you managed to speak for the first time in you don't know in how long.

They nodded. “We don't see nudity as you humans folks” the smallest of them spoke, her voice low pitched, almost annoying. “And it is standard procedure for us to accompany the King's guests in their baths”

“What an odd procedure”

“Don't be pressured by our presence here, miss, we are here only to be sure you have a pleasant bath and if you need anything else we can serve your needs” another one of them said, bowing.

Hesitantly, you took your clothes off, standing nude, they didn't seem a bit unfazed by that indeed. You entered the bath and instantly relaxed when you felt the warmth of the water hugging your body. Just then you took your time to take a look at your bruises and wounds, they would for sure leave more marks than you already had in your skin. The thought made you shiver a little. 

The bubbles started to move as if they were alive and you got scared, moving uneasy in the bathtub. 

“They are enchanted to heal the more superficial of your wounds” the smallest one answered and you looked at her with widened eyes. How was that possible? “Did you forget we have magic in the elf realm?”.

To be really honest you knew nothing about the elf realm or the other realms really. You never went to school, your family was very poor and going to school was for rich kids. You worked and helped your family ever since you were a kid, making baskets to sell at the market, helping at the bakery, at the local market, at the farms picking fruits, you name it. So all you knew that there were other realms besides the human and other creatures, often you'd meet some of them.

Besides not knowing how you ended up in the King's cell, all you remember was his men going to the human realm to collect some stuff for the King and when they couldn't find or when people didn't have they threw a tantrum and that involved you, that at the wrong place at the wrong time and tried to protect a kid.

You looked back at the maids and just nodded, going back to enjoying your bath.

When you got back to the room there was the most beautiful dress you ever laid eyes on. It was made of some fabric you never saw in your life, it was soft yet light to the touch, a light shade of green, the bodice embellished with thousands of little crystals that changed colors depending on how light hit them. The skirt was flowy and had a few layers to it and to complete the look, the back of it had a flowy cape that wasn’t much longer than the skirt. There was also a pair of low heels shoes, matching the dress color. Your eyes sparkled seeing those garments, you never dressed anything so fancy in your life.

“Let me help with your hair, miss” another maid said entering the room and you nodded, sitting in a chair in front of a dressing table. After a few minutes your hair was dried and half put back in tiny braids. “The King is waiting for you at the dining room, miss”

“Where is the dining room?” you asked a bit shy, voice still hoarse but a bit better than before. 

“Want me to take you there, miss?” you nodded shyly and she smiled. “Dress yourself and I will take you there”.

You quickly put on the dress, carefully not to ruin the ethereal fabric, put on the shoes and took a look of yourself in the mirror that stood next to the dressing table. You looked absolutely stunning, looking like a real princess. Never in a million years you imagined yourself to be dressed like that, but you also never imagined yourself in the elf realm as well. 

You turned yourself to the maid and nodded, signaling you were ready to go. She nodded back and turned on her heels and started walking down the hallway. 

The walk wasn't long but the closer you got, the more nervous you'd get, the further you seemed to be. You only seemed to finally arrive at the destination when you saw two large doors being guarded by well dressed men that greeted the maid and you. You returned the greeting with a bow before stopping in front of the doors. 

“Here you are, miss, the dining room, I'll leave you now, have a wonderful evening” you thanked her before she left and turned back to the doors that before you could process anything or even take a deep breath, the men opened them revealing you.

Inside the room there were four men, two of them which you recognized as the King and the man that was with him in your room when you woke up. Their heads turned towards you as the doors opened revealing you. And in that moment you just wanted that a hole opened in the ground and swallowed you, you never had any attention towards you, wonder this much.

You felt like your feet were glued to the ground, you couldn't walk, you wanted to walk inside the room, but you were stuck in your place. 

Chan seemed to notice your uneasiness and came to you. He held his hand so you could hold it. You hesitate for a bit before accepting it. He took it to his lips, kissing it gently, the action brought shivers down your spine, no one ever treated you like this, this gently, this kindly.

You started to walk by his side, hand still in his, a heat forming to your cheeks. 

“Kind sirs, this is the human I was talking about, miss…” he looked over at you, you still haven't introduced yourself to him.

“yn, my name is yn” your voice came lower than intended but you managed to speak, which you were glad.

“I see little birdie can speak finally” the one that was in the room with Chan spoke with a sly smirk.

“Felix!” the King scolded him, who just laughed. “This little menace of a man is Felix, one of my counselors and right hand man” he gave a little wave. “The one on his right is Minho, also one of my counselors and the head of the knights” the man gave a little bow, his face closed, unreadable. “And last but not least is Jeongin, he is the head of the royal guard”.

“Welcome to our realm miss yn” he said sweetly and you bowed. 

Chan pulled a chair by his side and signaled for you to sit in. He wanted to tell you how gorgeous you looked, how beautiful that dress made you look, even more than you already were. He wanted to shower you with compliments and give you everything you wanted but he held himself, he was a king after all, he had to keep his composure. 

“Did you enjoy your bath, miss yn? How did you like your dress?” he asked and called in some maids that brought in the food.

“I just felt weird having people watching me bathe, we don't do that in the human realm. And the dress is very gorgeous, thank you” you looked over to your hands as you played with your fingers before looking at him again. “Actually, thank you for everything, you didn't have to do anything. Really”.

“You do not have to thank me for anything, it is my duty as the King to keep the peace between the realms” 

“Nevertheless, thank you for your generosity, as you may have noticed I'm not the most… privileged person in my realm, or any realm really,” you left a light chuckle, “I've never been treated so kindly by anyone, I'll be forever grateful for that” Chan smiled, his eyes closing and you noticed he had the cutest dimples in his cheeks. He seemed really young and well presented for a king, who usually were old and ugly out of stress. At least that's what you've heard and saw out of the human king.

The conversation was cut when the maids started to bring an infinite amount of food, your eyes sparkled with the sight and the smell. You didn't know where to look, there was so much food, much more that you ever saw in your life, more than you've ever seen even produced at the bakery. Chan noticed your excitedness and thought it was the cutest thing he saw. You looked like a child seeing candy for the first time, and you probably were seeing that much food for the first time also.

Everyone waited for the King to lift his hand and give his nod, allowing them to serve their plates. You were still a bit shy so you waited for them to serve themselves first, noticing how much everyone was going to put in their plates. As soon as everyone had their plates full, you grabbed a few things, not wanting to look like a starved person, even though you were, and the growling sound of your stomach snitched you. 

When the first bite touched your tongue it was out for you. You lost the game you were playing against yourself. You started devouring the food, eating it like you haven't eaten in months. The chicken tenders, the mashed potato, the whatever it was that orange sauce you never saw in your life, everything was entering your stomach in a rush, as if they would escape you.

After a while you then noticed pairs of eyes watching you amused, shocked, enchanted even. Just then you realized you were hunched over the table and eating like an animal. You slowly stopped eating and got back to your normal position, wiping your mouth clean with the back of your hand. Minho handed you a napkin while the other left soft amused chuckles. The heat in your cheeks got back, the warmth burning them out of embarrassment. 

“I see you enjoyed our food. I am glad” Chan said between a big smile. You nodded shyly, head instinctively going down, your lap suddenly more interesting. “No need for shyness miss yn, please enjoy as much as you want, we have plenty of it as you can see”. 

The four men got back to their own eating and so did you, this time being more careful with your manners, trying to copy them. 

Chan and his friends spent the whole dinner talking to each other, almost not acknowledging your presence there if it wasn’t for the king’s stolen glances from time to time. He couldn’t take his eyes out of you, you were so concentrated in the food, enjoying it like it was your last meal on Earth. So naturally beautiful without even trying. The green of the dress really did complement your complexion and made you glow. He was hypnotized by you. 

When the dinner and silverware were taken out, the three men said their goodbyes and left the room, leaving you and Chan alone. 

There was a moment of awkward silence before he cleared his throat, calling your attention. 

“How about we take a walk in the garden?” he asked, his dimple shyly appearing.

“I’d love that”.

The sun was shining high yet the weather was enjoyable and warm, a soft and cold breeze would blow from time to time making the trees and flowers dance swiftly around the two of you. The smell of the flowers hugging you in a calming and welcoming manner, making you feel as if you were wrapped in a soft blanket of them. Making you feel like… home.

Chan and you walked side by side in silence, enjoying each other's company. You noticed how he would look around then look back at you for a while then look back at the sight of the breathtaking garden of his castle.

“So… miss yn, do you have someone to go back to?” you looked at him, head tilting to the side, not sure what he meant with his question. “I mean, do you have a family, parents, siblings, perhaps someone special” the last part came out almost sheepishly out of Chan, he was so curious that he couldn't hold himself. He wanted to keep you to himself.

