#and i can see that the trauma and harm they pass down to me is the armor they've cobbled together to survive.

[dustteller]

Reading He Who Drowned the World and honestly Baoxiang has no right to be as bitchy as he is about Ouyang squandering Esen's love or whatever. Baoxiang is genuinely convinced that Esen loathes him. No you dumb bitch, your brother loves you and the reason he's giving you a hard time is because he wants you to be safe and happy and healthy. Yeah, he sucks at expressing it, and his efforts are misguided (bc the toxic masculinity gender rolesis fucking up Esen as much as it's fucking up everyone else), but Esen very much does love Baoxiang deeply. Every time Baoxiang remembers a time when Esen "enjoyed his fear" or whatever, I can only think of these parts of Esen's POV from the first book:

Esen's first instinct is to defend his brother. The only reason he doesn't is bc Baoxiang leaves before he can. And Baoxiang glares at him bc he assumes that Esen agrees with Altan and won't defend him, but no, Esen WANTED to defend him and it's Baoxiang that took away his oportunity to do so.

And a bit later, we have this interaction. Baoxiang assumes (again) that Esen would hate him if he was gay, and immediately goes on the defensive. Meanwhile, Esen literally does not care about this except for how it would affect his brother's reputation. He's just WORRIED. He doesn't care if Baoxiang is gay or whatever, but he's deeply aware that if he IS it would put him in more danger. Because, again, he cares about his brother, and he hates seeing what he assumes is Baoxiang making his own life harder.

And it's heartbreaking bc Baoxiang will probably never realize how much Esen adores him. He's so jealous of Ouyang for having his brother's heart without realizing that Esen sees him as his beloved baby brother and is desperately trying to protect him from a world that he KNOWS is cruel to him. Baoxiang will never know that his greatest supporter and the only person that loved him unconditionally was Esen. And maybe it would be WORSE if he realized how dear he was to Esen, because the realization that all thise things that caused him pain were borne out of a deep, unconditional LOVE and not the disdain he's convinced himself Esen felt for him might break him. Baoxiang has deluded himself into simplifying Esen's feelings for him into those of hate and disdain because its so much harder to accept that the person you love the most has destroyed you out of love. Baoxiang is doing the exact same thing Ouyang does in convincing himself that he's unlovable and relishing in the world's response as a form of self-harm. And Esen, who is genuinely trying (and floundering horribly) is a great tool for Baoxiang to use to tear himself apart.

And, on the other hand, Esen will never realize how much damage his attempts to help Baoxiang caused. He loves him so much, bc that's his baby brother! It's his job to protect him! But Esen has been raised as the golden poster child of a Mongol Warrior Man, a perfect pinacle of masculinity, and is thus doomed to only being able to express his love and acceptance for Baoxiang through a tough love, lets sand down all the edges to remove friction approach. For him, pushing Baoxiang into a box IS an act of love. It's the act of saying I love and accept you, and so I will help you succeed in all the things you're bad at so that everyone will love you too. Except by doing this, he doesn't realize how awful he's being and how he's asking someone that CANT ever fit the mold to break himself in the attempt. He's a perfect Mongol Warrior Man after all, and as such he has never been given the tools to express his affection in a healthy way. He will never truly understand how much he's an asshole, not because he is lacking in love (as Baoxiang assumes) or because he is incapable of sympathizing (as ouyang thinks), but because understanding is not something allowed of him and his role in society. At the end of the day, Esen is as much a slave to his role as all the other characters are, and now he's dead he will never be able to break free of the assumptions people have made of him. He went to his grave having destroyed the people he loved most, and now he will never have the chance to prove their assumptions wrong as be better.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART THIRTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned, lots of tension in this chapter masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“Shadow’s Peak,” Price began, pointing to the circled island that seemed to be parted from all of its neighboring ones, “is where Graves resides when he’s not at sea. Nobody’s been to the island that’s been able to return home. It’s cursed to many, deemed uninhabitable.”

“If you have never visited it, then how do you know?” you risked asking.

Price looked up from the map, a frown on his face. “Ghost,” he answered, and you let out a sound of recognition. “You must understand that Graves is known amongst the people as a danger, same as us. People see monsters when they see pirates, but Graves lives up to the name.”

You trailed your finger along the map, studying the remote island and the ink around it. It looked as if Price had been the one to sketch it out himself, rather than a merchant selling it with the island displayed.

Monsters, you thought. For a long time, you were in the same boat as others. Pirates were never in good fortune. They were a rarity, but when they appeared on land in the public, you’d heard the stories. They almost never ended well.

“I do not think you are monsters,” you murmured quietly, more so to yourself than anything. Still, Price cocked his head, eyes locked in on you as you kept your own focused on the map.

“Even now, after everythin’ we’ve done?” he asked, watching the way your fingers flattened against the map. “You do not view us in the light everybody sees is in?”

You finally looked up at him, and you felt your breath catch in your throat uncomfortably. Your gaze flickered over his face, down to the frown lines permanently etched into his skin, and the way his eyebrows tugged together in heavy doubt.

“Perhaps at first, I did,” you admitted honestly. His expression didn’t falter, and he seemed to be expecting that answer. “I do not now. I have seen the true monster and where it hides. It is not you.”

Price blinked, softening. A look of relief passed over him. “We have done horrible things,” he muttered. “We are prepared to do more until we can no longer. I truly hope you’re aware of what you are agreein’ to, dove.”

You pressed your lips together. You contemplated, though you knew your answer and had already made it previously. You knew the moment Graves invaded your mind and filled it with parasites that he was the true monster in your world and not Price or his men.

It didn’t make their doings any better, not did it excuse it. But you knew they were trying, and that was all you could do in return.

Perhaps you were an idiot for thinking so.

“You will protect me?” you asked Price, catching him off guard.

“With my life,” he confirmed instantly. “I will not allow you to be harmed. I swear on it.”

You watched his finger cross an X over his chest. You didn’t know why it made your heart pick up its pace.

He was swearing to you, on behalf of him and his men, to keep your life as untouched as possible. It was an oath that was to be taken serious. Price was devoting his life to yours the same he did with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost as their Captain.

“What is your plan, Captain?” You gestured to the map, right at Shadow’s Peak that sat on the paper in its lonesome wake. “With Graves. What exactly is the outcome you wish for?”

Price looked at Shadow’s Peak briefly, his eyes hardening. The mood in the room shifted, and the heaviness weighed on your chest when you took a sharp breath in.

There was a protectiveness that came over him, one you were beginning to recognize when the thought of his men or you getting harmed seemed to take control of his thoughts. The idea that he cared enough for you that he placed you in the same category of priority as his men had your mind running astray.

“He has to die,” he grunted out firmly. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or doubt in his tone. “One way or another, I’m goin’ to kill that fuckin’ beast. For Ghost, and for you.”

Your breath hitched at the pure determination he exuded, the way his fists clenched on the table and jaw tightened until it looked painfully taut. Wide-eyed, you said nothing outwardly, though your mind was a gamble.

He was willing to kill for you. He was willing to die for you.

You shouldn’t be thinking that way. It was crude even being flattered by the prospect of it, yet your heart and mind were both in unity with how you were growing increasingly flustered.

When Price’s gaze met yours, and the hardness immediately softened and was replaced with a distant tenderness filled with words unsaid, you weren’t sure how much longer your thoughts could be suppressed.

“I’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill him, dove,” he said softly, a stark contrast to the venomous words being spoken.

Your fingernails dug into your palms, fists growing clammy and restless by your sides.

“I understand,” you whispered with a curt nod.

Price’s eyes flickered over your features, the silence growing between you two. His hand furled and unfurled on the table, fighting with itself to not reach out and touch you.

“You look tired,” he murmured, tearing his gaze away. “You should go get some rest.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut when you realized. Price seemed to be in just as much a whirl of confused emotions as you. He was giving you an out, while also expressing his desire to be alone.

You could respect that. After all, you truly were tired, given your earlier sleep was interrupted by the cruel, cold hands of death knocking at your doorstep.

“Alright,” you agreed softly. “You should rest as well, Captain. You wear yourself out too much.”

Price looked up at you in surprise, expression furrowing. He bristled, slumping with a quiet chuckle under his breath. Shaking his head to himself, he spoke. “I have never been the one told to rest. It is usually me doin’ the biddin’.”

You smiled, watching his every movement as he sat in his chair, melting into it. “Perhaps you need to hear it more often,” you reckoned in amusement.

Price smiled back, and you did your damn hardest to ignore the low ache it gave you in your chest. “Perhaps I do,” he hummed. “Go on and rest, dove. We will talk in the mornin’.”

You nodded briefly, shooting him a farewell before retreating out of his quarters and into the night. The Captain watched as you left, eyes lingering on the door even after your absence, before forcing himself to bed, only because you told him to.

Strange girl, he thought to himself, yet his heart thought otherwise.

Upon entering your shared quarters, you nearly flung up in surprise to see Soap meddling about. Your clothes were spread out on his bed, and the miniature telescope you bought for Gaz was in his hands, held up to his eye as he peered through it curiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed in on the telescope.

Soap startled, dropping the telescope from his eye and clenching it between his hand. “Dove!” he exclaimed. “Give a man a warnin’, will ye?”

You mumbled an apology, stepping towards the bed and eyeing your clothes. “Why are you going through my things?”

“Ach, I’m a nosy lad. Ye can’t buy all these things and not expect me to go through ‘em,” he tsked, and at your side-eyed glare, he stammered. “Don’t look at me like that. Makes me nervous.”

You let out a heavy sigh, seating yourself on the edge of the bed. You carefully grasped one of the flowy dresses you bought for yourself, thumbs running over the fabric. Its quality was rich, much richer than you were used to, and it felt soft under your touch.

“It’s pretty,” Soap hummed. “Didn’t expect ye to be into dresses like that.”

“I never had the opportunity or funds,” you explained, staring down at the dress. “Gaz was very gracious with gifting me the money.”

Soap cocked his head, looking between the dress and you. “That lad never buys me anythin’,” he huffed, taking a seat next to you. The telescope sat carefully in his lap. “And here he is, buyin’ ye a whole store.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him. You briefly recalled Ghost seeming just as confused by the generosity. “Is this not common?”

Soap snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Gaz is a stickler with his money. Doesn’t like to spend it unless necessary.” He sniffed, peering down at the fabric in your lap. “He clearly didn’t care to give ye some, though.”

You were surprised, to say the least. Gaz didn’t seem the type to be cautious with his spendings, and to learn that he gave you money despite that left you just as confused.

He had no reason to do so. He was simply being generous. But now, knowing it wasn’t just something he did casually, it left you wondering.

“Strange,” you muttered to yourself. Soap gave a hum of agreement.

“What’s this, by the way?” he asked, lifting the telescope. He inspected it, turning it in his hand. “Ye don’t seem the type to use it.”

You watched as he fiddled with it, growing a sense of protectiveness. You were scared he’d break it, or worse, deem it unusable.

“Gaz’s one request was to bring him back a gift,” you explained. “I know he likes to sit and watch the sky at night when it is quiet and peaceful. I got him a telescope to make the experience better.”

Soap’s eyebrows raised and he placed the scope to his eye, frowning. “I don’t think it works, dove.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It does not work well indoors, Soap. It is meant for distance.”

“Ah.”

He pulled it away, smoothing a thumb over the gold detailing. As if sensing your faint distress, he turned to you, holding it out. “Ye gonna give it to him?”

You took it graciously, cupping it in your palm. “Do you know where he is?”

Soap nodded, giving you a toothy smile. “North end of the deck. That’s his favorite spot.”

You noted that in your mind. Gaz was always a lonely wanderer, so it came as no surprise that he was on the opposite end of the ship, soaking in the quiet. That was something the two of you had in common.

You couldn’t help but wonder. “Do you think he will like it?” you asked, uncertain.

You felt silly, stressing yourself over whether Gaz will appreciate your gift. A gift was all it was, one he specifically told you to surprise him with, yet you found your stomach in knots.

Soap lifted a hand, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. When you looked at him, he was smiling softly, a hint of amusement glistening in his eyes.

“He’ll love it,” he assured kindly, and he gave you no reason to think otherwise. “Though, I also like gifts.”

You felt your lips curl up involuntarily and you laughed lightly, something Soap reflected. “There is no need to be envious, Soap,” you jested, standing from the bed. “It is but a one time thing.”

Soap beamed, eyes following you as you stood. “Just a mental note for the future,” he replied back cooly.

You shook your head, making your way towards the door with the telescope in your grasp. You felt Soap watching you, and when you turned, you stilled when he seemed to be in thought so quickly.

“I really do think the dresses are pretty, by the way,” he murmured, voice much quieter. “They… suit ye.”

Your gaze flickered over to the dresses muddled behind him before returning to him. “Thank you,” you replied warmly. “I’ll be sure to try them on tomorrow.”

Soap smiled softly, giving you a nod. You returned the favor, turning back around to leave the quarters, beginning your mission to find the mysterious pirate who loved to vanish in the night.

Your nerves grew the closer you got to the North end of the ship, and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t as if Gaz were a danger nor a stranger, yet your heart pounded aggressively against your rib cage with every step you took.

The telescope felt infinitely heavier in your hand, and you repeatedly swiped your thumbs over the gold detailing to rid it of any grimy fingerprints and ensure it looked good as new.

Gaz was exactly where Soap said he’d be, and you instantly paused your walking, staring at his back. His gaze was towards the sky, shoulders relaxed and at ease. One knee pulled towards him while the other dangled loosely over the edge.

“Gaz?” you called out quietly as not to startle him.

Gaz’s head tilted back to look at you, and a smile graced his lips. “Hey, dove. Y’alright?”

You stepped closer until you were standing by his side, peering down at the dark abyss the ocean offered below. It was black, your eyes struggling to adjust to the waves that lapped at the ship.

“Mm. Soap told me I could find you here.”

Gaz studied you, curious. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, before his gaze dropped down to your furled hand that held the telescope.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, before Gaz gestured for you to sit beside him. You complied, letting your legs dangle with his one over the edge, knee brushing his.

“What’s that?” he questioned in faint amusement, nodding towards the telescope.

Gosh, you didn’t know why you felt so unnerved. Perhaps it was due to this being the first time you were gifting somebody something special. You feared he wouldn’t like it, and your heart kept lurching out of your chest as if it were running a marathon.

“Your gift,” you answered, slowly reaching the telescope out. He took it carefully, immediately observing the intricate detailing. “I know you like coming out at night, so I thought it may help you see the sky better.”

Your hands furled into fists on your thighs. You kept your gaze on the sea, reveling in the breeze that came with.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

It had knots growing in your throat that you desperately tried to swallow down.

You felt foolish and silly. The entire duration of your stay on the ship, you held your ground and stalked your claim. You remained stubborn and fearless for as much as your fragile heart could possibly take, yet all it took for your resolve to crumble was a sickening anxiety over whether or not Gaz liked his gift.

It felt like you were a little girl again, fighting for approval from the other kids in the village. Wondering why you had to be different, why they couldn’t be friendly towards you.

You felt so stupid—

“Hm. You win,” he hummed, smiling faintly to himself.

You whipped your head up to look at him. The scope was pressed to his eye as he gazed up at the stars, admiring them through a new lens.

“What?” you breathed, confused.

“Our negotiation,” he recalled, pulling the scope away to glance at you. “You win.”

You stared at him dumbly, realization creeping in. If he didn’t like your gift, you were to owe him the money back for the clothes. If he did, then you were home free.

“You like it?” you asked, unsure. You thought he was messing with you. He was secretly more of a tease than Soap, and you knew it just from the day of the negotiation alone.

“Oh, yeah. This thing is a real dime,” he assured, inspecting the telescope in his hand. “You know me better than I thought. Lucky you.”

You watched as he looked into the scope again, his other eye squinting to focus. You shifted your gaze to join him in looking up while your stomach twisted and rolled in shot nerves.

“It’s a shame I lost, but I can’t deny that this is somethin’ I would’ve killed to have had I thought of it. You did well, dove,” he praised and you felt your heart leap.

Gaz turned to you before holding out the scope. You raised your eyebrows, shaking your head and throwing your hands up in protest. “No, it’s for you—”

“Look through it, dove,” he sighed. “Give it a shot.”

You paused, glancing down at the scope. You hesitantly took it, giving Gaz a quick look before lifting the scope to your eye.

The sky was pretty before, but now, it was breathtaking to look at. You didn’t appreciate it enough before.

Through the lens, the stars twinkled brightly, waving hello. They were much easier to see, and much more beautiful up close.

You could finally understand why Gaz enjoyed his time out here. It was as if lying under a blanket of warmth, shielded away from the troubles day brought and invited into a night of oasis.

“Beautiful,” Gaz breathed out. “Am I right?”

You nodded, lost in the shining lights. It truly was, and you felt calmer than ever since your first night aboard. In the night sky, there was no Graves, nor danger waiting for you. Just blissful serenity.

You reluctantly pulled the scope away, handing it back to Gaz. He was already looking at you, and when you met eyes, he grinned, taking the scope.

“It’s a nice gift, birdie,” he said calmly. “No need to beat yourself up about it. I could feel you gettin’ all nagged up before you even arrived.”

He knew you were there? Embarrassment flooded your body and you grumbled in feigned annoyance, looking away. He snickered to himself, resuming his time with the scope.

The air filled with a light silence, the only sound being the crashing waves that seemed to further the peace. It was an escape from the hands of life, and you understood enough to see Gaz in a new life.

He was a pirate, through and through, but that human side of him stilled longed for a simple life. You couldn’t help but think of the last time the two of you spoke beneath a blanketed sky, when he had confessed he was a prince, yet turned to a life of crime.

“What was your life like before?” you couldn’t help but ask. “Before you were a pirate, I mean. When you were a… prince.”

Gaz made a noise under his breath, one of thought, and he slowly removed the scope, letting his hand fall into his lap.

“I had everythin’ I could ever want,” he started slowly. He made no efforts to look at you, lost in his own world.

“Then why’d you leave?” you pushed.

Gaz glanced at you from the corner of his eye before sighing through his nose. “Everythin’ can still mean nothin’,” he explained. “There was an arranged marriage between a princess from a neighboring country and I. When I flat out refused, it caused tension.”

Gaz twiddled with the telescope absentmindedly, his focus stuck on the stars. You wondered if he was embarrassed or ashamed.

“I didn’t want a lifetime of dead romance between a woman I did not want. I wanted freedom and individuality,” he continued, growing solemn by the second. You could feel the passion in his words.

“Did you run away, then?” you asked, curious. “You left the kingdom?”

Gaz snorted through his nose, though it was more bitter than amused. “I fled like a coward,” he corrected sharply. “War broke out the moment I left. Blood and ash was the only thing left of my home.”

You gawked in surprise, feeling a tightness in your chest. It seemed all too familiar, in which your home was destined with the same fate. By none other than him, too. It was dramatic irony.

“Your family?” you whispered, and he shrugged.

“Dead, surely.” His fiddling with the telescope grew more consistent. “I wouldn’t know.”

