#One Kit Wonder: Metal

[godddamnbranman]

just one angel away from blocking out the devil

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Cold Kisses (TWS)

Summary: The winter soldier always comes to you for help after a mission. He hardly speaks, let alone kisses you after a treatment...

Warnings: a kiss? flangst?

WC: 794

Read on ao3!

--

The quiet hum of the medical bay was a stark contrast to the chaos that had undoubtedly unfolded on the mission. You adjusted the strap of your medical kit, fingers steady despite the anxiety that curled in your stomach. The Winter Soldier, the lethal assassin whose presence had haunted your every shift, was back. He had returned after every mission, but today... something felt different.

The door to the med bay creaked open, and there he stood—his cold eyes hidden behind the mask, his body battered and bruised from the violence that had unfolded. He didn’t speak. He never spoke unless absolutely necessary. His steel grip held the doorframe, his breath a shallow exhale.

You stepped forward, your professional mask slipping on as you took in his condition. The bloodstains on his combat gear, the bruises, the cuts, the faint but unmistakable signs of a mission gone wrong. He had returned before, but the desperation in his eyes today was something else entirely.

“Winter Soldier,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “You’re hurt.”

He nodded stiffly, moving past you toward the medical table. His movements were deliberate, controlled, but you could tell there was pain in each step. He sat down with a low grunt, his body too worn for his usual icy stoicism.

“Let me assess you,” you said, setting your kit down beside him. You kept your voice steady, though your hands betrayed you with their subtle tremor. The air in the room thickened as you began to examine him, your fingers brushing lightly over his bloodied skin, checking for injuries. You didn’t want to ask questions you knew he wouldn’t answer. But you couldn’t ignore the feeling that this mission had taken something more from him than usual.

The metal arm—his most iconic feature—was scratched, battered, a reminder of the relentless nature of his work. You gently checked his wrist, noting the way he winced but kept his gaze forward, unmoving. The silence between you two was familiar, but today it felt heavier.

“Your arm?” you asked, though you weren’t sure why you bothered. It wasn’t like he’d answer.

A grunt was his only response.

You moved on, your fingers tracing over a bruise on his side, one of many that had begun to form beneath his tactical vest. As your hands brushed against the cool skin of his torso, you could feel the tension in his muscles, the strain of too many fights, too many betrayals. His eyes were fixed on the far wall, and for a moment, you wondered if he was even aware of your presence.

The only sound now was his breathing, shallow and uneven. You frowned as you gently lifted his shirt to inspect the cut across his abdomen. It wasn’t deep, but it would need stitches. You reached for a needle and thread, your hands shaking slightly as you began to stitch the wound shut.

You didn’t mind the silence. It was part of the routine. But today, it felt like a weight, one that had been building with every passing second.

As you finished with the wound, you prepared to clean up the mess, but before you could move, he shifted on the table, his gaze suddenly sharp as he looked at you. His eyes narrowed—like he was studying you. Something in them had changed.

You were so focused on the task at hand that you didn’t notice him moving until it was too late.

Before you could react, he leaned forward with a suddenness that left you breathless, his lips crashing against yours. It was raw, desperate, and completely unexpected. His kiss was fierce, his hands gripping the sides of the table, his body leaning closer until you had no choice but to lean into him. The cold metal of his arm brushed against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours.

Your heart raced in your chest, every muscle in your body frozen in shock. His lips tasted of blood and sweat, the remnants of the mission lingering on his skin. You didn’t know what to do, what to say. The Winter Soldier—this man who had been trained to kill without hesitation—was kissing you, and you had no idea why.

As quickly as it had happened, he pulled away, his face impassive once again, his eyes dark and unreadable.

He didn’t say a word as he stood, his movements stiff but purposeful. You stood there in stunned silence, your lips still tingling from the unexpected kiss.

Without another glance, he turned and walked toward the door, his presence as cold and mysterious as it had always been.

But something in you had shifted, something that would linger long after he was gone.

--

if you enjoyed, please reblog this! leave a comment!

[moonstruckme]

*dries tears and ignores the stinging of my hand* hi mae! I have a holiday/winter themed emt!marauders prompt if it suits you!! I was wondering if we could see the boys and reader celebrating the holidays in a cozy little cabin that happens to have a wood burning stove? I was just tending to the fire at my mum's old house and burnt the shit out of my knuckles, and I think the boys would be (want them to be) soooo sorry on my behalf and coddle me senseless 🥹

Awwww, our poor Elle <//3 I hope your burn has fully healed by now my love

cw: mention of burn but no description

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 789 words

You gasp through your teeth when it happens, your body reacting before your brain can register either pain or embarrassment. Those come shortly after, one after the other, pain when you see the already reddening skin of your knuckles, embarrassment when Sirius comes to investigate what’s made that sound. 

Your boyfriend looks you over quickly, a well worn habit. His brows pinch when his eyes land on your hand. 

“Awe, baby.” He takes your wrist carefully. “What’d you do?” 

“I burnt it on the stove,” you say, shocked. “On the door.” 

Sirius coos. “Poor girl,” he murmurs, giving you a firm squeeze around the shoulders before starting to pull you towards the kitchen sink. “Come here.” 

You gasp again as he turns the cool tap on your knuckles. Sirius shushes you, drawing circles into the inside of your wrist with his thumb. After a moment the water starts to feel nice, and you relax right as James and Remus wander in to find you. 

James’ eyebrows raise when he sees you and Sirius at the sink. “You said you were making cocoa,” he says, half confounded and half already on the brink of laughter. “What’d you manage to do instead?” 

“She’s burnt herself,” Sirius replies pityingly. 

“Ohh.” James gives you his sad puppy look. Remus is frowning concernedly. “Angel, how?” 

You shrug self-consciously.  “I thought it was sort of cold in here, so I went to stoke the fire—”

James gives a little smile. “Obviously a mistake.” 

“—and I burnt my fingers on the door as it was shutting.” 

“Dove.” Remus’ sigh is a mix of exasperation and caring. He kisses the back of your head, trying to see your knuckles through the water. “How bad?” he asks Sirius. 

“Mild,” Sirius says, though his thumb is still moving over your wrist, his touch heavy with sympathy. “Might still blister, though. Think they have a first aid kit here?”

“I’ll check.” Remus kisses your head again before he goes. 

You appraise your hand, the stinging lessened under the flow of the tap. “I don’t think it’s really terrible,” you say. 

“No” —Sirius wraps an arm around your waist, squeezing— “it isn’t, baby. Probably still hurts, though, yeah?” 

You frown, and he coos, doting. His lips press warmly to your shoulder. 

“Let’s see if we can get it warm in here like you wanted,” says James, bending in front of the large iron stove. He picks up the poker, opening the small door and prodding at the logs. As he does, he glances at the temperature gauge on the side. “Christ, lovie. It’s already at 400, how much hotter do you want it to be?” 

“It is?” You squint, trying to read it from where you are. “Oh, that is a hot fire.” 

“Is it now?” Remus asks as he comes back in with a roll of bandages and a bottle of clear gel. “You wouldn’t be referring to the fire you burnt yourself with, would you?” 

Your face heats at the teasing in his voice. “I didn’t burn myself with the fire.” 

“No, but the heat of the fire does actually affect the heat of the metal around it. Or so I’ve heard.” 

“Be nice to her,” Sirius protests on your behalf. He scrubs his hand up and down your side comfortingly. “She’s hurt. And it could have happened to anyone, that thing is evil.” 

“You only think that because you can’t use it either,” James taunts, referring to every time in the past few days Sirius has also narrowly avoided burning himself on the hot stove that heats your rented cabin. “You two are disasters in solidarity.” 

Sirius’ mouth drops open. “What did he just call us?” he stage whispers near your ear. 

When you chuckle, his lips quirk. 

To their credit, James and Remus both revert to their usual sweetness as they spread aloe over your burn and wrap it with careful touches. Remus even places a kiss on the other side of your fingers, seemingly under the hope its healing powers will seep through. Sirius remains your most devout supporter, tutting and kissing whatever spare inch of you he can find anytime he so much as suspects something might hurt. 

“Do you need to take some painkillers, babylove?” he asks once they’ve finished up. 

You press your lips into a reassuring smile. “That’s okay,” you tell him fondly. “It’s not so bad.” 

Sirius pouts. “Do you want some painkillers, though?” Your silence speaks for you, and he makes for the bathroom. Remus sighs, holding your head still to kiss your hair and mumbling something about one or the other of you being a terrible enabler before going to get you some water to take your painkillers with.

[confietti]

Emo!choso Headcanons

EMO!CHOSO who i think would listen to baby metal, slipknot, korn, mcr, tv girl & ptv💋

EMO!CHOSO who your conservative christian parents tell you to stay away from because they thought he would corrupt you. (they were right.)

EMO!CHOSO who you got paired up with for a group project and he did all the work despite you insisting that you can do something too and him telling you that it was okay.

EMO!CHOSO who likes to sneak through your window unannounced, just because he misses you and loves cuddles. :(

EMO!CHOSO who fucking got off on the fact that he was your first everything. he loved the fact that he got to corrupt you.

EMO!CHOSO who bought a piercing kit off of amazon and taught himself how to give piercings just so he could get you matching ones.

EMO!CHOSO who you persuaded to get matching hello kitty tattoos. (he acts like he hates it but he secretly thinks that they're adorable.)

EMO!CHOSO who taught you how to skate and even bought you your first board as a gift because he was so proud of his baby.

EMO!CHOSO who had your parents enraged when you told them you guys were dating. your father was screaming at you while your mother was crying in the background wondering where she went wrong.

EMO!CHOSO who makes his new tongue piercing very evident by flicking the cold metal against your puffy clit again and again until you were a moaning mess.

EMO!CHOSO who was absolutely elated when you finally gave him permission to take your virginity.

Bonus: It was quiet in your bedroom.. only noises being the wet squelching sounds of your tight cunt bouncing off the walls. "F-fuck baby.. y're milking me.. havin' me drip all over the sheets.. you sure this pussy 's a virgin?" your cheeks had started to heat up from embarrassment, whimpers and cries only getting louder as you neared your release. your walls tightened around him as you came, eyes rolling back in your head as you dragged your fingernails down his back, creating more angry red lines. "Fuuuck," he groans. Beginning to pick up the pace a bit in an attempt to bring him to his release. "C-cho.." you whined, pretty tears running down your face as you cried from overstimulation. "j-just a bit more baby, it'll be over soon.. okay? promise." you nodded at his reassurance and tried to choke back your sobs as he stuffed you full of his cum. He spent the rest of that night showering you with kisses and cuddling you until you both fell asleep. (only to be kicked out by your father the next morning of course.)

a/n: first mini smut you guys!!! pt. 2: here.

© strawbrryval, 2023. do not copy, steal, or repost my content without permission.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 6

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn’t all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: hate me, baby.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You pack away your kit and drag the vacuum to the elevator. You give one last look to the condo then tap the button and wait. You jitter as you stare at the doors, urging on your escape. From this place, from him. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? He wasn’t cruel but he also didn’t stop. He didn’t ask. He just... did that. But you’re the one who touched him first. But he said yes. That’s the difference, isn’t it? Or did you give him permission by initiating the whole breach of behaviour. 

“Doll,” his hands clamp down on your shoulders and jar you from your anguished trance. You gasp and look over at the metal fingers curling around you. “What’sa matter?” 

You quiver as the elevator doors open. You grip the vacuum tight and try to walk out of his grasp. That’s a foolish thought. He keeps you as you are. 

“You’re in a hurry?” He wonders. 

You gulp and drop your head, the hose quiver in your hand. You wet your dry lips and shudder. You can’t hear over the thumping pulse behind your ears. 

“Hey,” he spins you and the vacuum hose falls from your grasp. You blink up at him, staring at his face if only to avoid another glimpse of his naked form. He cups your head. “Your heart’s about to explode. Why don’t you sit down? You been working hard.” 

You touch the back of his hands as your eyes glaze over, “please...” 

He searches your face, his expression lining with confusion, “what?” 

Your lip trembles and you drop your arms. You can’t fight him. You can feel that same oppression as before. His body over yours, smothering you, suffocating you. This isn’t just a man, this is a super soldier. 

“Are you scared?” He asks. 

You nod without thinking. He retracts his touch and turns away. “I was... nice.” 

You hug yourself as the elevator shuts and descends. Your way out weighs heavily on the wires as it disappears. You dig your nails into your arms. 

“I’m scared too, doll,” he turns back again. You wince and avert your gaze to the wall. “It’s been a long time... long time since anyone... since I let anyone...” He marches toward you and you back up until you hit the doors. 

You watch him in horror as he gets down on his knees. He grabs your wrists and unfolds your arms, clasping them in his and kissing your knuckles. You whimper as he opens your palms to him and brushes them over his thick beard. 

“I need you, doll. You can’t leave me like this,” he begs. 

You don’t know what he wants. You can’t figure why he’s doing this. Why he’s clinging to you like a scared puppy. You didn’t do anything but your job. No, you touched him first. 

“I only wanted to help,” you whisper. 

He kisses your palms and hums, “you did, baby. You did.” 

“Bucky, I have to go,” you quaver. “Home.” 

He hisses and goes silent. He continues to toy with your hands. He guides them to his hair as he shuffles closer on his knees. He grips your hips and pulls you forward. He nuzzles your pelvis with a growl and you squeak. 

“Bucky!” You squeal. 

He purrs and rolls his face against you, his thumbs pushing into your soft flesh. He continues to nuzzle you firmly, rocking his head as he inhales your scent through your jeans. You babble helplessly and push on his shoulders. 

“I can make you feel good, doll,” he looks up at you with beaming blue eyes. “I wanna. So bad.” 

You wriggle but don’t offer much resistance. You feel his strength and your lack of. The doors are shut, in all ways. 

He snakes his hands around to your bottom and suddenly, he stands, lifting you off your feet. You cry out again and latch onto him in fright. He hooks your knees around him and gives a sultry growl over your hair. He carries you away from the elevator. 

You quake against him as you resign yourself to his whims. He takes you around to the front room and sits you on the sofa. You lean back and brace the cushions as he traces along your waist band. He pinches the front and pushes the button of your fly free. 

Paralysed, you watch him, a hollow shell as he pulls down the tab of your zipper. He exhales deeply as he once more feels along the denim and hooks his fingers beneath. He tugs, jerking you, peeling your pants down to your thighs. 

You plant your heads firmly to keep from slipping down as he rolls your jeans past your knees. You shiver as he exposes you to the airy space. His eyes crawl up your legs and frames your waist as he bends over your lap. 

His hand creep down to your shaking thighs and push them apart as he bows further. He breathes into the front of your cotton panties and nips the fabric. He snarls and presses his nose against you, dipping into your slit.  