You denied with your head. “My dad died when I was younger and my mom died not long ago and me and my siblings quite don't talk to each other anymore, each one following different paths” you sighed. A moment of silence falling, Chan's heart squinting thinking you were remembering your lover. “And I don't have any one special, I'm just a farm girl, I have nothing to offer, I don't even have where to live” you shied your face away, suddenly ashamed of yourself.

How a homeless loser like you ended in a daydream like this? You felt like you didn't deserve all that. Chan had been nothing but a sweetheart all this time, offering you his place, his magic, his food, his people, his wealth, and what did you offer back? What did you have to offer back? You felt your heart sink down and break in a million pieces. But better break now then after the damage was done.

“I do not think you have nothing to offer” Chan said, stopping his walk so he could look at you properly. 

“I never went to school, so I'm not smart, I’m not delicate or refined like the girls from the human realm, all I can do is bake some bread and pick some fruits” you looked back at him.

“Well, then since you have no one to come back then, why don't you stay here with me some more days and we can prove that you have more to offer than you think?” the king said nonchalant, like he was offering you a glass of water.

You opened and closed your mouth several times but nothing came out, you were at a loss of words. For the first time in your life you didn't have a smart remark or a sassy answer to give. 

“So what do you say, miss yn?”

“I honestly invited you to stay here with me to spend time with me, if I knew that after I taught you how to ride you were going to spend most of your days here, I'd never taught you” he heartily laughed, his hands crossed on top of the door of the stable where you brushed the horsehair with so much care and love. 

You turned over to look at the owner of the voice and smiled widely. 

It was approximately three weeks since you decided to accept Chan's crazy invite. And it was the best thing you ever did. Not only were you living a princess’ life, but you were being taught so many new things by Chan, his employees and friends. You were taught how to read - still working on this one -, taught how to paint, how to play archery, play chess and how to ride the horses. And on top of all that, you were really getting to know Chan, and he was getting to know you. 

“Are you free for a ride today, good sir?” you asked.

“For you? Always” you felt your cheeks heat and just nodded, not knowing how to respond to his flirtatious answers.

A thing you've learned about the king was that he was flirty, and you didn't know if it was just a joke between acquaintances or if he really was flirting. All you knew was that he made you weak in the knees, flirting or not. He had a power over you that you had yet to see something so strong and powerful. Many nights you caught yourself dreaming about him, waking up soaked in sweat and panties drenched. You felt so bad. So dirty. How could you think these things about the man that so kindly took you in? Took care of you? Helped you?

“Ready?” his voice took you out of your trance. 

“Ready”.

You two hopped on the horses and rode down the hills that surrounded the castle, enjoying the view and each other's company. The weather was, as always, breezy and warm, the leaves of the trees making their dance as if accompanied you. You just stopped when you arrived by the river, the horses drinking the crystal water as you decided to rest a little at the shadow of the trees.

“The view here is really beautiful” you said looking to the horizon, admiring all the land below, the little houses from the villages looking like tiny mushrooms.

“Not as you” Chan said, his smirk making its infamous appearance. 

“You should stop doing this, Chan” you said before you could control yourself.

“Doing what?’’

“Flirting”

“Why?” he took a step closer. You didn't retreat.

“Because… Because you make people confused with what you mean” another step.

“Why are you confused?” he licked his lips and looked at your eyes like he was looking right into your soul.

“Be-because you keep flirting and I don't know what you want” he was so close that you could swear that he would be able to hear your heartbeats.

“I thought I was being very open about my intentions” he was then practically glued to you, a few centimeters from your bodies to touch. He leaned to your ear so he could whisper and just his breathing made you shiver. “Can I touch you?” his question caught you a bit off guard but you nodded nonetheless. He circled his arm around your waist and finally pulled you close to his body, glueing you to him. The action ripping a squeal from you. “I hope this makes it very clear”.

He looked down at your lips as if asking for permission, to which you nodded. But when he was leaning to kiss you, the horses started to neigh, announcing the arrival of someone else.

“Sir, I'm sorry to bother, but we have a problem” it was Jeongin, his face was red, almost scared. 

Chan, who had let go of your body quickly with his friend's arrival, instantly was on top of his horse ready to go back to the castle.

The two men left you behind, running fast with their horses. You decided to stay a little more at the clearing by the river. You had packed a few things with you, so you were good for a few hours at least while Chan dealt with his problem. 

The sun was setting when you set your feet back at the castle, ready for a long bath. But when you arrived at your room you found Chan sitting in your bed with the most desolated face you've ever seen these past few days.

“Chan?” you asked and his head turned up, looking at you, a faint smile appearing. “Everything alright? Why are you here?” he lifted himself and hugged you, his nose nuzzling in your neck, smelling your scent, the smell of your skin addicting yet calming to him. 

“I needed you” he hugged you tighter and you returned the hug, hugging his waist.

“I'm here now, sh…” he sighed. “Wanna talk about what happened?” he denied, still buried in your neck. “I know a way I can help you relax” he finally left your neck, puzzled.

You reached for his mouth, leaving a soft peck on his chapped lips. He blinked a few times before grabbing you by your waist and bringing your body close to his, hands flush against your plush skin.

“You cannot do that and expect me to accept just that” you giggled.

His other hand grabbed the nape of your neck and finally brought your face against his, colliding your lips together. He guided the kiss, slow, gentle, the plush lips moving like a melody and its lyrics. Hands dancing a freestyle dance against each other's bodies. Chan asked for permission to deepen the kiss by gently licking your lips, which you gladly permitted. The kiss started to get more urgent, tongues dancing a beautiful tango inside your mouths, sparks flying from your insides.

He started to gently pull you two to the bed. He fell sat when he felt the mattress hit the back of his legs, breaking the kiss. The king looked at you, smile planted on his lips, dimples deep. Your cheeks burning from both the action and shame. He gently caressed your sides until his hands were on your waist, pulling you to his waist. He was always so gentle and careful with you, as if you were gonna break, made of glass. 

Chan helped you straddle his lap, hands wandering your barely covered by the dress legs, the soft skin shivering under his calloused touch. All so soft. All so new to you. 

You grabbed his face between your hands and started to kiss him again, addicted to his taste and his air. He instantly and gladly retributed the kiss, one hand squeezing your thigh, the other bringing you closer to him by your back, holding you by the base of your neck, the grabbing a little tighter there, making you feel tingles all over your body. 

You kept just kissing for a while, enjoying each other's presence, body, touch. But it was when you grinded a little in his lap and left a little whine that he lost his composure. Chan broke the kiss, hugged your waist and turned your bodies over, laying you both in bed, him hovering over you. He fixed your hair and placed a peck on your lips.

“I want to take this further” he nuzzled in your neck, smelling the faint musky smell that was already starting to get out of your pores. He loved that smell. “Will you allow me?” he asked,  muffled by your neck, almost as if he was ashamed to look at your face and you melted at him, his softness. You grabbed his face between your hands again, putting the strands of his longish hair behind his ears and caressing the points of his elf ears, they were so endearing to you.

You deposited a soft kiss on his lips, and smiled, nodding. The smile that left the king's mouth was one of the most beautiful you've ever seen and you wished your brain could take pictures and capture that moment forever. 

Chan kissed you again, this time more urgent, hard, as if you were going to run away at any minute, slip away from his hands like sand. His tongue fought with yours but it always won, dominating and guiding the kiss. Not that you complained, you were loving it, your body responding to every stimulus, heating up fast, tingles running down your skin through your bloodstream. 

He started to slip under your dress, caressing and squeezing your thighs, taking a sigh from you. 

“Can I take your garments off?” you nodded, incredibly hot already.

He started to slowly - too slow for your taste - take the piece of fabric out of your body, leaving you with your chest exposed to him and underwear. Chan admired the sight in front of him, you, sprawled in the bed, half naked, all just for him. He looked at you, eyes already dark and dilated, pleading, and you nodded, grabbing his hands and bringing to your chest. When his fingers felt the soft skin under them he left a deep sigh, his dick growing impossibly hard under his pants. But he needed to be patient, he didn't know your limits and he didn't want to scare you away.

“You are perfect, yn” he whispered, more to himself but you could listen. “I'll take care of you tonight”.

The king lowered himself and kissed your lips quickly, hands still on your boobs. His lips started to go down, to your chin, neck and finally to your chest. He gave a long lick at the valley of them before assaulting the left one. He licked, sucked and grazed his teeth. You were completely lost in the new feelings.  And you couldn't control the whines that left your body, even when you tried to cover your mouth with your hands, embarrassed. 

“Do not hold it, baby, let it all out I want to hear how good I make you feel” the way he spoke to you, his husky voice, the nickname, everything made you even hotter and the tingle between your legs stronger and a loud moan left your lips. Chan left a satisfied smile between sucks and licks.