You frowned, turning away from him when he began to seem uncomfortable. Whether it was with your questions or simply his past, you weren’t sure, but you hated ruining a decent moment. They were rare as is.

“I apologize,” you murmured lowly. Gaz perked up, throwing you a weary look.

“Hm?” He sat up straighter, shifting so his body faced towards you. “Why are you apologizin’?”

“I made things uncomfortable for you,” you replied, deflated. “It is a difficult topic, I understand. So, I apologize.”

Gaz went quiet, staring at you with eyes that felt like they’d pierce through your soul. Then, he smiled, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you down. “That is to nobody’s fault but my own,” he assured kindly. “You lost your home just as much as I. I am not uncomfortable talkin’ with you.”

You lifted your head up enough to side eye him, testing the waters. He didn’t appear upset, especially not with you, to your surprise. You’re used to Price having an easy temper to set off, yet Gaz acted as if no anguish had been spoken.

You felt relieved.

“I am glad,” you commented stiffly, awkwardly. “I do not feel uncomfortable talking to you as well.”

Gaz released a lovely laugh that filled the air, easing the previous tension you’d been building on your own. “I’m glad myself, birdie,” he retorted easily. “I appreciate the gift.”

The gift sat in his palm, no longer being fiddled and moved at an anxious rate. It sat calmly, his grip light on it, as if he was now worried about holding it too tightly and damaging it.

“Soap told me you do not normally offer luxuries to them, nor yourself,” you recalled. “Was I a special case?”

Gaz hummed in thought, a smile gracing his radiant features. You had to stifle your own beating heart and sweaty palms. “I feel bad for you,” he confessed without a moment’s hesitation. “I figured an act of kindness could go a long way with you. It seems it has.”

He shook the telescope teasingly before letting it rest back on his lap. You smiled small, happy to know he truly enjoyed the gift and not simply out of pity.

“You do not have to feel bad for me,” you assured. “I will be quite alright.”

“Will you?”

You cocked your head in question.

“It is a lot to take on for a bird like yourself. You should be out there, livin’ how you want. Now stuck on here with us,” Gaz said. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the slight concern.

“I could say the same for you, could I not?” you replied with a shrug. “You also seem to suffer similar fate.”

Gaz quirked his eyebrows, pursing his lips. He mulled over your words, giving them a decent thought. Truthfully, he knew you were correct. Perhaps that’s why he liked you.

“You win again, dove,” he replied softly, a warm smile on his face.

You smiled back, unable to hold back the sudden burst of feeling that coursed through your veins. Gaz made you feel heard, and under the concept of moonlight and stars, it made everything feel much more of a rush.

Your eyes locking on to one another’s made you nervous, even more so that he did it so shamelessly. It seemed as if the two of you got lost in time, the world around you freezing. The sound of waves faded away, the rocking of the boat seizing to a halt.

“Thank you for the telescope,” Gaz thanked, voice soft as ever. You nearly missed it.

You fumbled for words, wanting to look away but unable to. “It is nothing,” you murmured, fisting the fabric of the old night shirt you wore and had yet to discard.

Your daze seemed to falter momentarily when you felt a finger graze your cheek, the touch gentle as it mapped out your skin. Gaz seemed just as entranced as you, and in that moment, you grew fearful.

Fearful of what?

You couldn’t figure it out.

The distance between the two of you seemed closer than ever, and you don’t recall either of you moving. The realization made you jolt, forcefully tearing your eyes away and leaning back.

“I am glad you like your gift,” you muttered, flustered. You made quick work to stand on your feet, stumbling in the process. “I should rest. Enjoy your night, Gaz.”

You didn’t stick around to see the surprised look on Gaz’s face, nor how it morphed into crestfallen. You left as quickly as you could, making haste to the shared quarters so you could lock yourself in, pray to the Gods you fell asleep before he returned, and that Soap wasn’t awake to burden you with any questions.

[peachsukii]

A rage room is the last place Bakugo ever thought he’d end up with you.

When you bring up the idea to him after seeing one online, he scoffs at the thought of it. Working out and training is more than enough for him to let off metaphorical steam, and he’s been seeing a therapist since senior year of UA. He doesn’t need to smash shit to feel something.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Bakugo agrees to go with you, begrudgingly at first, but ultimately to keep you company, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself or be alone. There were only two rules: No quirk usage and no harming others in the room, everything else is fair game. You both sign the waivers and gear up to head inside. The room is overwhelming at first, full to the brim of freshly smash-able objects - a broken down car with the doors barely on their hinges, light bulbs, glass jars of all sizes, old stop lights, and other breakable trinkets.

“Start smashin’, sweets. It ain’t gonna break itself,” Bakugo jokes, patting you on the back to let you take the first swing. You pick up the bat the facility has supplied and turn to face him, setting it on your shoulder like a sword.

“You’re not gonna try it?”

He’s here and suited up, might as well let loose. What’s the worst that could happen?

Bakugo swings the bat a few times around the room, adrenaline trickling through his veins as glass continuously shatters around him. Suddenly, he’s lost in thought and caught in a slow emotional build up, like an ocean’s tide retreating before the giant swell of waves begin to crash against the shore. Memories begin flooding to the forefront of his mind, things he’d worked through in therapy - anger, frustration, fear, guilt, coursing through him. Bakugo doesn’t notice when you lower your bat, watching him curiously as he starts swinging harder, viciously picking up the pace and breathing heavily with each passing hit.

“Kats, you alright?” You call - he doesn’t hear you in his tunnel visioned state. In between swings, you can see the bat quaking in his grip as if it’s too heavy to hold.

“Katsuki!” you try again with no response. Bakugo sounds like he’s about to have a panic attack with the way his breath is labored. You toss your bat to the floor and rush over to him, gently grabbing at his shoulder to get his attention. He flinches at your touch, shaken up by his sudden visceral reaction with a tinge of embarrassment, hiding his face from you by tucking it against his opposite shoulder.

“Breathe, babe,” you sooth, rubbing calming circles in between his shoulder blades. “Do you need a minute?”

“I—” Bakugo stutters, his throat strained by his effort to hold in the onslaught of tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. He clears his throat and bites his lip in a desperate attempt to stop his emotions from overflowing, but he loses the battle.

“We can stop if—”

He snatches your breath away when Bakugo swings around and pulls you into his chest, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck awkwardly. The protective goggles are becoming foggy and wet with discarded tears, a hiccup strangled in his throat. One of your hands slides tenderly against his nape, fingers entangled with the soft blonde strands while the other lays against his back.

"It's okay, I've got you. It's just you and me here."

Turns out smashing shit gave him an outlet he didn’t know he needed. His therapist has preached to him about bodies holding onto stress and trauma throughout our lives - Bakugo thought it was utter bullshit.

He was proven dreadfully wrong. But one things for sure, he’s sincerely grateful you knew him better than himself, how badly he needed this release without verbalizing it.

[hearts4werka]

Drugged Love

Summary: You and Chris meet when you're coming back from a gang meeting and he is coming back from a deal, your apperance caught his attention but him suddenly popping out from an alleyway makes you react in the opposite way he though you would. He places his number into your phone but you have to keep the relationship a secret because of your involvement with the dangerous gang… Genre: ANGST & SMUT (further into the story there will be smut dw) Drug dealer x gang member, ?strangers to lovers? Gangster, drug dealer, dark themes, alleyways, driving late at night, rainy night, troubled characters, third person pov and possibly more! Warnings: mentions of drug usage & being under the influence of hard drugs, gang involvement at a young age, illegal weapon possession, involvement in illegal activity, being held at gun point, ?slight threatening?, dark subjects will be involved further into the story including different types of childhood trauma, ass content ahead and possibly more!

The idea is from @leoslaboratory and was requested by @yourmother29 in this ask so thank you both luvies!

"Have a good night everyone." I say to the people left in the conference room as I rise from my chair, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair and walk out of the room.

“Bless your soul, child.” I hear one of the older women who were remaining in the conference room, shooting her a warm smile as she lights a cigarette that way neatly placed between her lips who do look like they haven’t met male lips nor seen chapstick in at least 25 years.

Walking down the stairs of the building and out of the exit I look around on the streets to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows behind the streetlight softly lighting the road and side walk.

My outfit mostly consists of the color black which is typically normal but having the hood of my hoodie over my head and my clothing cocealing most of my body which at night can be quite concearning and unsual to see. (I didnt find any reference for this so use your imagination)

I make my way back to my car, wanting to get back home after the meeting which lasted over an hour. Feeling the tiredness state affect my awarness of my surroundings, suddenly theres a tall, but significantly attractive man standing infront of me.

Out of reflex I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out a gun, placing it against the man's forehead to stop him from any further movements, my finger already hovering over the trigger.

He visibly tenses and freezes in place, his vision falling onto the barrel of the cold metal gun against his forehead. A shiver running down his spine as he starts to speak in an almost oddly calm voice. Like he’s been in a situation like this before.

"Woah there, don't gotta be so hostile from the start. I was just passing by." He explains, raising his hands into the air in surrender to asuure me he wont be causing any harm to my human being and looking quite friendly but at the same time a bit high.

"Oh, I'm sorry its just a.. reflex I guess." I state in an apologetic tone, pulling the gun away from his forehead and back into the back pocket of my jeans, feeling slight guilt wash over my body at the sudden situation and my actions.

"You don't look like those typical girls walkin' back home this late, you bein' followed that you needa pull a gun on strangers?" He asks, a feeling of protectiveness washes over me at his question. It;s a weird feeling to be feeling to a man that you have just met.

"I can get pretty defensive when it comes to walking home at night. And no, no one is following me, atleast I don't think so" I answer, glancing around and comprehending my surroundings more than before and feeling certainly more awake now. Letting the tiredness state evaporate into the air.

“Ima walk you to wherever you gotta go, m’kay?” He insists, moving to stand next to me and ready to walk to my destination. Showing no signs of moving from his new currently taken spot.

“You don’t have to, don’t you also have places to be at?” I ask, still standing in the same spot I was from the beginning. Reassuring him that he doesn’t need to walk me back home and feeling slightly hesitant with a random stranger walking with me. “I’ll be fine, really. I know how to defend myself.”

“Yeah but I can’t let a pretty thing like you walk alone at night, especially with all the creeps around these alleyways.” He demands, clearly not taking my negative answer into consideration in his mind

Knowing that he won’t stop until I finally give in, I decide on just letting him walk with me. For some reason I feel like i can trust him and having a possible male friend that’s not a gang member is pretty refreshing.

“Fine, you can walk with me but don’t try anything funny or I’ll put a bullet through your skull.” I warn him, shooting him a slight glare and then chuckle at how his expression says that he knows I’m not kidding and that I am serious about the words I just spoke.

We take off from the spots we were stuck in for a few minutes and I start to make my way towards my car with him following close next to me.

“Soo… what’s with you carrying a gun around?” He finally speaks up, trying to make small talk as he looks me up and down in question, seeming a lot more calmer than others who I’ve had the fortune to have pulled a gun to their head.

“Well it’s not exactly legal and I can’t tell you the reason behind it.” I explain and wait for his reaction, noticing the wheels turning in his head with my words hanging in the tense air between us as small awkward silence joins in alongside the tense air.

He nods his head in understanding, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket which was softly draped over his shoulders. “M’kay, understandable.”

"Why are you out so late?" I ask my first question, a small chuckle escapes past his lips as he glances between me and the side walk ahead of him as we walk alongside each other.

"I think I should be asking that." He jokes, we share a small laugh and as his laugh hits my ears I feel slightly warmer inside, his laugh sounds like a small flower newly blooming before he starts to add, "but to answer your question, I was makin' a quick delivery"

I glance at him with slight confusion shadowing over my features, what kind of delivery is he talking about? he doesn't look like the type to deliver packages and with the current time, packages aren't delivered anymore.

"What kind of delivery?" My head tilting to the side in question, glancing up and down at his attire and observing him closely to try and pry an answer out of him from his appearance alone.

A chuckle rumbles in his throat at my question regarding his words, noticing me clearly observing him while thinking he's not gonna notice but with how my eyes were sliding down his form slightly scrunched in determination to get an answer, my intentions were obviously spotted.

"An illegal one." He answers straight to the point, I almost get taken aback by his sudden honestly given that we are strangers to each other and don't even know each other names yet. Quite shocking how quickly he seemed to warm up to me.

"So that makes us both involved in illegal activity," I summarise what I've caught from our current conversation we’re having before I add. "At least we got one thing in common so far." My brain is slowly easing into the information that this might be the longest walk I've been on.

As we finally start to reach the end of our little walk but just as the conversation starts flowing, I see a small glimpse of my car in the distance and feel slightly bummed that our meeting is soon going to come to an end.

I decide to just fuck it and ask for his number to maybe hang out in the near future together, ill be new air to breathe since he isnt involved with the gang I'm involved in. I’m nit sure in what illegal activity he is involved in but I wont stress over that for now.

We finally make it to my car, being only few feet away from it as i turn my head to look at him as he notices me glancing in the way of the black car and realizes it could possibly belong to me.

“Can you give me your phone for a sec?” He speaks up first, glancing down at me and at the black car we are now standing infront of and eyeing it up with quite the precision in his eyes.

Hesitant thoughts cross my mind as I slightly stare at him with confusion contouring my face, the only thing I get from him is a small laugh rumbling in his throat before he adds. “I’m not gonna steal it, don’t worry”

Still feeling slightly skeptic about this idea but I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and reveal my phone to him, before putting it in his direction and for him to easily grab I unlock it first as I assume he would want to use it for something.

Taking the opportunity he grabs ahold of my phone in his calloused hands and opens an app, quickly typing something out before handing it back that causes our hands to brush against each other.

As i take my phone back and shove it into my back pocket but pulling out my car keys and unlocking the car door, turning my head to glance back at him.

"See ya later, little trouble." He slighty teased, emphasizing the little nickname he suddenly thought of. My thoughts are mixed with the random nickname but I wont stress it too much until I get inside of my car.

He shoots me a small smirk that grows on his face before turning around, making his back face me now and starts to walk in the other direction. Slowly letting the dark shadows consume his form into their black wrath.

I open my car door and slide inside, slumping into my seat as my hands land on the steering wheel. My thoughts slowly wrapping their shadowy arms aroun dmy head and pulling me into the pitch black pit, I finally push the key into the keyhole and press the gas, pulling out of my parked spot and into the nightly street as rain starts tapping the roof of my car...

@hearts4werka

authors note: heloo everyone! Soo here is the drug dealer Chris fic and I hope you guys liked it and would want more, I love hearing your guys thoughts on any of my work and if y’all see any improvement from the previous ones, your guys opinion matters to me so don’t be afraid to leave a comment sharing your thoughts if you want! And last question, do we fw the small text? Luv y’all so much

& love and peace, V

Guestlist!

| @sturnioloblues - @sturnsxplr-25 - @deffonotjae - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @klaus223492 - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot |

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Red Sky at Night, Shepherd’s Delight ଓ♱˚⋆

*slides in with more Church AU ideas* May I interest y’all in Priest! Arlecchino x Devotee! Darling?? Do enjoy this sweet story ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, psychological trauma, stalking, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, self-flagellation, harassment, MDNI, pls take note of these warnings

Note:: FICTIONAL depictions of religion

♡ 3.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ As with most nations, the Church is the highest authority in Fontaine. This is especially true for the Court of Fontaine, a city that boasts a strong faith in God. However, it is this same faith which has been corrupted by the Church to spin a web of lies, prejudices, and hypocrisies. Still, there is hope for that city, as provided by its head priest Arlecchino.

♡ Not much can be said about her previous life. In the past, she was known as Peruere, a quiet orphan from the House of the Hearth. Raised by her predecessor Crucabena, Peruere followed in her footsteps and claimed to have felt a calling to priesthood. There was a beauty to it, the idea of a child giving back to the Church by bringing its followers closer to salvation. At least, that is how the public perceived her vocation.

♡ In truth, Peruere’s motivations were different. Shortly after her ordination, Crucabena disappeared under mysterious circumstances and her authority was passed on to Arlecchino. Immediately afterwards, she began to reform the Church and the House of the Hearth. She challenged the Church’s falsehoods, eliminated the other corrupt priests, and preached a more compassionate form of worship.

♡ Despite her efforts, however, scars run deep within the city. The children weren’t the only ones harmed by Crucabena; her influence spanned the entire Court of Fontaine, from religious schools to devout families. In the latter’s case, it can be difficult for Arlecchino to reach out to individuals and correct their beliefs. But some have taken to her like a moth to flame, actively seeking out her enlightenment. One such moth is you.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Excuse me, Father!”

The Church is silent in the wake of mass. Footsteps and voices echo as believers depart to go on with their daily lives. The children are walking through the exit connected to the House of the Hearth, their solemn demeanors giving way to laughter. Only two people remain.

As always, you linger behind Arlecchino, head bowed.

“Ah, ______.” She turns around to face you. “Is something the matter?”

You look the same—shy expression, modest clothing, rosary in hand.

In a quiet voice, you tell her, “I am in need of your guidance. Yesterday, I…can we discuss this in your office? I’ll try to keep it short this time.”

“Ah, of course. Follow me.”

By now, it has become routine for you to approach Arlecchino after weekly mass. She leads you down a hallway and into her private office, her confident gait juxtaposed by your meek footsteps. A few words are whispered to a passing nun—orders to prepare your favorite tea and desserts.

In the meantime, she takes a seat on the sofa and gives you a polite smile.

“Go on. You have my undivided attention.”

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ If Arlecchino’s trauma led to her disillusionment with the Church, then yours brought you “closer” to God. Technically, there is nothing wrong with your devotion—you pray daily, treat people with compassion, and derive a sense of solace from your religion. The harm lies in your blind faith, your total dependence on Arlecchino’s guidance.

♡ While you’ve accepted Arlecchino’s stance on religion, you still abide by Crucabena’s doctrine when it comes to your own religious life. You abstain from all vices. You repent for actions which barely count as sins. You are in a constant state of shame, guilt, paranoia, confusion. She can only imagine just how traumatic your meetings with Crucabena were.

♡ Still, you make for enjoyable company. It is common for Arlecchino to see you in the House of the Hearth bearing gifts for the children—and she can tell the difference between performances and your genuine acts of charity. When you aren’t confiding in her, you inquire about her hobbies, her favorite things, her life before priesthood. There is something so pitiful, so precious about your trust in her.

♡ Which is why Arlecchino is quick to notice a shift in your attitude. It begins with you sitting in the middle pews during mass, rather than your usual spot in the front row. During communion, you avoid eye contact and accept the wafer from her with trembling hands. There is a decrease in your private meetings. Fortunately, there is no need for her to investigate; rather, you provide the answer on a silver platter.

♡ Confessions are a wellspring of valuable information. Be it a direct admission or small details, such encounters have aided Arlecchino in punishing those who commit evil under the guise of virtue. Neither is it difficult for her to deduce one’s identity through their voice and mannerisms. So when she recognizes you beyond the screen, she wonders why you opted for the confessional rather than your usual face-to-face confessions with her.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Bless me, father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one week ago.”