You squirm as his trails a fingertip along the crease of your leg and tugs aside the cotton. You quiver as he purrs and slides his tongue along your folds. You arch your back, pushing your head into the cushions as you whine. The coolness of his mouth mingles cloyingly with your warmth. 

He flicks up and down as you squeak and twitch, slapping the cushions as your insides writhe uncontrollably at his tending. His finger grazes along your skin and he prods at your entrance, teasing it as his tongue swirls around your clit. You hiss and hum, trying to hold back the moans trapped in your chest. 

You bite your lips as your head lolls and your eyes roll back. Your fear gives way to something more vulnerable, something undeniable. You latch onto his head and arch your feet as the tension winds in your core. 

He’s right. He hasn’t hurt you. If you’re good, then he won’t. If you’re good, it will feel good. Right? 

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Of Course It's You. It's Always You. - Alastor x Reader

Pairing: Alastor x Y/N

Word Count: 1103

Warnings: Slight Injuries, but nothing major :)

It happened again. Alastor had gone a bit too far when fighting off the many fiends that tried to ransack the hotel. This time it was some loan sharks that had come to hunt down who you had thought was the hotel’s newest resident, Mimzy. Sometimes you wondered why Alastor, a man known for only ever paying mind to his own flights of fancies and rarely ever entertaining anybody else lest it was to gain something for himself, was so passionate about this redemption project of Charlie’s. There wasn’t much time to ponder this, though, as Alastor had burst into your room bruised, exasperated, and covered in blood (was it his? you’d never know). You had never seen him this… defeated. He still wore his trademark smile, but something seemed off. It was his eyes. 

Ever since you became a resident at this hotel, you had grown close to Alastor. He was just so… enthralling. Interesting. You hadn’t asked why he smiles so much, but instead learned how to read his eyes. And right now, his eyes needed help. You urged him to come to your floor and he sat down, gasping as you immediately pulled out your medical kit and applied alcohol to his bite wounds. Man, they weren’t joking when they said those loan sharks had the sharpest teeth out there. For the first time ever, you were thankful that Charlie kept a stocked cabinet of essentials in every room, but more than that, you were surprised that anything could even get close enough to Alastor to hurt him like this. As you bandaged his wounds and filled them with gauze to prevent further bleeding, you slowly unbuttoned his ripped shirt only to be met with equally ripped skin beneath it.

“Oh, Satan”

you say while quickly using the few remaining gauzes you had. He hadn’t said a word this entire time, only wincing when you pressed the bandages against his wounds. Without even saying a word, this was the most vulnerable you had ever seen the Radio Demon. 

As both of your adrenalines died down, you faced him on the floor and asked him what happened.

“I’ve simply never seen anything like it before.” he said.

“They- They had silver teeth- made of Carmine angelic metal.”

While this seems rather insignificant, angelic weapons are the only thing that can kill Earth-born sinners. These scratches were not just inconvenient for the all-powerful Radio Demon, but lethal.

“Alastor… you need to be more careful. We could have lost you. Charlie IS the princess of Hell, you don't have to fight all of her battles for her.” you say.

Alastor’s voice rises.

“Y/N. You don't understand. I- I have to protect this hotel. This is larger than you could ever understand.”

For a second, you swear you could hear his radio voice falter slightly. You sigh in defeat. He could be so stubborn sometimes. As you lean your head against the leg of your bed, you repeat under your breath,

“I could have lost you.”

You put your face into your hands. 

You had been attracted to Alastor ever since you started to get to know him. It was impossible not to. He was such a gentleman… such a thing could not be found just anywhere in Hell. And this man, this diamond among the rough, was almost torn away from you and your chosen family by some lousy loan sharks.

“What was that, Darling?” He broke the silence.

You lift your head off of your hands, slightly embarrassed that he heard you.

“Uh, nothing.”

You felt his hand on your arm, and slightly flinched. Alastor didn't seem like one who was very keen on physical touch, especially initiating it. You glanced into his eyes.

“Darling, don't dismiss yourself. When I ask you a question, answer it.”

You blushed slightly, looking at the distant wall to avoid eye contact.

“I said that I almost lost you. I just dont think I would be able to bear your absence. You- you have helped me see that there can be things worth fighting for, even in eternal damnation.”

Did you just - did you just say that shit out loud?!? Oh, that was corny as fuck, theres no way he’s staying in this room with you after that. Instead of appealing to your inner monologue and leaving, his hand met your face, possibly the gentlest touch you've ever felt.

“Darling, I’ve never once thought that a belle like you could ever think those things about a demon like me. I am truly honored to be a thought in your mind, and even so, a positive one. Why haven't you told me this sooner?”

Did you hear that right? Alastor, THE Radio Demon, just heard you confess your feelings for him… and he didn’t end your life right then and there? You stammered,

“I, um… uh,”

Alastor took your hand into his own, rubbing it with his thumb reassuring me.

“I can sense your anxiety, love. I assure you, you of all people do not have to fear me.” he calmly says.

“Only in my worst nightmares would I ever do anything to cause you harm. Despite my constant efforts to distance myself from you all in efforts to best serve this hotel, you have never faltered in your adamant spirit to just… know me. I know that it is not an effort to manipulate me, as you have not once asked me for anything in return for your constant care.”

As he finishes, you say, “How could I? You have done so much for us, for me, the least I can do is offer you somebody to confide in. Somebody that you can love without ever wondering if this love is reciprocated.”

The two of you sat in silence, staring at the red, wallpaper-plastered wall in front of you, his hand remaining on yours. You didn’t know if what you had said about love was a bit too far, but glancing over at Alastor gave you your answer. His regularly toothy grin was replaced by a small smile, a genuine smile. He moves himself closer to you to remove the distance between your two bodies and slowly guides your head to rest on his shoulder. This gentleness was refreshing. Just two souls that know the same struggle relinquishing in each other’s presence.

“Alastor?” you ask.

“Yes, my Darling?”

“That thing I said, about love… was that too much?”

He chuckled in reply as he leaned his head on yours. “Of course not, my love. Why do you think I came to you of all people?”

[mind-intheclouds342]

Helping Daisuke!

(I don't know why but i think you all gonna think that the way i write its pretty funny and weird, it's just so different making it in spanish.

My first language isn't english and i'm trying my best doing this for the first time!

I hope that at least you can all enjoy it a little bit)

This is pure fluff

You thought you were going to have a horrible experience on that ship, but a light was there to brighten your days.

After finishing high school, you weren't quite sure how your life was going to keep going or what you were going to do.

Your parents were very worried about you, immediately urging you to do different things that only ended up putting more stress on you.

Until they achieved this, and you accepted, you needed to escape from them and have time for yourself.

You never imagined that one day you would reach space, it was something unreal for you.

The fact that they hire people with no experience at all it seemed so strange, but you didn't complain too much about it or think of it.

You ended up being Anya's intern, who was in charge of the nursery.

You liked her a lot, she was so calm and sweet with you, and you felt secure having another woman on the crew.

At the beginning of the trip, you were extremely focused on learning as much knowledge as possible from her, where the medications were located, CPR techniques, how to perform a routine check-up, and other things.

In any case, you kept a certain distance from others, feeling defenseless in front of everyone else since they were older than you and had the necessary experience to do their jobs, while you only felt like an intruder.

But not with him.

Daisuke had gone through a situation similar to yours, ending up as Swansea's intern, helping him with mechanical work.

But you two hadn't exchanged a word until that day…

Swansea: "Hey (Y/n), I need you to help me with something, and it would be better if you bring your emergency kit"

You had been alarmed immediately upon hearing the man call you, but you nodded to accompany him; he certainly looked upset, making you wonder what had happened.

Swansea: "I couldn't find Anya, you were the closest one to ask for help, because I need you to fix this idiot soon."

He mentioned, pointing at a Daisuke sitting on a box, thinking about what had happened.

You immediately noticed the drops of blood on the floor, you began to carefully examine the boy's body until you found that he had a piece of metal embedded in the palm of his hand.

You tilted your head, analyzing the wound for a moment; it wasn't large, the metal was cylindrical and of small diameter.

"How did that happen?"

Swansea: "Ask the fool, I don't wanna here, if I keep seeing him I'm going to smack him"

He ran his hand over his face in frustration before leaving.

You couldn't help but smile, noticing that he was truly worried about the boy.

You approached and sat down in front of him.

Daisuke looked up to see you, and his eyes soon began to search for something else to focus on.

"I'm going to need you to lend me a hand."

You said, extending your hands, hoping he would do the same.

Daisuke: "Really, it wasn't as stupid as the boss says! Seriously, I was doing something very, very important"

He began to speak nervously, to which you just kept staring at him, waiting for his hand. Defeated, he finally handed it to you.

"So, what was that totally not silly and super important thing you were doing?"

Daisuke: "As you can imagine! Swansea couldn't fix inside the ventilation ducts for obvious reasons! I wanted to help him and I climbed up! But… I fell and my hand got stuck as you can see… It was for a good cause!"

"Mmh"

You hummed, focused, watching the swelling around the metal, and touched the boy's fingers, making sure it hadn't pierced any tendons or bones.

Daisuke: "Does it look very bad? It doesn't hurt as much as you might think"

"It's going to hurt."

You warned him, leaving him confused, when you put on a glove and ripped the metal off, making him let out an extremely high-pitched scream.

Both of them stood there, surprised by how he had shouted, the boy immediately turning red.

"The good thing is that it didn't go through anything important, you were lucky."

You began to clean the wound carefully.

Daisuke: "Great… Great… Soooo… what things are you into?"

You raised your gaze curiously for a moment at his question.

Daisuke: "I need to talk to distract myself from the pain."

"What do I like?… Lemme see… I like watching series… Listening to music… Read… Normal things, I guess? Nothing extraordinary"

Daisuke: "Those are awesome things! What kind of series do you like to watch? Oh! What's your favorite music genre? I can teach you some awesome songs! Do you like movies? I love action movies! Ka-pow!"

You couldn't help but laugh a little at his enthusiasm while you were already bandaging his wound.

"You're going to have to take good care of yourself and we'll do some check-ups from time to time, okay?"

Daisuke: "You mean like dates?…….I mean! Medical! Medical dates!! Medical appointments?"

You were surprised by that and smiled at him, raising an eyebrow, starting to understand what all that nervousness was about.

"We can also have dates, if you like, although it will be difficult on the ship, but if you're okay with a day playing cards and watching the screen, then I think we can make it work."

Daisuke: "Are you serious??"

You could see how her entire face lit up with your suggestion.

"I'm not going to deny it, you're cute, and you're the only one my age, I feel much more comfortable with you."

Daisuke: "Eh-? Seriously, is that all you see??"

"…You have never spoken to me! How could I like anything else about you if I don't know you?"

Daisuke: "It's just that talking to girls makes me nervous… I was afraid of saying something that would make you think I'm an idiot-"

"Okay, so… What do you like about me?"

Daisuke: "…That you're my age… and you're pretty…"

You crossed your arms at his vague answer like yours.

Daisuke: "How handsome do you think I am? The most handsome one in the crew, am i rigth?"

He smiled, running his hand through his hair, making you laugh.

"The second one, I would say~ but Captain Curly is too old for me."

Daisuke: "I didn't want to know that! Lie to meeeee!"

He stayed, and you could only laugh more, to the point where you accidentally started to snort, covering your mouth trying to stop laughing.

Daisuke found that even more adorable and magnificent, his cheeks flushing even more, thinking that he might have a chance with such a sweet girl who laughs at his silly words and actions.

"Remember, no matter how much it itches, you mustn't scratch it, okay?"

You indicated to him after you had caught your breath and stopped laughing, you had to return to the infirmary to leave the emergency kit you had taken.

Daisuke: "Got it!"

He brought his hand to his forehead and smiled at you.

You returned the smile and approached him to leave a kiss on your cheek before leaving.

He stood in place for a few seconds before jumping up, shouting with joy, raised his hand wanting to high-five someone, but realizing he was alone, he high-fived himself.

Something he immediately regretted but it was worth it.

Anya: "Oh, (Y/n) was looking for you"

"I was helping Daisuke, he had hurt himself, here I bring the kit to put it back in place."

Anya: "Yes, it had a very nasty wound"

"…How do you know?"

Anya: "Well, I was the first to see it but Swansea suggested that you should see it to test what you've learned, I'm sure you did great."

You let out a chuckle upon hearing that, so Swansea took it upon himself to help you talk to each other, he really do cares about Daisuke.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

POV: You are five, and are playing hide and seek with your papa. He always beats you in the game, but you are determined to win someday! Right now, he is counting to ten, so you are sneaking around in the hidden tunnels to find a hiding place. You wait for him to come. And he finds you...except it's not your papa. This...person, he looks like your papa, but he's not. Your papa always looked at you with tender eyes, but in this stranger's gaze, you see nothing but demented glee. You don't know why, but you can feel the fright slowly creeping on your back. And then he moves.

Hide and Seek

Summary: You always loved your weird papa. But you didn't know that one day you would be truly scared of him.

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping, dubcon, angst

Word count: 1930

Author's note: It took me a long time to finally reply to this ask. But damn, I'm so glad it didn't get lost on the page. And I was able to figure out exactly how I wanted to write this drabble.

Tag List: @druidwolf21, @kit-williams

And also I want @passionofthesith, @lemon-russ, @moodymisty, @beckyninja, @solspina to see this. Sorry guys, no horny atmosphere. Only fear and angst.

You lived in softness from the moment you were born. The entire floor was covered with warm and plush blankets, pillows. Not to mention the two beds. The entire room was covered with soft cute toys, with which you fell asleep by your side. Even your mommy, a kind and quiet woman, slept with toys in her arms.

You didn't see the world outside the ship. Mommy said that it was very dangerous there. She herself was from a planet that did not want to join the Imperium (you still didn't understand what that was). But daddy came and told them how to live correctly. He fell in love with mom at first sight and immediately took her to his place. To a safe place.

You always thought it was a romantic story. Although mom told you it very quietly. Sometimes she looked sadly at the ceiling and you wondered if she remembered her home planet? Perhaps she missed her parents, but now she has a new home. You and daddy.

Daddy didn't come around that often because he was a primarch. Papa told you that meant he was the most important. He had pale skin, black eyes and slightly dirty hair. His teeth were clawed and he always smelled of something metallic. Daddy said it was blood.

He looked a bit scary, but Mummy said it was because he worked a lot. But thanks to that, you and she lived so well. Your cozy room was soft and warm. Daddy always washed himself before coming in here. He didn't want to "bring dirt into his little paradise," as he liked to say.

He often played with you and had tea party. He told you stories. And he was always touching Mummy. Hugging her, kissing her. One time you woke up in the middle of the night when you realized that strange sounds were coming from the bed. Papa stroked her hair, saying how much he loved her, how obsessed (what does that mean?) he was with her. For some reason, Mom cried.