He kept his assault on your chest for a while, making sure to give both of them enough love but also he could enjoy the little shy whimpers you left. But when he decided he was done, he lowered himself, kissing your tummy until it reached the waistband of your underwear and he removed slowly, excruciatingly slowly. Then you were completely bare in front of him, but you couldn't care less, all you wanted was for him to give what you wanted. And what you wanted was for that fire inside to stop.

Chan looked over at you and the scene was perfection to him: you bare to him, chest raised up with heavy breathing, head thrown back, mouth agape, legs squeezed together trying to get some friction. You were a sight to behold and he was glad you were only his. 

He gently opened your legs, positioning himself in between them, knees on the ground, as if he was about to pray to the most beautiful goddess. He softly and slowly touched your vulva with his index and middle finger and you squirmed, legs trying to close between his broad shoulders. He started to spread your own wetness all around and you couldn't control your own sounds, the feeling was too much, too good, too overwhelming. You grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Sh… It is alright, baby, I am here, I will make you feel good, ok? Do you trust me?” you nodded rapidly and let go of his wrists. “Good girl, now I will touch you, ok? Do as much noise as you want, I want to know that you are feeling good” you nodded again and took a deep breath. 

Chan touched you back but this time you were more aware and prepared. His fingers started slow and caressing all the extension of your vulva, spreading the juices and making you more wet than you already were. After a little doing this he concentrated his touch in your clit, making irregular shapes and movements in the little bundle of nerves, making you jolt your hips off of the bed. A louder moan flying off of your lips. He held you down by your tummy and kept his movements, going slow before adding speed. You were so sensitive that these mere movements were making your legs twist and shake. But he wasn't not even close to satisfied. He lowered his fingers to your hole, teasing the entrance a little before entering it with just one first. It was all so overwhelming for you, you felt like you were melting in his hands, a fire burning in your stomach, your legs giving in, you couldn't feel them anymore. You were completely at his mercy and you were loving it. 

He was fucking you with his finger slowly, carefully. His middle finger knuckles deep inside your gummy walls and all he could think was how it would feel around his dick, that was leaking precum pressed inside the confinements of his clothes. The king took his finger out, earning an annoyed moan out of you, making him chuckle before he inserted the finger back together with the index, stretching your walls deliciously. There was pain but it was completely wrapped by pleasure. You couldn't stop moaning and whining, and Chan loved your noises, he wanted to record those so he could listen after. 

The man couldn't hold himself and his promise of making it easier for you to handle and joined his mouth to the party. He wanted to taste you so bad. And he did not regret a single second of it. His mouth ate you like he was a starved man. His lips sucking your clit, licking it, flicking it, making it their own little personal toy. All that while fucking your hole with his fingers. You felt so overwhelmed, heated, your cheeks, your chest, everything burned, but especially your tummy, it felt like it was about to explode at any moment. 

Chan kept fucking and eating you until he felt your walls squeeze his fingers and he felt you tremble entirely, a loud crooked moan leaving your lips and he knew you had came for the first time in the night. He retreated his fingers and mouth from you, earning a whine that made him chuckle, letting you breathe and recover from the orgasm. He laid by your side on the bed, his breathing as erratic as yours. 

After a while recovering, you turned to the side to look at him. “Chan…” you called him, hand going to his chest. “I want… more” he chuckled at your sudden shyness. He turned to his side so he could look better at you, putting a strand of your sweaty hair behind your ear. 

“Can you handle it today?” you nodded, a gleam in your eyes, something he had never seen in anyone before, maybe because he had never been with a human before you. “I swear you will be the death of me, miss yn”.

He rolled on top of you, making you giggle. His smile prodding from his lips, his dimples deep on his cheeks. He kissed your lips slowly, tongue entering your mouth with expertise now, an explorer who already knew the territory. You responded without hesitation, already expecting that kiss. Hoping for it.

You started to try and take his shirt off and he understood what you wanted, separating from you and unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, making his torso naked in all its glory. His chest chiseled and well sculpted that you couldn't help but bring your hands to feel it under your fingers, the muscles tensing under your curious touch, your short nails grazing from top to bottom, making him shiver and bite his bottom lip. 

“I think you are too dressed up” you said in a burst of confidence, taking a sincere chuckle out of him. 

“I think too, why don't you help me?” you nodded eagerly, lifting from your place on the bed and staying on your knees on the edge of it. Chan lifted from the bed and waited for you to do your job. 

You carefully grabbed the waistband of his jeans and opened his button, slower than he wanted though. When you pulled his dress pants down you almost gagged with the size of the volume in his briefs, for how long was he holding his penis this hard. You finally pulled his underwear down and he hissed from having his member finally free. The thing was rock hard, bouncing a little, in all its glory. It was big, thick, slightly curved upwards. You were so static looking at it that Chan had to break the spell it had on you by lifting your head by your chin and making you look into his dark eyes.

“Like what you see, baby?” you nodded and he kissed you again, hungrily this time, pushing you back to the bed.

He kept kissing you while his hand went to his dick and started to tease you, rubbing his dick to collect your wetness. You whined into the kiss and rubbed yourself into him, wanting more friction. Chan broke the kiss and glued your foreheads, as if he silently asked for permission, for which you nodded. 

Slowly and gently Chan started to invade your hole, just his head entering, the stretch burning from inside out. He was so gentle with you, letting you get used to the feeling of his thick cock inside of you, so different from his fingers. Hurting yet so delicious. 

You gently tapped his arm after a while when you thought you were good to go. He slowly started to move and he could swear your face was the sexiest thing he ever saw. He had barely done nothing and you already had your head thrown back and eyes rolled back. You left a loud moan when he finally put everything in, giving again time for you to get used. He knew that if your walls kept pulsating around him the way they were he wouldn't last long, but he needed to bear it. For you. The moment was all about you. 

You pulled him to lay on top of you, arms hugging him close to your chest, hands playing to the tips of his pointy ears, making him even more sensitive than he already was. “Move” you whispered lowly in his ear, your breath, the sensuality and neediness in your voice making him shiver down his spine despite the droplets of sweat already forming there.

He let go of your embrace to get in a better position to both move and see your face while doing it, he wanted to see it all, he wanted to imprint in his brain the moment he made you his. He finally moved, taking a bit of his dick out before putting it back in slowly. Your mouth opened but not a sound came out. He did it again. And again. Every time taking more of it out before putting it back in. His swaying and rolling. His movements calculated to be both slow and strong. When he felt you were more comfortable he started to move faster and deeper, earning sweet little sounds from you. 

You were basically limp in his arms, surrendered to the moment. He was making you feel so good, all of you was his now, your body , soul and heart. If you thought you had a silly little crush on the king before, now it was more than proved that it was more than a crush. Being able to give yourself fully to someone was something that you never thought you were able to do, and then there you were. 

You felt the burning in the pit of your stomach start to grow again and Chan felt your walls starting to flutter around his member. He was holding himself for a while, wanting to cum with you. He moved one of his hands to your clit, playing with it and it was your end, your second orgasm coming like a non-ending wave washing over you, legs shaking and trembling, eyes rolling back as Chan held you in place and helped you ride it down. 

Before he could overstimulate you, he took his dick off and started stroking it, coming seconds after in your belly, the white spurts painting your complexion. 

He grabbed his shirt and cleaned it from you, discarding the piece of clothing on the ground and laying by your side. He hugged you and brought you to lay your head on his firm chest. 

Both of you stood laid like that for a while, just enjoying each other's presence and listening to each other's labored breathing to calm down. Your fingertips drawing abstract shapes on his chest, his hand caressing your arm while he would eventually leave little kisses on the top of your head.

“I think I cannot let you go back” he finally confessed after a while. You turned to look at him.

“And I think I don't want to go back home” you answered. “I don't even have a home to go back to” you confessed.

“Then it is decided, you will stay here at our realm and become my queen”

“But I'm a human? Won't they be against it?” you lifted yourself a little so you could look at him, crossing your arms in his chest.

“That is a they problem, I am their king and I made my choice” he pinched your nose. “I will cut whosoever head is against us” you laughed at him, giving him a peck on his lips.

“I like you very much Chan” you admitted, going back to lay in his arms.

“I like you very much too, miss yn”.

Masterlist

[salemrph]

When did I fall for him so badly?

It’s day 263 of playing Love and Deepspace. It’s almost 1 AM, and I’m spiraling. Suddenly my brain decided it’s Sylus o’clock. Like why am I on the verge of loosing it over a dangerously attractive and soft like a damn marshmallow, fictional man. How?? WHY??

I should slep but heeey, let’s emotionally unravel over this man who calls us "kitten". So here I am. Yapping.

And you could say: oh god, please stop that horny little monologue and go touch some grass. HAHAHA. Babe, honey, darling… let me tell you something. This ain’t just about the unholy level of desire Sylus ignites every time he has glasses on. No no no. I’m down bad for the softness, the jokes, the feral loyalty, and let’s be real, his rich HA 💸 HA 💸 HA 💸 laugh he has. What do you want me to do? Be normal?