That is the first thing you tell her. From the center compartment, Arlecchino can imagine you doing the sign of the cross. The ritualistic gesture lends a short-lived grace to your movements, your hands honed by years of practice.

A pause. “Pardon my insolence but I must know: I am not speaking to Father Arlecchino, am I?”

Oh?

“You are not,” is her swift response, spoken in an altered voice. “And why do you ask? Does your confession concern the head priest?”

What secrets could you possibly be hiding from her?

She hears a hitched breath. “No! I just don’t want her to know. So please, what I’m about to tell you…don’t breathe a word of it to anyone else.”

“But of course. And what do you have to confess, my child?”

There is the sound of beads clicking together—your rosary, an old violet-and-black set designed by Crucabena. Arlecchino owned an identical one up until her death.

“These past years,” you whisper, “I have been consumed with carnal desires.”

She sits up straighter. “Desires?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter. “There’s this person I’ve known for years, and I’ve always looked up to them as a fellow believer. Yet over time, I’ve been plagued with…impure thoughts of them. They captivate me. Their attention brings me joy and anxiety in equal parts. They haunt my thoughts in debauched fantasies. Yet we aren’t even married, much less lovers.”

Who are they?

A spider has taken up residence in a corner of the ceiling. It sits in the center of a silvery web, waiting for its prey.

She clears her throat. “And what is the matter with that? It is true that many view lust as a sin. But carnal desires are natural and not evil as to warrant eternal damnation.”

Silence. Most likely, you are mulling over what she just said; discernment isn’t your strong suit.

It’s just like you to fret over an ordinary crush. But who is this person that ensnared your heart? Do they know you as well as her?

Arlecchino continues speaking. “Moreover, no human is immune to temptation. From what you told me, it is clear that you have made active efforts to suppress your lust. So is it not possible for you to resist this so-called temptation, if not distance yourself from the object of your desire?”

“But how can I resist temptation when its very source lies in the Church?!”

Even Arlecchino is caught off-guard by your outburst. It is followed by your horrified gasp.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Your next words are spoken in an even softer voice. “It’s Father Arlecchino. She is the one I desire.”

A fly buzzes through the latticed screen of the confessional. It briefly hovers around Arlecchino before she swats it away.

“Ah, now I understand.”

“She hasn’t done anything to me!” you add quickly. “I swear, it’s purely one-sided. And that is what distresses me most of all. She is a woman of God, dedicated to the salvation of His flock, yet here I am making a mockery of her righteousness.”

“And what do you see in her?”

“Where do I even begin? She’s kind. I know there are people who speak ill of her, claiming she preaches falsehoods, but I’ve witnessed her compassion with my own eyes. The orphans love her. The Church is warmer, more welcoming under her authority. And…”

The fly has taken a liking to the spiderweb. Spying its prospective prey, the spider begins its crawl towards the edge of the web.

You take a deep breath. “She knows of my religious struggles yet has never given me reason to fear her judgment. She is the one who helped me discern my vocation. She is the one who put a stop to my self-flagellation, even though that penance was assigned by Mother Crucabena. She is the one who has reassured me, time and time again, that I am worthy of God’s love. She…”

That is when you burst into tears.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the confessional are your choked sobs and rosary beads. Arlecchino herself remains silent but her thoughts are just as discordant.

Her gaze drifts to her necklace. It is a far cry from Crucabena’s rosary, a long chain from which hangs a silver cross adorned with ornate engravings and crimson jewels. When she presses down on a specific jewel, the pendant separates to reveal a hidden blade.

How long has it been since she struck Crucabena with that false symbol?

“I’ve tried so hard to be good,” you continue between sobs. “All my life, I’ve done my best to resist temptation and abide by the Church’s teachings. So why…? What I feel for Father Arlecchino—it’s disgusting, it’s not normal, it cannot be called love. But I…”

Your voice trails off. In her mind’s eye, Arlecchino sees you kneeling with your head bowed and your rosary looped around your clasped hands. If only she could wipe your tears.

“And I am truly sorry for all my sins,” you sniffle. “Now please, Father, what is my penance? If you tell me to distance myself from Father Arlecchino, then I will do so at once. If anything, I think she’d prefer it; I’ve wasted enough of her time.”

“Hush, my child,” she says sharply. Then, in a gentler tone, she adds, “Give me time to think.”

The fly is caught in the spider’s web. From her seat, Arlecchino watches as the spider bites down on the struggling insect and wraps it in silk, sealing its unfortunate fate.

Well, this was an unexpected answer, but not an unfortunate one.

In truth, she cares little about her vow of chastity. It is but a minor offense compared to those of her fellow priests. As for your attraction towards her, it doesn’t bother her at all. Her own sentiments require further reflection but for now…

“Why not put your desires to the test?”

There is the sound of beads hitting the floor. “Excuse me?”

In a calm voice, she explains, “There is nothing inherently sinful about falling in love with a priest. Rather, the fault should lie in the priest who cannot commit to their vow of chastity. But that, too, can be put into question—after all, nowhere in the religious texts is it explicitly stated that God demanded celibacy from His shepherds. It is for this reason that other denominations allow their priests to marry and procreate.”

“I see,” you mutter. “Though I doubt our Church would permit that anytime soon.”

“Who knows? As for the matter of your penance…like you said, it is impossible to escape the object of your desire. So why don’t you continue your usual interactions with Father Arlecchino? It will enable you to discern whether what you feel for her is truly lust or love. And should you ever confess your feelings to her, she will be the one to instruct you on what to do.”

“Is that all? Surely, there must be another—”

She cuts you off. “That is the only way. It is my belief that you need only desire something with sufficient intensity and God will answer. Or are you doubting my words as a priest?”

Your fearful “no!” puts an end to your confession. Thus, you recite your prayers and leave the confessional. After a while, Arlecchino makes a stealthy exit.

Just as she expected, you are still praying inside the Church. With your dried tears and tightly clasped hands, you make a perfect image of repentance.

Shaking her head, she walks down the hallway and into her office.

The tea table is empty. That will change tomorrow; she already has the perfect choice of desserts in mind. Cakes, tarts, macarons, all of your favorite treats.

The next day, an invitation is delivered to your doorstep. The envelope bears the official seal of the Church of Fontaine.

☾⋆｡ ๋

♡ Since then, Arlecchino has treated you differently. In the past, her religious counsel took the form of reassurances, open-ended questions, and reminders that only you can discern your own fate. But now she finds herself giving you more specific lessons and instructions. She invites you to more tea parties and private events in the House of the Hearth. 

♡ She is also more…physical these days. During mass, she puts the communion wafer in your mouth, a gloved thumb brushing against your lip. On your walks to her office, she places her hand on your back, forcing you to match her pace. At one point, she even pulls you aside and tells you to disrobe so she can see if you are wearing your scapular properly. There is a moment of silence when your scars are exposed, followed by the warm sensation of her fingertips tracing your skin.

♡ However, it doesn’t take long for another issue to arise. One mass, Arlecchino notices that a certain individual has moved to the front pews to sit next to you. This continues for weeks, with him speaking to you before and after the service. You’re clearly uncomfortable around him, and it reaches the point that you mention it to Arlecchino during a tea party.

♡ Quietly, you explain that you are being harassed by one of your coworkers. For weeks, he has been bothering you at work, walking you home from mass, showing no signs of accepting your blatant rejections. Even worse, no one is taking your distress seriously due to his popularity within the Court of Fontaine. Normally, Arlecchino would be quick to eliminate him but she decides on another solution which would kill two birds with one stone.

♡ Her suggestion is that you stay in the Church for a few weeks. It is a convenient arrangement on both sides—the children are already familiar with you; the House of the Hearth has no shortage of rooms; and in the worst-case scenario, it can serve as a trial period for nunhood. In the past, Arlecchino did deem your personality fitting for a life of religious service, though you disagreed on the basis that you weren’t “worthy” of such an important role.

♡ It doesn’t take long for you to adjust. The House of the Hearth is quiet, secure, shielded from outside disturbances. The children are friendly to you, and they all agree that you’d fare well as their caretaker. Best of all, Arlecchino has more excuses to spend time with you—barbeque parties, walks along the sea, meetings with the other priests and nuns, nightly conversations in your room. It feels like home.

♡ One day, you are fitted into a nun’s habit. It looks perfect on you, with a few embellishments to suit your style preferences. Arlecchino personally helps you into the outfit, fixing the buttons and smoothing out imaginary creases. The final piece is a cross necklace identical to her own; she casually reveals the hidden blade and claims it is a self-defense mechanism. When you cast your gaze upon your shared reflection in the mirror, a flustered smile adorns your face.

♡ Still, you are undecided on your “true” vocation. Eventually, you decide to return to your job and think it over. Arlecchino personally escorts you to your house and insists that you keep your cross necklace, if only to replace your “missing” rosary. Once the front door is shut, she casts a harsh glare upon the figure across the street. Later, her children are assigned to keep watch over you and your stalker.

♡ For the next few days, all is well. Your daily life resumes. Arlecchino keeps a close eye on you through her children’s reports and her own inspections. After mass, the two of you enjoy another tea party, and you make no mention of your stalker. When the news reaches the city of an upcoming celestial phenomenon, you eagerly accept Arlecchino’s invitation for a viewing party.

♡ The crimson moon rises, bathing the world in a blood-red glow. While the children gaze at the moon, Arlecchino waits for you in front of the orphanage. Strange, punctuality is one of your virtues yet you’re late. Just as she is about to leave for your house, Freminet frantically approaches her and leads her to the Church.

♡ Red. It’s all over you, and not from the moonlight. The first thing Arlecchino sees is you curled up on the floor in a state of shock. In the heart of the Church lies a familiar figure—your stalker, writhing on the floor as blood pools from his chest. Lynette stands over him, ensuring that he won’t escape, while Lyney tries and fails to console you.

♡ All three of her children are wearing their crosses. Yours is on the floor, its blade exposed and tainted with blood. Lyney is the one who explains the situation to Arlecchino: They heard a commotion in the Church and by the time they arrived, you had driven your cross into your stalker’s heart. He had attacked you and paid the price.

♡ Calmly, Arlecchino tells Freminet to bring you to the orphanage. Once you are gone, she walks up to your stalker and stomps on his head, piercing his skull with her stiletto. Lyney and Lynette are told to dispose of the body, clean up the church, then return to the party. The crimson moon serves as a silent witness all throughout.

☾⋆｡ ๋

“Father, your face…”

As soon as he sees her, Freminet leaves your room and closes the door behind him.

“Freminet.” Arlecchino wipes the blood off her cheek. “That sinner has been dealt with. You may return to the party.”

“Oh? Okay.” He nods, casting a worried look at your door. As he walks down the hallway, one of his hands comes up to touch his cross pendant.

With that, Arlecchino enters your room.

Even in your change of clothes, your visage is painted crimson by the moonlight. Your body is slumped against the bed, knees on the floor. No sounds leave your lips save for short breaths. Tiny crescents mar your arms—a coping mechanism or an attempt at penance?

Wordlessly, she sits next to you and pats your head with a gloved hand.

“Father.” You are the one to break the silence. “What just…”

“That man is dead.” She says it plainly, her tone void of judgment. “He won’t be able to torment you any longer.”

You immediately look up, eyes glossy. “Are you sure?! Did I…?”

In the blood-red moonlight, your anguish is clear as day. Your hands tremble, nails digging into the mattress, before clasping together in a graceless effort to steel yourself. But the familiar gesture does little to calm you, all prayers futile in the wake of your sin.

“This is it. I’m really going to burn in Hell,” you sob. “I didn’t mean to—what should I do, Father?”

This time, Arlecchino spares no warmth in consoling you. She adjusts your body so that your head rests on her lap, letting your tears drip onto her cassock. Her hand remains on the back of your head, stroking your hair.

“There is no need to fret,” she says gently. “Before the moon sets, the Church will be purged of that man’s filth and it will be as though he never appeared tonight.”

You shake your head. “Even then, you…God knows what I have done.”

“Listen to me.” She tilts your face upwards, her expression firm. “All you did was use your cross necklace for its intended purpose—to save yourself from harm. And yet even in the face of evil, you claim to be the one who sinned. None of this is your fault, ______.”

Her other hand caresses your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Perhaps it is all part of God’s plan,” she muses. As she speaks, she kneels to your level and holds your hands, intertwining your fingers. “We live in a cruel world and it is only in places such as my Church that safety can be promised. Should you take the veil, no other sinners would dare to violate your virtue.”

Your next words are soft, hesitant, filled with disbelief. “Are you saying that I can still become a nun?! That you…you don’t mind keeping me around?”

“And for what reason would I deny you sanctuary?” she asks, her expression shifting to a frown. “As a priest, it is my duty to shepherd God’s flock. And as a person, it is my desire to protect those I cherish. Everything I do is for your own good.”

For once, you are rendered speechless. All you can do is stare at your lap, at your hands clasped together.

When Arlecchino leans towards you, her grip prevents you from drawing back.

“All you must do is listen to me,” she whispers. “Until our mortal deaths, I will be the one to lead you away from true temptation and deliver you from evil. Does it seem agreeable to you?”

“I…I guess so,” you whimper. Nervously, you meet her gaze, your eyes alight with a glimmer of hope. “If it’s you, I can believe it.”

“Good. And remember this always, ______.”

The crimson moon shines brightly, casting a blood-red halo around your savior. And as Arlecchino pulls you closer, your lips a breath away from a kiss, a secret is divulged with the fervence of a sacred prayer.

“God still loves you. As do I.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

…Don’t ask me how many times I broke down over Priest! Arlecchino. Just don’t. To all of the Arle simps out there, I hope I did your wife justice. And may you all suffer from brainrot bc I refuse to be the only one in pain (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

Lastly, lots of love to @diodellet for beta-reading this fic and my mutuals for indulging my brainrot. I hope this was worth the wait <3

Tag an Arlecchino enjoyer!! @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @ainescribe @vennnnn-diagram @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @ddarker-dreams

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 5/7)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader (Enemies to Lovers) (Fake Marriage Trope)

A/N: I think we are staying on track for this to wrap up within two more chapters, but again, we are both in the dark if that's the case�� Thank you guys for the love! If you are wanting to be tagged, please send me an ask. It's a lot easier for me to keep track of who's been added and who hasn't :)

_________

Y/N’s POV:

Okay, so maybe I blew up a little more than necessary, but I tried to chill out before he started chasing me, ordering that I didn’t walk away and talk to him. Let a girl try to get a hold of her emotions for a second big guy.

I’ve been anxious all day, waiting to talk to him about some deep seeded trauma, and then he comes and screws up all of it with a simple exception to an invitation. I know he didn’t mean harm by it, but he’s a trained professional. That was not a trained professional response. Plus, stepping out of my normal routine of being a bitch to him to keep him at a distance wasn’t just a switch I could flip.

Again, I could have handled that better, but now my brain is in mission mode, trying to reprogram what this night has set up for us. Considering the invitation was for tonight, it gave me little to no time to prepare.

“What time did she say dinner was?” I shouted from my bedroom, where I was going through our small, hidden arsenal of gadgets Tony had made for us.

“Six,” Bucky replied from his room down the hall.

Great, that was forty-five minutes from now… “Ok, I can do this.” Deciding it was best to keep some bugs on hand in case we could plant them in the house, and we would be planting them, I needed to consider sizes and placements.

“Should we bring over some wine or something?” Bucky’s voice was now in the doorway to my room, but I kept my back to him as I sifted through our tools.

“I made a pie earlier today. We can take that,” I answered absentmindedly.

“Why’d you make a pie?”

“Felt like it,” I shrugged and walked out of the closet with three small wires/ bugs in hand. When I looked up, I saw he had changed into a nicer button-up and was tightening a tie around his collar he hadn't been wearing earlier. “Why are you wearing a tie?” I examined him.

“Same reason you’re wearing a nicer dress. I want to make a good impression,” he shrugged, straightening pieces of his outfit.

“I’m wearing this because we were going to our ‘anniversary dinner,’” I made sure to put the lie in hand quotes. “I had a story that went with it, but this can pass as casual, too,” I motioned to my dress and moved toward him, placing the wires on the bed. “This looks like you’re about to give a sales pitch.”

Without thinking, I pop his collar up and loosen the tie to get rid of it. The whole time I’m focusing on untying it, I ramble about what the plan is for the night.

“I’m going to give you a wire to put wherever you see fit, and I’ll do the other two. I’ll excuse myself to use the bathroom and sneak it where it’s needed. I feel it’s important we look for cameras already in the house in case it’s a setup. We don’t need them having hard proof that we bugged their place. We want to come off as simple yet good assets if we want them to bring us on board for their work,” I struggle with a certain spot on the tie he somehow fixed in an efficient way I’d never seen. “Jesus, were you a sailor in another life? Might as well have knotted it.”

He doesn’t respond, but I get it off in the next two seconds and look at him to see he had been studying me intently as I invaded his space. I see my slip-up, push the tie into his chest, and take a step back.

“Sorry.”

“No problem,” he answers rather calmly, and I look at his eyes, seeing patience there. Always that damn patience. How did he still have it with me even with how I’ve treated him? “Listen-”

“About last night,” I say at the same time, and he seems shocked but gives a single nod to tell me to continue. “I want to say I’m sorry for being all over the place recently. From last night to thirty minutes ago.”

He seems frozen by my apology, and I became anxious enough that I start to word vomit.

“I took some time to think after last night and spent the day stressing, thinking how I was going to talk to you about it because I do want to. I want to get what I can out on the table if you’d be ok with that,” I look up through my lashes, and I see the most subtle turn of his lip as he watches me attentively.

“Are you hinting that there’s a chance I’ll get to see the side of you others are lucky enough to see?” he retorts, grin growing and taking a step closer to me.

His use of the word ‘lucky’ shortcircuits my brain, and all I can do is nod once, slowly, as my answer. He takes another step, and I match it with one back. I feel more vulnrable than I was expecting to.

“You can understand now why having our plans for the night changed made me slightly temperamental.”

“I think slightly may be an understatement.”

“I think you still should choose your words carefully,” I say, tightening my smile. However, it doesn’t shut him down like normal. Instead, he laughs under his breath, and the doorbell rings.

Both of our heads shoot toward the noise, and solemnity takes over the room.

“You don’t think that’s,” Bucky pauses as he turns back to me.

“How often am I wrong?” I take a deep breath in and smooth my dress out as I walk over, pausing beside him. “Hide the wires. I already did a sweep of the house while you were getting ready to make sure we didn’t have anything out of place. I’ll tell them you’re getting ready.”

I don’t need to open the door to know who it is, but when I do, the urge to yell, “I told you so!” in Bucky’s face is strong.

“Bethanne!” I smile kindly and immediately notice the dish in her hand. Reggie is behind her, holding two others, looking like he just got off work and had been dragged over here. “Did Beau tell me wrong? Are we not eating at y’all’s house tonight?”

She scrunches her face in a practiced motion and lifts the ceramic bowl up as she explains.