In fact, you didn’t see the whole ship from the inside (you didn’t even know what it looked like from the outside). Your whole life was concentrated in one room. And yet, when you turned four, daddy started taking you “to a separate compartment”. Especially just for the two of you. You didn’t know why he did it until he told you to hide and you happily ran to explore the territory. You just recently told papa that you and mom often play hide and seek. But there’s so little space that you quickly finish playing.

Then he quickly found you. And the next time. And the one after that. He was so fast and secretive. As if he was born in the dark! But you so wanted to defeat him one day. To hear the cherished “I can’t find you” and proudly come out of hiding.

Now you’re five. And before the next game, you thought about where exactly you would hide this time. In one of the tunnels. When you saw the black depths, you were scared of it and burst into tears. You were still afraid to go there. But… it’s such a good chance to win. Papa will never guess where you decided to hide.

***

It's very dark and creepy in the hole. In other hide-and-seek places, you sometimes giggled in anticipation. But here, you don't want to. It's very dark. And scary. You want to escape from here as soon as possible, but you endure it. You want to beat daddy at the game. And even though you haven't seen him, you felt like more time has passed than usual. But he still hasn't found you. You almost won!

A sudden rustle from behind interrupted your happy thoughts. Your heart pounded and goosebumps ran down your spine. You swallowed, trying with all your might to stay in place. No, you have to win. You can't leave this hole no matter how scared you are. But another rustle makes you squeak in fear. You turn around sharply, hoping to see nothing behind you. To overcome your fear and understand that you can survive this for the sake of victory.

You wanted to scream, but you couldn't make a sound.

There was complete darkness. And yet the black eyes and pale face stood out brightly, as if there was a ghost in front of you. The clawed teeth spread in a smile from ear to ear. The man himself was sitting on all fours, like a dog ready to pounce. Ready to tear you to shreds.

It was papa. No. It was papa's face. But it was not him. He no longer looked at you with gentle and kind eyes. His face was not sad as usual. He was beside himself with delight. Saliva was ready to flow from the corners of his lips, and excitement splashed in his eyes. And something else. A bad word that mom said in her sleep, when she had nightmares. Madness.

“Found.” - the monster whispered softly, as if trying to calm the girl. To make contact with her. To make friends. Before sinking his teeth into her throat. You saw, you saw this desire. It wanted to eat you. To absorb you. It wanted to take you into the darkness of the tunnel and never let you go.

And then it moved.

“PAPA, SAVE ME!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, closing your eyes, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. You were sobbing like a little child. You were a child. Defenseless and abandoned to the mercy of a monster. Which immediately grabbed you in its arms and ran away laughing into the darkness of the tunnel.

Tears and snot ran down your face in disarray, you cried at the top of your lungs. But you didn’t even think about opening your eyes. You didn’t want to see this monster wearing your dad’s skin on its face. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the suffocating embrace of the monster’s stomach. How it giggled at your fear. It enjoyed it. Enjoyed your fear.

At some point, the monster slowed down and you felt it rise on two legs. Imitating a human. You weren't screaming anymore, your throat was hoarse. But you were ready to start bawling again, just so daddy could hear you. He had to hear, he had to save you.

“Here we are, home.” - the monster cooed in your ear. You trembled, but as soon as you heard the familiar creaking sound, hope appeared in your heart. - “Come on, delicious. Come to mommy.”

You slowly open your eyes and see your paradise. Your soft, toy-filled room. Books with children's fairy tales. Star-shaped lamps. And a little scared, but mostly sad mother. She sobs and stretches out her hands to you. Gentle, caring hands that always stroked you before bed.

"Come here, darling. Don't be afraid." - and her voice is gentle too. She looks only at you. Tries to ignore the monster.

But you are scared. And as soon as the stranger puts you down on your feet, you immediately run into the woman's arms. You hide in her chest, trying to ignore the evil giggling. The monster leaves you, locking the door. But you still hear his terrible voice.

“My girls.”

Your mommy gently rocks you on her lap, continuing to stroke you and kiss your forehead. You are still anxious. You want to forget this nightmare. And you calm down, surrounded by the care of a kind woman. Perhaps that is why daddy fell in love with her. Daddy…

“Mom.” - you finally raise your head and look at the woman with red, tired eyes. - “W-who is this man? Why does he look like papa? And where is papa himself?”

Your mother was always as quiet as a mouse. Neat and gentle, she did not attract attention to herself. She was often sad, especially when papa came. But there was light coming from her. Light that warmed and calmed you. You could always rely on her. But now she was silent. And this silence was tense.

You looked into her eyes and to your horror, you saw exactly the same fear there. Sadness. Despair. She was desperate. You hugged your mother tighter, rubbing her skin with your palms. Maybe she got cold? Maybe she needed to be warmed up?

“Mommy?” - you call her softly and she finally looks at you. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

“Oh, honey.” - your mom took a deep breath and you flinched at the way she said those words. As if she had met that person before. And not for the first time.

“You see, it’s… another papa.” - your mom explains to you softly, continuing to stroke your head. - “He doesn’t come often. I’m sorry you saw him like that. He didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman said the last words so uncertainly, which made you press yourself closer to her.

“Does he hate us?” - you still remember his crazy look. His grin. How he giggled while you cried and called for papa.

“No, honey. He loves us. But he loves too harshly. Sometimes cruelly.” - you hear a quiet sob and understand that your mom is trying to hold back her tears. - “He’s just very lonely. And in pain. So he wants someone to share his pain with him. To calm him down.”

“And he can’t leave? "He can't leave us with our papa?" - you ask naively, expecting your mother to say the cherished "yes". That these are just temporary problems and daddy will cope. He is the primarch, he is the best.

But your hopes are shattered.

"No, dear." - your mother's voice sounds so quiet and hopeless that you want to hug her. To calm her down as she did you. - "This is your papa too. You will get used to him."

A sudden creak of the door scares you to the point of trembling. Your heart starts pounding like crazy and yet you turn around at the sound. You can't help but do it. You can't help but look because it seems to you that if you don't do it, he will get angry.

Absolutely black eyes are full of such universal sadness that a little more and you will suffocate. Papa did not smile and yet you knew that it was him. The ghost that haunted you. Who wanted to swallow you up and never give you to anyone. You wonder, maybe this is the real papa, and you saw daddy so often because you were little? Because he spared you? You didn't see him as often as mom.

And then it spoke.

"Are my sweet ones scared?" - you want to scream, you want to run away, but mom hugs you tightly, kissing your temple. You need to survive this meeting. And he will leave, leave. - "Well, it's okay, daddy is with you. He will protect you."

Night Haunter enters the plush room and carefully sits down with his two girls. He hugs you tenderly, but you want to cry. Daddy always smelled of blood, but he smells of death.

"Papa" - you squeak like a mouse, trying to reach daddy. Strange and sometimes frightening, but careful with you. Who smiled as if you and Mom were his whole life. Who had goodness in him, at least for the two of you. But Daddy is silent. Instead, a monster answers, a terrible creature who loves you just as much, which makes it even scarier.

“I'm here, delicious.”

[catharusustulatus]

Steddie Drabble, TW: child abuse.

Initially, Wayne doesn’t care for Steve. Calls him “the Harrington boy” or “Richard’s son” with contempt, asks if “Richard’s son” is coming over for dinner again and Eddie just rolls his eyes and says “yes, Wayne, STEVE is coming over at 7.” Wayne doesn’t like him because…well, he’s not stupid to judge a book by its cover, he thinks.

But the fifth time Harrington comes over, he brings a bouquet of flowers, and Eddie, well, his cheeks are redder than the spaghetti sauce Wayne’s been stirring, so that’s something.

And then the sixth time Steve comes over, he brings Wayne a Garfield magnet. It’s small, “found it at the thrifty mart with Robin, I’m sorry it’s not brand new…” Steve mumbles, and Eddie is wide eyed and smiling, and Wayne LOVES Garfield. He puts it on the fridge, pats Steve on the back, says “um, thank you son.”

They fall into a pattern, the three of them. Steve comes over for dinner every Friday night after work. He dresses clean and is polite to Wayne, helps with the dishes, sometimes brings bread rolls or licorice or beer or jokes. Eddie starts setting the table. Wayne starts laughing at the jokes. After Steve leaves, Wayne knows Eddie smiles himself to sleep. It’s different, now.

And then the next time Steve is supposed to come over for dinner, he doesn’t show. Eddie had been making macaroni and cheese all evening, grating the cheese carefully as he bopped his head to some metal song, cheerful, and then it was 7 and then it was 8 and then Wayne thought “maybe call him, Ed.”

Nobody answers. When they call again, nobody answers. And Wayne has a bad feeling about it.

It isn’t until almost 11, dinner cold and Eddie pacing, about to radio someone named Robin when Steve’s car pulls up, they know the lights so well. They run outside to greet him and Eddie freezes when Steve starts falling out of the drivers seat, face dark and pained. Wayne jumps into action. Wayne catches Steve and hauls him into the trailer, his living room, and oh god, he’s covered in bruises like he was put through Eddie’s cheese grater, and oh god, Eddie’s broken out into tears behind him.

Steve’s left eye is swollen shut, and his face is purple and bloody. His lip is split and his hair is wild, his shirt is torn, and Wayne wonders what’s underneath the shirt as he gets the first aid kit, wonders how the hell he thought Steven was anything other than an angel.

Eddie gets a dish towel wet in the kitchen and cleans Steve’s face, quiet and crying, and Wayne sets the first aid kit down next to Eddie and makes some coffee. He thinks about talking, doesn’t. Touches the Garfield magnet for good luck. He feels like maybe Steve needs it.

Steve who is holding Eddie’s wrist as he cleans him up, wincing and crying from his good eye. Finally, after a silence that gives Wayne heartburn, Eddie sits back on his heels and says whisper quiet, “your dad?”

Steve gulps, blinks. “My uh, my dad. I was writing you uh, uh a love note.” Eddie looks over at Wayne. Wayne wipes his brow. “But uh, he found it, and your name’s not uh, Edith” Steve lets out a chuff, winces again. “So he asked what was going on, and I told him. I told him. And then he said I had one minute to take it back or he’d make me take it back.” Eddie lets out a small gasp, more like a howl, and sits completely on the floor. Wayne sits down at the table, cold mac and cheese looking like a sick joke. And he’s so mad. Wayne is so, so mad, seeing this young man who so obviously loves his pride and joy, shares in his pride and joy, who brings him apples to make apple pie, he growls out

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Steven, not one thing. You stay here long as you like, hell, don’t leave. We got you, boy.”

And that’s that. Steve crumples in on himself, and Eddie pulls him into a big hug, just holds him, rocks him, coos “a love note, huh, sweetheart? For me?” And Steve nods until he nods off.

The next morning, while Robin takes care of Steve, Wayne and Eddie break into Steve’s room, clear out everything he owns, and slash his dad’s tires. That was Wayne’s idea - the least he could do for a loved one.

[the-raven-lady]

Closer

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Cato Sicarius x Reader [Fem]

Song Inspiration: Closer - Nine Inch Nails [Youtube] [Spotify]

“You let me violate you / you let me desecrate you /

You let me penetrate you / you let me complicate you /

I broke apart my insides / I’ve got no soul to tell /

The only thing that works for me / Help me get away from myself.”

Warnings: SMUT. Degradation and praise, possessiveness, partial asphyxiation, hair pulling, breeding kink, right into the rough and nasty. 

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: Raven Lady’s ovulating and it’s bad. I have no excuse. This hit me while I was rocking on the floor like Apollo with the dodgeball and I let the hormones win. Not edited in the slightest.

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty

The rough prickling of his beard rubs against your shoulder, scratching against it uncomfortably, but you cannot bring yourself to care. Obediently you tilt your head to the side to grant Cato more access, which he greedily takes. The captain tangles one of his massive hands into your hair and yanks your head to the side. His lips attack the side of your neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin between rough bites and sucks. You know you’re going to have hickies to cover tomorrow and for the next few weeks, if he’ll allow it. 

The day had started off so innocently with you helping the noblewomen tire out their young ones, the little tykes running about the streets without a care in the world. The sight of the young ones brought a simple joy to your primarch, Guilliman having mentioned that it reminded him of the home he used to remember. Cato had passed by with several of his company on their way to training, and you had made an offhand comment about wondering what it would be to guide your own little one about the grand fortress.

Either the thought of putting one in you or the idea of you growing round and full with his child had completely plagued Sicarius’s mind for the rest of the day, as the next moment you two were well and truly alone, you clothes hadn’t lasted more than a few short seconds. They still lie in tatters on the tiled floor, occasionally getting caught under foot.

“You’re no better than a common– fucking– slut,” Cato pants, punctuating each word with the slam of his hips against yours. 

He has your sore body roughly pinned down to the covers, not allowing you an inch of breathing room as he fucks into you. The wet squelch of him penetrating your tight cunt echoes off of the metal walls of your room, his balls stimulating your clit with each thrust. Cum drips sloppily from between your thighs and down onto linen sheets. Mind clouded and lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, you mewl underneath him for more, more, more.

You cry out as his teeth sink into your neck, adding to the masterwork he’s so carefully crafted. You were his, and until your belly had swelled enough to display it for all to see, Cato swore he would continue to fuck you to exhaustion each day.

Oh, but could he bring himself to stop then with how gorgeous you sounded caged beneath him? Begging and keening beneath him like the good little whore you were? Or would he fall headfirst into his desires, enraptured by the glow of your gravid body as it grew?

He certainly couldn’t fuck you as he was now, shoving your chest down into the bed and forcing you to present so prettily. Cato leans back, pulling you up by the hair with him to arch your back just the way he likes.

“Good girl,” he growls, using the new angle to draw more sounds out of your aching throat and abused cunt, “Taking it like the vile whore you are.” 

The way you clench around his cock has him delirious with pleasure, as if he hadn’t already just flooded your womb twice before. You must be one of Slaanesh’s finest beneath the skin with how your lecherous body always draws him in for more. The sheen of sweat on your skin makes you glitter in the low light like a treasure.

“Can you even hear me in that dumb little head of yours? So stupid, so pretty. Just a hole to be used.” Cato’s free hand snakes around your waist and up to paw at your breasts, tweaking a nipple and pulling a yipe from you. “Would you spread your legs for any common Ultramarine if he promised to put a baby in you?”

You nod your head, cockdrunk and wild, and Cato snarls. He snaps his hips up hard into you, stilling and grinding his cock against your cervix enough to send pleasure and pain alike up your spine. A whimper catches in your throat from the treatment, the pressure almost too much to bear.

“Of course you would. So eager to have your pussy filled.” The hand at your breasts fondles them. “But you won’t. You won’t—” he withdraws almost completely, cockhead nestled just at your pussylips, “—because you’re mine.” The grip in your hair tightens, and Cato yanks you back to meet him as he drives forward, ripping a loud moan from your chest. The brutal pace from before resumes, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

You will yourself to speak through hiccuped breaths, voice low and breathy. “Are you going to– ah!– put a baby in me, Sicarius?”