I can’t really remember when Sylus stole my heart. Was it during Midnight Stealth? At the very beginning while looking for the brooch? Or maybe during Razor’s Dance? Could’ve been Midnight Warmth, honestly. All I know is Grassland Romance was the turning point—and by the time Radiant Brilliance dropped, whatever shred of sanity I had left was long gone.

I try very hard not to terrorize my entire social circle about this game every hour. It took me a while, but I’ve realized that dropping my chaotic thoughts here is way healthier. You know… classic “screaming into the void” therapy. Except the void sometimes screams back with headcanons, edit, fanart, and stuff. And honestly? That’s healing.

Nevermind, I’m just drifting into the abyss... yeah, Sylus. I haven’t even heard his new memory yet because I’m stuck on those cursed promised levels like a clown with a dream.

To close… whatever this emotional spiral was—I love him. And... I strangely miss him, even though he doesn’t exist (is that even possible??). But it feels so real. Some days I’m like, “meh, I’m chill, I’m fine,” and then there are days like today where I’m practically feral with longing. I need him. His voice, his smirk, his warmth. (Gosh… I can fully empathize with Dawnbreak.)

[sirfrogsworth]

(In reference to this post)

I'm going to be honest, this kind of attitude concerns me.

I've been going over my past lately. I'm writing something about my relationship with my brother. And I found a letter I never sent him.

Here is an excerpt.

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

I was not a good brother to you.

I took you for granted and was an ungrateful jerk. You used to do so much to help me. You did all kinds of manual labor because my stupid failing body could not. You built me things. You helped me fix things. You drove me places I needed to be. When I first got sick at college you came to Kansas City and scooped me up and brought me back home.

I remember one Christmas you even went back to the family gathering and stuck up for me. They didn't understand how sick I was and you explained it to them. I never told you how much that meant to me. I should have hugged you and thanked you profusely on the spot. You believed me even when some doctors refused to. And you used that big heart of yours to defend me.

That was an amazing act of courage. Find that same courage now. Stand up for Mom & Dad. Stand up for yourself. Put your foot down and fix this.

It took me way too long to figure it out, but it is my regret of being a bad brother that helped me realize why you don't like my humor. Why you are one of the very few people I can't make laugh. It's because I used that humor at your expense. I made fun of you. I teased you the same way those betraying bastard fake friends did in high school. At the time, I probably thought my jokes were harmless fun. But I'm sure you felt they were cruel and hurtful. We are such different people and I had a hard time understanding you. I used humor as a weapon to highlight our differences. I have no excuse. I have no justification for being a jerk to you.

All I can do is say I am sorry. Truly and deeply sorry.

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

I didn't send that letter because he was too far gone. His wife read every email and text and I had no way of getting through to just him.

My brother used to be a much better person than me. I often failed to be the good person I thought I was. I didn't realize I was being hurtful at the time. And I didn't do this to just him. I thought I was just making jokes. It was not "pretty easy" for me to realize that. It took years of growing and hindsight.

He used to be nothing but good behaviors all the way down.

And I struggled to limit my bad behaviors.

I was bullied in grade school and realized that if you are funny, people don't bully you anymore. So my brain thought I needed to make people laugh at all times. And it didn't matter if my jokes were at someone else's expense.

Bad behaviors are often easy. They can be tempting. They can require less effort. They can have greater rewards. And sometimes they can protect you. They can be a defense mechanism. Your brain trying to avoid trauma. "I'll hurt someone first so no one hurts me."

There is a reason so many people struggle to be good all the time.

Good behavior requires constant vigilance. You can't do a certain number of good things and then just call yourself a good person. And you can't just not do bad things either. A good person isn't necessarily just "not being evil to other people." That is neutral, at best.

I've learned that being a good person isn't something you just are. It is an ongoing choice. You have to maintain it. You have to actively keep it going. You have to consistently choose good behaviors and limit the bad.

And we all choose bad behaviors from time to time.

Don't kid yourself.

If you know the story of my brother, he let bad behaviors win. He let someone influence him to abuse and neglect his own family. He did it because he was traumatized. He was humiliated by a girl in high school. She said she was his girlfriend. She let him take her to prom. Then she wrote a one-act play called "Prom Nightmare" and performed it in front of the entire school. He was a laughing stock to 2000 classmates.

He is terrified of being alone but he is also terrified that any romantic partner is faking their affections. So obedience is his tool to prevent that. He will do anything his partner instructs to make sure her affection is real. His unmanaged trauma has run amok and led him to dark choices to keep his relationship intact at any cost.

He was such a good person. And now he is not. He has the potential. He is so good with his daughter. He is capable of good behaviors. And I think that is why it upsets and angers me so much. I can still see what he could be.

If you want to see people as just good and bad, that's up to you. I can't do it anymore. I think humans are too complicated. And I worry about getting complacent. I need to check in on my ratio of good to bad behaviors constantly. It would be too easy to say I am a good person and not think about it again.

I mean, sure, I don't kick puppies. I don't taunt the elderly. I don't assault random strangers.

Being good is easy!

Right?

[igotatasteforoldermendelrey]

Stuck here with you.

Picture From @trgdycoils on Pinterest

A/N : hi guys! I got this idea today and I wrote it so here it is. I hope you will like it! English is still not my first language, there might be some mistakes in there. Always open about feedbacks!

Ship : Bucky x reader (former hydra agent)

Summary : you find yourself stuck in the middle of Alaska after coming to retrieve a hard drive belonging to Hydra. Almost dying of hypothermia, Bucky, your nemesis, came to save your ass from a really shitty death. Follows a confrontation about your pasts.

Warnings : ennemies to Friends, angst, references to past missions as a hydra agent, talk about death (an orphanage exploding, parents), talks about genetically modified people, injuries (a cut on the leg).

If you find anything else please warn me!

I do not consent to any of my work to be translated or posted anywhere else without my permission.

Banner made on Pinterest.

You were fucked.

You knew it wasn’t clever coming here alone in the middle of December, not equipped and without warning anyone. But being a new addition to the team you had to prove them you weren’t useless. Yes you didn’t have any powers of special abilities but you were still fucking good at your job.

That’s why you decided to go in Alaska to retrieve a hard drive from an old hydra base. Steve didn’t want anyone to leave because of the weather conditions and yet you had to be so stubborn and not listened to him.

So here you were, curled up in the corner of a room, shivering and regretting all your life choices. You retrieved the hard drive without any difficulties, the base being abandoned, but the car you rented, not wanting your teammates to know what you were up to, was nowhere to be found. Probably under two meters of snow. You had no ways of contacting anyone, the snow storm too thick for any signals to go through . You were royally fucked. Condemned to die of hypothermia in this hole.

You even started to hallucinate, believing someone was calling your name. It’s when you heard steps on the cement that you realised you were not hallucinating. Someone was there.

Reuniting all your force to take your gun in you hands and point it towards the door. When it opens, Bucky came in, gun already up in the air ready to shoot.

Finally you’re here. The fuck you had in your brain to come here during the worse fucking snow storm the state had in years? He lectured you, crouching down besides you and trying to find any wounds.

F-F-fuck of-F course it-t had to be yo-you finding me here like that. You spat out, groaning.

You and Bucky were not friends. In fact you were basically enemies. Couldn’t get a long to Steve biggest regret, couldn’t even work together anymore since last time it costed you a Quinjet. You despised the way he was parading around like he owned the world, always moody when it came to you yet easy going with everyone else.

You knew his story, of course, but you never judged him on that. It wouldn’t be fair since he couldn’t control it. Hell, you never even acknowledged it since it didn’t concern you. But Bucky still seemed to find something about you he didn’t like, no matter how hard you tried to make it work. Steve eventually apologised and told you to stop trying, that Bucky was rarely like that and that he would eventually come around. Spoiler alert he never did.

So when he took your left arm in his hand to look how cold you were, you get yourself out of his touch.

D-don’t f-fucking touch me-me!

You don’t get to be stubborn when you put yourself in this mess. He replied with frustration and kept your arm in his hands.

I-I d-didn’t ask y-you to c-come here.

No shit Sherlock. Stay here, I’m gonna look out how the storm is evolving. He said, raising on his feet and exiting the room again.

He came back a few minutes later, a frown on his face, which was is neutral face when you were around.

It-it’s not good-d is it? You asked, still shivering and holding your legs against your chest.

We’re gonna be stuck here for a while. He replied, coming closer and opening one of the pockets of his vest. Retrieving a survival blanket he hold it out for you to take.