“I hate to ask this of you, but our oven is still the old rickety one. The new one had some faulty design, and we had to ship it back. Needless to say, it decided to give out on us today of all days,” she raised her shoulders. “I know we sprung the dinner on you suddenly, but would you two be willing to host if we provide the food?”

Not on the money of what I guessed, but pretty fucking close to the money if you ask me.

“Who is it, Doll?” Bucky’s voice carries from the hallway he’s now emerging from. The first three buttons on his dress shirt are undone, and he’s messing with the cuffs on the sleeves. “Hey, Bauers,” he smiles yet still holds shock in his features by the neighbor's appearance. “Did we get the time wrong?” he asks, looking at his watch before coming to my side, where I've now moved and am letting themselves in.

“No, no, no,” Bethanne shakes her head and hands off one of the pots to me as she takes one from Reggie, who looks more bothered to be here than happy. Long day human trafficking, asshole? “We had some appliance issues thanks to some of the renovations we were doing. I was just asking your wife if we can use your house as tonight's setting and possibly use your oven while here.”

Without hesitance, Bucky takes the dish from my hands and the dish Bethanne had swapped for and nods for Reggie to follow him.

“No problem at all. Let me help you ladies with that. Char," A nickname he had never used for my character before, but it seemed to work fluently. "Would you like to get some wine for the two of you while I get this organized in the kitchen?” he asks me, placing a kiss on the side of my head while his hands are full as he walks towards the other room.

I don’t know how he’s learned to play his role so well, but it’s convincing, even to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I almost stutter in my response as I motion for Bethanne to follow me to the wine cooler out in the garage. “Red or white with tonight's dish?”

"Do you have any more husbands like that in the back I can steal? What a gentleman," she coos, shoulder-bumping me.

___________

Half an hour of baking the food and getting it plated, and our conversation continued with questions mostly strictly about us, which would have been fine if not for the reason behind such invasive intentions.

They started off simple. How’d you guys meet? Who made the first move? What did we love about the town so far? What kind of hobbies and adventures did we take on before moving here? All questions we had prepared for, and if not, could easily improvise.

So far. No slip-ups. If anything, we sold the scheme far better than I’d imagined we would even when they became more personal. And our discussion on being the ‘prude couple’ last night seemed to affect Bucky’s actions a lot more than I was expecting.

An obvious hand on my thigh under the table and an arm thrown over my seat in a slightly possessive manner seemed to catch the eye of Reggie, who mimicked some of the moves as if it were a competition.

In addition, Bucky kept making small compliments about how I looked and how smart I was when they asked about my job. Dropping little comments about things I did (not my character) that he loved and appreciated.

“She’s always doing things like that. I almost never have to worry about making coffee in the morning because she has it all set up just to hit a button and go.”

“You should ask Charlotte about that! She’s the reason our house looks like a home. I’m sure she could give some advice on the kitchen backsplash.”

“She may not know how to boil an egg correctly, but her baking skills are unmatched. I've put on a few pounds now that we have a nice kitchen to spend time in."

I did my best not to act shocked every time he dropped a compliment, but the fact he could have made shit up for my character and used those details as conversation pieces, yet he went the honest way (although more convincing, of course), shocked me.

“Speaking of baking skills,” Reggie nodded his head back to the kitchen counter behind us and smiled at me. “I spied a pie on the counter. Any chance we can have that to finish off this dinner?”

I was still staring at Bucky from his last form of appreciation when I blinked out of my distraction and returned to our neighbor.

“Oh, of course! I was just about to offer,” I smiled, standing up, and Bucky quickly stood next to me, pulling my chair out. “Thank you.” I smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm as I moved around to the counter.

“How sweet. Oh, Charlotte, would you mind telling me where the bathroom is?” Bethanne asked, standing and giving her husband a look for not showing the same chivalry as Bucky.

I watched her, knowing that I would have used the same excuse to do what we planned to at their house. But I was two steps ahead of her.

“Of course! Beau, do me a favor and get some plates out for dessert. I’m going to show Beth-”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find it,” she waved off, coming around the table and moving to the hall promptly.

Yeah… Not without a chauffeur, honey.

“No problem,” I waved off, moving with her casually. “I need to grab some floss from my bathroom before dessert. I’ll show you to it.”

I can see the most subtle glaze of annoyance at my insistence, but she smiles and walks a step ahead of me.

I show her to the bathroom and make it seem I’m going into the master down the hall while she’s in there. And I do, but I keep an eye to make sure she isn’t snooping in any other room besides the one. We’ll have to survey it after they leave, but better that and the dining room than the whole house.

Once we’re back with the boys, no wandering to be done, Bucky helps me plate a slice of chocolate pie for each of us, and I offer to move the conversation to the porch. Any kind of redirection from the comfort of the inside of our home is welcome.

“I love how you’ve decorated your porch. It’s so cozy,” Bethanne notices, pointing out the colorful decorative pillows, hanging swing the size of a daybed, and loads of plants and decor that make the space more intimate. She and Reggie are sat on the two rocking chairs facing the front yard, and Bucky and I are sat close together on the swing, where he’s controlling the tempo we sway in.

“I always wanted a spot outside to escape. We didn’t really have that at our last home, and it was important for me to have this time around,” I replied.

My answer is actually very true. I loved being outside, especially when it was something as simple as sitting in the backyard or swinging on a porch. I had one requirement about this mission, one I’m not even sure Bucky knew about. But I asked Tony to supply a nice budget for the porch.

Call it cheesy, but growing up in such an unnatural and dehumanizing way, you crave a small part of that normalcy you see on the movie screens. For some reason, a porch I could escape on but still be within the comfort of my own home was a dream. And because it was, I thought I’d make this situation a little more bearable by granting that small wish I always had.

“Well, I may have to start budgeting for a new kind of renovation,” she patted Reggie’s back, and he gave her a tight-lip smile. "What do you say, Reg? Do you think we can get a swing like that one?” She smiled over at us just as Bucky pulled me into his side, his arm going around my waist and his hand resting on my hip bone.

“I have a feeling we might as well have built a home from scratch by the time you’re happy with the renovations we’ve taken on,” Reggie answered with a nod before taking a swig from his beer. “Get that recipe for the pie from Charlotte, and I’ll consider buying you a new porch,” he winked my way and turned back to the front of our lawn.

I instantly found Bucky’s hand tightening, and his thumb started rubbing in an up-and-down pattern along my hip. When I turned to him slightly, his gaze stayed on Reggie.

Before finishing cleaning up for the night, we said goodbye to our guests, and just when we thought we hadn’t made any headway in our conversation about work (mind you, we had dropped hints and notices about it all night, but neither of the two seemed to take the bait), Reggie stopped on the last step to our porch and turned to Bucky.

“You mentioned working in transportation, and by the sounds of your new job up here, if you’re interested in a more innovative place, I may have some ins for you,” he shook Bucky’s hand. “I have some coworkers around the states that could use some employees like you on their route.”

“I may take you up on that offer. It all depends on how this week rolls out,” Bucky answered perfectly. The Bauers said their goodbyes, and we watched them walk home before turning to each other.

In a silent celebration, we grinned at the invitation and then sent wordless glances to tread carefully when we got in before scoping the place for bugs…

_______________

Bucky’s POV:

I’m not surprised that the blonde sole cycle instructor of a neighbor was able to get a wire in our bathroom, but neither Y/N nor I were in the mood to remove it right away and give away our knowledge of it, so we each grabbed another drink for the night and debriefed subtly on the porch where the only bugs we had to mind were the crickets chirping their music for the night.

Bethanne was right. Our porch was nicely done, and I hadn’t even noticed Y/N had hung lights out here until she plugged them in.

“I feel like this spot is more put together than the rest of the house.” I noticed the details when we were out here earlier. Now, we both have taken up spots in the rocking chairs our neighbors had vacated.

“I may have focused more of my attention on this spot than the others,” she smiled as she brought a tumbler glass up to her lips. She had drank wine while Bethanne was here, but as soon as they were gone, the whiskey I had made a glass for myself was stolen out of my hand before I could take a sip. Now, we had each of our own.

“Was what you said about the porch a real thing? I mean, we have balconies at the compound,” I looked at her as I sat my drink on the small table between us.

“Balconies and porches aren’t the same. At least in my head, they aren’t,” she nodded, taking a deep sigh and resting her glass in her lap. “Did you mean what you said when you were complimenting me all night?” She lulled her head to the side to look at me.

I had been making compliments. It felt easier to use the ones I had picked up on than the ones I made up. Yet again, I think anyone should get the recognition they deserve when they excel in something. Y/N just tended to excel in more than I think she was aware of. And I was learning she didn’t seem to be used to people taking note of those things.

“Why lie?” I shrugged, starting to rock in a steady pattern.

“Because that’s this whole gig. A lie,” she answered, taking another pull of the hard liquor.

I considered her perspective and shook my head, looking out to the lights on the other side of the street. “I guess it gets tiring at points. Don’t really feel like doing it if the truth can be just as usable.”

She didn’t answer for quite a few seconds, and when I turned back to her, she was staring at me like she was waiting for another shoe to drop.

“How are you so patient? Seriously, is it a drug Tony made you before you had to deal with me on this mission? I don’t get it,” she laughs, but I can hear the genuine confusion in it as she sits forward and turns her body to me.

Honesty. I’m in a mood to be 100% honest.

“Want me to be real with you?” I asked, turning my own body.

“It’d be preferred,” she nods and rests both her arms on the armrest.

“I don’t know anything about your past, but I know most people have a reason for acting the way they do. It took years and a ton of patience before I felt like I was even close to who I used to be. I still struggle to come to terms with the fact I’ll never be who I was before the train incident,” I sigh and rest my head back against the chair as I look at her. “I guess I have understanding more than patience. I understand that you have a history of your own that I don’t know, and I can’t blame you for a lot of the things you do.”

“But you should. I’m an asshole to you,” she says, and the admission is kinda nice to hear, even if it is sad.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you’d be willing to share why that is,” I reply calmly.

She tenses some and sits back in her chair, pulling her legs under her to sit crisscrossed, the chair rocking with her movement and her dress overflowing past her knees.

“I guess now is as good a time as ever…” She looked at me sidelong before finding comfort in the view in front of her instead. “I didn’t really have a chance to develop a personality of my own because of my time in this lifestyle,” she motions around her, “started as soon as I could walk. So I had no identity to fall back on since I had to find it after I escaped.”

I had questions, but I found it best just to listen. Clearly, what she was talking about wasn’t something she brought up lightly, and being an ear to listen was what she needed right now.

“I was left behind by whichever no-good parent gave me up, and Adonis Hummel took me as his own and decided he’d try to recreate the famous assassin, The Winter Solider, from birth practically.”

The name drop came quickly and struck home. I didn’t know her whole story, but I had enough imagination and experience to believe where she was going.

“Wait, Hummel?” I started because the name sounded familiar, but…

“He was a low-level scientist who worked for Hydra when they were still using you under Pierce. He thought he had the brains and resources to create his own version of you. A version that would be more undetectable as a woman and a version he could tweak however he wanted,” she rolled her shoulders. “Lucky for him, I didn’t have to be brainwashed since I knew nothing besides the life of abuse, experimentation, and a shit ton of conditioning... " 

"To clarify, I say that for context, not sympathy,” she straightened, and I could see her shifting back to her unbothered disposition, but the truth was shining through the cracks. She may not have wanted sympathy, but something about the vulnerability seemed to lighten the load on her shoulders.

“As for why I may have built a wall around you, an unhealthy and senile wall, I felt as though…” She gulped as if the next part was harder for her to say than the abuse of her past. “I felt as though you had been my competition my whole life, and a part of me, a young and in-need-of-therapy part of me, thought it was best to keep you as far away as possible and hold onto that anger instead of work through it. It felt easier than facing the fear that I didn’t actually equate to you in any way. So that’s another reason why I felt everything with you was to prove a point.” She lets out a short breath after using all the air in her lungs in one swift swoop.

I-

It’s a lot to take in…

She doesn’t move her head back towards me after her confession, and I can’t seem to break my stare from her.

“This is where you say something like, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m actually an asshole either way, so we can go on hating each other for completely understandable reasons!’ or I don’t know? Anything but silence would be preferred, though…”

Her hand is gripping the arm rest unconsciously like an anchor keeping her on earth.

On instinct, I reach across and pull her hand into mine, keeping my stare heavy, enticing her to look at me.

She closes her eyes at first and takes another short breath before turning.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel unworthy of being on the team.” I feel like I personally am the reason for her suffering, even if I had no correlation with her before I joined the team. "You are more than an asset to the team and are your own kind of weapon. It's incomparable."

“Ugh,” she sniffles and rubs an eye with the heel of her free hand as if to disguise a possible tear as allergies. “This would be so much easier if you were a piece of shit misogynistic asshole, but you're part of the few good ones out there. Steve, Sam, and Clint included, not Tony,” she noted.

I smiled, thinking about how I’d make a team like that even if she had me believe otherwise for so long.

“What I’m trying to get at, B, is you’re not the one I should be blaming for my past. You’re just as much a victim as I am, but I took the easy way out of making it more manageable for me, and I only made it harder for us both in the end. And for that,” she turned and stared into my eyes fully, the hand she held squeezing my own. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve an ounce of the kind of cruelness I tried to bury you in. You are the opposite of what they tried to make you, and you’re genuine in proving that to anyone who meets you. I've been envious of the strength you have, and I can say confidently that I deeply regret ever blaming you for that.”

I once again have to process yet another collection of words I’d never thought I hear. From her. Ever. A part of me believed this was a dream, but the part that Y/N had a grip on was practically pinching me into reality.

Without hesitating, I stood up, pulled her arm up with me, and yanked her into my body in a crushing hug.

She froze at first… The motion was quick and surprising, but slowly, she unhooked our hands, brought both of hers tightly around my waist, and laid into me. I rested my head on top of hers and pulled her shoulders in with my arms, wrapping both of my own tightly around her.

I wasn’t going to let go until she did, and by the looks of it… She wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326��​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki @learisa @bxckybxrnes24 @lillianacristina @selella @heletsmelovehim @lovelybaka @heletsmelovehim @bubblegumbeautyqueen @mostlymarvelgirl @that-d-bitch @rabbitrabbit12321

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hii I'm glad you're writing today!! Can you write something for fenrys. Him being in a new relationship and feeling like he can't give her enough because he's not too intimate (because of his trauma) and he sees her laughing with someone else and thinks she's better off without him but reader finds out and comforts him? Some angst/fluff please 🤌🏻💚

Healing hearts

He was scared. Down petrified if he was being honest. Fenrys wasn’t looking for a partner. No, you practically just appeared as if someone sent you down for him. Maybe it was his brother. By the river, you had found him. He had walked away from the training with the Cadre, the devastation of no longer having his twin there, hitting him with a wave of bitter anger. You had walked to the river to refill the buckets for laundry when you had caught his frame slumped against the tree.

The sound of buckets falling had caused Fenrys to turn then. To you running through the high grass. Running towards him. He had frowned, his mind not putting things together. And then you had touched him, out of concern but it had sent him into an overdrive and he shifted right in front of you making you lose your balance as you stepped back. Falling back onto the sharp stones. The metallic smell of blood filled Fenrys’s nose as you lifted your bloody palms to shield yourself from him. His head scrambled even more as he backed away as well, he didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t mean to hurt you. But then you had looked at him. More like looked through him. At the white wolf whining as he pressed against the tree. “It’s okay”, you muttered, “I’m not hurt and I mean no harm. You were just…”, you swallowed thickly, “Against that tree I thought you were having a heart attack, I don’t know… I’m sorry”.

The rest took long weeks to unfold. He was skittish. Craving companionship. But every time you would get close he would run. Leaving you for days without showing up. It was Gavriel who had visited you with a slightly apologetic look on his face. “If you have it in your heart, don’t give up on him”, he muttered as you poured him a fresh ale, “He took so many blows. Life hasn’t been kind to our boyo”. You had only nodded that night. Knowing better than making promises to ancient soldiers.

It felt like trying to get a stray to trust you at first. But then slowly, little by little, he had started to open up. You let him take the lead at all times. Even in the moments when your fingers itched to touch him, you held back. Telling him time and time again that he was in control here, nothing he didn’t want to do he didn’t have to. You had cried the night he had finally leaned in to kiss you. After months of waiting for him, being there with him. “Was it that bad?”, Fenrys had frowned, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “No, it was that special”, you muttered back, eyes getting lost in his. And that was enough for him. Fenrys had been a goner ever since. His heart calling out to yours beat after beat.

“Can we get another one?”, Lorcan lifted his empty cup at you as you scurried through the tavern. “Don’t bother her”, Fenrys was quick to clip back but you only threw their table a smile, “Lorcan, you asking nicely… Scribble the date down for me boys”, you mussed, causing Lorcan to roll his eyes. “You’re doing okay?”, you stepped aside, letting another girl pass through. Giving you enough of a reason to brush your fingers against Fenry’s palm. He simply nodded, looking around the room. You knew that he hated crowded places like this but he came back for you. And that was a gesture in itself. So not wanting to put more pressure on him, with a slight squeeze to his wrist you turned back, hurrying to fill the empty glasses.

It made his guts turn that he couldn’t claim you like other males. That he wasn’t playful. That he didn’t pull you into his embrace as you walked by. Fenrys was envious of the smile you kept giving to others. Of the flirtatious comments, those drunks gave you. And a part of him screamed that you deserved them more than him. That you would be happier with them.

“Don’t do this, boy”, Gavriel’s voice cut through Fenrys’s thoughts like a blade. “I ain’t doing nothing”, Fenrys scowled, eyes still fixed on you laughing at a joke some random bloke had told you. Doubting that it was that funny. “She waited for you and she’s been choosing you for months. You would be a prick to break her heart now”, the older male stated but that only annoyed Fenrys more. “You know nothing about us”, the white wolf stated firmly. “Oh, I know more than you know, clearly”, Gavriel inclined his head towards you and Fenrys was met with your worried glance from across the tavern. You must have sensed the tension. Fenrys simply gritted his teeth before pushing to stand, showing the double-sided door open as he went.

The late-night glow glistened in the lake in front of him. The only thing disturbing the peace was the occasional pebble Fenrys threw into the water. “Here you are”, the voice drifted through the night but Fenrys didn’t turn. “You had me worried, love. Did something happen”, your soft palm grazed his shoulders as you sat next to him.

“Do you want to be with me?”, the question left Fenrys’s lips before he could even think it through. “What… why are you asking me this?”, you frowned, “I’ve been choosing you every day for a while now, Fenrys”. “Choosing yes, but that can be from obligation”, Fenrys stated, “You feel sorry for me so you stay”. His words hit you like a blow. You wanted to be mad with him but instead, you reached your hooking your finger beneath his chin, turning his face towards you.