The side of your face ungracefully meets the bed again as Cato pushes you back down. A growl rumbles within him.

“Brainless harlot. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bred so full your abdomen distends?” As if to accentuate his point, the hand at your breast slides down to rest above your abdomen. “Waddling around the Fortress of Hera carrying the child of someone so high above your standing?” 

Despite the venom of his degrading words, the breathiness of his voice betrays how much the idea affects him. He clutches at you in a manner that is all too tender. Protective.

Cato’s steady thrusts begin to falter, and he slows his hips to a steady roll to feel out every inch of himself in you. A satisfied breath puffs against your ear as he leans  back over you, skilled fingers finding your neglected clit and rolling it in tight circles.

“Come for me,” he pleads, fucking that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. The spring within you draws tighter, tighter, making you feel afloat as every little sensation coils it further. 

The gentle press of Cato’s lips against your jawline makes you shudder, the affectionate gesture enough to snap the tension within your belly. With a loud cry, you spasm and clamp down around the Ultramarine’s cock, digging your nails into the sheets of the bed. Your legs shake from the intensity, giving out from under you.

The feeling of your pussy like a vice around him causes Cato to moan, low and desperate as he chases his own orgasm. With a final harsh thrust, he stills, moan breaking into throaty stutters. His balls draw tight against you, cock throbbing inside of you as he pumps your cunt full of his seed for the third and final time. Muscular arms wrap around you firmly, holding you to Cato’s chest as he gently cants his hips against yours to milk the last of his cum into your waiting womb.

The both of you pant as you wind down, barely able to get a full breath as the astartes’ much larger form rests on top of yours. Slick with sweat, you turn your head to the side to look at his handsome face. His eyes crack open to meet yours, and he grants you a rare smile, white teeth peeking out from behind his lips. You reciprocate.

“How do we tell Guilliman if anything does happen?” you ask, resting your head on your arms.

Cato immediately grimaces, looking away with a roll of his eyes. “Can we discuss my genefather when I’m not still inside of you?”

Chuckling, you lean over to press a kiss to his nose. He huffs, but his breath hitches when you clench down around him. Instantly, he freezes, and his eyes are back on yours, darkening and boring into you. The muscles of his jaw tighten.

You meet him with a challenge, purring out, “We might as well make it certain that he’ll have something to worry about.” In invitation, you wiggle your hips.

Fingertips dig harshly into the swell of your ass to hold them steady. “Insatiable woman,” Cato chides, gripping your jaw and pulling you once more into a bruising kiss.

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 10

18+ MDNI on Ao3

All the other chapters

One small invention has big consequences...

Ace’s knock sounded on the door - two short raps followed by a longer tap. From your spot on the floor, you lifted your head to peer at the door with puffy eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Your eyelids felt like sandpaper as you blinked away your tears before using your palms to swipe away the ones trickling down your cheeks. You could feel the heat of the red splotches that always took over your face when you cried and you wondered how long you had even been here.. The headache blooming across your temples and the stiffness in your neck told you that it had been a while since you’d started bawling when Sabo had left. You felt hollow without your devil fruit power and the seastone left you feeling as weak as you did on the Revolutionary Army’s ship. Your body had been robbed of all strength and you had been left a powerless husk on the floor. Your arms tightened around your legs as you did your best to ignore Ace’s knock in the vain hope that he would leave. The door was still locked anyway, it wasn’t like you could let him in even if you wanted to.

“Hey, you in there? Wanted to come see you,” Ace asked softly through the thick wood. You remained silent, sniffling again as your nose continued running. Where else would you be? You heard the turning of the lock and looked up as Ace’s familiar freckled face appeared in the doorway.

“How ya doing Sunflower?” Ace said, using his even stupider nickname than the one Sabo had given you. You silently raised your arm to show him the cuff on your wrist. Your forearm and hand were scratched red and bleeding from where you’d tried to take off the bangle. At first, you’d thought it was made of silver but the metal was much stronger than you anticipated as you banged it against the wall and floor trying to get it to open. 

“Ah. Not good then,” Ace said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to patch it up for you?” You shook your head, your current predicament put the scratches at the bottom of your list of worries. The idea of being touched in this state made your skin crawl and his offer only soured your mood further.  Ace frowned at your lack of concern.

“Yeah, I mean, I did warn you that Sabo liked you. And he warned you not to run, so…” Ace trailed off as he sat next to you on the cool wooden floor, so close that your shoulders touched.  You didn’t have the energy to resist when he picked up your wrist and you let him move your arm freely while he inspected it. His frown deepened when he saw the blood dripping from the shallow cuts after he turned your arm over.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. You scratched yourself kind of bad in a few places,” Ace said, getting back up and heading to the door. You didn’t bother trying to get out of the room - where would you go? Sabo was still around, you were still stuck on the island, and you didn’t have your devil fruit powers. Ace returned a few moments later and settled in next to you again. Opening the box, he took your arm and placed it on his lap before he began applying astringent to your cuts while he talked.

“You can’t - you’re just… not strong. I mean physically. You can’t protect yourself, you need someone like me or Sabo. I’m not saying it to be mean, it’s true. Not everyone can fight, and that’s ok. You’ve gotta stay with someone who can keep you safe, especially now that you’ve awakened your fruit. Who knows what would happen if the World Government got a hold of you? But don’t worry, Sabo’s gonna help you, get you in with the Army. You’re not doing that great on your -” You rallied your remaining scraps of energy at his words and snatched your arm away from him, intent on wrapping your wounds yourself. You weren’t going to sit there and get lectured about how weak you were by someone who had likely never felt that way themselves.

“Sabo’s not helping me, Ace. I was doing fine on my own until Sabo kidnapped me. Do you remember that part? I don’t want to join the Revolutionary Army,” you hissed at Ace. You knew your anger was misplaced but Ace was the only one you felt comfortable enough to bare your feelings to. You began rolling the bandage around your own wrist as Ace scoffed at you.

“Ok, yeah, Sabo took you from your base. But you know it was for your own good -”

“No, it wasn’t! Sabo took me on a whim! I get it, you both think I’m some stupid idiot who can’t do anything and needs others to take care of me!” you yelled back at Ace. It was infantilizing to hear repeatedly how you couldn’t take care of yourself, how inept and fragile you were in their eyes. You put your head back on your knees, tired of listening to Ace’s cosigning of Sabo’s behavior. 

“Go away, Ace. Unless you’re going to take this cuff off of me….just… leave me alone,” you said quietly. Ace lingered a moment but you soon felt the warmth of his body leaving from near your own. His footsteps led back towards the door but you didn’t hear the door shut again. Picking your head up, you saw him passing Sabo in the doorway, who was holding something wrapped in a blanket. You gave Sabo your best blank look, unwilling to show him any of the emotions you were feeling. In your mind, you remembered your Marine training and how to hide your emotions in the face of the enemy. Sabo wasn’t going to get anything from you anymore.

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Or an idiot,” Sabo said calmly, crossing into the room closer to you. He set his wrapped item on the bed and sat near you on the floor. Your back stiffened as you sat up straighter against the bed frame hard enough to feel the edges digging into your back.

“You told me that I was,” you said, trying for nonchalance but failing when your voice cracked halfway through your statement. 

“No, what I said was that you weren’t thinking and I stand by my statement. You let Ace convince you to undertake some hare-brained scheme he cooked up to get what you wanted. That doesn’t make you stupid, just desperate. And I can understand why you might feel that way,” Sabo said as he switched to sitting on the bed, his knees by your head as he looked down at you from his new vantage point. His hands were gripping the wooden bedframe near where your shoulder was. You stared straight ahead while Sabo continued undeterred as he always did.

“You’re worried about your family, isn’t that right?” Sabo’s voice was quiet as he put his hand on your shoulder. Your heart started pounding at his question - you couldn’t remember talking to Sabo about your family apart from the instance with his shoulder. And that was just that you had a sister, right? How much did he know about them? Still, you weren’t going to waste this opportunity to curry favor with Sabo. Maybe if he thought you were worried about your family he’d be more inclined to take off the cuff. It would be better than saying you were trying to get away from him.

“Um, yeah. I mean, I was sending most of my paychecks back home -” you started before being interrupted.

“Yes, to Hen and Chick Island. To your ailing sister, two young brothers, and working single mother. Deceased father. The Marines won’t grant pensions if you aren’t confirmed to be dead. That was your worry, was it not?” You glanced up at Sabo, who had you locked into his unnatural stare. You began biting your lower lip in place of your nails as he continued, your stomach turning at his words. You turned to face him, still sitting on the floor.

“I know about all of them. But you don’t have to worry, I had you listed as a working member of the Revolutionary Army and increased your salary. Your family has been getting more money than before though they don’t know the exact source,” Sabo continued with a smile that was as comforting as the shackle on your wrist. You thought your heart was going to explode from how fast it was racing. Did they know you were alive?

“How did - how do you know all that? About my family?” you asked, unable to hear much over the pounding of your blood in your ears.

“I know much more than that,” Sabo said, patting the bed next to him. You obeyed the implicit command and sat next to him on the bed. “I know every project you’ve ever worked on, every article you’ve ever published, every base you were assigned to, everything. Even your real name,” Sabo carried on, putting his hand over yours while staring into your eyes. “But now you can relax a little more, right? Now that you know your family is being provided for? I wish you would have let me explain everything before you did all that with Ace,” Sabo finished, patting your hand. 

“I’m always thinking about you and looking out for your best interests. Look, I even brought you your pressed flowers,” Sabo said, lifting the blanket off the parcel on the bed. Peering over, you saw the worn brown leather cover of your pressed flower album.

“How did you -” you said, reaching for the album as Sabo handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the familiar embossed cover as the memory of why you got it swept over you. It had been a matching gift with your sister when you joined the Marines. You wanted some piece of her with you and bought two identical albums with your signing bonus. You told her that the two of you could continue the hobby together from afar, as long as you each kept at it. Your hands started shaking again while holding it, something you sincerely hoped Sabo didn’t notice.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you said in a small voice, looking down at the album lying on your lap. Your worrying about their financial state had been weighing on you heavily and knowing they were taken care of brought a small measure of relief. Your income being sent home meant your mother wouldn’t have to juggle three jobs to try and scrape together enough money for your sister’s medical care and the boy’s schooling. However, you couldn’t quell the unease that continued to twist in your gut at the staggering amount of information Sabo had on you. You thought you’d played your cards close to your chest but Sabo was two steps ahead of you the entire time. Plus if you were receiving money as a revolutionary, didn’t that make you one? You would need to do whatever you had to for them if you wanted to continue sending money to your family.

“You should thank me,” Sabo said, tilting his head with his eyes still boring into you.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you replied while fiddling with the fraying edge of the binder. “Thank you for bringing me my flowers and um, taking care of my family,” you said meekly while you did your best to avoid his stare.

“A proper thank you should include a kiss on the cheek, don’t you think?” Sabo said, his smile growing impossibly wider.

Sabo POV

Sabo wasn’t stupid, he knew that you had been trying to escape from him. But he needed you to see that there was nowhere to go, that there was nothing out there in the world for you without him. He wanted the best for you and your best choice was obviously him. How could you handle the Grand Line alone when your hands would start shaking at the slightest bit of adversity?  The thought was truly laughable; you needed him, even if you were slow to realize it.

He hadn’t wanted to put the cuff on you, especially not by tricking you into it. But what was he supposed to do? You’d disobeyed the few rules that Sabo had set in place, and Sabo loved you enough to hold you to his promises. You needed to see that if you disobeyed him there would be consequences, for the sake of keeping you safe. He knew it had set him back romantically, but keeping his word was more important. You were lucky he loved you so much he’d put aside his own needs and desires to care for you properly. He wasn’t going to keep the cuff on forever anyway. You’d be free eventually, once you came around to his point of view. He decided that when you’d been intrigued enough by the scientific experiments at the RA to want to work for them, he’d give you back your power for that too. 

He’d requested one chaste kiss simply to see what you would do. Sabo had thought you were a rule follower, someone who liked to stay within their limits, but your misadventures with his brother during his absence had shown that maybe you were a little more mischievous than he’d anticipated. You kept fiddling with the album he’d brought back for you while you mulled over his request. He had gone out of his way to retrieve it before burning your old base to the ground, killing anyone who had slighted you. Sabo didn’t think you would appreciate his act of chivalry, so he kept that news to himself. 

“It’s just a kiss on the cheek, it’s not like I asked to marry you,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. You looked like a wild animal caught in a trap with no way out - he could practically hear your heart beating from where he sat. Sabo almost felt bad but he deserved a little sweetness after what you’d done with Ace. Sabo tapped his gloved finger against his cheek in a silent invitation. Leaning over slowly, you brought your face close to his and quickly pecked his cheek as if it was burning hot.

“See? Not so bad, hm?” Sabo laughed lightly while running his knuckles over your cheekbones in return.

“Oh, and I have one more present for you,” he said, watching your eyes widen. Such a suspicious little thing, he thought, keeping his smile from showing on his face. The more time you spent together the less you’d have to worry about him, it would take time. Similar to how you’d grown accustomed to Ace, you’d enjoy Sabo’s company just as much - if not more. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a curled up leather belt. Extending his arm, he handed you the belt buckle first.

“It has an ‘S’ for Sunny. You know, since Ace took his belt back,” he explained as you turned it over in your hand. 

“Thank you, Sabo,” you said meekly before laying it gently on the bed. You leaned forward to give him another kiss on the cheek. This time Sabo turned his face at the last moment so your lips landed on his. He did it quick enough that it could be justified as a mistake, though it most certainly was not. He pushed back the urge to hold you in place and kiss you as deeply as he wanted, just so he could get a taste of the sounds you would make against him. Instead he let you back away quickly, a rosy red already spreading from your ears to your chest.

“You’re welcome, Dove,” Sabo said, outwardly ignoring the flush on your face while his chest was near bursting with the evidence of the effect he had on you. He was a little concerned about the blood supply in your body since it all seemed to be pooling in your face. He hummed a little tune as he promptly left the room, reminding you to gather your things on his way out. 

Your POV

As Sabo left you alone in the room with your face flaming hot, you heard Ace’s knock again. You looked at him, hoping that he wouldn’t tease you for your current state of disarray.

“Hey, can I come in?” Ace asked from the doorway, not entering without your permission.

“Yeah,” you said weakly, looking down at the belt buckle on the bed. It looked exactly like Ace’s except it was blue and had an “S” emblazoned on it.

“Sabo got that for you?” Ace grunted, nodding his head at the belt.