When you just continued to stare at him he sighed and put it himself on the top of your shivering body. He then sat besides you, keeping a space between the two of you.

~~~

A few moments later.

You couldn’t stop shivering, the cold has already numbed your feet and your hands, the survival blanket not really helping your body to stay warm. Bucky kept an eye on you the whole time, knowing that your body won’t be able to get warmer in these conditions.

When your eyes started closing and your head falling on the side he knew he had to do something or you will die of hypothermia. Coming closer, still without touching you, he called out your name softly.

W-What?

I’m going to come closer and take you in my arms to try to warm you up a little bit. If I don’t your heart might stop beating meaning you die. He explained carefully.

You didn’t have it in you to come back with a snarky comment so you just nodded, letting him position yourself over him, his arms around yours on your legs.

Please don’t die.

Wh-why did-d you co-come?

Because by the look on your face when Steve said it was too dangerous for this mission, I knew you were going to do something stupid. You always do.

Th-that doesn’t explain why. You answered, feeling some heat on your back, going through your suit.

I didn’t want anyone else risking their lives to come get you. And I have a better resistance to cold.

F-fuck I’m s-so c-cold. You said, sinking deeper in his chest.

Why would you do something so stupid?

Be-because I-I don’t have fucking special abilities, James. I n-need to prove them I can do it.

Do what?

Be an Avenger!

That’s why you’re always putting yourself in danger?

Why else?

I don’t know, I just thought you were suicidal.

Fuck you! You exclaimed.

I don’t think I can light a fire here. Did you see any room here that could work?

I-I think d-down the hallway.

You can walk? He asked.

You shook your head, fatigue getting even worse. He sighed, not really in frustration but mostly in fear of your degrading state. He put one of his arms under your legs the other under your back and got up, making sure the blanket stayed on you. He hold you close and started to walk to the room you described.

He kicked the door open with his boot, the wood hitting the wall. Looking around, Bucky saw what looked like an old stove in the corner of the room, he then realised there was a couch against the wall. The super soldier put you on it before pushing the couch toward the stove.

I’m going to go find something to burn. You think you’ll be alright if I leave you here for a few minutes?

You nodded, getting deeper in the cushion. Bucky left and you shut your eyes, letting your fatigue get to you.

~~~~

Your body was shook by Bucky, trying to wake you up. You passed out the minute he left the room, not having enough energy in your body to fight. The soldier returned three minutes after, finding you inert on the couch.

Calling out your name he held your face in his hands, trying to get you to open his eyes.

Honey, please open your eyes you gotta stay awake. You slowly opened your eyes, feeling heat coming from behind the man where he had lighted a fire. I’m going to do like earlier and put myself behind you, alright? We gotta get you warm.

You simply nodded, couldn’t find the energy to say anything.

After a while, your body started warming up, still way below its normal temperature but warm enough for you to be able to open your eyes and speak. Bucky was still pressed behind you, his arms over yours, holding the survival blanket over the both of you.

Why do you hate me? You pondered, breaking the silence.

Hate you? I don’t hate you. I just disliked you.

Past tense? Like it has changed since the five hours we’ve been stuck together?

I just realised why you were doing it.

Doing what?

Why you act like you don’t care if you’re dead or alive, like you don’t give a fuck of getting shot in the stomach and lose all your blood on the floor. As if you believed you didn’t deserve to be there. As if you were trained to not care.

You froze, stoping breathing. I do not do that.

You do. I’ve seen it from my own eyes. The first mission we did all together. You jumped in front of Steve when one of the guy tried to shoot him. You didn’t think about it twice. And when he commented it you genuinely didn’t find it serious. I know he put it on the fact you might haven’t realised how dangerous it was but I’ve seen it. You knew and you still did it.

You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

At first I just assumed you were another suicidal person with really good fight mechanisms. But now I know it’s not that. From what I’ve seen today you’re programmed to finish the mission. Dead or alive you don’t care, you only have one goal. And there is only on type of agent acting like you. Hydra agent.

You closed you eyes, cursing yourself for getting caught like that. You swore to yourself it will never happen, that no one will ever know about your past, how you escaped, destroying a branch of the organisation alone.

I think the cold is getting to you James. You’re hallucinating stuff. You deadpanned, trying to deviate the topic.

Cut the shit, I know I’m right. I’m not judging you. Hell, I’m respecting you for hiding it so well even Natasha couldn’t find it.

You didn’t answer, hoping the silence was going to stop the conversation. You surprised yourself by telling him.

I was in St Louis HQ, retrieving classified informations and sending it over the ocean. I wasn’t on the whole WWII branch. I didn’t know it existed. I grew up in the organisation, my father was a high-ranking member and my mother… I never met her. Trained since I’m a fucking baby. Indoctrinated. I was living to make my father proud, I would’ve done anything I could. But one day he gave me a mission, I had to retrieve a hard drive, just like this one. You said, playing with the hard drive. It was supposed to be easy. In and out type of mission.

You stopped, gathering your thoughts. Bucky was still behind you, not moving.

But when I arrived there, the building was an orphanage used as a front business to hide mobsters. Still, there were real kids in there. After getting the hard drive, he informed me the mission had changed, I needed to make disappear any potential proof. But I couldn’t do it. They were innocent. So I refused and exited the building. I didn’t even had the time to turn around that it has already exploded. That was it for me.

What did you do?

I searched everything. Every file I could find I read it. They were… fucking torturing people, genetically altering them in killing machine. You felt him tense behind you. Not like you. Those weren’t soldiers. They didn’t even look human anymore. So I burned it to the ground everyone with it. Not before sending everything to Shield. That’s how I got out of there without getting imprisoned.

What about your father?

He was the one responsible of the genetically modified organisms. He was the one ordering the explosion of the orphanage. He was the one that killed my mother. He got what he deserved.

He sighed, sharing the same trauma with you. Created by the same people.

Yes, I was trained to finish my mission. Dead or alive. I was taught to sacrifice myself for more important people.

Fucking assholes. He muttered, holding you closer. When I was pardonned, I had to go to therapy, a condition for my freedom. He explained softly. My last mission as the winter soldier was to make amends. So I did it. But at the same time, I was making sure every single person still linked to Hydra would pay. Not killing them but delivering them to the government. It helped a bit with the guilt. But-

It never goes away. You finished. You just have to find a way to live with it. That’s why I did everything I could to become an avenger.

Thank you for being honest with me.

Well it was going to be hard to deny what you said. I had to face it. You answered, laughing softly. You think the storm calmed down?

I don’t know, I’m gonna check. Stay here.

It’s not like I can move! You called out, holding your leg you had cut climbing through a window.

Bucky came back, holding his hand out for you to take. We can go, the storm has calmed down.

He helped you on your feet, putting your arm around his shoulders and his arm around your waist. You walked to the Quinjet he brought with him, helping you climb inside.

You made your way back to the compound, sat on the seat besides Bucky,when yesterday it couldn’t have happened.

When you landed, Steve, Natasha and Bruce ran outside, waiting for you to descend the jet. They were surprised when Bucky was holding you carefully by the waist, no sign of his habitual frown when you were around. They were even more surprised when he insisted to guide you to the medical center and when he stayed in the room while a doctor was examining your leg and doing blood tests to ensure your body was completely healthy after your near death experience. He accompanied you through every steps of the procedure, helping you write the report or during the meeting with Fury.

You might have started on the wrong foot but here you were, talking and laughing with him.

The monsters of your past haunted you day and night, the guilt keeping you awake but you had find a companion on the way. Someone that could understand the way your nightmares were working, what your mechanisms were and help you defuse them. He even recommended you his therapist who, you learned, was a passive-agressive woman, that loves calling you out on your bullshit.

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (part 25)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is has many of the same darker themes. Kidnapping, violence more generally. In this chapter specifically, graphic descriptions of violence, guns, knives, NSFW moments. He's the joker, so... Minors Do Not Interact! 🔞

Part 25 -

I almost jumped out of my skin and instinctively drew my gun, aiming it in the direction of the sound of his voice. I was greeted by the sight of an all-too-familiar painted face. He was sat on the bed with his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, looking perfectly relaxed in his full suit and coat. Beside him on the table was a record player and a set of speakers - the source of the strange music filling the space.

"What are you doing here?!" I demanded, still reeling from the shock.

He threw his arms up in mock surrender.

"Well I didn't know when you'd get back to your little bolt hole. I mean, it's not like you gave me a way to contact you after you ran away," he said, his voice turning sour with the final accusation, his words biting with cold sharp teeth.

My scrambled brain struggled to catch up to the situation unfolding; I kept looking from him to the record player and back. Why had he gone to the effort of bringing that with him? Had he taken all this time to meticulously pick out a song to kill me to? The hair on the back of my neck prickled with fear as he got up from the bed and moved a step closer to me. I hastily jerked the barrel back in his direction.

"Stay back. I will shoot you!" I sputtered out.