“I love you and I will fight your demons with you”, you stated firmly, “You are worthy of love and I will give it all to you. I’ll love you for all the people who didn’t”. Fenrys eyes glistened with tears as he watched you. “I can’t give you most things other men can”, he argued but you only shook your head, “As long as you love me behind the closed doors, as long as you find comfort in me - I don’t need anything else”, you reassured him and finally he nodded alongside your words. “Don’t leave me”, he whispered, “I won’t survive if…”, “I am not going anywhere. I’m with you. I chose you and you are my life now, Fenrys”, you leaned in pressing your forehead to his. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you in, head on your shoulder as he breathed you in. He didn’t say anything else, you knew that he wanted to. You knew what three words lay sealed behind those lips so pushed your fingers through his hair softly, you whispered against his ear, “I love you too, Fen”, before pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Guilty Gear time! While I wait for Baiken, could I ask for some available Guilty Gear characters helping their S/O train?

(Guilty Gear: Strive) Elphelt, Potemkin, Millia, and May training their S/O

Every single person in this list goddamn terrifying to be on the opposite side of, even for a training exercise. Also, this is the first GGS post, apologies if there's OOC!

(Elphelt) "Alright! Let's get rehearsals in today!"

(S/O) "Um...You know I meant for fighting right? Why are you handing me a guitar?"

(Elphelt) "...W-Wait, I thought you said you wanted to train! Oops! I guess you can use that to block!"

(S/O) "I don't think there's any guitar in this world that can block your attacks!"

Elphelt doesn't mind teaching her S/O self defense, because at the same time it allows her to have fun with them, and make sure they can't get hurt!

It's a win-win!

Though the result usually ends with S/O flat on their ass, but she's careful enough to not seriously harm them.

Other than their pride.

(Elphelt) "Don't worry, S/O! I know we can get you to knock me down soon, you're doing super well for just a single day of training!"

(S/O) "Hah, I suppose it'll be an accomplishment of it's own for managing to land a single hit."

(Elphelt) "That's the spirit!"

Potemkin hates fighting, but in the service of protecting others, he doesn't hesitate.

And in terms of a friendly match, he doesn't mind. At least when the opponent isn't the person he loves.

He's very aware of his own strength, and even more aware if he's not extremely careful, he could end up doing more than hurting S/O.

(Potemkin) "I apologize, but I must refuse this request S/O. I cannot spar with you."

(S/O) "I'm not asking you to launch me into the air, I just want to make sure you don't have to worry about me in case I get attacked!. Just a little self defense practice is all!"

(Potemkin) "Even the slightest hit from me can be enough to knock you through a building."

(S/O) "W-Well...alright, fair enough."

(Potemkin) "Though, the sentiment is appreciated, at least."

Part of him was slightly curious to see if S/O could perform his Heavenly Buster, but that was a thought for another day.

Millia is against the idea of teaching her S/O how to fight like her.

And the fact she was an assassin was the least of her worries, not even considering the other things she had been a part of, including her cursed hair.

But at the very least, Millia supports the idea of S/O being able to defend themselves, at least enough to get them to safety.

(Millia) "Very well. However, I will not go easy on you."

(S/O) "Good, I don't want you to! Go ahead and throw a punch at me!"

(Millia) "...You don't want that."

Millia obviously does not use her hair once, only using her pure martial abilities to constantly sweep S/O off their feet, and catching their fists.

Though the progress is understandably slow, S/O is getting better each spar.

And that is enough to keep Millia's mind at peace.

May is ecstatic to teach S/O how to fight, if it means that they can help out even more in the Jellyfish Pirates!

(May) "Alright, day's young, let's get started!"

May rolls her shoulders as she puts the massive anchor on her shoulder.

Making S/O's eyes widen.

(S/O) "U-Uh, you're not going to use that thing on me, are you?!"

(May) "Well, how else are we going to train?...Oh, wait! I have an idea!"

May put her Anchor away and suddenly whistled.

(May) "STARTING 3-2-1, MISTER DOLPHIN!"

The next thing they knew, S/O was hit in the face by May riding Mr Dolphin.

Many a training session passed with S/O repeatedly getting hit in the face by various aquatic animals.

Most of the crew, including Johnny, is amazed that S/O's bones haven't been shattered by repeated blunt mammal trauma.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ peanut butter & tears ♡

♡ Pairing: idol!boyfriend!minho! x fem!reader

♡ Summary: A week after Minho goes public with your relationship, a ghost from your past posts a stream of tweets on social media revealing your darkest secrets to millions and, more importantly, your boyfriend.

♡ Genre: angst/fluff

♡ Word Count: 1.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: mention of sex, brief discussion of scars/stretchmarks/self harm/people being assholes on the internet (none of it's graphic but still important to warn you of, my loves)

♡ A/N: I love and appreciate @aprilskillstory not only for submitting this but for being super patient while I wrote it and for trusting me to write it at all. I named this after a DPR Ian song btw. If you haven't heard it, it's magical.

This is a nightmare...

Actually, it’s much worse than that. Nightmares you wake up from. This is real life. No alarm clock will ring to snap you out of it. This is happening. Sinking further down into the lukewarm water of your bubble bath, you look on helplessly as your phone lights up with notifications. Every few seconds the number in the top right corner of a half dozen apps doubles, triples in some cases. 

Minho’s decision to go public with your relationship had initially gone much nicer than you anticipated. A week had passed with minimal backlash and what you did receive had begun to die down before the stream of tweets that have you preferring to prune than to crawl out of this tub and face him.

There's no telling who would have posted them. Tweet after tweet detailing things that you’ve wanted with everything in you to open up to Minho about. You’ve tried a million times and a million times your admissions have gotten caught in your throat, jagged and barbed, refusing to budge.

But someone dragged them out and your soul along with them, putting your secrets on display for a merciless crowd set on tearing you away from their beloved Minho. 

“Trauma like that can’t make her a stable girlfriend.”

“Self harm scars? No wonder she’s always covered up in pics…” 

“Our Lino deserves better.”

“She’s dated girls too? Do you think he knew?”

“If Minho knew he wouldn’t be with her.” 

You scroll through reply after reply until your screen’s too wet for your touch to register. You’re startled by the sound of Minho shouting, his voice muffled through the thick walls of your apartment but his rage is unmistakable. Placing your phone on the chair by the bathtub, you hop out before courage abandons you.

“It’s gonna be okay” you repeat to yourself, wrapping a towel around you to form a lilac safety blanket, “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just breathe.” Footsteps descend down the hall and you breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow breaths full of intent like the pink haired girl in the yoga pants on Youtube instructed you to do.

“You’re the only big brother I have. Just, please, don’t let them come here” Minho begs, standing in the doorway with his phone to his ear, “I’ll come after. I promise. Thank you.” He hangs up, turning to you, his gaze transforming you into stone like one of the foolish men who dared to lay eyes on Medusa. The rise and fall of your chest ceases almost to the point of lifelessness.

“Minho, I can explain…” He folds an arm across his chest, nervously tapping his phone against his temple, “That you hid things from me?” “I didn’t hide anything. At least, not on purpose. I didn't mean to do it.” “Then what did you mean to do? Hmm? You know what I do for work. What were you thinking?” “Fuck, I don’t know” you weep, sitting on the edge of the tub.

You tilt your head back, hoping to send the tears rolling back to where they came from but it’s no use. They only pool in your eyes, clouding your vision so that the only thing you see as Minho approaches is the distorted silhouette of his figure. “I wanted to tell you, I did, but I was afraid it’d be too much at once. That you’d hate me like other guys in the past have.”

You’re rambling, breathing heavily, blindly reaching for tissues. Minho leans your head forward, resting your left cheek on his stomach while he strokes the other side of your face, soothing your anxiousness.  “Hate you? Hate…you?” he asks, more offended by your statement than you expect, “I need you to look at me.” Sniffling, you turn to look up at him and he’s…smiling?

“I love you. Nothing could ever make me hate you. I just wish you’d come to me so I could've protected you. If I had known…” “Wait, you’re not mad?” “At what?” “That I’ve, you know, dated women before.” Minho shrugs, “Jisung’s basically my last resort if we break up so, uh, no.” “But my scars and my stretch marks…” Kissing you on the forehead, he backs away and begins to take his shirt off.

“When you asked me to have sex with the lights out did I ever argue?” For the first time since you met, it sets in that he had, in fact, never questioned why you never wanted the lights on. Come to think of it, you usually didn’t need to ask for them to be off. They already were. Minho tosses his shirt to the ground, running his fingers along the scar that marks his abdomen, “I was afraid you wouldn’t like mine either.”

“Wouldn’t like it?” you scoff, unable to fathom how you’d ever find him anything short of beautiful, “It’s a part of you. I love anything that’s a part of you.” Minho sits down beside you, delighting in seeing you even partially uncovered for the first time, “The feeling’s mutual.” The sound of a vibrating phone grabs your attention. You glance over at the chair. It’s not yours.

Minho digs his phone out of his pocket, groaning as he scrolls through text messages. “Shit, I have to go do damage control” he huffs, jumping up to toss his shirt back on, “But when I come back we have to talk. I have questions about the scars if you’re comfortable? Just to make sure you’re okay.” “Uh, yeah, sure that’s okay. I’ll make us some food for when you get back and you can ask me whatever.” 

His phone vibrates again, this time it’s a call. “What?” he whines, “I’m on my way. No, I really am. I’m in the car right now. Oh no, you’re breaking up. Oh…” Minho’s phone hits the bath water with a splash, sending bubbles cascading down the walls. “Oops,” he gasps, knowing very well it wasn’t an accident.

Minho gives you a dozen more kisses on your lips, on your forehead, on your cheeks, before he’s dashing around the apartment searching for his keys. “And stay off of social media unless you plan to make a list of everyone who says something bad so I can fight them! Love you!” he shouts on the way out the front door. “Love you too!” you shout back before it closes.

Left alone in the silence of the aftermath, you nibble at your bottom lip, nervous at having finally found someone this accepting but beyond happy that he exists. That he’s yours. A phone vibrates again. Your phone. Picking it up you see that it’s a call from someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. No doubt with questions about what’s been going on. You stare at it for a moment, contemplating answering but then...

“Oops” you gasp, letting your phone slip into a watery grave beside Minho’s, “Tragic.”

[jazzyblusnowflake]

I saw your post about your Nuzi headcanons and I have to say THEY ARE ADORABLE!

But it got me thinking, do you have any Vuzi headcanons?

I don't why but I've become obsessed with them in the past while and I wanted to know if you had any ideas for them since you made that incredible Vuzi comic a while back.

oh jeesums, i didn't really expect people to like my HCs enough for it to get over a hundred likes 😭😭😭💕

but yesss id love to take a swing at writing down my subconsciously decided vuzi headcanons too XD so lessee-

Some Vuzi Headcanons i got òvó:

[once again only the drone version ones and as sfw as i can manage lmao sorry asddjfkdfl-]

This version being for AFTER everything is over with and V is ALIVE //or I'm going for Liam's neck personally//- but whether she's with N too or not is for your own interpretation, cuz for ME personally she gets with Uzi AFTER N and Uzi were already a thing together-

Starting a bit similar to the previous HCs, unlike with N, Uzi and V looooooooooooove calling eachother names- ranging from pet names to petty insults, they very hardly call each other their actual names lmao; and Uzi is probably the ONLY person that could get to call V pet names or flirt with her and get away unscathed- V has very little tolerance for anyone else. when actually trying to be intimate or flirty- Uzi loves calling V "Kitty" [cliche i know] and its one of the more acceptable pet names that V allows, but sometimes Uzi goes for pet names to actually make V blush and feel flustered, and those are usually from Uzis more compassionate side since V is allergic to romance apparently 🙄. calling V things like "my pretty", "gorgeous", "you wild thing"- drives V up the wall and she's stuck between wanting to bite Uzi's face off or rip her own off- and likewise when V wants to fluster Uzi she has her own range of heat fueled pet names like "baby bat/batsy", "cutie", "my little snacc"- and overall their job is to try and drive eachother insane lmao. less romantic names on both their sides would be=> [Uzi]: fatty, insufferable nutcase, dumb boob// [V]: shorty, edgy toaster, lil freakshow- and etc etc. TLDR: names.... they call eachother alot of names. that's it lmao.

They have a more avoidant relationship, where N and Uzi would seek comfort in one another, Uzi and V realize when the other isn't feeling well they need space to let off steam and trust one another enough that the other will come to them when they are ready. this isn't the most perfect way to deal with things given they are usually on a time crunch and need to get over their traumas quickly, but in the end they both know they are there for eachother when it matters the most.

teasing.... they do alot of that- although one would argue that V is the only one winning here 😭. V would not let the subject of Uzi being short go- if there's any moment that she could make the joke, she will not let the opportunity pass- anything relating to flustering or embarrassing Uzi absolutely goes- its not uncommon for N to walk in on the two fighting while V is just laughing and cooing at the other that she's just a cute lil baby while Uzi is trying her best to strangle the other without actually harming her. but then Uzi says that V is just a big dumb boob cuz that's all she could see from her pov and N is desperately trying to keep himself from laughing in the background-

V loves picking up Uzi.... that's it... she would never admit it out loud, but holding Uzi up, whether on her back or holding her from the front and feeling Uzi cling to her for support gives her immense internal joy, even if she doesn't show it in her expression. she often prefers picking Uzi up when they make out and this works in both their favors too cuz Uzi loves being taller lmao.

V wouldn't admit it but she is terrified of Uzi getting angry. like actually, genuinely, furiously LIVID level of angry Uzi is enough to make V curl her tail between her legs and just step away slowly. and Uzi.... when Uzi is mad, she talks sickeningly sweet to V. that's how V knows its time to fucking RUN or PERISH.

V is a lot more traumatized than N from Cyn's influence. during her comatosed state she can still vividly remember all the things Cyn had done to her in her mindspace, the same way N got to see all of his own mangled bodies in his own headspace, but unlike N she remembered all of it, hence why she turned into a neurological murder bot. So while she is with the others shes often scared opening up emotionally, and to fix this Uzi tries to force her for some cuddle times. don't get me wrong sometimes both N and Uzi have to literally WRESTLE V til she no longer has energy to fight back just to drag her in the cuddle pile. she usually doesn't talk much and even more rarely breaks down into crying but she's secretly grateful of having Uzi to sometimes force her into things she should do more often in order to heal, and one of those is learning to trust again.

V and Uzi have sparring sessions every now and then- tho sometimes V fights dirty- if you catch my drift lmao- and Uzi is weak for that shit, sadly 😔 Uzi finds herself contemplating her life choices when V is constantly giving her new kinks to consider smhhhh. it doesnt help that V doesnt treat Uzi as weak or breakable, she goes all out and Uzi is thankful to her about it. tho N would not touch this particular catfight between two wild ladies with a 100ft pole- [which would probably be the distance he's standing and watching from...just in case...]

funny enough most of their arguments end with makeout sessions. N cant tell if this is their way of flirting from the start or their way of making up after a fight....

V is secretly protective of Uzi, not interfering when Uzi is dealing with someone but standing a few steps behind her, brandishing her claws just in case, to send an obvious message.

V is absolutely rough when trying to be intimate. Uzi needs lots of energy to heal from bite marks but they always make sure the other is comfortable about it. but when Uzi is soft and gentle with her and focuses on being reassuring and loving towards her, V's a flustered incoherent mess-

despite being the more avoidant one, V is usually the one who initiates any intimacy- [mostly because Uzi is too short or busy or embarrassed to do so 🙄] and when she gets needy, Uzi feels internally giddy as though a cat has chosen her or something-

Uzi likes to ask V sometimes of any HAPPY memories she had back at the mansion.

OKAY- damn that was LOOOOOONG- hope these are good enough- i had a lot of fun writing them :D

once again, left out any nsfw hcs 😇 enjoy the dumpster fire lesbiams-

i also tried my best to leave out the N x Uzi x V headcanons so it would seem more specifically for Vuzi :"3

[sweet-chimera]

TW: Call out post, drama

// Damn we were going to keep it quiet and respectful until this point. because like always. Spork, aka Shiloh can't take accountability and Never does anything wrong despite the fact that this is the what? 6th group of people enmass to cut contact with them? Spork we were being quiet about it for YOUR sake. Cause you're a bad person and we wanted to be done with you. But fine. We'll do it your way. We blocked you because you're a toxic person who threatens to harm yourself when we don't comply to you. Not because of a fake wedding rp event. Content and stories under the cut. Long post trigger warning

And because he named dropped us, potentially to potentially insight violence on us. We'll return the favor. We were willing to just soft block and call it a day but then you do this? We knew you were a karen but come on spork. This is low even for you. For those of you that don't know, Spork aka:

patchiesdoodles, decipheringmadness, cxpescxwlsandcrxmes, ifyouwouldloveme, thegreeksknewthescore, fxllen-cne, thxpatriarch, unforgivendivine, AND the-blackened-dove.

Likes to block evade, exhibit controlling tendencies towards their rp partners, leverage marginalization's to groups that he doesn't belong to to white knight and get his way, tone police, sexually harass people mainly on voice call, guilt trip, bully those that speak out against him, use his partners to harass people who block him, vague posts, gives ultimatums, and threaten self harm when he doesn't get his way.

Lets get this out of the way, My experience with spork

I met spork in the muntain june 2023. And it was one of the most grating experience of my life. At every chance they got they spoke over people, talked openly about their sexual trauma when no one has consented to hearing it. And tone policed me, a cambodian/afro indigenous person from baltimore, for using language that was "Offensive to black people." Only to then lay off after yelling at me for a few minutes. When he found out I was black. (Screen shot of me talking to the mod of the muntain afterwards)

I was off put, and upset. That someone who is this complexion

is tone policing me, AN AFRO INDIGENOUS PERSON WHEN I MAKE NO ATTEMPTS TO HIDE IT. IM BLACK.

But seeing as we're a vastly neuro divergent community. I forgave and forgot because it wasn't worth the fight. it didn't stop them from constantly bringing up sexual or traumatic topics. But at the very least. They were upset at me for using AAVE and saying the N word. A SLUR I CAN USE.

But then later down the line. I talked to the muntain mod about introducing my partners to the rp community and to help the transition go smoothly.

I EVEN WENT INTO VOICE CALL AND BEGGED THEM, SPORK SPECIFICALLY. TO BE ON THEIR BEST BEHAVIOUR.

My girlfriend joined on the 30th and my boyfriend joined on the first.

During the first call on the 30th. Spork dominated the conversation and flirted with my girlfriend infront of me upon finding out we were polyamourus. But for the most part was respectful.

On the voice call on the second. They were racist and immflamatory to my boyfriend. Tao. A native mexican man. Spork claims to be indigenous themself but I have no proof of this. But as we all know, Abrahamic religions have decimated the indigenous populations and caused Alot of harm.

On voice call. Spork brings up their LITERAL JESUS CHRIST muse. And talks about their religious trauma. Tao, also talks about his in the form of a joke. "Oh Jesus sure liked to wash feet huh?" A TRUE FACT. NOT THAT BAD. WE ALL HAVE MADE FUN OF IT.