“Yeah, he said the S is for -”

“It’s for Sabo. He probably got jealous when he saw you wearing my belt and had to make his own for you to wear,” Ace said with a grin like Sabo’s possessiveness was all one big joke to him.

“Ace, it’s not funny. Sabo’s kind of…scaring me. I don’t know if -”

“Aw, relax. Sabo’s not gonna hurt you, he loves you. He just gets a little jealous sometimes. I mean, I understand. Everyone would, with a brother as attractive and famous as me,” he said with a grin and a wink. Despite your serious feelings about Sabo’s escalation, a soft laugh came from you. Ace could always make you laugh, no matter the situation, something you appreciated about him. You had a feeling Ace was not going to be receptive to your criticisms of Sabo anyway. Standing up, you walked over to Ace before stopping right in front of him. You were shorter, so you looked up and tried your best to apologize.

“ ‘M sorry I yelled at you,” you said to Ace while shuffling your feet like a child. Ace didn’t respond immediately and pulled you into a bear hug, your face close to his smelly armpit. Even so, you didn’t pull away. You were going to miss Ace a lot, he’d become a close friend. Well, one of your only friends.

“S’ok, I realized I said the wrong thing. I usually do. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ace replied, still holding you in a hug.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you,” you said forlornly before breaking away from his hug. You weren’t looking forward to the sea voyage and especially not without Ace there as a buffer between you and Sabo. 

“It’s not gonna be right away, we’re sailing in the same direction for a few weeks, and we’ll see each other on the RA ship. Sabo told me Luf is on his way to Wano and there’s trouble brewing. I’m gonna go help out, see if I can’t find some of my old crew. I owe a….friend a visit there anyway,” Ace said with a slight flush coating his cheeks. 

“Friends hmm? Like we’re friends?” you asked teasingly. Ace blushed harder, giving you the answer you were looking for. 

“Uh, no. Not like our friendship. He’s uh..special friend. Really more like a boyfriend,” Ace muttered, moving the strings of his hat around nervously.

“I hope to meet him one day, I’m sure he’s wonderful,” you said brightly.

“He is. He’s Kaido’s son but he’s incredible!” Ace said with a smile so wide it closed his eyes. Somehow you weren’t surprised Ace would know someone like that, much less date them.

“I can’t believe Sabo gave you the key to my room,” you said, changing the subject.

“Oh, he didn’t. I stole it from him. ‘S easy, I’m a better pickpocket than he is,” Ace said proudly. 

“Are not. I let you take it,” Sabo balked, leaning on the doorframe with a crate in his arms. “C’mon, the ship’s nearly here. We need to pack up your things, whatever you want to take. I’m not sure if or when we’ll be back here. Kinda sad, I’m gonna miss Ace’s depression island,” Sabo teased, placing the crate on the floor.

“Hey, it was our depression island,” he said, gesturing to you. Sabo rolled his good eye at Ace’s dumb joke but watched your expression.

“Sunny, please get moving. I can’t imagine you have all that much here but please go through my things and bring what you want,” Sabo encouraged you. You nodded and started going through the closet, folding up the clothes you’d been wearing over the past few weeks. Going to the chest with the warmer clothes, you opened the trunk to grab some of the thicker sweaters. Sabo’s expression soured but he didn’t say anything as you packed sweaters and long sleeved shirts, familiar with the changing seasons on the Grand Line. It didn’t take you long to pack up the meager belongings you’d been using. You placed the album gently in the middle of your clothes, making sure it was protected by the soft fabrics. Sabo’s eyes flashed as you pushed the belt through the loops of his pants that you were wearing, tightening the buckle so it sat snugly on your abdomen. It was a perfect fit. 

Sabo looked over the room to ensure you hadn’t left anything you would want in the future as Ace grabbed his pillow and the quilt off the bed. 

“I thought you don’t get cold?” you asked, confused. Since Ace had been sharing a bed with you, the thin quilt had been more than enough to keep you warm since being near Ace was like laying on a hot rock in the middle of summer.

“I don’t, but Bepo made this for me. It has sentimental value,” Ace said, stuffing the blanket in the box. You took it out and folded it nicely, placing it on top of your album.

“I guess I forgot you’d know Bepo too. He made this? He’s such a multi-talented mink, I’d love to pick his brain one day. Did you also get to meet Penguin and Shachi?” you asked excitedly. 

“Yeah, they were super helpful during my recovery. Nice guys, if they weren’t Law’s crew I would invite them to Whi - I mean, my own,” Ace said, running his fingers over the quilt.

“How do you know Law and his crew? Did you meet them at Warlord meetings?” Sabo asked a bit too quickly, holding his metal pipe in both hands.

“No, I’ve never met him. Law often dedicates his scientific articles to his brothers. And everyone knows about Bepo. He’s the cutest pirate on the seas,” you mused aloud.

“Not me?!” Ace said with a pout. You booped his nose and smiled at him.

“No, not you. Bepo,” you said to tease him a little further. You heard the ruffle of Sabo’s coat whipping around as he left the room in a rush, his unusually loud footsteps echoing down the stairs as a whiff of acrid smoke hit your nose. Ace gave you a knowing look and took off after his brother, laughing as he bounded down the stairs.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo was gripping the wood railing of the porch so tight it was cracking under his palms. Sabo was annoyed with himself; he needed to get his emotions under control. He knew your interactions with Ace were purely platonic and they didn’t mean anything. But he’d realized now you and Ace had been sharing a bed and had grown closer than he’d previously thought. The man in question came sauntering out onto the porch before sitting on the already abused railing. 

“Don’t say it,” Sabo said preemptively, cutting off Ace from whatever bullshit he was about to spout.

“You’re pouting,” Ace said cheerfully. 

“Am not,” Sabo said, defending himself immediately.

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna scare her away if you don’t control your jealousy,” Ace said in a singsong voice, dangling his feet from his perch. Sabo knew Ace was right but he didn’t want to hear it right now. 

“I’m not taking advice from you, you never even told Yamato how you feel about him,” Sabo snapped at Ace. Ace pouted and looked away, making Sabo feel guilty. Being mean to Ace was like kicking a puppy, a dumb puppy. 

“You’ve got a second chance at life, you can tell him now. Go to Wano, meet up with Lu, Marco, Izo, whoever you want to. Help Luffy, he’s already an Emperor -” 

“I know, I know. I just wish…I wish Pops was here. He’d know what to do, he’d -” Ace said wistfully. Sabo moved closer to his brother and put his hand on Ace’s shoulder. 

“Ace, you know what to do. Don’t let his death be in vain. Go and -,” Sabo started softly, patting Ace’s back. The tender moment was interrupted by a timid knock on the open door. 

“Don’t blow it this time. Just be calm,” Ace leaned over to whisper into Sabo’s good ear. Sabo pushed Ace away. By the face. 

“I, um, finished packing. I put all the amoebas into a bottle if that’s OK,” you said in a meek voice while holding a glass bottle filled with water. Ace gasped aloud at your proclamation.

“All of them? In one bottle? Is that safe? What if something happens to them? Will they fight each other? Eat each other?” Ace said with complete sincerity. You raised your hand and shook your wrist, the bangle moving up and down.

“I can’t really tell right now,” you replied forlornly before handing the bottle to Ace for his inspection.

“I’m sure they’re going to be OK. Ace is going to go grab the crate and we’ll head out,” Sabo stated, pushing Ace back towards the house. Hopefully, he got the hint that Sabo wanted to talk to you, but with Ace it was hard to tell. 

“I have something to ask you,” Sabo began. You shifted on your feet and started rubbing your fingers against each other in an effort to self soothe. Sabo had noticed your hands had started shaking again during your earlier conversation though he hadn’t said anything.

“Would you like to take medicine to make you sleep through the first three days of the journey? This trip is longer than the last and we’re going to be sailing through notoriously rough waters. We’re equipped this time with more medical supplies for you, but I thought I would offer you the choice. The medicine will make you sleep but not unrousable in case of an emergency,” Sabo explained while you chewed your lip. You hadn’t agreed yet and were eyeing him suspiciously, but this was truly for your benefit. 

“You can think about it, but we’re sailing within the hour. I’d like to give it to you before we leave, that way you can just sleep through the worst of the sailing. I’ll have to keep giving it to you every 12 hours and you can decide to use it or not at each juncture,” Sabo said, reaching for your hands and holding them within his own. He had been correct, they were shaking. Running his fingers over the tops of your hands, he continued to try to assuage your fears.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Ace will be with us for meals, of course, I’ll be there, and we’ll check on you. I don’t want you to have to go through sea sickness like you did before, on Striker and the first time we sailed together,” Sabo said before bringing your hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Your POV

Studying Sabo’s face gave you none of the answers you were looking for. His idea had appeal, you really didn’t want to be seasick again especially since you had just recovered from being on Striker. Being conscious or not didn’t change your situation since you were just as vulnerable awake as you were asleep. You’d been unconscious around Sabo many times and he’d never done anything untoward to you - that you could remember. Even with Sabo pushing your boundaries, all he’d asked for was a kiss on the cheek. Taking a gamble, you made up your mind to just sleep through the first few days on the ship.

“Alright, I’ll take the medicine,” you said, not pulling away when Sabo continued stroking your hands.

“Excellent,” Sabo replied, his genuine smile showing on his face once more. Of course he was happy, you thought, you were agreeable to one of his plans. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Sabo pulled out a capped syringe as Ace passed through the door, carrying the crate down the path to the waiting ship. The syringe was clearly from a Marine base, the familiar symbol emblazoned on the side. You idly wondered how Sabo came into possession of Marine narcotics but decided it wasn’t a question worth asking. You weren’t sure you wanted to know anyway.

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch inside? It takes a few minutes to work but not that long,” Sabo suggested, not waiting for your answer while herding you inside. Perching on the couch, Sabo flicked off the cap of the syringe with a practiced movement. “Ready? Small pinch,” Sabo said, grabbing your right arm. You felt a prick as the needle went into the muscle of your tricep and a small rush of cold liquid entered your arm. Sitting there for a moment, you didn’t feel any different than before as Sabo went to throw away the syringe.

“ ‘M not sure it’s working….” you said, already closing your eyes. Sabo chuckled as you lay down and curled up on the couch, ready for the journey to be over already.

~

You came to consciousness in bursts, confusion overtaking your mind as you tried to sort through the haze of the past three days. You found yourself back in Sabo’s bed, wrapped up in his blankets as the ship sliced through the waters. Bile was rising in your throat, though not as quickly as you’d experienced before, you probably had about ten minutes before you’d be throwing up. Thinking back, you tried to remember anything from the previous few days and could come up with only hazy memories. 

You remembered being woken to drink water and juice, throwing up a few times as Sabo held back your hair, Ace coming into the bed with you for a nap. You remembered violent dreams of being rocked back and forth, probably as the ship teetered through the rough seas. You remembered Sabo asking you if you wanted more medicine, already feeling the prick of the needle in your arm before you could fully verbalize that you did. You remembered dozing off while sitting on Sabo’s lap, your face nestled in his neck, his arms around you as he wrote letters. You recalled Sabo curled around your body in the bed, warming you as you fell deeper into sleep beside him. You remembered Sabo kissing your cheek and forehead, running his hands up and down your back to soothe you. 

Carding through your memories, you sat up for what felt like the first time in ages, stretching your sore muscles. Sabo’s idea really had been a good one. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice rough after not using it for so long.

“Hi yourself. Feeling better?” Sabo replied, coming to sit next to you on the bed. You nodded while peering out the window at the night sky. You didn’t know what time it was or even what day it was.

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s just being served. I can get you some and bring it here. I’m not going to give you any more injections but the last one isn’t completely worn off yet. You’ll probably fall back asleep soon.” Sabo offered while fluffing your pillows. 

“Can I get something to drink -” you started asking as Sabo handed you a cup off the nightstand. You drank greedily, gulping down the water until there was none left. Nothing had ever tasted as good as the clear cool water you were enjoying now. 

“Where’s Ace? I thought he joined the ship for meals?”

“He took a detour, he’ll catch up with us in a few days. There’s a small island nearby that he wanted to stop at for supplies. Probably for more food, too,” Sabo replied, rolling his eyes. 

Sabo POV

All good things come to an end, he supposed. Sabo had loved having you as a docile little pet for a few days. All of your hesitation, fear, and worry was gone under the medication, leaving you relaxed and calm. He loved taking care of you and helping you in your time of need as you fought through your seasickness. Sabo had been able to move you about as he pleased like a doll, your chest rising and falling evenly as you slept through the turbulent waters. He did miss your conversation and personality but having you so close was delightful in its own way. He didn’t do anything too devious, he’d kept his word to you. Only a few forehead and cheek kisses. And one kiss on your neck, but that was basically an accident as he’d been spooning with you and you’d turned in your sleep. He’d spent so long daydreaming about you when he was away, it was only fair to hold you close now that you were reunited. The trip was about a week longer - he had plenty of time to break down your walls before introducing you to the rest of the RA.

Sakazuki POV

Admiral Sakazuki was on his fifth cigar of the morning. He couldn’t stop himself, it was the only thing keeping him from burying his desk in a field of lava. His rage was so potent, so strong, that he feared he would irreparably harm his beloved bonsai plant if he stopped smoking. Sitting at his desk, he held the fourth copy of the photo he’d received from Shadow Island. The first three he’d burned, much like the man they depicted. Fire Fist Ace had been spotted buying meat kebabs from a street vendor, the scar Sakazuki had given him prominently displayed on his chest like a shield. His source had also revealed Ace had his Logia powers since he was able to fire up that damnable little boat and sail away from the island.

First your kidnapping, then Bayonette being burned to the ground, then Fire Fist Ace being alive and well. Sakazuki knew they were all connected, everything tying back to the ASL Brothers. If he could have killed all three of them at Marineford, he would have. He certainly tried and thought he succeeded with at least one. But just like his father, luck always seemed to be on the side of Portgas D. Ace. Burning quickly through the cigar, Sakazuki flicked the ash onto the smiling man in the photo, decimating the image once again. 

He wasn’t sure how Flame Emperor Sabo and Fire Fist Ace both had the Flame Flame fruit, but his intuition told him it had something to do with you. Your disappearance was no mistake, the RA must have found out about your research and seized you at the right opportunity. He needed you back, especially if you were able to replicate Logia fruit, something not even Vegapunk had been able to do thus far. Maybe he could have a Seraph of his own, another lava fruit able to be commanded at his word. Either way, you needed to be brought back to the Marines and away from the Revolutionary Army. 

Rising from his chair, Sakazuki picked up his snail and barked an order.

“Prepare my ship for immediate departure.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuffm @epochal-oracle

[edward-munson]

trust you - Anakin Skywalker x f! reader

Summary: You work as a tech for the Jedi Temple and end up having to fix Anakin's robotic arm, once again. He starts having trust issues when she and his son, Luke Skywalker, become close to each other.