The yellow walls seemed to be closing in all around me and I cursed the way my voice choked up and cracked, undeniably betraying my fear and apprehension. He paused for the time being, with a look of satisfaction on his painted face.

"It wasn't easy, tracking you down."

I was silent, unable to find the words to respond.

"No snappy comeback? That's not like you doll," he taunted, deliberately advancing another step.

I tried to keep looking forward as I wondered if I could make it to the door before he could close the gap. If I turned now I still had to undo the deadbolt and turn the key. I cursed myself for locking myself in with him - for not realising something was wrong as soon as I heard the music. My near-paranoia about securing the room had turned it into a cage rather than a refuge.

"I don't think you can make it, but maybe if you're quick... why don't you give it a try?" He said, his words slithering around me like a snake, mocking and malicious.

I tightened my grip on the gun, my finger pressing against the trigger the tiniest bit harder but I felt stuck, fixed to the spot. I was screaming at myself to move. To shoot. To run. Why couldn't I shoot him? It would be the end to all my problems... wouldn't it? What the fuck was wrong with me?

"I had something... I wanted to do," I murmured finally as he took another step closer, while I remained paralysed.

"What could be so important that you'd leave in the middle of the night, without as much as a goodbye?" He asked, flicking open his knife and inspecting it.

The yellow light glinted off of the silver blade as he rotated it. This was finally enough for me to bypass my unexpected freeze response. Flight took over. I whirled round and frantically tugged the bolt undone. Next I turned the key, grasping the handle and managing to get the door half way open. Just as I saw a glimpse of hope, a gloved hand clamped down over my mouth, suppressing my rising scream. His strong arms were around me, dragging me backwards.

I resisted furiously, stomping on his foot and fighting not to give up control of the gun. I managed to get halfway free, turning to face him as he still tried to control my arms. His hand was gripped against my wrist, squeezing the bones together so hard I thought they might break. Still, I gave it my everything not to let the gun go - it was the only ace up my sleeve. Seeing I was stubborn enough to break my own wrist rather than relent to this method of attack, he quickly changed tactics and went for my already bruised neck. As soon as he made contact, I cried out and tried to throw up my arms in defence, aware he still held the knife in his other hand - knowing it could be over for me in a matter of seconds...

There was enough of a lapse in my focus on the gun that he managed finally to wrench it out of my hand and toss it aside, but not before a shot fired off into the ceiling. Feeling as though he'd almost snapped my fingers and aware of how bad things were starting to look, I grabbed for anything else I could find from the dresser and my hands seized upon the weighty, battered Bible in the top drawer. As he tried to lunge for my throat a second time I swung the book in a cross-body arc and it connected squarely with the side of his face.

He stumbled sideways, stunned by the impact, and I knew one strike was not enough. So I hit him again. And again. And again. The fifth time he managed to block the blow and knock the book out of my grip.

Panicking, I grabbed for something new, tugging the worn leather belt for my pants from it's place dangling over the back of the chair. I whipped the buckle end into him a couple of times, eliciting a few muderous curses with each impact. This too wouldn't save me though, as he suddenly caught the end and violently tugged it, using it to pull me towards him instead. Not having time to fight it I went skidding forwards, crashing into him and again we began to wrestle as I grabbed his knife hand with both of mine.

The renwed fight was so fraught that it sent us both tumbling onto the floor and the impact dislodged the weapon from his fingers. I kicked it so that it skidded across the hard floor and out of reach, somewhere under the bed. He then grabbed a fistful of my hair as I reached out frantically for the door frame, desperate to prise myself free of his clutches and drag myself into the hall. I screamed in terror, no longer muffled by his hand. My fingers grazed the frame. I was beyond desperate. Tears began to well up in my eyes.

"Come back here," he muttered, dragging me back by the ankle and kicking the door closed.

"No" I wailed, knowing I didn't have the energy to get that close to freedom again.

By now he was standing in front of my exit, putting himself in between me and any hope of escape. I looked up at him with utter contempt as I writhed in pain on the floor and he watched, wordlessly, as he pulled off his gloves and wiped the dripping blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

"You told me I was free to walk away if chose to," I forced out the words between desperate attempts to catch my breath.

"Hm, I did say that," he answered, pushing the hair away from his face and rolling his shoulder as though he was testing it's range of motion.

"You said you were a man of your word. You lied," I added as I groaned in pain, still in a heap on the floor.

"Oh I didn't break my word. Unlike you," He said glaring accusingly at me.

"What do you mean?" I pleaded, exasperated.

"You promised not to interfere," he began to pace up and down, like a caged tiger, his coat tails swinging out at the apex of each turn.

"And how have I broken that promise?" I scoffed.

"You have been a distraction. I've been wasting valuable time."

"That's not my fault! I didn't ask for any of this! I wish I'd never walked into that department store. I could've just gone home," I sobbed.

"I have to give credit where it's due, you almost got away. I really thought I was never going to find you again... but you stayed in the city,"

I looked up at his montrous face through eyes stinging with tears.

"I actually thought..." I murmured under my breath before trailing off in despair.

I didn't want to speak it aloud. That meant admitting it to myself, showing all my cards. I had played the fool. I actually thought he cared for me. Somewhere in my attempts to stay alive I had instead got tangled up in this pyschological cat and mouse game. Somewhere the lines had blurred, a threshold was crossed. It had evolved into something entirely different.

"You played the long game, didn't you?" He laughed, halting his pacing.

"I don't understand," I said, trying to wipe the tears from my face, a surge of anger replacing the terror i'd felt.

"You know, I almost believed you wanted to stay," he wagged a finger at me, "I didn't want to clip your wings. I wanted you to fly... but you were just biding your time. I thought we saw eye to eye."

I looked up at him in utter confusion as I finally struggled back onto my feet.

"Oh, I wanted to stay! And I hate myself for it. It makes me feel twisted and broken. It's so wrong," I spat as I burned again with contempt for him.

He looked like this was an unexpected response from me, pausing for a moment to take in my outburst before adjusting course.

"Then why did you leave?" He stalked closer again.

I stared him down, clutching my sore wrist.

"I had something I needed to do, and I couldn't be part of whatever your next plan was. You -" I searched desperately for the words, "you hurt people."

"So do you."

"It's not the same."

"No?" He prompted, picking away at the unravelling threads of my mind yet again.

"It is not the same," I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow.

I was silent, steadfast in my conviction.

"You know, he also has a habit of disappearing and popping up again where you least expect it," J said with an accusatory tone.

"Who?"

"The batman. And now, you're running around playing vigilante too..."

"I'm not like the batman... Or you." I responded bitterly.

He bent down and upended the contents of my backpack onto the floor, tugging free the object of his search. I watched then as he stood holding up my mask triumphantly - as though he was Perseus with the severed head of medusa.

"That's not what it looks like, Queen of Spades".

Of course, he would get the reference. Even if no one else figured it out. I shook my head and laughed a little, wincing as I held my bruised ribs.

"You don't understand. This isn't the start of some long campaign across the city. I did what I set out to do."

"So that's it? A one-night-only show?"

"I'm done. I'm not under any illusions that I have the power to change anything. Just for one moment, I made those men feel fear. Alexe is going to be feeling it for the rest of his life.'

I couldn't help but smile faintly at the memory of him and Brady's shocked reactions in the club. The Joker watched me intently as I spoke, that look of excited fascination again taking root in his face. I ignored it and continued.

"Do I trust the police to do right by those women? Not really. But I'll bet the DA will be interested; it's an easy moral feather in his cap and looks nice for a re-election campaign. And maybe, just maybe, it's put enough fear into some of the other up-and- comers in the city gangs that they'll be looking over their shoulders."

"Bravo," he clapped his hands together in apparent celebration, "But now you've had a taste, don't you want more?"

I sighed as I stretched out my neck.

"No. Just once, I wanted them to be afraid of me, not the other way around. I got what I wanted but it doesn't change things."

"Oh but it does."

He turned on the TV and flicked through the channels. The news reels were all talking about the new mysterious crimes: The burning of the old Post Office, the attack on Alexe Ibanescu at his nightclub and the strange figure in a mask fleeing the scene. The press had even already got hold of police photographs of the cards i'd left at the first scene - they worked fast. We watched the images of the fire ripping through the building, and cops tackling the gang members as they tried to run from the blaze, there was even grainy video from someone's mobile phone of panic erupting in the nightclub, as the crowd poured out into the street.

There was already a cloud of frantic speculation whirling around. Was this related to the Joker, who was still at large following the devastation he'd caused just days ago? Or was it related to the 'bat' vigilante who was becoming more and more visible? Who was this new figure attacking mobsters? And who did they align with?

"You've got the whole city on the edge of their seats... and you want to leave them disappointed?" He tossed the mask in my direction and I caught it before it could hit the floor.