Here comes white knight Spork, yelling at my partner to not make fun of jewish traditions. Its insensitive and blastephemous. Only to then dominate the conversation to talk about their trans jesus muse who openly talks about being abused by god

(Recap of the voice call i had with the mod)

So spork, a white passing person AT BEST, told my darker complexion NATIVE MEXICAN BOYFRIEND. That he shouldn't make jokes about judaism? When spork is a white satanist? And all abrahamic religions not just Catholicism has caused damage to our populations? You didn't even let him say more then that one joke, you didn't even give him 10 seconds to say is name before dominating the conversation again

Sweetie. 1.) Anyone can criticize and make fun of the bible, the torah, or the Quran. 2.) SAYING JESUS WASHED FEET. WHICH IS TRUE. IS NOT AS INFLAMMATORY. As making a gay trans jesus blog AS A ROLEPLAY CHARACTER. To talk about how god abused him.

And these are just my personal experiences with spork.

WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WHEN THEIR FRIEND POLITELY ASKED TO STOP SHIPPING BUT STILL BE FRIENDS?

HMMM. THATS WEIRD. THATS A PRETTY POLITE WAY TO GO ABOUT HAVING A CONVERSATION. BECAUSE CONSENT TAKES TWO PARTIES. WHAT WAS YOUR RESPONSE TO ONE PARTY NOT CONSENTING SO YOU DONT GET YOUR WAY?

OH YEAH.

YOU VAGUE POST ON THE DASH, GUILT TRIP PEOPLE FOR STILL ASSOCIATED WITH VOID (gin-n-chthonic) and get upset when you saw them on your dash because you keep block evading them to see if they were talking about you. YOURE MENTAL HEALTH WAS MESSED UP BECAUSE YOUR FRIEND HAD A POLITE CONVERSATION WITH YOU? ABOUT NOT REAL CHARACTERS? AND YOUR RESPONSE WAS A PUBLIC CALL OUT POST. And then you go around to people like slurk.

Who've you've been codependently abusing for a long time. And try to guilt trip them into blocking void.

Because thats a sound response. AS WELL AS BITCH AND MOAN ABOUT IT IN CALL FOR DAYS. THIS ISN'T EVEN INCLUDING THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE A HABIT OF GETTING YOUR FRIENDS AND PARTNERS TO ATTACK AND OSTRICIZE PEOPLE FOR YOU. Remember when jessica was sick with covid. But you wanted an answer so bad. That you sent your boyfriend after her? CAUSE WE DO.

And how you admitted in voice call that you would type from Boogies account to send people things, speak for him. OR ADMITTED THAT ROLEPLAYING IS A SPIRITUAL THING FOR YOU. How these characters are extension of yourself and if they feel pain or rejected you do? So every time someones muse doesn't want to interact with them. YOU A REAL HUMAN BEING FEEL THE PAIN?

cause we do.

SO LETS RECAP. TLDR;

you give ultimatums

guilt trip

block evade

were openly racist to a mexican indigenous man

hit on my girlfriend infront of me

can't read a room socially

send mobs after people

talk about traumatic shit without peoples consent

overly sexual even when we say we're uncomfortable

fly off the handle and go on public tirades when we try to talk to you, then get surprised when no one wants to talk to you and just quietly exits your life

use your loved ones accounts to talk to people who go nc with you

only white knight and virtue signal when its convenient to you

want to control everyones character and insert your muse into everything but when they don't comply you guilt trip, bitch, give ultimatums, or post publicly about not being loved

you weaponize your marginalization as a trans man but are clearly white passing and command alot of social power from your social media presence

sexually harass people around you

and you tone police the people of color around you when we speak up

WE DIDN'T BLOCK YOU OVER A FAKE RP EVENT. WITH FAKE PEOPLE THAT YOU INSIST ARE REAL. WE REFUSE TO BE AROUND YOU BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO GET HELP FOR YOUR MENTAL HEALTH. WE BEGGED YOU TO. AND YOU GUILT TRIP PEOPLE WITH THREATS OF OSTRICHCIZATION AND SELF HARM.

YOU'RE A BAD PERSON SPORK.

[blindmagdalena]

thoughts on ep 4?

ohhhh man this is gonna be really long and disjointed because i just finished the episode. i'm just gonna be focused on the homelander stuff here bc i feel like that's what we're all here for lol

the energy he brought to that whole situation gave me the most intense anxiety. i feel like not even he was entirely sure how all of that was going to go down, but as soon as he was there, all these memories that he had repressed started flooding to the surface. obviously his relationship with Ryan is causing a lot of his trauma to come to the forefront, and this is the culmination of that.

i think what caught me the most off guard was how run down the place looked. a concrete basement with shoddy computers and post-its everywhere. a bunch of techs. it was so small, and yet it's like homelander said. it was a lot bigger when he was a child.

it was their day job. it was his whole world.

that very first moment when Marty calls him John, and he corrects "Homelander," in that boyish voice, i almost burst into tears.

the moment where he's staring at the incinerator made me feel ill for him. i already knew what was coming, and it didn't disappoint.

"I had nightmares about that exact moment, and you can't even remember it."

i had chills throughout this entire scene. it was such a succinct way to lay out how dehumanized he was his entire life. that so many people stood by and were so desensitized to his torture. they tuned out his screams entirely and played little games to pass the time. all while he watched.

this time, when Marty calls him John, there's no quiver in his voice. "Homelander," he corrects firmly, smile tight and closed. direct eye contact, waiting for a challenge. but they won't. he knows no one will stop him. not just because they can't... but because they simply won't. they wouldn't save a child. why would they save Frank?

"You're sorry? Now?"

this whole scene is such an interesting parallel to his conversation with Vogelbaum in s1, where he asks, "You want forgiveness? Now?"

something he rightfully denied Vogelbaum. in this instance, however, we see Homelander enacting his vengeance and giving that forgiveness... but only once they're dead. only once they'd paid his price. once they've suffered as he did. I forgive you.

the only time anyone expresses remorse for what they've done to him is when they're faced with it. when the regret eats away at them not for the harm they caused, but the damage done to the world, or to their own safety.

immediately following that, we see him call Marty over and not just apologize, but very specifically he asks, "Can you forgive me?"

it's perfect foreshadowing for what he's about to do to him. can he forgive the same thing Homelander is about to?

the scene that follows is so profoundly uncomfortable i had a lot of trouble watching. the reality of Homelander's life and teenage years is something that we as a fandom have always been very cognizant of, but seeing it addressed so plainly on screen was both nightmarish and vindicating.

i remember being really squicked out by his comment regarding Ryan getting Zoe pregnant, but it makes total sense that raising Ryan is bringing a lot of his own childhood sexual trauma to the surface. there's SO MUCH to be addressed here that it could be it's own post. but what's great is when Homelander calls an end to it: it's the moment Marty says he's sorry.

"I forgive you, Marty."

this is all about Homelander accepting what happened to him. facing it and the people who were part of it head on.

speaking of...

BARBARA. i know she's public enemy #1 right now, and rightfully so, but i found her so profoundly interesting. did she know Homelander was there? she didn't seem surprised at all. why would she come without backup? how did they even contact her with everything shut down? i don't know, but whatever the case, i really got the impression she already knew what she was walking into. she made a real attempt to get Homelander away from the other scientists, but he wasn't going to be swayed. they were already doomed.

she antagonized him. They were just doing what I told them. It's not their fault. It's mine. Leave them alone.

it's very apparent to me that among his fractured personalities, she represents the kinder motherly one. she, like Stan Edgar and Vogelbaum, are elevated above the other scientists. she's a figure of authority and she spoke to him as such.

"They were scared."

"I was a child."

"They were scared!"

and he does recoil at that. we KNOW Homelander hates being feared. it was his trigger with Madelyn, it's what kept him from lasering that crowd, and it's a blatant, desperate lie when he says to Starlight, "...being feared is a-one okie doke by me."

"Everyone was terrified of you from your first breath."

she breaks his heart a hundred times in this scene. from the reveal that he killed his mother in the same way Vogelbaum told him his son did—the source of that lie?—to the statement that their greatest success was making him obedient by withholding love. by turning his heart into a pit of need.

a sharp juxtaposition to Vogelbaum's You're my greatest failure.

and then she says to him no matter what you do, you will always be human.

here's the thing about Homelander's humanity. he doesn't associate it with kindness or love. he associates humanity with all the worst things that have ever happened to him. cruelty. selfishness. betrayal. his entire life he's been used and abused by the people who were supposed to protect him.

of course he doesn't want to be human. doesn't want his SON to be human. look at what humans have done to him. they're vile, they're vicious, they're dirty.

in another life, that desire could have been his drive to be good. if he'd only had a single fucking example of it.

"I'm not human. And neither is my son. And I'm gonna raise him so that he knows it."

in other words, he'll raise his son the way they failed to raise him. Homelander wants desperately to raise his son with the love he never had. he just doesn't know how to.

ultimately, like Vogelbaum and Stan, Homelander can't bring himself to kill her. he tears apart the people she tried to save, and he leaves her to stew in her own fucking mess.

[runariya]

Three-Shot: Infinity (JJK) • 3

pairing: alien!Jungkook x human!reader genre: alien!AU, dystopian!AU, dark, angst, S2L, eventual fluff and smut warnings: MDNI, 18+, distrust, panic attacks, trauma response, anger issues though kinda entitled to..., physical pain and bruises, fluff, fluff, and fluff, Jungkook can purr, mention of Stockholm syndrome, discussion about bonding, kissing, huge size difference, smut, big cock Jungkook because duh..., oral (f. receiving), squirting, unprotected sex (please wrap it if you don't aim to get preggy folks!), knotting, bonding, please lmk if I forgot something word count: 4.361

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

This story was inspired by the song 🎵Jaymes Young - Infinity🎵

01 • 02 • MASTERLIST

The door of the dock closes behind you with a heavy hiss as you're dragged inside Jungkook's spaceship, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. His grip is unrelenting, digging into your arm, still tender from his earlier grasp. The beeping of the door closing sounds ominous, ticking like a countdown to your impending doom. Contrary to your panicked assumptions, Jungkook doesn't drag you to the cold, sterile white room. Instead, he steers you towards the cockpit, his steps purposeful and heavy. He forces you into your seat, buckling you in with rough, swift motions that leave no room for protest.

His face is thundering with fury, contorted with anger so intense it seems to carve lines into his skin like lightning. A vein throbs violently at his temple, and his jaw is clenched so tightly you can almost hear his teeth grinding. The bioluminescent markings on his body pulse fiercely, bright white now, the calming blue completely vanished. The sight fills you with dread, certain he’ll unleash his wrath upon you the moment you're in space, far from any possible witnesses. The very thought sends chills down your spine.

Jungkook rises to his full height, his presence looming over you like a dark storm cloud. He strides to his seat at the control panel and begins punching buttons with a force that’s clearly fuelled by his rage rather necessity. The ship hums to life, the vibrations beneath not comparing to the power he holds over you. You don’t dare look at him directly, but out of the corner of your eye, you see his fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw still ticking with barely restrained anger. The tension in the cockpit is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

As the ship ascends, breaking free from Thraxor's orbit, Jungkook activates the autopilot with a swift, angry motion. Within seconds, he unbuckles himself and strides towards you, his shoulders tense, his eyes ablaze with fury. You shrink back into your seat, your body instinctively curling in on itself in a vain attempt to shield against the inevitable onslaught. His wrath feels like it's going to crash down on you with the force of burning lava, and you are sure, in that moment, that you won’t make it out of this alive.

Jungkook's voice explodes in the confined space, "What were you thinking? Are you mental?" He starts pacing back and forth, his steps heavy and agitated, his hand repeatedly raking through his blue hair in frustration. Each pass through his hair seems to fuel his anger, making him look more disheveled and ferocious. You don’t dare meet his gaze, the fear of provoking a physical response paralysing you. 

"You could have died! You could have been taken! Do you think so little of me that I would trade you for anything in existence? And to a Silvex of all species!" His voice rises with each accusation, a storm of emotions crashing over you. "I've never done you harm, but clearly, I've been living in a fantasy, thinking you trusted me." Every word, every increase in volume, sends a jolt of terror through you, the prelude to your punishment setting your fear ablaze.

Abruptly, Jungkook halts his frantic pacing and spins to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. The sudden stillness makes your breath catch in your throat, your heart hammering as you brace yourself for the inevitable. "Why did you run? What the fuck did I do wrong?" he demands, his voice a raw mixture of hurt and anger. The words hang heavy in the air, and you’re too petrified to respond, your mind consumed by the dread of the pain you’re sure is coming any second now. 

"Look at me!" Jungkook’s voice reverberates through the small space, a command that feels like a physical blow. You flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the seat, though you know there's no real escape. He strides toward you with fury in every step, kneeling down abruptly and seizing your arms. His grip is firm, one hand on the bruised limb, sending a sharp jolt of pain through you that you manage to hide. "Look at me," he repeats, his voice dropping to a low, insistent tone.

Your eyes snap up, locking onto his intense gaze. You suppress a whimper, the pain in your arm throbbing in time with your racing heartbeat. His eyes are a swirl of emotions, more than just anger. In the depth of his gaze, you see panic and a raw sadness that you hadn't expected. His grip, though strong, feels less like a threat and more like a desperate plea for understanding.

As you're forced to look into Jungkook's eyes, the intensity of the emotions you find there throws you off balance. The fury is present, but it’s the panic and sadness swirling beneath the surface that dominate his gaze, emotions so uncharacteristic for him that you feel a pang of confusion and shock. His eyes glisten with a barely noticeable film of tears, his struggle to control them evident in the way his expression tightens and his breathing hitches.

"Someone could have taken you. How am I supposed to protect you from harm if you sprint full force into it?" His grip tightens again slightly, the pressure sending a shockwave of pain through your already bruised arm. You flinch involuntarily, a small, pained whimper escaping your lips as you try to pull away from the agony.

At the sound of your whimper, Jungkook releases you as if scalded, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in the bruises on your arm. He curses under his breath, standing up abruptly and leaving the room in a rush. You take the brief respite to steady your racing heartbeat and ragged breathing, the adrenaline still surging through your veins making it difficult to calm down. But as Jungkook returns, your nerves flare up again, a fresh wave of nausea washing over you. The years of survival instinct are hard to shake off; the tiniest incident still sends you spiralling back into a state of heightened alertness and fear, a deeply ingrained habit that you can’t easily break.

Jungkook kneels before you again, his demeanour noticeably more composed than it had been just minutes earlier, yet the sadness lingering in his eyes remains palpable. With gentle hands, he unscrews a tube of ointment, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers before carefully applying it to the bruises mottling your arm in angry shades of red and blue. The cool ointment soothes your inflamed skin, but it’s the unexpected tenderness of his touch that surprises you the most.

His voice, now soft and melodic, reaches you, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I forgot about my strength and your fragile body. It shouldn’t have happened. I...I can’t promise it won't happen again, but I promise I’ll be more thoughtful." The sincerity in his tone is disarming, chipping away at the walls of fear you’ve built around yourself.

The apology catches you off guard. In all your life, no alien, least of all a Nepturian, had ever apologised to you. Tears well up in your eyes and begin to fall silently down your cheeks. Jungkook notices your tears and his expression softens even further, a tenderness in his gaze that feels like a balm to your battered soul.

"You're safe with me. I’ll protect you with my life, you hear that?" His words, filled with a gentle promise, seep into the cracks of your heart, easing the pain and fear that have taken root there. The adoration you see in his eyes is unlike anything you've ever experienced, and it stirs something deep within you.

"I'm sorry," you sob quietly, the emotional and physical fatigue weighing down on you as the adrenaline finally begins to ebb away. You slump into yourself, the exhaustion taking over as Jungkook continues to tend to your injuries with a care and compassion that both confuses and comforts you.

Jungkook finishes treating your arm with careful precision and begins to rise, but your uninjured arm instinctively reaches out, your fingers clutching his shirt in a desperate plea. He looks down at you, his eyes wide with surprise, and then meets your gaze. You don't dare look up, fear and uncertainty keeping your eyes fixed on the floor. Gently, he loosens your grip and leaves the room, returning shortly without the ointment.

His footsteps are steady and calm as he approaches you. Standing before you, he carefully slips his arms under your thighs and back, lifting you with a gentleness that belies his earlier anger. You tense momentarily, unsure of his intentions, but as he carries you to his seat and places you on his lap, holding you securely with one arm while the other deactivates the autopilot, a sense of safety washes over you.

As you nestle into his warm, strong chest, the tension in your body begins to dissolve. For the first time since the human race ended, you feel truly safe. Jungkook’s protective embrace is a sanctuary, and the rhythmic beating of his heart lulls you into a deep, restful sleep. Your body, worn from fear and adrenaline, finally relaxes, surrendering to the comfort and security he provides and you longed for your whole life. 

You wake to the steady rhythm of Jungkook's breathing and the reassuring beat of his heart. His strong arms still cradle you securely on his lap, and his hand moves gently over your head and through your hair. There's a low, purr-like sound emanating from his throat, deeper than anything you've ever heard from him or any other Nepturian. It's strangely comforting, and you wonder if it's akin to the way cats purr when they're happy. Your thoughts drift to this curious noise, but they’re quickly interrupted when Jungkook notices you’re awake. He stops stroking your hair, and the purring ceases. You startle, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over you. Is it still alright for you to be so close to him, or has he changed his mind?

Your heart races as panic sets in. The comfortable safety you felt mere moments ago is overshadowed by a creeping fear. You stand abruptly, trying to put some distance between you and Jungkook. But his hand catches your wrist gently yet firmly. “Stay,” he says softly.

You look into his eyes, which are nearly black, reflecting the stars and distant galaxies passing by outside the ship. You always thought his eyes were emotionless, but now that you're close enough, you see beyond the distant facade. There's a depth of longing and hope that you never noticed before. His grip loosens as you remain silent, and he reluctantly lets you go. You walk around his seat to the other side, feeling his gaze following you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

You climb onto his lap again, this time facing the other direction. As you settle back into his hold, his strong arm wraps around you from the opposite side. “I’m more comfortable facing this way,” you whisper, feeling a sense of relief wash over you when Jungkook visibly relaxes at your words. He shifts into a more comfortable position himself, and the soothing purr resumes. 

Resting your hand on his chest, you inhale his scent. The whole ship carries his scent, but this close, it’s far more intense and comforting. He smells like what you imagine home should be. You watch his markings pulse in time with the heartbeat you feel beneath your fingertips, each beat confirming your past assumption. Without the fear that usually clouds your judgment, you trace every line of his markings with your eyes, appreciating their intricate beauty.

You know you're being naive, perhaps even reckless, but the comfort you feel from the promise he made is too precious to dismiss. Deciding to savour this peaceful moment for as long as it lasts, you gather all your courage. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask in a tentative voice, “Why do you have different markings?”

The purring stops, and Jungkook takes a deep breath, the sigh he releases resonating loudly in your ear. You brace yourself for a negative reaction, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he begins to explain. “Are you familiar with Nepturea Nova?” he asks, and you shake your head. “A long time ago,” he continues, “an ancient prophecy was etched into the sacred stones of the Temple of Luminescence. The prophecy spoke of a time when Nepturea Nova would face a great darkness, threatening to engulf the entire planet. It foretold the coming of a chosen Nepturian, whose markings would differ from all others, symbolising a unique connection to the core energy of Nepturea Nova. This chosen one would be the key to harnessing the planet’s true power and restoring balance.”