Warning: Angst, hurt, mentions of injury, cursing | Ps: Luke is his only child in this story. Anakin doesn't become a Sith (for now hehe)

Word count: 1.7k

*

Anakin arrived in the tech room with a frown plastered over his face, as always. His cheekbone was bloody and his metal arm was loose as well as malfunctioning.

She was sitting on her table, writing down on a piece of paper when his name was announced. She turned her head around and watched as he silently sat down on a chair across from her. One of her droids excused itself, leaving them both alone.

Anakin had his blank stare at some random point in the room, not bothering to look at her, who dragged the chair closer to him. (Y/N) gently grabbed his metallic arm, looking at the prosthetic.

"What happened this time?" She asked, trailing his limb. He still didn't look at her, or even mentioned to do so. "Tough assignment today?"

He sighed, rubbing off the dripping blood from his chin as he tried to close his fake fist. The motion failed, and he pulled his fingertips as he's supposed to feel the touch.

"Got a blast shot on it" His husky voice was almost a whisper, she nodded. When (Y/N) looked at again, she noticed how tired he looked. He had bags under his eyes and his forehead seemed to have more wrinkles to it.

She nodded and got up looking for her tools. It wasn't actually strange for her to fix his arm, because this wasn't her first time doing it. Maybe it wasn't even her first time seeing him coming back from a mission all beaten up.

Sometimes, he would look less upset or mad. But it was hard to decipher how he was feeling because Anakin was a pro at hiding his emotions ever since he lost his love interest. Perhaps having Luke around him would make him seem less disturbed, but also, having a kid wasn't easy for him.

(Y/N) took a closer look and noticed the robotic articulations were almost melting. It was going to take a while and she was afraid of telling him the bad news. Most people are always feeling intimidated by him, especially by the way he looks at everyone.

She let out a quiet sigh, catching his attention anyway. Since he became a stronger Jedi, his hearing had improved a lot. "What?"

It was the first time Anakin actually looked at her, wondering just what the fuck happened now. Slowly lifting her gaze at him, she gathered all of her courage to speak up.

"Your robotic articulations are "injured". And we're going to need some time to fix it, I'm sorry". She gave him a sympathetic look, to which he scoffed and shut his eyes.

"How long?" His voice carried some sort of rage and (Y/N) saw him making a fist with his other hand.

"Uh, we don't know. But I'll make sure it won't take too long".

Anakin grunted and ran his fingers between his hair. It was quite hot to see him like that, she thought to herself. At the same time, (Y/N) scolded herself for even thinking of something like that.

He didn't look at her when he released his fingers from his curls. "I'll give you a day".

While detaching his faux limb, she tried not to roll her eyes. He was always giving orders to people, not ever caring who they were. "We'll try our best Master Skywalker", she said bluntly.

(Y/N) placed the robotic arm above another table and reached for a first aid kit. She approached the man cautiously while holding a wet cotton. Anakin, who finally looked at her after snapping out of his reverie, furrowed his eyebrows when he saw what she was doing.

(Y/N) gently placed her hand on the Jedi's cheekbone, who remained still as she wiped the almost dried blood from his face. Anakin didn't flinch, even though he felt his skin burn from the contact with the stinging product.

He closed his eyes tightly to avoid eye contact with her, he didn't want to show any fragility at that moment. He was forced to face (Y/N) in front of him anyway, when she walked away to throw the material in the trash.

"You should get some rest, Master. Take this as an excuse to cool off for a bit". (Y/N) gave him an ice pack for his wound, smiling at him.

Anakin stood up from his chair holding a serious expression on his face while nodding. "Yeah, thank you".

He left the tech room without looking back. She scoffed. It was his thing to be the least polite ever and not even look at anyone.

(Y/N) considered it a win having caught his attention twice that day. He never does that. Not ever since he lost Padmé anyway.

*

Anakin

Luke came running straight to me as soon as I got to the loft. He was doing his homework with C-3PO before I arrived.

"Daddy!" He shouted as his small arms hugged my legs. "Your arm is missing, what happened?".

Little guy never failed to actually notice things. I crouched down to stay on his level and messed up his hair. "Dad was on an assignment, and it got shot with a blast".

He frowned for a second before messing my hair back. "Hey, little one!"

Luke started laughing as he ran back to the Droid, hiding behind him. "Are you alright, Master Skywalker? Do I need to contact the medical bay?"

I shook my head and flopped down on my bed. "Thank you, 3PO. I just need some rest".

The Droid nodded and walked back to the table, so my son could finish his homework. I sighed, it was weird to have a missing limb. It has been so long, I don't even remember how it felt like. I could still feel my ghost fingers moving.

I felt a throbbing pain on my cheekbone as well as my ribs, making it harder for me to breathe properly. My single hand went straight to my hair as I ran through it nervously.

I tried to dial down the stress, but couldn't even keep my eyes shut for what felt like half an hour. Luke had left the loft with C-P30 for whatever reason, which made me feel relieved. I didn't want my kid to see me like that.

"Fuck", I muttered under my breath. I wasn't sure I had painkillers lying around, and I didn't feel like going to the medical bay for an appointment.

I only found a bottle of liquor and decided to pour some into a glass. The strong taste burned my throat, and it hit my stomach briskly. If that doesn't numb the pain, I would have to drag myself out of the house. It was enough already I didn't have my metal arm, I wouldn't want to deal with that excruciating pain.

I didn't realize I had laid my head down on the kitchen countertop. The muffled sounds coming from my door woke me up, and I quickly grabbed my lightsaber, holding it next to me.

It was already dark, and only then I noticed Luke wasn't there. He wasn't watching TV or playing with his toys. Nor was he trying to sneak on me looking for my weapons that he fancied.

My fingertips became cold as I carefully walked towards the living room, still hearing low whispers. The giggling made me drop my shoulders and put down my lightsaber when I realized it was Luke.

"Luke! What the hell were you doing out? It's dark" My voice came out louder than I intended, and it scared him. He was using both hands to hold (Y/N)'s left arm, like he was trying to drag her inside.

"I'm sorry, Master Skywalker. He went to the tech room with 3PO. He wanted to see your arm". Her voice sounds apologetic and a bit apprehensive, even.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching as Luke reluctantly let go of her. "Sorry, dad. I just wanted to see how your arm was. I asked Miss (Y/N) to show me around as well, and 3PO said it was ok if she watched me".

"I didn't mean to bother, I'm really sor-" I cut her off before she could even apologize. My gaze met his and he nodded, knowing he should go to his bedroom.

"You should've brought him right away. He's not supposed to be out when I'm not with him". (Y/N) bit her lip and brought her hands together. "Don't do that again, please. Or I won't let him go near you".

She got taken aback, her eyes met the floor as she crossed her arms. "I really am sorry. I didn't know". I could barely hear her voice, it felt like she had a lump in her throat.

All I did was nod and watch as she turned her back to me and walked out of my door. I was about to make my way to Luke's room, when I found him propped up on the door stop, looking at me with fear.

"Buddy, I said you should only stay with C-3PO" The boy looked down at his feet and sniffed.

"But I wanted to look. I wanted to see how your metal arm is. It's pretty cool, by the way! Dad, don't be mad at her. She was nice to me, and she stayed with me the whole time!" He pleaded, he had his small hands holding the hem of my under tunic.

I released a drained sigh and sat close to Luke. "You can't trust everyone, Skywalker. It's a different world out there, we need to watch ourselves".

I didn't want him to trust anyone, I didn't need to see him trust every person who's nice to him. I've been there before, I know what it was like. I lost my girl. I trusted someone and I got stabbed behind my back.

I don't want Luke to be like me. I know who I became after losing Padmé. And I can't trust anyone anymore, either. I have issues trying to trust Obi-Wan again.

And more importantly, I don't want to fall for someone and lose them again. Because at some point, it always happens. 

[riizegasm]

One Hell of a Drug || J. SC

❀ pairing: plug!sungchan x situationship!reader; fem!reader

❀ genre: fwb to lovers, suggestive (like it gets hot and heavy), minor fluff, minor angst

❀ word count: ~5.5k

❀ warnings: explicit language, sungchan sells drugs, alcohol consumption, recreational drug use, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, use of pet names (doll, babygirl, baby, etc.), very minor blood and injury, MDNI!!!

❀ summary: Patching up Jung Sungchan was not what you’d expected to be doing on the most random nights. But even when you try to distance yourself, you learn that Sungchan is one hell of a drug that you just can’t seem to quit.

❀ a/n: Happy New Year babes!! This is honestly the spiciest thing I’ve ever written, so let’s see how it goes! I promise it still has plot and deep introspection, because it wouldn’t be a Brea fic without it. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are encouraged. Happy reading!

A frantic round of knocks at your door is not what you expect to wake you up at 3am on a random Thursday. You live in a fairly quiet area, your own apartment building safe and full of peaceful families. Most shops close around 10pm, meaning the streets are just about cleared out by 11pm. So why would anyone be at the door unless…?

Your sleep-clouded mind doesn’t even perk up enough to peek through the peephole, safety be damned. You simply swing your door open, jaw dropping when you see the bloodied figure in front of you. 

“Sungchan?”

The man bites back a wince as his mouth curls into a pained smirk. “Good morning, doll.”

For a moment, you wonder if you’re still dreaming. It feels like if you pinch yourself hard enough, you’ll wake up back in your bed where you belong. But no, you’re definitely awake. The metal door handle is cold underneath your fingertips, socked feet planted firmly on the ground. This is real. You’re really at your door at 3am. Sungchan is really at your door at 3am…again. 

“What are you doing here?” You question, voice still thick and sluggish from sleep. 

Sungchan’s smirk deepens, a clear attempt to hide his pain. “I just wanted to see my favorite girl.”

At your unimpressed glare, Sungchan smiles sheepishly. “Okay, maybe I need some help. I didn’t really know where else to go.”

His voice trails off towards the end of his sentence, small and vulnerable in a way that you’ve never heard before. You hate the way your stomach twists in knots at the sound, wanting nothing more to reach out and comfort the man in front of you. But you can’t. You told yourself you wouldn’t. It’s just so hard to not reach out and caress his swollen face when it sits right in front of you. 

After a moment of silence, you sigh, opening up your door a bit wider. “Fine. Come in.”

You watch as the man enters your apartment, shrugging off his shoes and leather jacket in the entryway. He moves like he’s familiar with the place, and you hate the fact that he actually is. He makes himself comfortable on the couch, wincing as he sits down. His posture is overly relaxed, despite the way he’s definitely in pain. 

“I’ll go get the first aid kit,” you mumble, slipper clad feet shuffling down the hallway. 

At this point, it has become somewhat of a routine. Sungchan would show up bloodied and bruised, either from a deal gone wrong or his temper getting the best of him. He was no stranger to fights, as most people would be in his line of work. Every time he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, he would make his way back to you to patch up his wounds. 

You don’t quite know why he always asks you to put him back together when he falls apart. 

It’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything, far from it actually. Sungchan made it very clear that he doesn’t date, but you would be lying if you said you had no interest in dating him. Since the moment you two met, you couldn’t fight your mutual attraction. One thing led to another, and then you two were hooking up under the haze of a hotboxed car. 

You said it would only happen once. And you meant it, you really did. But all it took was Sungchan offering to smoke you out for free for you to end up in his car again…and again…and again. Hooking up in the car then became hooking up in your apartment, which then became patching him up in the early hours of the morning. He was a drug that you couldn’t quit, not that you wanted to. 

However, you can’t deny how burdensome it is to constantly patch him up after his bad choices. He had always told you how dangerous his work was, about how being the campus plug had its drawbacks. You never believed him until he showed up for the first time with a black eye and split eyebrow from getting pistol whipped in the face. Ever since, you’ve been his favorite doctor, despite the way that it tears you up inside. 

A few weeks ago, you had told him you were done. It was too much to care about his whereabouts in the dead of night and wonder if he would come to you injured and in pain. You said it was the last time you would patch him up, and that if he wanted to keep getting himself into trouble, he would have to make it someone else’s problem. Sungchan, as spiteful as he is, told you that you’d never see him again. Clearly, that resolution didn’t last long. 

Sungchan is holding his side when you return with the first aid kit. You force yourself to look away from the bulge of his biceps and the form of his chest in his black tank top. Now is not the time to be admiring the man in front of you, not when he’s bloodied and clearly in pain. 

You sit on the coffee table in front of him, wordlessly beginning to attend to his wounds. Sungchan takes it well for the most part, only wincing at the sting of antiseptic on his cuts or groaning when you place a little too much pressure on his bruises. It isn’t until you’re patching up his split knuckles that you notice his stare. 

“What?” You ask, a little breathless when you meet his eyes. 

Sungchan has always had this way of looking at people that makes them melt. Maybe it’s the big brown eyes, or the subtle intensity behind them, but it always makes people a little weak in the knees. You would’ve hoped that after almost a year of sleeping with each other that you’d be immune to it. 

Clearly, you’re not. 

“I can’t just look at you?” Sungchan responds, smugness coloring his words. “You’re just so beautiful.”

A flower of warmth begins to blossom in your core. “Shut up.”

“What? I’m serious.”

You roll your eyes. “No you’re not. I think you got punched a little too hard in the head this time, buddy. Save your slick talk for someone who isn’t nursing you back to health.”

“Doll, there’s no one else I’d want to use it on.”

There it is, the glaring problem with Jung Sungchan. He always runs his mouth around you, showering you with sweet talk and an illusion of loyalty. But none of it is real. He has a way of making you feel like you’re the only girl in his life, like you’re the only girl in the world. You know he doesn’t mean it, though. You’re just another girl in his rotation. As painful as that may be to admit, it’s better than believing his lies. 

You simply roll your eyes at the man’s comment, placing a final bandaid over his knuckles. “There, all done.”

“Cute,” Sungchan coos. “I’m happy to see you got Snoopy ones this time.”

It had been a deal that the two of you made a while ago, back when Sungchan first started showing up all bloodied and bruised. Part of his payment for your first aid would be sporting whatever cute band aids you decided on. You always said that if he wanted to flaunt his toughness with his scars and bruises, you’d be sure to undercut it with a bit of cuteness. Since then, you’d been rotating which characters you use, from Disney princesses to Hello Kitty, always with the objective of softening Sungchan’s look as much as possible. 

You’re not quite sure it’s working, since the entirety of campus still seems to quiver in fear when Sungchan strolls by. As much as Sungchan loves it, you can’t help but laugh, knowing how much of a softie the man is at heart. 

“How can I pay you back this time, doll?”

The answer rolls off your tongue easily, like it always does. “You can stop getting into fights.”

Sungchan sighs, leaning forward in his seat so that you two are only mere inches apart. Like this, you can admire the pretty length of his lashes and the angelic shape of his lips. Even all banged up, Jung Sungchan is the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

“You know I can’t do that. It’s part of the job.”