"I didn't do it to perform," I argued, wondering if I could again make it out of the door now that he had moved away from it.

I knew though that he had control of the gun. I might have been too cowardly to shoot him, but I didn't think he'd have the same difficulty.

He looked unconvinced by my answer, disappointed even.

"Then why the theatrics?"

I looked down at the porcelain face staring up at me from my hands.

"You and the bat have made sure that any crime fitting the normal bill is buried beyond page six. I didn't intend for it to be a headline, but it did need some impact."

"Well it is the headline, on every channel, and it will be splashed across every paper tomorrow morning."

I sighed and set down the mask.

"And what? You're here to encourage me to keep at it? Or are you here to kill me? Can we just skip to it if so?"

His expression at this comment was unexpected, he looked frustrated and almost upset by it. Surely i'd misread him, or it was some ploy to deliberately confuse me further. I thought about what he'd done a few days ago, about the missing people presumed dead at the Mayor's offices in City Hall and my anger rose again.

"You know, I'm not a nihilist like you. I'm not running around blowing things, or god forbid people, up just to prove some depressing point about how miserable our existence is, and how pointless everyone's lives really are."

I stormed over and turned off the TV, not wanting to hear any more about what either of us had done.

"Is that what you think I do?" He said with amusement.

"Yes. You know what? It's funny that you'd compare me to the batman when you're more like him than I. You both have your ego-driven campaigns to single-handedly show the city why your way is the only right way. You parade around on some kind of anti-moral crusade."

My voice was rising with my anger, but I didn't care, I was too swept up in it to notice.

"You are so close to something entirely on a different level, and you're throwing it all away. Wouldn't you rather be a face card, not just another number in the deck?" He said, pleading almost.

He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and waved it in front of me. It was my bus ticket out of the city.

"Why leave?" He asked, his demeanour and body language softening a little.

"Why stay?" I countered, still as prickly as before.

He rolled his eyes as he slapped the ticket down on the dresser. Now it seemed it was his turn to be angry, his voice slipping back into a more sinister register.

"So what's the plan (y/n)? Run away, take up another mindless 9-to-5, eventually meet and marry some boring guy and pop out a few kids for him? Don't you want something more?"

"By staying with you?" I asked, cutting to the point at the core of all this which he was dancing around.

His face betrayed a flash of his own confused emotions for a split second and he fell silent as I dug in further, stepping within arms reach as I continued to stare him down. If he wanted me to curl up and cry, I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. I pushed further:

"Are you really disappointed that I'm leaving Gotham, or are you disappointed that I won't be around to fuck you again if I do?" I asked flatly.

It struck the nerve I was aiming for and he suddenly grasped my blouse at the collar with one hand. I froze for a moment, waiting to see what he'd do next. His mouth was taught with frustration.

"Yeah I said it. Is your counter offer really just 'no don't leave the city, stay here and be my personal whore instead'?"

"You don't want to admit just how much you liked what we did. It scares you... that's why you want to pack up and run," he countered flatly.

Undeterred, I shoved him away, breaking his grip on me and refusing to let his words push me back down. I would always hit back. One way or another.

"Really? And what about you? Trying to revert to approaching me like you did in the dress store. You want to pretend, but you need me. You hate it. Even, if i'm just another little project for you; just another little pawn in your ridiculous game of chess. You can't bear to lose me now. I've changed things, there's no going back."

The sombre vibrato of the woman on the record cut into the tense silence bewteen us as she began a crescendo.

"What is that, why is it here?" I asked, suddenly irritated that he wasn't responding to my argument.

He frowned.

"You don't know?"

I shook my head as the singer's grieving tone washed over me.

"It's Tchaikovsky. The Queen of Spades."

I looked up to meet his gaze, startled.

"You, brought it here... For me?"

His mouth straightened out into a thin line as though he was witholding something.

We were so close now that one step would have bridged the gap between our bodies. Finally, without the constant trading of physical or verbal strikes, I realised that he was wearing cologne again...

"What use is a chessboard without a Queen?" He muttered, sounding almost defeated in tone as his dark gaze washed over me.

I was floored. Of all the things I might have expected from our altercation, this hadn't featured.

I reached out a hand tentatively to touch his coat lapel, rolling the purple felt between my fingertips as thoughts crashed around my mind like ships at sea in a tempest. He grasped my hand in his own and my heart fluttered in my chest. Not able to stop myself I slipped my other hand inside his coat, feeling the cool silk lining, moving it up over his waistcoat to rest atop his shoulder. I was still angry with him. I knew I should hate him... but I couldn't deny the part of me that was drawn in by him too.

My arms threaded around him, embracing him so tightly that it had to have hurt him. Of course, he didn't flinch. Instead, he let his fingertips brush over my scars as he slid a hand into my hair, pressing my head to his chest. I could feel the slow beat of his pulse.

The opera music again bled through into the moment, a duet of voices rising and falling together, and he leant down, his face agonisingly close to my own, his brown eyes burning with chaotic desire. I let him hold me there, abandoning all reason as he drew me into a violent kiss. Something in me had snapped and I returned his affection with equal passion tugging his coat away from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. I could taste the tang of iron, the remnants of the nose bleed I had caused but I didn't care.

I pushed him towards the bed, leading him to lay down on it as I clambered on top of him. I slid my arms over his own and broke free from our kiss to look down at him for a moment. I had missed him. There was no use in denying it. How strange it was to see him like this...

I didn't have long to entertain the thought; he turned and pushed me down onto my back. I let it happen, leaning upwards to meet him in another kiss. He played along for a minute, but then I felt his hand slide up my neck to grasp me by the jaw and forcibly turn my head to the side. Before I could protest I felt his breath in my ear and he began to kiss my bruised neck. Tenderly at first, but soon becoming more aggressive.

I was already losing any sense of composure and a moan escaped my lips. He growled his approval at this in my ear. I threaded my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck and hungrily pressed myself harder against his body. He responded by pulling away from me in deliberate denial. It frustrated me as I glared up at him only to be met with a sly smirk.

I used this extra separation to kick off my boots and tug the red blouse up and over my head, tossing it aside. His dark eyes excitedly roamed my torso as he kicked off his own shoes, letting them fall to the floor with a thud. I sat upright and began to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt, sliding my cold hands underneath them. His muscles tensed up as I touched the skin of his chest and ran my fingers over his collar bones. He paused to slide the straps of his braces off both shoulders and peeled away his shirt, dropping it to the floor, before pushing himself back down on top of me.

His kisses and touches were so intense, with a kind of violence to them that was surprisingly arousing to me - it was as if he really was desperate for me not to leave. Whatever the reason, it felt powerful that he wanted me so badly. He soon had pinned both arms either side of my head and began to kiss his way down my torso. I tried to move, wanting to take off my bra but he didn't let me, gripping me tighter and holding me fast.

I looked up at him a little afraid and exhilirated by the feeling while he relinquished my arms, letting one of his hands trail up to my neck where he gripped me instead, still holding me fast. I was totally at his mercy as he withdrew a blade from his pocket. My breath stalled in my throat as he continued to press his fingers into my flesh. For a moment he held it up to my cheek, the silver metal glinting as it touched my skin, feather light. Not enough to break it. I made no attempts to struggle, looking up at him with complete trust, however stupid that was. He let the blade trail down my neck and across my collar bone, his eyes bright with violent fire.

As he slid the blade under the fabric where my bra met in the centre, it grazed my sternum. The bite of the blade made me wince, eliciting a kind of ragged breath from him. The fact that my life was in his hands might have scared me more, but I knew from our previous journey into this territory that we could also swap roles: he seemed to have a masochistic streak that matched his sadistic tendencies in equal measure - he evidently found dancing on the knife's edge just as intoxicating. For now I was content to be at his mercy, too tired and bruised from the past twenty four hours to resist, as he cut through the fabric with one swift movement and our mouths hungrily reconnected.

My fingers again found the countless scars which covered his back as his hands supported my arching lower back. It wasn't long before he began to pull down my pants and no sooner had they been tossed aside than he began to kiss and playfully bite my inner thigh. My hands knotted themselves into his hair as his tongue sent me into a pleasurable spiral. The ceiling seemed to spin above me. My head sank back into the pillow and I tried to suppress a moan. So much for escaping Gotham's corrupting criminal world. I had reached the top of the slope only to slide all the way back down into the dark...

Tag List:

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LINK TO THE MASTERLIST OF OTHER CHAPTERS ⬇️

[alicelillianshaw]

'You’re the only person who’s ever seen me,'

A line forms between Alice's brows, and she blinks once, lets out a harsh little exhale like she's having trouble listening and absorbing.

There had to have been— so many people in Jack's life. Parents and cousins and relatives and friends and his wife, his daughter, and.

People at work, too. People he met from every walk of life. Alice knows that relation, and friendship, and a marriage license does not automatically mean closeness or understanding— but still.