Jungkook falls silent, letting you process what he's said. The information is overwhelming, raising more questions than it answers. “And you’re the chosen one?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

He hums in response, tensing even more as if he's afraid of your next question or how you’ll react. “And how are you supposed to restore Nepturea Nova’s balance?” you probe further. Jungkook's tension increases, and his markings pulse more rapidly. You lean away from him, searching his eyes that now avoid yours, staring instead at the vast emptiness outside the spaceship. His gaze mirrors conflict and a hint of fear, making you uneasy.

“Jungkook?” you call his name, desperate for the truth rather than being blindsided by it. He clears his throat and finally explains, “The prophecy also mentioned a being from beyond the stars, one who would share a powerful bond with the chosen Nepturian. With me. This being was described in terms that could only be understood as human.”

Panic sets in, and you scramble off his lap, fear clouding your judgment. Jungkook hurries to explain, but his words only send you into overdrive. “According to the prophecy, this human would be essential to unlocking the full potential of the chosen one and the energy of Nepturea Nova.” You bolt from the cockpit, your mind racing with the fear that Jungkook needs to sacrifice you for his planet. You were right not to trust him all along.

Jungkook calls your name, his footsteps echoing as he chases after you. You try to reach your room before he can catch you, but just as you're a few meters away, his next words halt you in your tracks. “You’re my mate! That’s the bond!”

Your breathing is heavy as you slowly turn around, your hands shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook stops at a distance away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He repeats softly, his heart broken on his tongue, “You’re my mate,___. I’ll protect you for infinity.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and though fear still grips your heart, there's a part of you that yearns to believe him. In the vast emptiness of space, amidst the remnants of your shattered world, perhaps this bond is the anchor you've been desperately seeking.

Months slip by as you and Jungkook traverse the galaxies, each day blurring into the next in a kaleidoscope of starlight and shared moments. At first, you weren't sure whether to trust Jungkook with his revelation of the prophecy and your supposed role as his mate. The idea seemed far-fetched, a desperate myth clinging to the remnants of a world you barely understood. But Jungkook, true to his word, gave you all the space you needed. He never pressed, never forced, responding only to your needs with a patience that slowly melted away your fear.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself seeking him out more often, drawn to the comfort and safety he provided. You began to spend more and more time on his lap, the place that had come to symbolise your sanctuary. Conversations flowed easier between you, his deep voice a constant balm to your frazzled nerves. Each exchange chipped away at the trauma you carried, and with every passing day, your trust in Jungkook grew stronger. You reflected often on the feelings blossoming within you—wondering if they were born from the safety he provided or if they were simply a byproduct of your circumstances. But even if it was a kind of Stockholm syndrome, you found you didn’t care. Jungkook was attractive, caring, and protective—more than you ever could have hoped for. As the days shot by like the stars outside your ship, you let your emotions flow freely, accepting your fate as it would come.

One late evening, after leaving the bustling planet of Targulais, you find yourself once again nestled on Jungkook’s lap. The sense of safety you feel with him extends beyond the confines of the ship. Whenever you venture out, he never lets you out of his sight, his imposing stature and the species he is, warding off any potential threats. 

Tonight, you are both enjoying a kebab-like dish, its spicy aroma filling the small space. You hold yours with both hands, struggling to keep its contents from spilling, while Jungkook handles his with one hand, the oversized food looking like a mere snack in his grasp. You know you’ll be full after just a few bites, a fact that always delights Jungkook as he happily devours your leftovers.

“I assume we’re not bonded yet,” you say, looking up at his profile. “How do Nepturians bond?”

Your question blindsides him, causing him to cough violently. You pat his back, your small hand likely feeling like a feather to him than real help. Once he manages to clear his throat, he simply replies, “Sex.”

A tiny “oh” escapes your lips, and you both resume eating as if nothing unusual has been said. When Jungkook finishes his kebab, you hand him the remains of yours, which he accepts with barely concealed glee, a smile lighting up his face that makes your heart melt.

“What if I don’t want to have sex?” you ask after he swallows the last of only two bites he used. 

Jungkook shrugs. “We don’t bond. It doesn’t matter to me.”

You lean away rom him, searching his face. “What about Nepturea Nova?”

His big hand begins to run soothing circles on your back, and if you could purr, you would. “You’re more important to me,” he says, his tone and eyes filled with sincerity that takes your breath away. He searches your face for any reaction, and for a moment, you are too shocked to respond. Just as his hand reaches up to touch your face, you gather all your courage, cup his face with both your tiny hands, and kiss him softly.

It is your first true kiss with anyone, unforced and mutual, filled with positive emotions. Jungkook responds immediately, his touch on your face and back delicate and loving. When you break away and look into his eyes, they shine brighter than all the suns you have ever seen.

“I love you for infinity,” he whispers.

Your throat tightens, unable to voice your feelings yet as verbally as he does. But you know, and he knows too. It is enough. You are enough.

Barely a week passes when you find yourself not just sitting on, but straddling Jungkook's lap. Your first kiss days ago had become the catalyst for your deepening desire. His tongue dances softly in your mouth, the gentle stubble on his upper lip grazing your nose as your breaths mingle with the slight moans escaping you both. Jungkook's purr forms a soothing backdrop, intensifying your longing for him. 

Your hands trace the muscles of his torso, his defined shoulders, and his strong arms, his marks that pulse steadily with his grounding heartbeat. His pecs are firm under your fingers, the vibrations of his purr noticeable.

You've been kissing and grinding against each other for the past hour, as if he were your oxygen and you his. You're soaked at this point and don't want to stop. As you reach the hem of his shirt, he stops your hands and breaks the kiss. Panting, Jungkook asks, "Are you sure?"

You nod, trying to kiss him again and resume undressing him, but he stops you once more. "Are you really, really sure?"

You scan his face, noting the fear and doubt in his eyes. But you are certain—you want this, you want him, and you want to be bonded for life with him.

Smiling, you place your hand on his cheek, stroking his cheekbone as you take a breath and finally say, "I love you for infinity, too."

Tears of joy collect in Jungkook's eyes as he crashes his lips onto yours. With one swift movement, he lifts you in his arms. You giggle with a small yelp, not having expected the move, but immediately cross your ankles behind his waist and wrap your arms around his neck. As you get lost again in the sweet taste of his mouth and the soft feel of his blue hair, Jungkook carries you to his room and gently lays you on his bed, crawling over you.

He kisses his way up your body, over your clothes, his big, veiny hands tracing your shape. They start kneading your breasts as his purr intensifies. You moan softly when he kisses and licks your neck, so gently, not daring to leave marks on your sensitive skin. 

"Tell me if I hurt you too much, love," he whispers.

You breathe a "yes" as Jungkook slowly undresses himself and then you. He's gorgeous-muscular, strong, and breathtaking. His girthy, long cock stands proud and leaking before his abdomen, pulsating veins running up to its angry red tip, contrasting with his blueish skin. The sight of his tight balls makes a wave of arousal spill out of you onto the sheets, which causes Jungkook's eyes to snap to your weeping hole. You don't feel ashamed at all, his hungry, loving eyes scaling your confidence to another level.

"You're so beautiful," Jungkook breathes out as he lowers his towering form to your cunt, taking a long, slow lick of your juices. He takes his time, eating you out as if savouring every drop. It's the best sensation you've ever had, his tongue strong and heavy within your walls, stretching you out. You know you're near when the purring starts to vibrate on his tongue and his big fingers play with your pearl.

He moves to his knees, looking at you with hooded, lust-filled eyes, his cock bouncing from want and his fingers scissoring your hole. You come undone, squirting all over the bed, his hand, and his cock.

"Fucking hell, __. You're a goddess. Fuck!" Jungkook moves over you, kissing you deeply while continuing to finger you, swallowing every moan you give him. "I need to bond with you. Please let me bond with you."

"Yes, Jungkook. I need you. Please claim me." You run your hands through his soft hair and across his big, muscular back. His muscles flex as he adjusts his leaking head to your entrance.

"Tell me if it hurts, love," he breaths.

You nod, pushing your hips up to signal you're ready. Jungkook pushes forward, his head entering you with a little resistance despite your soaking wetness. He moans loudly as he pushes inch by inch into your tight hole, your walls greedily swallowing him with pulsating urgency.

"You're so tight," Jungkook presses out, his face contorted with the effort to control his instincts. Your walls flutter at his words, taking them as a compliment. When he's finally balls deep, you let out an elongated moan.

Your cunt can't stop fluttering, wanting all of him. He starts slowly pushing back and forth until it gets easier to move. 

You learn he's vocal, moaning and grunting melodically with every push. It spurs you on, kissing him more lovingly, moving with him to give him as much pleasure as he's giving you. He caresses every inch he can reach, his tall build enveloping you, making you feel tiny but oh so powerful.

When your moans increase in volume and you feel euphoria vibrating in your veins, Jungkook picks up the pace, pushing his cock into your leaking cunt over and over. The squelching sound echoes in the room.

"I'm close," he moans. "You sure you want to bond?"

Sweat drops fall from the slope of his nose onto your face, and that alone nearly pushes you over the edge. But you restrain yourself, wanting to come with him so badly.

"Yes!" you nearly scream, wanting him to finally make you his for eternity.

"Yes!" you nearly scream, wanting him to finally make you his for eternity.

Your name leaves his lips in a moan as he finally comes undone. The sight is mesmerising—his eyebrows knit together, his eyes squinting barely open, watching you with unrestrained love. His big cock pulses, his seed filling your cunt as it sucks him further inside, milking him for all he's worth.

"Jungkook," you moan as euphoria overtakes you in an intensity you've never experienced before. It's like meeting him at the bottom of the ocean, where time is frozen and only you and he exist. You feel his knot grow inside you, making you moan and come a third time as Jungkook pants and moans above you.

His markings start to pulsate violently, switching their colour from white-blue to all the colours of the rainbow. He looks ethereal, and you can't stop coming down from your high; the sight is too overwhelming. Jungkook tries to pump the knot a bit further inside you while moaning just as uncontrollably as you.

Then, all the scars littering your body from a time you accepted to forget, start to shine in the same colours as his markings. They dance around your body, transforming to match Jungkook's. He looks down at you, full of love and fulfilment.

"I love you for infinity," he smiles as his cock and knot soften inside you. 

"I love you for infinity," you echo, knowing that in this moment, everything is as it should be.

01 • 02 • MASTERLIST

a/n 2: thank you so much for reading! lmk what you think - also: drabble requests and character asks are open

Like what you read? You can find more here!

All Rights Reserved © @runariya 2024

[scribbledghost]

The Visitor - Part II

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader (Vessel the character, not the real man behind the mask)

Rating: T

Word count: 1,619

Summary: Vessel continues to do his best to shield his visitor from Sleep's anger. His attempts are... unfortunately inadequate.

Notes: 3rd person POV, use of she/her pronouns for reader. Features II for a bit. Brief discussions of trauma/mental pain.

Part one can be found here. || Part three can be found here.

Today has been... difficult for Vessel's charge.

Or at least, what passes for "today" in Sleep's domain: the standard hues of grey and black are infiltrated by dim light, like a sunrise through heavy fog.

Either way, it pains Vessel to see her like this - curled in on herself, weeping and shaking, having endured one of Sleep's visions. Having survived an attempt at being broken down.

Vessel had already informed her that in order to leave, she must uncover and overcome her pain. He conveniently forgot to mention this mostly consists of reliving it until it is conquered.

At the time, he thought the lie by omission was to protect her.

But now, all he feels is guilt for not properly warning her.

He kneels beside her, gently placing a hand upon her head to open up the connection between them. Vessel flinches at the sheer level of anguish, but wades through nonetheless as he maneuvers some of her pain, relocating what he can from her mind to his.

It's not much. And it's nowhere near enough. But he hopes it helps, if even for a brief moment.

You cannot save her, my vessel.

Sleep's voice echoes in his mind.

I can try.

Vessel can feel Sleep's anger; it's been building ever since the visitor's arrival. Ever since Vessel deviated from the plan Sleep so obviously laid for him - ever since Vessel revealed that he would not be swayed so easily this time by his Deity.

The domain rumbles, a frequent occurrence as of late.

But he remains unmoved.

He simply continues to kneel beside his visitor, his hand on her head in what he hopes is a comforting gesture as her cries begin to slowly quiet.

The others have begun to warn him, telling him in hushed tones that he's playing with fire, that Sleep is more powerful than all of them combined. They remind him that, should he continue to brazenly disobey, not only will he wind up in harm's way, but so will they. And so will she.

He knows.

And yet, he cannot stop. He has tried - it's not as if he has no desire to protect the others or his visitor. But no matter how much effort he exudes, success still eludes him.

Even during the brief moments when he must leave her to her own devices, when he must devote his attention to other matters like the other vessels, rituals, or more proper devotion to Sleep, he has begun to slip.

He's become distracted.

His thoughts drift more often than they should, away from the task at hand and towards the woman. A cardinal sin when he should be worshipping Sleep with his undivided attention.

It seems as though the only times he can focus is when he is with his visitor, just as he is now.

I will tear her apart before I allow her to take you from me, my vessel.

A dark streak of panic jolts through Vessel, and he knows Sleep feels it too, for he is met with a smug condescension that can only come from a being older than he can comprehend.

I am yours.

Then, before he can properly shield his ruminations, he continues:

Do not harm her. Please.

He winces at himself for allowing the thought to slip. A hum echoes in his brain.

What are you willing to do to keep her safe?

Anything.

Again, he thinks before he can stop himself. A cold dread settles itself over him as he realizes that, despite all his arrogance and determination in resisting his Deity, he has just given it a sign of weakness.

Anything... Sleep all but purrs.

He remains on his guard, but as the silence between him and Sleep continues, he allows himself to focus more on the woman. She's ceased her cries, but she is still curled in upon herself, as if attempting to shield herself from the outside world. The hand Vessel has placed on her head moves, as if of it's own will, and he gently strokes his thumb along her scalp.

He startles to a pause when Sleep speaks to him again.

I will hold you to that claim, my vessel.

With that, he feels Sleep's presence leave him for the time being.

He tries not to think too heavily on what the Deity means with its statement.

He's done unspeakable things in its name - things he will never be forgiven for. Things he will never be able to atone for, no matter how hard he tries.

And yet, a dark pit of dread in his stomach tells him his prior sins will all pale in comparison to whatever Sleep will ask for next.

Vessel desperately pushes the thoughts aside to focus on his charge.

He tries to strengthen the mental connection between them; tries to open the channel wider so as to take more of her pain and make it his own instead. She must feel the intrusion, for she shifts her head slightly away from his hand.

"Stop reading my mind," she mumbles.

Vessel's knee-jerk reaction is to correct her - to explain that he's not "reading her mind", but rather attempting to lessen her mental torture. But he holds his tongue, not wanting to upset her further.

"My apologies," he murmurs softly.

It is then that she turns to him, still in the fetal position but at least facing him now.

"I suppose you know now," she says absentmindedly.

"Not exactly," Vessel gently corrects. He is honest - he does not know the exact source of her pain; just that the pain itself exists in blinding quantities.

"The visions that Sleep gives you are not shared with me. I can only feel your suffering. I do not know the cause of it."

She gives a small, noncommittal hum in response.

"Good."

Vessel hides the slight sting he feels. She owes him nothing, after all; especially not any sort of deep insight into her driving forces. Yet, the sting is still present.

He wants to help her. He wants to ensure her safe return to wherever she was before this. He wants to know her as thoroughly as he is able.

But he understands the walls. He understands the apprehension.

He felt much the same when he was first brought to Sleep's domain. Vessel has only vague memories of his guide from those days - memories that fade more with each passing increment of time. But he remembers the distrust. The sinking feeling that he could not be sure of his guide's intentions.

He now wishes he had held the same level of discernment when Sleep itself offered him its bargain: loyal, unending devotion in exchange for everything Vessel could ever want.

At least, everything he thought he wanted.

Now, however, his wants directly contradict those of Sleep. This becomes glaringly obvious the next time Sleep bonds with his mind, after several minutes of silence has passed.

Leave her. Two requires your presence.

Vessel pauses, doing his best to come up with some sort of excuse to not leave his charge while her first vision is still so fresh.

She is in pain. She is still in need of guidance. I can help her along her path if I am closer to her.

The ground rumbles. His best was not enough.

You said you would do anything to keep her safe, did you not? Sleep says. And yet, such a simple task seems to be... too excessive. What a pity.

"No," Vessel blurts out loud as he stands abruptly. He understands the implicit threat in Sleep's words.

The woman makes a questioning sound as she gazes up at him from where she still lay on the ground, eyes bleary and tired.

"I... I apologize," Vessel says as he scrambles to correct his mistake. "Sleep has summoned me. I must take my leave, just for a moment."

She makes another sound, a mixture of resignation and disappointment. Vessel quickly kneels next to her, placing another hand on her head.

"I will return. You have my word."

Her eyes close, a miniscule nod moving her body.

Leave her, my vessel.

This time, Sleep's command leaves no room for disagreement, and Vessel turns towards the inky ether.

He moves quickly, bonding with his fellow vessel's mind to discern his location amongst the monotony. II is not difficult to find - Vessel typically only needs to follow the sound of snares and cymbals.

But this time, it seems that II is not in the middle of his usual activity, but rather he is resting beneath the same red tree adorned with ribbons that Vessel had brought his visitor to not long ago.

"You asked for me," Vessel says.

II jolts, almost as if Vessel must have woken him. But then again... why would II summon him if he were asleep?

"What do you mean?" II asks when he fully wakes.

"Sleep informed me that you requested my presence. It seemed urgent."

II pauses, staring Vessel up and down before carefully choosing his next words.

"I... don't recall asking for you, Vessel."

He feels a familiar sense of rage begin to simmer low in his body. But before he gets the chance to process or act on the feeling, a shrill scream echoes through the atmosphere.

Vessel knows the regular sounds of Sleep's world intimately. He can pinpoint the source each shuffle, grunt, groan, and melody. But this shocks him.

The scream does not sound like any of Sleep's creatures.

But if it does not belong to any of the domain's inhabitants, then that means -

"Vessel, don't-"

He does not allow II to finish his warning as he breaks into a dead sprint through the fog.

[nekomacheercaptain]

The ghost of you part 2

Part one

Law knows better than anyone what kind of secrets devil fruits hide - so when you reveal you can bring him to the realm of the dead, there is no going back.

All the echoes in my mind cry; There’s blood on your lies

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x gn! reader

Word count: 2,5K

Content warnings: angst, grief, extreme survivor’s guilt, mention of death, Law’s never-ending list of mental health issues and trauma, Law asks a lot of questions

Weeks went by with Law chasing the cold spots in the submarine, a content smile decorating his lips whenever he made contact. But it didn’t take long before he came to you wanting to know more about your power. And for another… selfish reason. He knew better than anyone how devil fruits hold secrets no one could ever comprehend.