“But you could try to control your temper a bit more,” you argue. “I know that it isn’t always your fault, but it’s not like you ever shy away from a fight.”

“Because, if I let people bitch me, I’m putting myself in danger.”

“You’re putting yourself in danger right now!”

Sungchan sighs, flopping backwards onto the couch. He’s quick to let out a groan while he clutches his side, the movement clearly too much for his injured body. 

“Don’t move. I’m getting you some ice.”

He’s still in the same position when you return, clutching his side while his face is twisted in pain. The sight alone makes your own body throb, as if sharing his injuries. You’ve never considered yourself to be an empath, but the way that Sungchan’s pain always feels like your own makes you want to adopt the label. 

“‘Chan,” you whisper, placing the ice pack on his ribs. “You can’t keep doing this. One of these days, you’re going to end up really hurt, or worse. I want better for you.”

“You think this is what I want for myself? You think I can just up and stop this whenever I want?”

You wince at the tone of Sungchan’s voice, growing way too loud for so early in the morning. 

“No, I—,”

“It’s not that fucking simple and you know that! And still, here you are bitching at me. I don’t need that, you know.”

“Sungchan, please, just—,”

“And why do you care, anyway? If I wanted a girl to be telling me what to do, I’d get a girlfriend or call my fucking mother. You’re not either, so please don’t act like you have a say in this. I don’t need that. I don’t need you to be that. Hell, I don’t need anyone to be that.”

You don’t even get to respond before Sungchan is springing to his feet, adrenaline clearly eclipsing any of his residual pain. He gathers his stuff and leaves in a hurry, not even bothering to tell you goodbye. He slams the door on his way out, leaving you with nothing but an ice pack melting in your hands.

.         .         .

Your blood freezes in your veins the next time you see Sungchan. It’s a simple Friday night party off campus, one with too much alcohol and too much weed and too many drunk college students grinding on each other. So really, you shouldn’t be surprised to see Sungchan there, especially knowing he likely supplied the weed that everyone’s smoking. But after a couple weeks of not laying eyes on him, the sight of his mouth lazily wrapped around the rim of a beer bottle is enough to stop your heart. 

“What are you looking at?” Your friend Eunseok calls before following your line of sight. “Oh come on, Y/N. I thought you were done with Sungchan.”

“I am!” You hate how defensive your voice sounds, inevitably giving away your lie. “I’m just surprised to see him, is all. It’s been a while.”

Eunseok rolls his eyes. “It’s been a while for a reason. Leave him alone. Let’s get a drink or something.”

You willingly follow behind Eunseok as he tugs you through the crowded apartment. He only lets go when you reach the kitchen, shoving a solo cup full of questionable liquid into your hands. You don’t even blink before draining the contents of your cup, wincing as the liquor burns its way down your throat. 

The warmth that it leaves in your stomach is barely enough to eclipse the pang of hurt that has settled in your core since the moment you set eyes on Sungchan. You know that you’ll need at least a couple more to even begin to enjoy yourself, knowing that the source of your pain is only a few feet away. 

It’s how you end up four drinks deep only about an hour or so into the function, teetering on the line between tipsy and drunk. There’s a pleasant warmth flooding your face; you’re thankful it goes unnoticed due to the blush you’d applied before you came. You feel fluid, almost, body moving languidly to the music blasting throughout the apartment. It makes it easier to enjoy the party, melting into the sea of dancing bodies as you accept another drink from Eunseok. 

You don’t decide that it was a bad decision until your vision begins to swim. All of a sudden, the pleasant warmth becomes an oppressive heat, forcing you to look for an escape. It’s hard enough to get yourself to focus, but eventually you find your way over to the balcony door, stumbling a few times and righting yourself with the help of the wall. 

Once you actually make it onto the balcony, you can’t help but sigh in bliss. The crisp air feels delightfully soothing against your skin. A brief breeze carries a smell of the city, which isn’t the most pleasant, but it beats the combined smell of liquor, sweat, and weed that clouds the apartment. 

“Thought you were too good for parties.”

The sudden voice makes you jump out of your skin. You whip around to face its owner, only to instantly regret the way your vision is slow to catch up. However, despite the drunkenness, you would know that pair of large doe eyes anywhere. 

“What are you doing out here Sungchan? Go away.”

You’re sure that your voice sounds less than convincing. Sungchan seems to agree, if the way he smiles slowly and continues to approach you is anything to go by. You hate that you want him to be even closer, to close the distance between you two. But it’s not what he wants. Even your drunk brain knows that. 

“I saw you stumble out here and wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Sungchan responds with a nonchalant shrug. “How many drinks did you have?”

You roll your eyes, arms crossing firmly in front of your chest. Sungchan’s eyes dart down to watch the way the position squeezes your chest together just so. He’s always been a fan of that part of you. 

“Why do you care?”

Sungchan shrugs again. “Because I just care. I don’t want you to get hurt. There are some bad people out there.”

“Yeah, like you?”

“Ouch,” Sungchan feigns offense. “You wound me, babygirl.”

“You fucking deserve it.”

“Maybe I do. That doesn’t change the fact that I want to make sure you get home safe tonight.”

“I don’t need your help. I’m fine.”

You try your best to step around the tall man, only to stumble sideways into the balcony railing. At least the alcohol shields you from the pain, but it does little to quell the embarrassment. You can hear Sungchan chuckle, before an arm comes to pull you up. 

“Yeah, you sure look fine to me. Come on, I’m taking you home.”

You let out a weird mix between a groan and a whine. “I’m fine. Leave me out here.”

“Nope,” Sungchan chuckles. “We’re going home now.”

Sungchan’s grip is gentle, yet insistent as he begins to drag you through the crowd. On the way out you manage to catch Eunseok’s eye, giving him a brief thumbs up while he motions for you to call him later. It’s enough for you to breathe out a sigh of relief, stumbling behind Sungchan as you struggle to keep up with his quick pace. Fuck him for having such long legs. 

Eventually, you reach Sungchan’s car, a place that you’re unfortunately too familiar with. You slide into the passenger's seat as little more than a mess of limbs, causing Sungchan to chuckle. He leans over you to secure your seatbelt, close enough that the warmth of his body can be felt through the fabric of your thin crop top. Even in your drunken state, you can feel the way your heart twists at the close proximity. 

The warmth is gone as quickly as it comes, though. Sungchan simply makes sure the seatbelt is secure before shutting your door, leaving you in a brief bout of cold and silence. You hate the way that you already miss him in the few seconds that it takes for him to round the car and slide into his own seat. What’s even worse is the way that you can’t suppress your dopey smile when he begins to drive. You’ve always loved being his passenger princess. 

The ride back to your apartment is virtually silent, especially as you focus on not throwing up in Sungchan’s front seat. It feels like ages before you arrive, and when you do, Sungchan is instantly rounding the car to open your door and help you out. You open your mouth to refuse the hand he offers you, but the complaint instantly dies when you stumble a bit coming out of the car, falling face first into Sungchan’s chest. Wow, you must be drunker than you thought. 

“Woah there,” Sungchan groans, catching you by the waist. “You have to stand up properly, babygirl.”

You simply hum, nuzzling further into the thick fabric of his hoodie, intoxicated by the mixed smell of cannabis and Dior Sauvage that always clings to him. “But you’re so warm.”

“I know, but we gotta get inside. Come on.”

It takes a moment, but Sungchan’s able to pry you away from him just enough to support underneath your arm. He all but drags you along as he enters your building and makes the ascent to your apartment. He only relaxes once he makes it into your space and deposits you soundly on your bed.

It’s hard to tell what happens next, as your eyes begin to feel heavy from the comfort of your bed. You can barely feel some pressure being relieved from your feet, accompanied by twin thumps against your carpeted floor. The world seems to go still for another moment, before you feel something cool and wet dragging across your face. 

Instinctually, you flinch away, only to be shushed by a calm voice. When your eyes begin to flutter open, a pair of large brown ones are staring back at you. 

“Shhh, relax, doll,” Sungchan coos. “I’m just taking off your makeup.”

You can’t tell if it’s the soft timbre of his voice, the fondness in his gaze, or the alcohol that makes your stomach swim. It’s impossible to ignore, though. A firm tingling feeling floods your body in the way it always does around Sungchan. You hate how he always has such an effect on you. 

“Sungchan?” Your voice comes out as little more than a thick whisper. 

“Hm?”

“Why are you doing this?”

Sungchan just shrugs, a small smile blooming on his flawless face. “You always take such good care of me. I thought it was about time that I returned the favor.”

You don’t get a chance to respond before the coolness of the makeup wipes are leaving your face, Sungchan taking a step back. He tosses them in a small trash bin before turning back to you. You feel the heaviness of sleep pulling at your eyelids once more, fighting you in a battle that you know you are bound to lose. 

“Get some sleep, Y/N,” he whispers. “I’ll see you around.”

The next time you open your eyes, sunlight is streaming in through your curtains. Sungchan has left you with nothing but a splitting headache and the tacky residue of makeup remover staining your face. 

.         .         .

You’re left to wonder if that stood as Sungchan’s resignation from your life. You don’t hear from him or see him for weeks, despite the fact that you know he’s still plenty active on campus. No matter where you look, though, you can’t seem to catch sight of him. 

All things considered, you shouldn’t even want to. But nothing can stop the butterflies in your stomach every time you think about him, about the feeling of the makeup wipe on your face, about the soft timbre of his voice as he sent you off to sleep. It’s addictive, as everything about Jung Sungchan is. But he said it himself. 

You’re not his girlfriend. He wasn’t even looking for one. You should never get your hopes up. 

Your mind is running through those three sentences like a mantra late into the evening one night when a knock sounds at your door. Instantly, your stomach plummets, knowing there could only be one person on the other side. 

Your suspicions are confirmed the minute you open the door to a pair of brown eyes staring down at you. In the place of what you thought would be relief lies a white hot anger. It creeps up through your core, settling thick in your esophagus. You can’t even take in Sungchan’s bruised state, too busy being absolutely furious at his audacity. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You spit.

Sungchan tries to smirk, only to instantly bite back a wince. “I need you.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I thought you didn’t need anyone.”

“I don’t need anyone. I need you.” Sungchan’s face melts into desperation, eyes widening impossibly so. “Please, babygirl. Please help me.”

You wish you were a stronger person. You wish you were a person who could curse Sungchan out and then slam the door in his face. You wish you were a person who could say that he’d never see you again and mean it. But you’re simply you, so you do the worst thing imaginable. 

You go get your first aid kit. 

Sungchan is clearly in pain when you return, sprawled out across your couch with an arm covering his eyes. The beginnings of a nasty bruise peeks out where it lies high on his cheekbone, bright reds beginning to fade into deeper purples and blues. His knuckles are swollen and split like they usually are, but nothing else seems quite out of the ordinary. The injuries are far less than the usual ones that he comes to you to treat, a cloud of doubt beginning to fog up your mind. 

“I can only treat the knuckles,” you state as you sit in front of him, snatching his arm from over his eyes before he can register your presence. “The bruise just needs ice and time to heal. You know that.”

Sungchan sighs. “I know.”

“Then why are you here? You could’ve bandaged your knuckles by yourself.”

“I told you,” Sungchan sighs, finally looking down to where you’re fussing over his hands. “I need you.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

The man doesn’t bother refuting your claims this time. He simply watches as you take the time to disinfect each individual knuckle. You handle his injuries with such care, the type of attention that makes Sungchan sick if he thinks about it too hard. He chokes down the thought of what could be as you pull away, finally turning behind you to grab bandages. 

“Y/N, I—,” Sungchan cuts himself off, an immovable lump forming in his throat. 

“What?”

Your unimpressed glare does nothing but make Sungchan chuckle, always amused by your tough exterior. It’s one of his favorite traits of yours, not that he would ever tell you that. No one is able to put Sungchan in his place like you are, especially not with a single look. Sungchan has tried endlessly to fight the way it makes his stomach swarm with butterflies. 

“Never mind,” Sungchan responds after a moment. “Thank you as always.”

You only give him a simple hum of acknowledgement as you work on bandaging his final few knuckles. It’s easy to get absorbed in the intricacies of his injuries. It feels like every time you patch him up, you’re diving headfirst into an anatomy textbook, forced to confront the complexities of the human body. “The Anatomy of a Drug Dealer” has a nice ring to it.

“Sungchan,” you say softly, “why did you take care of me that night? After the party.”

The man in question just shrugs languidly. “Like I said, you always take care of me, so I wanted to take care of you.”

“But why? The last time we saw each other, you were very adamant about not wanting or needing me or my help. So why now?”

Sungchan sighs. He could say it. He could come clean right now and finally tell you everything that he’s been dying to since the day he met you. It could be simple. All he needs to do is tell the truth, and it could all be over. Instead, all he manages to produce is a rush of words. 

“You scare me.”

You look at the man as if he’d grown another head, nothing but sheer confusion crossing your features. Here is the most feared man on campus, telling you that he is scared of you. Sungchan can sense how perplexed you are, immediately beginning to backtrack when he notices your expression. 

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that,” Sungchan groans, slapping a hand over his forehead, “you care for me in a way that no one ever has. You look at me and genuinely care about my wellbeing and making sure I’m safe. No one gives a shit about who or where their drugs come from, as long as it’s not overpriced. But you’ve always given more of a shit about me than the weed and that scares me. It scares me because I give a shit about you, too.”

You stare at the man in disbelief, struggling for a moment to find your words. “Sungchan, are you saying that you care about me?”

“Fuck, of course I care about you. But the way that I care about you is…”

“Scary,” you finish. 

Sungchan simply nods, finally letting out a relieved sigh. He had no idea how much this fear had been weighing on him until the pressure had been lifted. But that weight is instantly replaced with something physical as you place yourself right onto his lap, looping your arms around the back of his neck. His eyes widen in minor surprise at your close proximity. 

“‘Chan,” you whisper, not wanting to be too loud in the newfound closeness. “How about I cut you a deal?”

“What is it?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the man’s breathlessness, reaching down to wrap his arms around your waist. “I’ll keep caring for you, patching you up, being there for you, and a whole lot more if you start openly caring about me just as much.”

“Like a relationship?”

“Maybe we’ll get there. But for now, I just want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me how you feel. I want you to tell me what you really want.”

Sungchan swallows thickly, allowing you to shamelessly track the bob of his throat as he does so. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Then kiss me.”

That seems to be all of the permission that Sungchan needs before he’s surging forward to claim your lips. He starts off surprisingly gentle, a sharp contrast from the deep, passionate kisses that usually accompany your hookups. This time, he’s kissing you like you’re something fragile and delicate, something he cares about enough to not break. 