The fact that Jack has listened to Alice's writing once, heard the words plucked from her brain in the pool, over the span of three days, and feel that?

It feels startling. And humbling. And mystifying and dizzying and too big for her to even grasp her in her hands.

It feels like the ultimate compliment of her writing and her soul.

Alice swallows and stares, enchanted and enraptured as Jack continues to talk— there's something in his eyes. Alice has no idea where it will go. All she knows is that she can't look away.

'When I agreed to do this interview, I already knew how it was going to go. Whoever showed up would start asking me about gun legislation and public healthcare and why the Equality Act has never seemed to make it out of committee. Or — I don’t know. They’d grill me about my divorce. They’d push wherever it hurt. How did my marriage only last one year? What’s my relationship like with my father, who is a well known and outspoken conservative? And even though my team laid out some ground rules, ones that ensured that the reporter couldn’t ask about my arrest last December, they would anyway. They’d ask if I had a drinking problem. Or a drug problem. And I’d probably blow up and ruin the whole fucking thing anyway.'

They'd push wherever it hurt.

Jack had expected the reporter, her, to push where it hurt, like pressing down hard on a wound. His wife leaving, after only a year. His father. The drinking, the alcohol, the arrest, the media storm and the fallout and his daughter, the loss of his daughter. Jack was expecting to hurt like that, and instead, he says, in the most disbelieving tone ... he got Alice.

It makes her stomach flip. Jack says this as if getting Alice was the best, must unforeseen gift in the world.

The way she doesn't ask the questions that will flay him open and hurt him. The way Alice can see into his skull anyway, according to Jack.

Of course that was scary.

Alice feels scared, to know she matters like that— how can she ever deserve it? At the same time all Alice wants to do is deserve it.

When Alice lets her gaze wonder, even just a little bit, she can see the tremor in Jack's hands— even though they sat laced tightly by his thighs. It makes tender concern flood through her. A burning desire, and a question, wondering maybe if she kissed those hands enough, they'd stop the shaking.

Or would that make it worse? Alice doesn't want to make it worse. There's a lot of emotion in her chest, and clearly a lot in Jack's, and as stunned as she is right now, it's such a privilege to feel it— feeling it right now in the dark theater feels like a vast privilege she doesn't deserve.

Especially listening to Jack talk about her like this.

'Not only are you the best writer in the world, but you might actually be the most powerful person in the world.'

Alice's jaw sets, molars clenched to the point they might crack, and for a long moment she is stuck in Jack's eyes. Such perfect blue eyes, the color of the ocean when it's submerging a giant shelf of shale, the color of the sky, when Alice would glance up at it from beneath the mist of the waterfall. The color of the pool, sparkling underneath the summer sky, the surface rippling, distorted only by Jack and Alice entering. Blue like the base of a flame— the hottest part. Hot like her belly when Jack looked at her like that.

Powerful? If anyone, that's Jack. Stuck in his thrall. She has no idea how to translate everything storming and swirling in her chest into writing.

"I almost want you to. Tell me to throw my life away. I will.'

Alice inhales sharply. His hand is at her cheek now, and Alice thinks he must be able to feel her pulse, how her heart is about to burst through her chest.

What to even say? What to even say to the man who announces he'll throw his life away at her bidding?

He almost wants her to ask.

"....Why would you think that's what I want you to do?" Alice smiles at him gently. Tilts forward til she's sitting on her knees, eyes fixed solely on him.

"You tell me all these beautiful things, you make me feel not crazy for everything that I've written, all the pages on my computer, writing about you like I've known you for years, validating what I see, validating how it feels like I've known you forever, and this feeling in my chest that's making me write about you without stopping, and you trust me, and you talk to me like this—"

Exhale. Alice can hear the blood whooshing around in her head, actually.

"I will never ask you to do anything like that."

Alice hand raises, and captures his wrist, and squeezes. A firm squeeze. Trying to be grounding, deliberate, but her own pulse is rabbiting.

"That's not what I want from you..."

"Why would I hear all that, and ask you to do anything except be happy?"

Alice insisted that it wasn’t true. Jack was going to have to help her understand just how incredible she was. She seemed to renege every compliment that Jack sent her way — out of humility, he knew, but it just … was so obvious that she was the most talented person in the world. Certainly the most talented writer. Couldn’t she see that?

Alice said something that almost made Jack laugh out loud. It seemed crazy … coming from him? Didn’t most people fucking hate politicians? Especially ones like Jack — with multiple houses and cars and who seemed to shirk responsibility at every turn in life? No. Alice had it all wrong. Jack was nothing compared to Alice.

Alice who could create worlds and new emotions with just a few sentences.

She reached over, grasped at his t-shirt. Jack held his breath because he could’ve dipped forward and kissed her hand so easily. Those perfect, delicate fingers that aided Alice in crafting the most beautiful sentences he’d ever heard.

Jack was still reeling, but the more time that passed, the more he seemed to be overflowing with things that he wanted to say to Alice. And his words wouldn’t be nearly as perfect as Alice’s — he understood that — but they’d be sincere.

So fucking sincere that it scared Jack.

Alice only seemed to be concerned with hoping that she got Jack right. That she’d seen him the right way.

“You’re the only person who’s ever seen me,” he blurted out. Once he started, he couldn’t stop.

“God. I might actually be insane — saying that out loud. Admitting that to someone that I just met. A reporter.”

Jack paused, shaking his head preemptively.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way. But. A reporter. You’re here to … I don’t know, write some stuff about my career. Maybe make people feel a little sorry for me. Or make them really hate me. That’s why you’re here.”

Jack was ranting and raving about a whole lot of nothing, but if he wasn’t allowing himself to kiss Alice, he had to fucking find something to do with his mouth, right?

“When I agreed to do this interview, I already knew how it was going to go. Whoever showed up would start asking me about gun legislation and public healthcare and why the Equality Act has never seemed to make it out of committee. Or — I don’t know. They’d grill me about my divorce. They’d push wherever it hurt. How did my marriage only last one year? What’s my relationship like with my father, who is a well known and outspoken conservative? And even though my team laid out some ground rules, ones that ensured that the reporter couldn’t ask about my arrest last December, they would anyway. They’d ask if I had a drinking problem. Or a drug problem. And I’d probably blow up and ruin the whole fucking thing anyway.”

“And instead, I get you.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Because — how the fuck?

“Somehow, I get … you.”

Slowly, Jack pumped on the brakes. He slowed down a little. Caught his breath.

“I get you. And maybe you’ve written some stuff about my career, but you’ve also written … that.”

Jack scratched the back of his head, attempting to make sense of it all. No, this didn’t align somehow. If karma was a thing — no. Something was off. This couldn’t be real.

“And when you write something like that … it’s like you’re looking right into my skull somehow. Like you know everything I’ve ever thought or will think. And it’s fucking … terrifying.”

Jack exhaled. He hadn’t noticed that his hands were shaking, from how hard he’d clasped them together. He released before he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. Hah. That’s what she did to him. Day three.

What would happen on day four?

“Not only are you the best writer in the world, but you might actually be the most powerful person in the world.”

Jack surged forward, a little terrified that his impulsivity had won over. No. He could stay in control here. This was too important. He pressed a hand to the side of Alice’s face. He stared. Scanned her features. The delicate arch of her eyebrows. The bluest, kindest eyes he’d ever seen. He didn’t dare look at her mouth.

“When you write like that,” Jack began, voice low and quiet, “it makes me feel … insane. It makes me feel so good. Powerful. Except — you could ask me to do anything right now, and I would.”

Resign from office? Done.

Buy her a new car? Okay, what else?

Walk into traffic? That’s it? 

Jack’s hand remained firmly at the side of Alice’s face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

"I almost want you to. Tell me to throw my life away. I will."

[hyperionwitch-art]

Did you think I was done posting art today?? Let's officially ring in 2024 with the Terrible Kids! This time in Ald Ruhn, enjoying some delicious sauced meat on flatbread.

Tev/Dren Masterpost

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[catwouthats]

“How can this many people simply vote for Trump in the first place?”

��Gaslighting✨

And

✨Teaching themselves apathy because they have been pushed to the brink and are only focused on their own survival and think that this guy will give it because he

gaslight themmmm✨

[humblemooncat]

I swear, sometimes I'm glad I watch prog videos before going in to do it myself, because I get so nervous going in to a new fight, only to be reminded a LOT of prog is going immediately from

"Okay, I know this"

to

And it makes me feel more prepared for some reason.

[iamthepulta]

There is a woodpecker hammering at the side of the house and it's a bold take for 10:30 am, bird.

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[bittersweetresilience]

it feels cosmically unfair that i think about writing all the time want to write all the time and sit down to write all the time and i come up with two sentences at best. there should be some reward system i think