“What more is there?”

The question caught you off guard when you laid in bed together in his dark room almost asleep, his hand soothing down your arm as you were snuggled up against him.

“What do you mean?” your voice was riddled with sleep, your fingers lazily tracing the tattoos on his chest by memory.

Law kept quiet for a moment, before his hand stopped, “Devil fruit powers hold more than one function”.

Your silence was enough for him to continue. “How long have you had your ability? Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?”

They were fair questions to ask, hiding such an anchor from the crew, but the other side to your ability was one you dreaded sharing. When a cold breeze fanned over your skin as blue hue illuminated the room, you turned to see the ghost that finally had a name look at you. He was a curious one, his eyes expectant for an answer.

Law saw you looking beside the bed, realizing you weren’t alone.

“Is Cora here again?” 

You chuckled lightly before nodding, making Corazon smile while he looked at Law’s eyes frantically searching the room.

“He’s around often, checking up on you”

Law’s heartbeat increased and you could hear him swallow a deep gulp, “I see…”.

A deep sigh passed your lips before you told him about your power, knowing there would be no way back.

“I can travel to the realm of the dead,” you kept your gaze at Corazon, whose eyes widened at the news, “but then it’s like I become a ghost, they can’t see or hear me”.

Silence filled the room once more, Law’s hand fidgeting against your skin as he processed the information. And knowing him, he had already figured out the next part of your reveal.

“I can also bring people with me”

What harm could letting Law see Corazon in the ghosts’ realm do? It was useless to fall asleep once the words had fallen past your lips, a flame suddenly lit alive in Law’s heart.

I can see him again?

Law had dreaded sharing something with you, but now that he finally had a chance to fix it, he told you. He could barely remember the face of his savior. He could only remember flashes of Corazon, like patches of cloth sewn together, but when it’s finished it’s just not right. His smile was the only thing stuck whenever he tried to imagine his face. You had never heard him admit anything with such shame, knowing the ghost of Corazon was listening as well. He tried to hide his hurt, but he’d lie if he said he was shocked. Being dead for 13 years, with no picture left behind for the boy he saved, he wouldn’t expect the memory of him to remain. With his smile plastered everywhere, a tribute only for him, he couldn’t have asked for more. Was he happy Law lived the life of a pirate? No, how could he possibly ever be comfortable with such a fact? But he was alive, nonetheless, surrounded by friends. What greater life could he have?

With a swift slide of your hands, a strong light shone from your palms creating a thin turquoise veil covering Law’s room. Law gasped when he saw you were translucent, noticing how the ground and walls looked like debris swaying in the wind, slowly drifting away into nothingness. The submarine didn’t seem to be underwater any longer, the darkness outside of the portholes swallowing all sources of light. However, there was life out there. Or… movement at least, of things that belonged only to the past. Law gawked at the translucent fish and sharks swimming past the portholes, some missing fins and chunks of their bodies. A small shiver ran through him at the realization; cause of death would be visible. A reason for your discomfort of parading around in the world of the dead; when they visited you, they presented themselves when they were at their peak. But here, the truth of their demise was revealed.

“Remember, this is their realm, they can’t see or hear us, just like you don’t see or hear them when they visit our world”

Law felt a lump form in the back of his throat, suddenly feeling uneasy. Was he ready for this?

With legs no longer meeting ground you explored the dark, glowy hallway of the submarine in search of the gentle giant. And when a sudden burst of debris came shooting past the corner, Law froze. The years of sudden bursts of sand, snow and smoke shooting in his direction suddenly coming back to him. Tears pricked at his eyes, and you stopped when you noticed the distance between you increasing.

“Do you want to go back? We can do this another time,” your voice was small and sounded like an echo, the realm contorting your sounds.

Law was quiet for a second before taking a determined step forward, inhaling deeply, “No, I want to see him”.

And with a few more steps, Law tried to hide the trembling in his knees when he rounded the corner to see the large man sitting on the floor, dusting himself off. Once again, Law’s world stood still, just as it had done twice in his life. But this time something wasn’t taken from him. Like walking into a lost memory, bits and pieces of Law’s mind glued together the appearance of his savior. Law felt a hurt in his heart while his knees grew weak, betraying his suddenly heavy body.

Law remembered what he had witnessed when he peeked out of the treasure chest suddenly clear as day. Too much blood staining the snow red, white flakes dancing in the air before falling on the still warm body like nothing was wrong in the world, and the godawful sight of the shirt he had relentlessly bullied Corazon for. Why did the stupid shirt have to get filled with holes and stained with innocent blood just for his survival? Law’s eyes flickered over Corazon like he was expecting him to fly away with the debris. He wobbled closer, making dust of the past spread and it was then he saw the inspiration for his jolly roger. Corazon was smiling widely; he knew you were there.

Law’s eyebrows furrowed in worry, however, as he saw an incomplete smile. When had he lost a tooth? How much of his memory had withered? He instinctively reached out but only pushed through the ghost, a bitter reminder of the predicament they were in. Corazon seemed to feel him, his arms seeking out in different directions. The doctor fell to his knees and made sure Corazon sensed him while he looked at the ghost’s face, tears stinging his eyes. You expected him to wear a frown, to be tense - for his lips to show anything but a smile. But you were wrong. Law wore a smile; a painful, bittersweet smile.

“You can’t hear me, I know,” his voice was low, and you knew this wasn’t meant for your ears. Despite your own curiosity, this was not a boundary you could ever cross. Already trespassing on such a vulnerable part of Law’s life was too much, but hearing his innermost raw, unfiltered words? He deserved to do this alone without you hovering over his shoulders. So you walked away, letting your boyfriend pour whatever he needed out of his chest.

“And it might be bad that I don’t care, really…” Law whispered, his voice raw as his throat tightened, “I…I think about you every day, Cora”.

With a bowed head and his eyes shut tight, Law continued, his hands now digging into the ground, ignoring the pain in his fingers.

“Every day I question if your sacrifice was worth it, why you lied! You knew you were going to be killed! Why the hell would you- what made you do that for me?”

Small plops on the ground filled Law’s silence as he finally cried, heart clenching with pain, allowing him to say aloud what had burned in his heart for 13 years.

“I never wanted you to die! You left me, I-… you said we were going to travel the world together, and I believed you,” Law laughed tensely through the pain, voice harsh and low as he forced his words out, “When did you know you were doomed? Huh? How long did you know I would be the reason for your death?”.

Law looked up at Corazon, who was struggling to pinpoint Law’s exact whereabouts, so Law raised his shaky hands to the ghost’s cheeks, his fingers bloody and nails cracked. Corazon’s eyes widened, and held his own face, feeling the warmth radiating from Law. “But it was inevitable wasn’t it? With your luck and all”.

His laugh grew more loose, yet still full of pain, breath shaky as he talked.

“I miss you… god, I miss you,” Law gasped, tears melting down his cheeks and neck, “You- without you, I fear what I-”

Flashes of the other brother haunted Law’s mind then, causing shudders down his spine, “I didn’t realize until it was too late, but you saved me from becoming what I hated the most.”

Law thought back to the day he met the family, ready to blow himself up; how could a boy who's lived through hell ever find salvation? A boy so young should never have known such torment and agony, and he remembered why Doflamingo had favored him. 

“A part of me thinks you saved me for some selfish reason,” Law pondered for a while, “you told me I couldn’t turn into a monster like your brother. Was your sole reason for saving me that I reminded you of him that much? Did you save me because you never got to save him? Though, if that was your reasoning, I can’t blame you too much.. it was my own goal after all”.

Law shook his head, eyes red and strained, his voice hoarse and shaky.

“However, that part of me is something I’ve wanted to shake off, ‘cause you taught me better. If you were doing it for a selfish reason, you would never have left me, right? If you were selfish, you would never have chased after the stupid fruit, would you? You never would-”

With a clenched jaw Law sucked in a harsh breath, his lips salty with tears, “If you were selfish you never would have saved me. There was never any reason for you to help me! So why, Cora, why did you trade your life for mine? I was never meant to live, I-I..”

Law was gasping for air through his words, sniffles and whimpers being caused by the sudden overwhelming monologue. Not able to carry himself anymore, he clutched his sides and curled into a ball, his forehead resting on the ground as he broke.

“You even cried for me, I- I should have thanked you then, I shouldn’t have pretended to sleep- fuck- I put a knife through you, and yet you cried for me. And I never got to thank you. I never got to say how much those six months meant to me. Even if they were painful, you never gave up. You carried a useless hope, and it cost you your life. I just- I just wanted the two of us to be together, I don’t care that I would’ve died eventually! I just wanted my last moments to be with you, I knew my time was running out, I was ready to die and watch the world burn as I left! I just didn’t expect for anyone- I… I never thought anyone could make me want to live anymore”.

Law had dreamt of the moment he got to spill these secrets, these confessions that harbored so much of his guilt. But in those dreams his words never fumbled over each other, they came out clear, precise and intelligent. Reality disappointed him, his thoughts coming out incoherent and in chunks almost unrelated, wanting to say so much more, his words only the tip above water of the hidden iceberg beneath. He wanted to say so much more, he wanted to sound mature. And he realized he wasn’t the one speaking; it was the little boy that was left all alone in the world 13 years ago.

“So many people have… so many people I have cared about are dead and I couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it…,” Law’s breath hitched as the face of his sister flashed in his mind, “I couldn’t even protect Lamy”.

Tears stained the haunted floor as Law kept his head down, “I’ve never been able to do a damn thing, your sacrifice- you should have lived, why the hell did you save me, Cora? Didn’t you have an entire country to save anyway? Then why, please, why did you waste your time on me? If you had left me alone, you’d still be alive!”.

Law whimpered, hugging himself tighter, “Why did you say that you loved me, only to abandon me?”.

Wandering the halls of the Polar Tang for a while, you decided to carefully thread your way back when it grew eerily quiet, the sight that greeted you melting your heart when you rounded the corner where you had abandoned them. Law was sleeping against the side of the ghost, like he could actually feel the feather coat. Corazon seemed to understand Law was still with him, sitting completely still. Your footsteps caused clouds of debris to catch Corazon’s attention, and although he looked in your direction with a smile, his wave missed you completely. Law looked peaceful, so you sat for a while, allowing him this well-needed rest even if his body would ache before the two of you eventually got back to your own realm. The tension in Law’s shoulders had become nearly non-existent after the visit, and every visit he had requested later. Law had calmed down tremendously, but he still craved a taste of vengeance; to bring Corazon’s mission to an end.

The ghost stayed for a while, still lingering over Law’s shoulders like a guardian angel; the merciful hand of salvation aiding him on his adventure. It wasn’t until Law needed help realizing the love he received was unconditional that the cold spots disappeared, Corazon’s soul finally put to rest, his voice chiming in Law’s ears one final time.

I love you

Author's note: I will never stop obsessing over these two :,) I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading!

Tags: @unsuretater-simp

If you want to join my taglist, you can find it here!

[kinardsevan]

BuckTommy/911 fic masterlist

as promised, here is your master list for everything I've written so far (and will continue to update as it changes):

(Divide added because this is getting kinda long now)

UPDATE: UNDER CONSTRUCTION - (this list is getting fairly long, so it may grow in to separate pages as I work on it in the coming days/weeks)

The Song Lyric Series:

Just as the title suggests, these have mostly been lyrically driven. The intention is for them to remain looser than a story, but so far it's been the same plot. (subject to change)

what if there's a little boy that needs a safe place :

Chapters: 1 Rating: M Warnings: n/a

“I’m sorry Evan,” Tommy stated genuinely as he watched Evan drop his towel and then redress. “I honestly don’t know what to say.” Evan huffed, unable to hold all the feelings in any longer. Everything felt so tight—his chest, his throat, his stomach. He couldn’t keep it all buried inside against Tommy’s lack of an answer. OR. The one in which Evan is not okay with a drunk rando flirting with his very beasty, very sexy boyfriend and it leads to professions of love.

they all led me to him (he's one of the good ones:

“I might’ve mentioned fucking you properly earlier this evening,” Tommy says, and even in the midst of wanting the older man to tear his body apart, Evan knows that this moment is as serious for Tommy as it was for Evan earlier. “Yeah,” Buck rasps, unable to stop himself from grinding his hips against Tommy. “Please do so.” “I’m not going to,” Tommy replies softly. OR. Tommy wants Evan to understand just how in love with him he is. Chapters: 1 Rating: E Warnings: n/a

i'll be here (and you can lay by my side) :

Chapters: 2/? Rating: E Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

When Tommy has to look back on this weekend in the years that come to pass, he won’t have the words to express how things went from so right, to so wrong. He’ll struggle to even find a way to comprehend the trauma inflicted by having his soul shredded right in front of his face and absolutely unable to prevent it. And at its worst, he won’t even have words to explain it all. OR. part 3.

Multi-Chapter Stories

your arson's match, my somber smile (the love of my life): Chapters: 4/? Rating: n/a (subject to change) Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

In that moment, the nanosecond in which he had crystal clarity, only one thing mattered to him. As his feet finally slipped out from under him, just before the warped metal came swinging down at another angle, he looked Bobby in the eyes. “Tell Tommy I love him.” And then the world was black.

guilty as sin (i choose you and me, religiously): Chapters: 1/2 Rating: T Warnings: n/a

Buck and Tommy's first kiss, as told through Tommy's POV.

Never Til Now (Rolling Up The Welcome Mat) Chapters: 5/? Rating: M (for themes) Warnings: n/a

"Maybe there’s something about tangibility, about holding the real thing versus just the idea of it, but it cracks something open in him that hasn’t existed in a long time. Because all of a sudden, he can’t imagine not having this. Not getting to see Evan like this, every day. And it’s barely been thirty seconds." - In March 2025, with plans to propose, Tommy realizes Evan wants kids. the problem is, Tommy doesn't. In November of the same year, in a happenstance exchange, he meets their baby girl. (OR, we take a trip through a dual timeline in which the idea and reality of having kids drives Evan and Tommy apart, and then brings them back together.)

The Devil Doesn't Bargain Chapters: 12/? Rating: E Warnings: Rape/Non-con, Self-harm, Suicidality (discussed and attempted), PTSD, Anxiety, ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

Tommy Kinard lived a whole life before he walked into Evan Buckley's life, and it's not one that he's offered up much of so far. Until Evan starts asking questions. Trigger warnings for sexual assault, abuse, and so forth.

you're the only one (who ever gave a damn) Chapters 2/2 Rating: M (for themes and mild sexual content) Warnings: Rape/Non-con

“I um… I don’t know,” he admits softly. “C’mon, Tommy,” Eddie replies. “No, not like that,” Tommy says, looking back up at Eddie. “Not like I don’t have a real excuse. I don’t know like…like I really don’t know, Eddie. I was drunk. I remember being at the bar with you and the other guys, and joking about you and Evan sparring the next time we were going to train, and then…” He pauses, shakes his head. “Nothing. I woke up in a house I didn’t recognize.” Eddie stares at him, coffee cup in hand and mouth slack, and Tommy waits for the judgment to come. He’s fully prepared for Eddie to tell him what a dick he his for going home with some other guy and having drunken sex. But Eddie doesn’t speak. Eventually, he’s quiet so long that it makes Tommy uncomfortable. “Look, I know you’re over there judging me-..” Eddie blinks a few times, shaking out of his reverie as he lowers his coffee mug to the counter. “Tommy, man, that’s not cheating,” he states matter-of-factly.

a set of empty bones chapters: 9/? rating: E warnings: rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence

“You’re not even paying attention right now,” he growls. “Look, Eddie,” Evan tries, lifting his hands up in surrender. Eddie’s eyes trail from his eyes down to his lips, his chest, and then back up at him, and Evan doesn’t like the way it feels. Something about the entire moment feels uncomfortable to him. Eddie sets the bowl on the counter and puts his hands on Evan’s ribs, pushing him back towards the fridge. “Eddie, man, what’re you doing,” Evan stammers nervously. BTHB: "you can scream all you want", lacerations, betrayal

Minis:

the rhythm of your heartbeat: Evan has night-terrors. Tommy has to contend with them.

you are the reason: post 709 buck/bobby conversation in which Buck makes it to Tommy's.

Connecting: 709 deleted scene. Evan is getting dressed before the medal ceremony, and Tommy's pretty sure he's going to make them late.

oceans deep, rivers wide: Evan has a realization after a work incident. Tommy concurs. burn it to the ground: Tommy knew the first time he kissed Evan Buckley he was burning his whole life to the ground.

for a thousand years (and a thousand more): In which Tommy tells Evan what it was like falling in love with him. 30 Day Fluff Challenge: Concept list found here

Prompt Minis: here

Others/Oneshots:

something stronger than me (i can hardly stand up, i can hardly breathe): Chapters: 1/1 Rating: E (for language) Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, TW: Self-harm, TW: Suicidal ideation

It had been years since he’d been down this low. At least, that’s how he’d been presenting it to others. But in the darkness of his apartment, where his boyfriend couldn’t see his legs because their schedules were conveniently not aligning ever since Gerrard’s arrival…his thighs were coated in fresh wounds.

The Saboteur: Chapters: 1/1 Rating: M (for language) Warnings: TW: homophobic language, TW: harrassment

Five times Tommy Kinard is faced with having to file a complaint against Vincent Gerrard, following his reinstatement at the 118.

take me to the other side Chapters: 1/1 Rating: E (for themes) Warnings: n/a

“So what’s on your mind,” Tommy asks him. “Are you imagining a specific scene? Or a particular want you’re thinking about?” “Not a scene, necessarily,” Evan says, twiddling his thumbs. He’s struggling to piece together the words in the right way to convey what he’s actually wanting. “Okay,” Tommy says, accepting his answer. When Evan doesn’t speak again right away, Tommy prompts him. “I want…?” Evan gulps. “I want…I-i want you to t-t-tie me up."

you're the only one (in the dark, i see) Chapters: 1/1 Ratings: T (for language) Warnings: n/a

He closes the door behind Tommy, his hand still resting on the handle for a beat as he stares at Tommy’s back. He wants answers, and if this is his last chance to get them, then God damn it, Evan’s going to get them. - Tommy breaks up with Evan after Gerrard's return to the 118. Evan is not okay with this decision.

BuckTommy Week 2024

Day 1, Date Night: Rating: General

clay wheels and no ghosting: Tommy and Evan attempt ceramics and talk about things.

Day 2, Emergency: Rating: M (suggestive language)

Under the Weather: Evan and Tommy fall ill

Day 3, Bad Weather Days Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence) Chapters: 2/2 its hurting (but it ain't dead) : Tommy is pissed. No one called him to ask him if he was cool with this idea, and it really doesn’t matter to him in the moment that they didn’t actually have to. It was Evan. They had allowed his boyfriend to put himself in the line of fire without bothering to even ask if that was something he was alright with. He wasn’t even forewarned; just showed up to a scene where they’d been asked to send extra support in plain clothes. But if he’d known…oh, if he’d known…