When the two of you part, it’s with a wet smack of your lips, despite the kiss not being particularly deep. But both of you are panting like you have just run a marathon, a combination of the adrenaline and the closeness making you both breathless. Sungchan’s long lashes flutter open after a moment, meeting your gaze with an intensity that you haven’t seen in weeks. For once, you don’t hate the heat that begins to bloom deep in your core. 

You’re not quite sure who leans in first, but before you know it, the two of you are kissing again. This time it’s much more reminiscent of the kisses you two usually share, a deep meeting of lips and tongue as if you were to devour each other. Sungchan wastes no time in pulling you closer in his lap, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to nibble on your bottom lip. 

The fabric of his jeans is rough against the thin cotton of your pajama shorts, and you’re sure Sungchan can feel your heat through the minimal layers. It doesn’t stop him from using his grip on your waist to begin to guide the movement of your hips against his. The friction is obscene, pleasured sparks shooting up your spine at the continued contact. 

You throw your head back in a quiet moan as the two of you connect at the perfect spot, Sungchan’s own groan coming out as little more than a deep rumble in his chest. Sungchan begins to trail kisses up your neck and jaw, which quickly turn into harsh nips and sucks. It’s only when you glance downwards and are met with the sight of a deepening bruise on the man’s collarbone that you realize just how detrimental this could be to the man below you. 

“S-Sungchan,” you stutter around a gasp. “We should stop. You’re still hurt.”

Sungchan pulls away from your neck with a wet sound that has your cheeks heating, hands keeping you firmly in his lap. “I don’t give a fuck. I want you.”

“I know, I want you too. But—,”

“But nothing,” Sungchan interrupts. “You took such good care of me, doll. Now let me take care of you.”

You think about it for a second, taking in the swollen tingle of your lips and the incessant throb in your panties. You take in Sungchan’s pleading eyes, noting the way his dark irises have been overtaken by blown pupils. You take in the bruise on his cheekbone and the split of his knuckles and think about the anatomy of his injuries. That’s what allows you to realize that you’re both just human. 

“Okay,” you whisper after a moment. “Take care of me, Sungchan.”

.          .         .

No one ever talks about just how good the bittersweet pressure of being stuck between a rock and a hard place can feel. The rock can be Jung Sungchan, pressing you into a hard place, which just so happens to be the passenger’s side door of his old car. 

One hand presses firmly into your waist, keeping you pinned to the car door, while the other cups your cheek. His lips are fervent against yours, ravishing yours in that heated but lazy way they always do. The taste of cigarettes is heavy in his mouth as he presses it into yours, making every bitter hint of tobacco explode on your tongue. His overwhelming height and strength make it so that you can’t move, the car door handle pressing uncomfortably into your lower back. But with the way Sungchan is kissing you, you can’t find it in yourself to care. 

“Fuck,” Sungchan curses as he pulls away from your kiss. “The things you do to me, babygirl.”

You can’t help but continue to ogle his lips, swollen and spit slicked from the intensity of your kiss. The deep rasp in his voice never fails to light a fire in your veins, sending electricity shooting through your entire body. He seems to notice the effect that he has on you, smirking slightly as he takes in your disheveled state. No matter how many times he has seen you fall apart at his every touch and kiss, it never fails to boost his ego. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” You ask, suddenly aware of how your voice comes out in a whine. 

Sungchan chuckles, squeezing your hip. “I can’t, doll. I have to do a few more deliveries tonight.”

“And I can’t come with you?”

“I have some dangerous clients tonight,” Sungchan states with a sigh. “I don’t want you to be there if anything goes down.”

“Promise me you’ll at least be careful.”

Sungchan smiles. “Of course I will. I gotta make it back home to my girl at the end of the day.”

Warm lips leave a lingering kiss on your forehead before he finally lets you go. He climbs into his car with a wink, loud bass of his favorite song filling the air as the engine roars to life. And then he’s gone, speeding off into the early evening.

But this time, you know he’ll come back to you, and only you. He may have knuckles that will need to be iced, a split lip that needs to be disinfected, or even some bruises that need to be catered to. This time, you’ll be happy to patch them all up, knowing that the one who will be taken care of at the end of the night is you. 

.FIN.

[sleepanonymous]

I mentioned this in an ask on Thursday, that II also had a YouTube channel. Unfortunately all but one of the videos are lost to time. It’s an original song for the band he was part of around the beginning of ST. I’ve got the audio posted below for you. It is live drums over a guitar/bass track, no vocals. The genre is kinda deathcore metal? I’m very bad at naming genres, so there's probably a better term.

In all of his descriptions I cut out the drum kit specs to save space in this post. They are all as follows:

Specs:

Dw Collectors Exotic maple in Okume Feather. 22x18, 10x8, 14x12, 16x14 Craviotto Cherry 13x5.5 Solid Shell Snare. Meinl Byzance cymbals (drivers seat L-R): 16" Vintage trash crash 13" Dark hi hats 6" Traditional splash 17" Traditional medium thin crash 20" Vintage sand ride 18" Vintage crash 18" Extra dry china stacked with a 16" Vintage trash crash 18" Extra dry china Remo heads - p77 (snare), Clear vintage Emperors (toms), Clear PS3 (Kick) Dw 9000 hardware, 5000 hi hat stand and Pearl Eliminator pedal

[Band Name] - Wraiths

Upload Date: 26 August 2017

I remember when I first realized II was in another band at the same time as the ST EPs and it blew my mind for some reason lol. But of course he was, he's a phenomenal drummer. This was also before I realized it's common for drummers to be in literally every band in a 50 square mile radius lmao.

Zara Larsson - I Would Like 

Upload Date: 11 August 2017

His description here about being nervous when he’s filmed 🥹 He’s grown so much and he absolutely slaughtered the Drumeo video’s he’s been doing.  And who guessed our percussion king likes pop music? I guess after that first Drumeo interview it’s not much of a shocker lol. I wonder if Ves has chilled out on his pop/BritPop hate? I feel like it’s likely.

Limp Bizkit - Boiler

Upload Date: 24 August 2017

No comment on his music tastes here ✌️ not a fan of Limp Bizkit but I'd happily listen to this cover lol.

Daniel Bedingfield - Gotta Get Thru This 

Upload Date: 05 September 2017

If you haven't heard this song before it's very dancey/edm/pop. I love how insanely wide II's range is, he's such a great fit with Ves in that aspect.

Deftones - When Girls Telephone Boys

Upload Date: 21 September 2017

I love that he chose a generally unknown/unpopular Deftones song to cover. 10/10 for the percussion on that song, though.

[Band Name] - Ø 

Upload Date: 12 October 2017

There's a jump cut about 7 seconds in because he didn’t want to wait for the “long” intro the song has (it's literally like 12 seconds lol impatient man).

[ms--lobotomy]

This one's for the men in my audience. (It might end up being gn in the end, but I have a male reader in mind at the moment!) (Update: It's gn!) I have Angron on the mind, thank @angronsjewelbeetle and @kit-williams for that! Post nails AU.

Summary: You and Angron spend the first night together after the Nails are removed.

Content Warnings: Slight implication of sex,

Image Credit: @squishyowl

The bed was just large enough to fit him, which meant that it was far too large for you. You weren't complaining. It was largely for Angron, who was maybe twice your size. He was sitting at the side of the bed, clad in only a pair of cloth pants, looking down at you. The bandages were still wrapped around his head, obscuring rough scars from recent events. He regarded you with a soft expression, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Why don't you lay down?" you asked, scooting over in the bed.

He grunted, and shifted over onto the bed. The bed was mostly for you despite its size, but sometimes he would crawl in and cuddle with you, if you didn't go further. In the past, the metal made it so that your cuddle sessions wouldn't be long, and even then you felt bad about the grinding pain in his head. But maybe it would be different now.

He lay next to you, facing you. Your faces were inches apart. His garnet-red eyes were half closed, full of wonder and love. He slid a hand over your side, touching you as if he were touching you for the first time. He may as well have been.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, your voice low and gentle.

"I..." he started, looking away for a second to gather his words. "It doesn't hurt."

You chuckled a little bit, your hands trailing to the sides of his face. They were almost laughably small against him. You ran your fingers along his scars, rough in your hands. He recoiled before steadying himself. His eyes widened and his mouth hung agape a little bit. You could feel him tense up in your hands.

"Don't worry," you said softly. "The Nails are gone. You're safe now."

He uttered your name, careful with it. You tensed up as you heard it, your hands freezing in place.

"Oh, uh... is this okay, darling?" you asked. You felt blood rush to your face.

In the dim light, you saw his eyes glisten. You felt him relax. "It feels nice," he rumbled, his hand light against you. He leaned into your touch, slightly nuzzling your hand. He looked at you with reverence, focusing on your lips.

You chuckled, your lips spreading into a wide smile. You relaxed against him before you pressed a light kiss to his forehead. The bandages tickled your nose where they slightly distended from his skin. He sniffed. His hand left your waist to grab a tissue before he turned over and cast it in the bin.

You knew what to do. "Oh, oh!" you exclaimed. "Keep facing that way. Please," you said.

"Why?" Angron asked, his voice slightly muffled.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, burying your head into the nape of his neck. His skin was rough against yours, bearing the scars of his share of battles fought. You brushed your lips against him, and he shivered against you. You ran your hand along his chest. He said your name again, his voice rumbling gently.

"Angron..." you replied, your voice muffled against his back. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and he shuddered. Your eyelids drooped, and your breathing was slow and warm against the back of his neck. You began to drift out of consciousness, but not before you heard the familiar soft snore of the man that you loved. You smiled as you begin to fade away. It was going to be a long road to recovery, but you were ready to face it with him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You grab towels from the linen closet and turn down the hall. Only a few steps before you reach the bathroom door. You peek inside as Bucky examines his wounds. You hold back the salty bile at the back of your throat as you see the torn flesh. He’s entirely unfazed by the blood oozing from him. 

“Um, here,” you choke out. 

“Thanks,” he reaches to take one of the dark towels. You suppose you’ll need new ones.  

You stand silent and confused. It’s all very strange. You just watched a man wrestle a bear and he doesn’t seem to care a lick about any of it. 

His shirt is shredded and red and dumped in the sink. His bare chest rises and falls calmly, a cluster of dark hair at the center that spreads across his bulky chest. His stomach is just as thick as a layer of extra flesh bulges out above his boxers. He’s built better than any of the locals with their variety of beer belly or rail thin. 

“Here, put some pressure on it for me,” he orders. 

“Huh?” you blink before you react. 

You put the towels on the counter as you step into the cramped bath room. You put your hands on the towel against his side and he reaches for the zip-up pouch on the counter. Black, leather, entirely unfamiliar. He flips it open and reveals an array of scissors, tweezers, and other medical tools. 

“You travel with that?” You ask, keeping your eyes up as you struggle not to glance at your hands. 

“Never know,” he shrugs as grabs your bottle of rubbing alcohol. 

“Never know what? When you’ll wrestle a deadly creature?” 

“Like I said, I’ve faced worse,” he insists, then puts his free hand against yours, pushing it hard against him. “More. Lean into it. You need to stem it just a little.” 

You gulp and nod. “Are you okay? Dizzy?” You ask.

“Fine. Let’s just get this cleaned up.” He turns his attention back to the kit as he wets a thick wad of gauze with the alcohol. “I’m gonna sterilise bit by bit. You move the towel, keep it firm...” 

You once more dip your chin. You hold your breath as you work in tandem. You’re silent. You swallow loudly and wobble. 

“Don’t lock your knees,” he warns. “And breathe.” 

You exhale and steady your legs. He should be the one feeling so woozy. As he works around the towel and you move it to reveal the bits of mangled skin, it’s a little less unnerving. His confidence helps to sooth your hammering heart. 

He tosses the bloodied gauze in the bin and grabs a long curved needle from the kit. Oh god. You don’t know if you can handle that. You shift to lean against the doorway. 

“You don’t deal with this a lot? All the way up here, what would do in an emergency?” He wonders. 

You peel your dry tongue from the roof of your mouth, “is this not one?” 

He chuckles. “Not even close.” 

He sterilizes the needle and threads it. You can only watch helplessly. The house is cold and yet heat roils off of him. Your brow is beaded with sweat and your back burns. 

The longer you stand in the tight space of the bathroom, the more you’re aware of his nudity. The top of his boxers is stained with blood. Still he works without hesitation. As he pokes the metal tip through his flesh, you hold back a wretch. 

“Alright,” he puts his hand against the towel. “Go.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just...  lot.” 

“It’s good. I got it from here,” he turns the face the mirror. “Go on, wash your hands. Have some water. And breathe. I don’t need you fainting.” 

You don’t argue. You just go. You wash your hands for a long time in the kitchen, scrubbing your palms and nails. As you shut off the tap, you remember your coffee, left outside in the panic of your furry encounter. It’s probably cold now and you’re not going back outside. Not yet. 

There’s a bit left in the pot. You claim it in a new mug and take out your phone from your robe pocket. You can still smell the bloody iron. You have bars. 

You don’t think, you just tap Sam’s name and wait as you scowl over the table with your hand on your mug. It takes two tries for him to pick up and when he does, he sounds groggy. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“He fought a bear,” you say, if only to hear it out loud. 

“Bucky?” 

“Who else? Sam, he’s bleeding all over my bathroom.” 

“Well, did you call someone?” He asks, not a glean of concern in his voice. 

“No, he said he didn’t need it. He’s sewing himself up. Sam, do you not—a bear. A bear.” 

“I mean, that man isn’t going to die because of a bear. His own stupidity, sure, but not that.” He chuckles. 

“Are you laughing?” You hiss. 

“It’s funny. I’m picturing it now. Oh, tell me you recorded it.” 

“Sam,” you snap. 

“Ah, come on. He’s fine. You’re fine. Is the bear fine?” He groans and you hear jostling on his end. 

“It ran off,” you say. 

“Then you know what, sounds like he did you a favour. He got rid of a pest,” he insists. “Just too bad you’re stuck with another type of pest.” 

“Which you brought here.” 

“You’re doing a service to your country,” he says. 

“Again, Canadian. I don’t know how you keep forgetting.” 

“I don’t but we’re close allies. NAFTA or whatever,” he snickers. “Take it easy, okay? He’s alive, you’re alive. Things are going well. I expected you to call a lot sooner.” 

“Splendid, well I’m calling now,” you retort. 

“And what exactly do you want? Should I come all the way up there and get him? Send a bus ticket? Or maybe I should have a serious conversation with ole Buck,” he taunts. 

You twitch. You don’t know what you want. You think you’re still in shock. 

“Look, I’m gonna send you some money, right? Take care of this fool,” he says. “Consider it sent and done. Now, I gotta go deal with Sarah. Trust me, she’ll have a few of her own words for me too.” 

“Fine, whatever, Sam. But we’re even after this. You don’t get to drop anymore fugitives on my doorstep.” 

“Ledger wiped,” he assures. “Go make sure the old man isn’t bleeding out.”